#she'd read all of her favorite books from the library to her

[nonochan21]

Nier fam + Ethan and Rose!

They would all get along great me thinks

[dreamsteddie]

Companion piece to my Stobin childhood friends au post because try as I might to resist it, the Steddie brain rot will take over.

Robin and Steve are thick as thieves from that first day of preschool onwards. Their matching friendship bracelets don't fit anymore but have found homes in their "secret friendship treasure chest" which is a shoe box covered in construction paper decorations that lives under Robin's bed so Steve's parents don't throw away any of his "trash" again. They've started a tradition of making a new one for each other at the start of every year so everyone remembers they're best friends, though.

Halfway through first grade (Robin got to start school a year early like the Buckleys hoped) things are going great for Robin. She gets to bring books home from the library and their teacher complimented her drawing of a robin and she helped Steve pass his spelling test last week, so as far as she's concerned this is the best year ever.

Right up until Eddie Munson transfers to their school.

At first, Robin doesn't know that Eddie will be her arch-nemesis. When he's introduced to the class, all she really thinks about him is that he looks a little funny but seems nice. He's got really big eyes and he's taller than most of the other kids with long, gangly limbs. His hair is shaved down to his head, but there are other boys in class who have the same cut. He gets placed at the table group to the left of them in the chair closest to Steve's.

She very quickly forgets about him as the day continues as normal. Robin thinks math block is boring, she'd much rather read her books or play with Steve at recess but her parents said knowing your shapes is important, so she pays extra special attention. That's why she doesn't catch the little wave Steve, ever the social butterfly, gives to the boy across the way or the way Eddie's eyes go even bigger and a soft blush steals across his cheeks.

What she does notice is when Eddie comes up to them in the last few precious minutes of recess slightly sweaty and out of breath holding a little white daisy.

"Hi! I'm Eddie, I'm new!" he says, shouts really, looking directly at Steve.

"Oh, hi Eddie! I'm Steve, this is my bestest friend, Robin." Steve replies.

"Like the bird?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah! They're orange."

"And I hate orange!" Robin buts in, not willing to be left out of the conversation

"Yeah, it's really sad. They should be blue, that's Robin's favorite color." Steve says, real disappointment creeping into his voice. "Who's that for?" he asks, pointing to the forgotten daisy.

"Oh! It's for you! I was out all recess looking for the best one in the field. They kind of match your shirt!' Eddie says proudly, referencing Steve's polo with the yellow body and white sleeves. It's one of his favorites.

"Really? That's so nice, thank you!" Steve exclaims as he takes the little flower into his hands.

Robin's mom says that sometimes when you want to be someone's friend, it's good to start by giving them something nice. Robin's mom says that she should try and make more friends, maybe some girls instead of just Steve, but when Robin tries to talk to the other girls in class, she gets nervous and clams up. She thinks she might be allergic to them. Plus, why would she need more friends when she has Steve, who is worth at least three normal friends.

Steve gets along with everyone, he lends people erasers and pencils and shares his blocks with the other kids when he's allowed to bring them out of his cubby, but no one is his best friend like Robin is.

No one has ever given Steve flowers before, though. That feels like an extra special kind of gift that someone would give if they wanted to be really good friends, and Robin doesn't want that. Steve is her best friend, he doesn't need another one.

"Steve, we gotta go get in line before all the other kids! We don't want to be last!" she blurts out, grabbing Steve by the hand and dragging him across the asphalt to where the teachers are getting ready to call everyone to get in line before Eddie can catch up.

Once they've got their places, she looks back at Steve behind her to see he's turned around. She peaks her head around him and sees him smiling wide at an equally smiley Eddie who's about 5 kids behind them, each of them waving happily at each other.

Oh yeah, Robin is going to have to keep an eye on him.

[l0standn0tf0und]

damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes

george weasley x fem!reader (hints on short!bookworm!fem!reader)

words| +- 4400

in short|  classic story. George falls in love with his best friend. nothing more and nothing less

warnings| my english, angst, fluffy ending, mention of sex and long ranting about George's feelings

author’s note| it's supposed to be a short one. About 1000 words or so, but I got excited. and well, I tried to make it George's pov. because, you know, ✨️his pov✨️. also, it's my first scribbling in two years. enjoy))

He has been with other girls. He'd even said he has been with a lot of other girls.

There were a couple of girls he dated for a while. There were those he just fucked with. A quickie after a Quidditch match won't hurt anyone. It doesn't matter whether he won this match or not. He's well aware of the fact, that girls like him. But none of these so-called relationships were serious. Perhaps this was because he didn't consider any of them as something serious.

He tried this relationship thing because he was curious, what it's like to date a girl. But during his dates, bringing a cup, all painted with tiny violets, to his lips and listening to the chatter of his now ex-girlfriend, he thought that she'd never say such a thing and she'd never order such a lusciously sweet cupcake. And she wouldn't have dragged him to Madam Puddifoot's in the first place.

After smashing Hufflepuff to smithereens on the Quidditch field, he pressed some Ravenclaw's back to one of the walls in the locker room, pounding deep into her, hearing this girl's moans become louder with each thrust. He caught himself thinking about what her moans would sound like. Would she be filthy and loud underneath him or her moans would be more shaky and soft?

He wouldn't say any of these girls were bad, unattractive, or something like that. Just the opposite, all of them were great. But they simply weren't…her. She got deep under his skin, intertwined with his veins, and blossomed in his lungs. She was his Flower. That's how he called her.

George remembers clearly well how it started. No, not his feelings, they started so naturally, that he didn't even notice how he fell for her. George remembers clearly well how he started calling her flower. This happened back in the second year, during History of Magic. He was getting more and more bored by the second in that stuffy classroom. And there was nothing unusual about it. He got bored very easily. So he quietly began scribbling in the corner of her parchment. He remembers the angry look little Y/N gave him as she carefully pushed her piece of paper away from the redhead. She was also bored but did her best to focus on Professor Binns' words. But George continued, all smiling and trying to stifle his giggles caused by her irritation. At some point, his incomprehensible doodles began to look like something that resembled Professor Binns, but his glasses and mustache were abnormally large compared to everything else. She smiled, took George's hand, and carefully drew a tiny flower on his wrist, before returning her attention to Professor. It took him a while to find out what exactly she drew with so neat lines. It looked like an iris or daffodil, he couldn't tell exactly and she didn't know either. But after that she became flower. His flower.

And now George is sitting in the library. He came here to at least start an essay on Potions. Snape become ruthless lately, so it was easier to work in a group on this 5-page assignment about Golpalott's Third Law. That's how he, Y/N, Fred, and Lee ended up in the library. George knew that this was one of her favorite places at Hogwarts. Two and a half hours earlier, when they had passed Madam Pince's stern gaze, he almost unconsciously walked to her favorite table, between the Poetry and Reference sections.

George's re-reading the same sentence in the book for the seventh time. There's something about the idea that a whole product is greater than the sum of its parts, but he can't really understand its meaning because he's thinking about her. It would be more accurate to say that he's thinking about what Lee and Fred had said about her. The evening before, his twin, the only person in this world who was closer to George than Y/N, again claimed that his love was mutual. Fred constantly tried to push him to confess his feelings. His argumentation was always the same. Fred said that he’s older, which means wiser, and he sees everything, how she steals glances at his little shy brother in classes and how she blushes just as much when George is near. But that evening, Lee has added some new information, which George still tries to process and connects with everything else these two have been telling him through the years.

George returns to yesterday in his thoughts. He was lying on his bed again, hopelessly pressing his face into the soft fabric of the pillow, while these two opened the Pandora's box again. Sometimes it seemed to George that they were enjoying this ranting about his 'unrequited' love situation over and over again.

"Ok, look, if she felt nothing but platonic stuff, she'd not be this frustrated when she found out about you and Jane" Lee spoke in a devious voice, getting more comfortable on his bed.

"Wasn't it Jade?" Fred's eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Doesn't matter, I mean this Hufflepuff blondie with the ribbon"

"She's Janis" George sighed. He remembered this relationship, which lasted just over a month or so. Janis was nice, but she talked a bit too much. And this black ribbon, which she constantly wore as a headband, pissed him off. He admitted that the ribbon matched well with her uniform and emphasized the brightness of her hair. But something was wrong with it.

"I thought she was Jade"

"Anyway, why are you telling me about this now?" curiosity and a slight note of annoyance were noticeable in George's voice "It was quite a long ago."

"Look, mate. I'm your friend, right?" Lee sat down, crossed his legs, and the blanket crumpled under his weight. One more movement and the red piece of cloth would end up on the floor. "But I'm her friend as well. She knows that I know. And knows that I overheard that conversation of hers. And I promised, I won't blab it to you…But as it turns out, I'm not the best secret keeper and I'm more of a friend to you than to Y/N"

To tell the truth, Lee was a great secret keeper. Just like he was a great friend. This made George seriously wonder why Lee broke the promise. And so unceremoniously 'blabbed' everything to him. What if he's really as blind as he was told and doesn't see obvious things. He doesn't deny the possibility that she liked him too. More precisely, he doesn't want to deny it. He hopes that Y/N also feels something that crosses the boundaries of friendship. Even if her feelings aren't as strong and all-consuming as his. As if time collapses into one tiny speck and explodes at light speed every time George sees her. He hopes for at least something, for at least a tiny feeling, a tiny sparkle in her heart that flares up at the sight of the tall redhead.

Many times he imagined and replayed in his head the moment he would confess his feelings. Tell her how all the sounds around become quiet when he hears her laugh, how each and every touch imprints and burns on his skin. He dreamed, how he would tell how much he loved her, that he could finally be honest and reveal everything that was in his head and heart.

But the younger twin thinks the stakes are too high. And maybe he's right because she thinks the same thing to herself. Even though George wants more, he doesn't want to risk everything he has right now. His eyes begin to water and a lump rises in his throat every time he assumes he could lose Y/N. His flower. He knows her too well to predict what would happen next if his feelings weren't mutual. Their communication will become awkward, they both will be cautious and afraid of saying or doing something wrong. And then, after some time of this weird communication, their connection will fade away. And even if his love is mutual, what if he and Y/N don’t work out as a couple? What then?

He can't let their previous and future years of friendship go down the drain. Y/N was the first person he and Fred met on the Hogwarts Express. And from the very first year and the very first greeting, the three of them became inseparable. Always together.

She wanted to be a prefect, so she avoided detentions and tried not to get involved in their pranks directly. But Y/N was always there, helped to plan each of their mischiefs, assisted with new inventions, and saved him and his brother from professors. George can't remember how many times she rescued them from Filch while she was patrolling the corridors. He was so proud of her last year when she finally received this little silver pin that gave her extra authority and responsibilities.

George can't imagine Christmas without Y/N now. She visits the Burrow every year and his mom adores her. Perhaps because Y/N helps with cooking more than anyone else in this house. But George can imagine in detail how hard his mother would scold him if he suddenly announce that Y/N won't come for winter break this year because he's an idiot and they stopped talking to each other.

It's not Christmas without having a snowball fight with her and Fred in the backyard. At some point, she always tries to throw Fred into the snow. But due to the obvious height difference and Fred's strength privilege, she never succeeds in this. So she's becoming the one who's giggling on the ground, covered with snow. George always laughs at this little performance while his very kind twin scatters her down with even more snow.

George's envious of his brother in some way. Fred has never seen Y/N as more than a friend or a second sister. He's envious that his twin's heart doesn't ache as much as his does. And his older brother doesn't have to make such a difficult decision. No, George doesn't wish his brother pain. No way. He just doesn't want to suffer himself. George understands, that he's not just at risk of losing her, but also at risk of depriving Fred of his best friend too. If he and Y/N don't work out, what will happen to her friendship with Fred? Yes, perhaps they will be able to maintain some thread of communication. But they certainly won’t be best friends like they are now. George wouldn't handle it. He believes that it's better to be content with the small moments he has than to lose everything.

"Where are you going?" Fred's question snaps the younger twin out of his thoughts. He's still in the library and didn’t even notice how the chair next to him became empty, as Y/N headed towards one of the sections.

���I need this book, about…” her words meet Fred's raised eyebrows "I just need another book"

A quiet “uh-huh,” sounds either from Fred or Lee as her back is already hidden between the shelves full of colorful covers.

George looks for a while longer after Y/N. If someone raised their head from studies or books and glanced at the redhead, they would see the gears turning in his head.

“I…” George moves away from the table. Legs of the chair slide across the floor with a quiet rustle. He tries to come up with some kind of a reason, but Lee is faster.

“We got it, loverboy in shining armor, go already and help your princess” In response George groanes, and a quiet "fuck off" slips from his lips as he heads after his 'princess'. He doesn't know why he decided to follow Y/N. He just wants to. Perhaps he simply feels calmer when she's around, she gives him a feeling of warmth and home just by being near.

And there she is, just three bookshelves away. George can understand why she likes spending time in the library, although he doesn't share this sympathy. It's quiet and peaceful here. High ceilings, impressive columns, and alive stained glass windows are throughout Hogwarts, but they look especially charming in this place. Perhaps it's the specific lighting or the huge number of cabinets filled with old parchment and colored bindings. And, to be honest, he likes the smell of books. There is something about that scent that the redhead can't explain.

Y/N walks along the shelf at the end of the bookrack. Her gaze runs along the top row of colored spines, searching for what she needs. Her hair is up in a messy, almost domestic, bun and secured with a wand. But some strands fell down, framing her face and descending down her neck. The tie hangs loosely around her neck. She undid it after half an hour in the library.

George just stands there and admires her for a while, unable to tear his gaze away. It seems to him as if a soft golden glow surrounds each curve of her glorious body. And this light calls him to come closer. None of the other girls looked like her in his eyes. He swallows, breaks out of this perfect trance, and quietly heads to her.

The girl stands on the very tips of her black shiny shoes. Her fingers almost touch that very book on the top shelf. "Why the hell do they always shove the most useful stuff so far away?" Y/N thinks to herself before long fingers touch the cover of the "Ingredient Encyclopedia". She sees as right above her head a familiar freckled hand takes the faded green binding from its place.

"You're welcome, flower" Y/N turns around at the sound of the voice and finds herself trapped between the worn books and George.

The corners of his lips lift slightly and the younger twin can feel the warmth approaching his cheeks. He can't control it and, to be honest, he doesn't care when she's only millimeters away.

Her "Thank you" is so quiet that George isn't sure she actually said it. Their eyes meet, and it seems to redhead that everything that happened next was in slow motion.

She just wanted to take the book. Such an innocent action. She inhales sharply as her fingertips accidentally brush his hand. He feels high-voltage sparks come from this touch and spread further throughout his whole body and explode where his heart is.

They both froze, not breathing and not breaking an eye contact. George could swear he was ready to give everything he had to live in this moment forever. Just standing next to her in an empty section of the Hogwarts library. Looking into her eyes, losing himself in their depths. And feel the warmth radiating from her hand on his.

Earlier, he thought he'd be nervous at a moment like this but he isn't. He just stares at her eyes, then at her parted lips. "George, don’t do it" he repeats to himself. His fingers shudder imperceptibly with the thought of taking her wand from messy hair, so her locks would fall freely on her fragile shoulders. "Control yourself". He's trying, so damn hard trying not to bury his hands into these shiny strands and pull her into a kiss. It takes all his strength not to. And George doesn't know what happened. Was it Y/N's rosy blush and his brother's words about mutuality flashing through his head. Was it her, standing so close that he could smell his amortentia coming from the girl.

But he gives up. George bends down, without even thinking about it, and presses his lips to hers

George pulls away even faster than he has leaned toward her. There is exposed fear in his widely opened eyes. Eyebrows are raised as the realization crushes his thoughts. His mouth opens and closes without making any sound. It seems that he's more shocked by his own action than Y/N herself.

He fucked up. He knows it.

Y\N stands there still. And this is the first time in the redhead's life that he can't read the emotions of his best friend. "Ingredient Encyclopedia" is still in her palm, but George abruptly pulls his hand away, losing all the warmth she provided to him.

"I'm…I'm sorry" is the only thing he mumbles before storming away from the book section, from the library, from her.

George almost knocks down a first-year with a blue tie when he rushes out around the corner. He fucked up. Y/N didn’t respond to his kiss, she didn’t react at all. She just froze in place. George doesn't understand how he could let himself do this. He shouldn't have. He heads towards the huge wooden door with such speed that some students' parchments fly off their desks. He doesn't notice this, nor the questions from Fred and Lee, that meet his broad back, nor the comments of the furious Madam Pince.

She appears around the corner shortly after George, calling his name. She throws the book on the table and quickly walks past her friends. The faded green binding slides across the wooden surface and lands near Lee's inkpot. Another millimeter and the small glass jar would have been knocked down and poured a black liquid onto the pieces of parchment, only half written with essay.

"For Merlin's sake, what is going on?"

“I'll bet you a galleon that George confessed to her and ran away” Fred speaks with a sly grin, shifting his gaze from the hurrying Y/N to his dormmate.

"Too much drama for these two, don't you think?"

"So…?"

"You're on" Lee agrees, moving the book away from his writings. He only managed to write the introduction and the beginning of the first few theses. It was far from 5 pages but it was at least something and definitely more than George wrote.

George walks through the library entrance. He feels like everything is crumbling inside him as he walks. The sound of his heart pounding in the ears muffles the voice calling his name somewhere behind the back.

"George!…"

He is supposed to be happy. He finally did what he had dreamed of for many years. He finally kissed the girl he was so hopelessly in love with. But instead, he feels as if a dozen Dementors attacked him. All of the hope and happiness have been sucked out of the world.

"George!…"

He'd better get away from here as fast as possible. He'd explain himself later. He'd better get to his safe space. But where should he go if he felt safe only next to her?

"George!….for Merlin's sake!….. I can't keep up with you!"

He recalls everything in his head, from what happened a minute ago to the first time he saw Y\N. He understands that all those happy moments, the tenderness, the memories they both made and the plans for the future, are all gone. He's so disappointed and so angry with himself.

"George!…"

"What?!" He stops and turns around, seeing the girl almost running along the empty corridor of Hogwarts, approaching him.

George heard her calling him. But he's not ready to face the consequences. Not now. He needs time to pull himself back together and come up with something. But he gives up. Again.

"What do you wanna hear, Y|N?!" His hands shoot up in a questioning gesture. "That I'm head over heels in love with you? With your damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes! With your damn angelic laughter, which drowns out all other sounds for me! And I even with the way your brows frown when you're concentrated!"

"Georgie…" He doesn't seem to notice her soft voice but continues. She wants to say something, but his confession is unstoppable. And she understands this, so she decides to just let him rant.

"Or do you wanna hear that you became a fixed point in my mind where my thoughts always come back to? That I randomly grin to myself like an idiot when I think about anything related to you. I don't know when exactly I fell for you. But it feels like I've always loved you. You're doing something to me, no one else ever could. You make me feel special and not just another poor Weasley or the second clown of Hogwarts. Every damn time you make me feel important because of who I am and not because I'm the beater or I'm the easiest way to get to Fred." His voice became calmer with each sentence. The irritated raised tone turns into his normal deep timbre, and then it will turn into a soft mumbling. " And you make all of my anxiety and worries turn off just by your presence. I was so fucking angry with myself and you did something I dunno how to explain. So now I can't be this angry. And you are…you are just….you"

She stands next to him. Almost as close as it was back then in the library. Perhaps if George wasn't so nervous, he'd realize that he liked the scent of books because it was her scent. Every time she left the library after spending several hours there, she had this slightest scent on her. It mixed with her perfume and shampoo, so it was impossible to separate and difficult to notice it.

"Are you done?" George doesn't know what to do and just nods his ginger head. Then she rises on her tiptoes and neat fingers finds the collar of his white shirt and pulls it towards her, forcing George to lean forward. Her lips touch his. Again. Only for a few seconds but this makes him blush even more, if it's possible. His freckles aren't this noticeable anymore.

The girl pulls away, the heels of her shoes meet the cold floor and her hands slide onto George's chest. But he continues to stand slightly bent forward, batting his eyelashes. She still has to lift her head slightly to look him in the eyes. In the future, this height difference will piss her off sometimes, but he'll enjoy it endlessly, liking this even more every time.

George stares deeply into her eyes, trying to understand what just happened. But he feels that he can breathe again. And somewhere inside, where his soul is, irises and daffodils and all the other flowers start to blossom slowly. Did she really kiss him? But earlier…

"But you've…." His eyebrows furrow as the puzzles are slowly coming together in his head.

"I was taken by surprise" She explains as she watches his face soften, lips rise into a wide grin that he can't stop. And why the hell should he stop it. "And you didn't give me time to understand what's going on"

George covers her hand with his own. That hand that's laying so peacefully on his rapidly beating heart.

“Sorry,” he chuckles, millimeters from her face. She can feel his breath on her lips, like a ghost kiss, dragging the moment before he crushes his lips down on hers into another real one.

Her lips are soft, almost silken, and pillowy against his own. This kiss is not just a peck, like the previous ones. This time George can understand that her lips are not exactly what he thought. Her lips feel thousands of times better than he could ever imagine. He finally feels relieve and all the world's happiness. All the happiness he supposed to feel. Happiness, that had been accumulating for a long time and didn't leave the palace of his dreams, Finally to escape to freedom. His palms find their place around her waist as he pulls her closer, forcing their bodies to collapse into each other, holding each other as tightly as humanly possible. Her hands shoot up to his hair, slowly letting her fingers slip into ginger strands. He kisses Y/N like he has never kissed anyone else before. With all the tenderness and love he has kept locked in his heart till this moment. George doesn’t see this, but he feels how the gray world around him is filled with colors again. The warmth spreads all over his body and his brain stops working properly.

This girl, this bright and breathtaking girl, is his. Their lips moved softly, delicately, and almost innocently before. But Y/N is driving him insane and intoxicate him with the sweet smell of her body. He can feel her hand slide to his nape and she lightly runs fingers up along his neck. Tiny soft moans escape his lips in the surprise of the goosebumps this action sent down his body. As a response, George brings up his freckled hands to cup her face. His calloused fingers caress her flushed cheeks as he nibbles her lower lip, not so hard to hurt, but enough for Y/N to feel it. Now it's her turn to let out a small, barely audible moan, which makes him break out into a shit-eating grin.

The girl gently pulls away, while George still holds her face in his warm hands.

"I love you too, Georgie. And your damn perfect hair and damn marvelous eyes"

Bonus:

He lets out a giggle caused by quoting. He's unable to open his eyes for a few moments after this kiss, a huge smile on his face

"But…"

"But…?" The question sounds teasing even though his voice is hoarse.

"We have an essay to finish. It's due tomorrow, and you haven't even written a sentence yet." she wrinkles her nose in a taunting way.

"Nooooo" Redhead lets out a groan, throwing his head back. "Don't make me do this, Flower"

"I won't write it for you" She kisses his pouty lips as a response to the puppy gaze he gave her. Y/N frees herself from his cozy grip and heads towards the library. "You'd better write at least something unless you prefer scrubbing cauldron instead of…let's say…sneaking into Hogsmeade."

George catches up with her a couple of seconds later. He slightly leans down just for a moment to catch her hand in his and intertwine their fingers.

"Y/N…." he tries this 'puppy gaze trick' again.

"Fine." She sighs in defeat "I will help you with a plan and theses, but you will write it yourself."

George breaks into a smile once again and brings her hand to his lips, leaving kisses on her knuckles. Well, the thesis for Someone's Third Law is at least something. Plus, he’s sure that he’s sure Y/N will write his essay as soon as she finishes hers. And, to be honest, Fred's too.

After some time, when they are a meter from the huge wooden door, George suddenly wonders.

"Galleons or Sickles?"

"What?"

"Galleons or Sickles?" He repeats, opening the door in front of Y/N

"Wait, you're wondering how much they bet on us, aren't you?"

George overtakes the girl, ending up in front of her, and leans down so that their eyes are at the same level. He shoves his hands into pockets and wrinkles his nose therefore mocking Y/N's previous actions.

"I'll bet a Galleon that Lee owes Fred a Galleon"

masterpost

[jareaul0ver]

Opposites Attract

Summary: You and Nika share a class and sit next to each other. Shes always teasing you, saying you're nerdy, while you always tease her, calling her a stereotypical jock.

wc: 1.6k warnings: none really, mostly fluff, a bit of enemies to lovers if you squint pairings: nika muhl x fem!reader

im trying this in a bit of a different style bc i feel like it fits the best! lmk if you guys like it or not

"What a nerd." "Nerd? At least I'm not a meathead."

When you first got paired with Nika for your class seating assignments, you were less than thrilled. Being with the class jock was not something you were looking forward to. You assumed she was all looks and brawn, no brain.

She felt the exact same way. She couldn't believe that she was stuck with some loser nerd. At least she'd have you to rely on for projects when basketball kept her too busy, and left her too exhausted to do anything but collapse in her bed.

You were working on your first project together, and you decided to meet up in the library. When Nika finally arrived, you had your laptop out and your nose in a book. She, on the other hand, was sweaty and exhausted from practice.

"Sorry I'm late. Coach had us run at the end of practice." She plopped her bag into the chair next to her and sat down.

"Mm, alright." You mumbled, keeping focus on the project.

She stared at you for a moment before sighing. "Are you gonna end up doing this whole thing all yourself?"

You tore your eyes away from your screen and stopped typing to look at her. "Not if you show up on time tomorrow."

She rolled her eyes. "Can't help it if practice runs late."

You scoffed. "You could've texted me, we could've rescheduled."

"Whatever." She muttered as she pulled her laptop out of her bag and opened it up to the document you were busy typing away at. Her eyes widened when she saw almost a whole page finished already. "You've done this much in the twenty minutes I wasn't here?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Jesus, what a nerd."

You deadpanned. "Nerd? At least I'm not a meathead."

She took a deep breath and shook her head before forcing herself to focus on the project, the two of you being civil for your rest of the time in the library.

"Nerd." "Meathead." "Dork." "Jock."

You smiled at Nika as she sat down next to you. She flashed a bright smile at you. "Hey, nerd."

Your eyes rolled playfully. "Hey, meathead."

Your class started and the professor taught her lesson. Nika thought it would be better to mess with you than pay attention, though. She scribbled something messily on a sticky note and stuck it right onto your notes page.

You sighed and read it. 'wanna hang out later?'

She glanced at you with a hopeful smile as you quickly wrote something back, passing it back over to her. 'can't. studying and homework for other classes :('

Nika drew a frowny face and passed it back to you. You smiled a little at it, and resumed taking notes. But she wasn't finished.

She pulled out another sticky note and wrote on it again, passing it back over to you. 'pleaseeeee? i know you wanna'

A long sigh escaped your lips as you wrote an answer and gave it back to her. 'i have too much to do tonight, sorry. and pay attention before you flunk out'

She smiled and whispered to you. "I'm not gonna flunk out, I've got my favorite dork to help me."

You shook your head. "I'm not a dork, first of all. Second, you're such a stereotypical jock, always asking the smart kid in class for help."

A quite laugh escaped her lips. It sounded like a melody to your ears.

Your professor didn't find it as endearing as you did, however. "Girls, focus." Her eyes landed on the two of you before she turned back around.

The two of you giggled together quietly.

Later than night, you were doing exactly what you told Nika you would be. A mountain of papers and books surrounded you on the floor. You had flashcards laid out everywhere. You were drowning in work, and you were ready for a break, but you only had to study for one more class.

Fortunately a break soon arrived when you heard knocking on your door. You stood up with a groan and walked over, the hair in your ponytail practically falling out, bags under your eyes from the countless hours of work you've done today.

You opened the door and Nika was standing there, a plastic takeout bag in her hand. "Thought you'd need a break tonight, I brought food."

You stared at her for a moment before smiling and pulling her inside. "You are a godsend, Nika Muhl." You grabbed the bag from her hand and set it on your desk.

Nika stood behind you, looking at all your studying materials sprawled on the floor. "Jesus, how long have you been doing this for?"

"Uh, a few hours. Nothing too bad."

"A few hours? Without a break?" She scoffed.

You turned around and looked at her. "How did you know I haven't taken a break?"

She grinned at you as she took in your appearance. "By just looking at you." You were disheveled and simply looked exhausted.

"Wow, rude." You feigned offense and placed your hand on your chest.

She laughed softly and took a step towards you. "But seriously, you need a break. You're gonna wear yourself out." She brushed a lose strand of hair out of your face.

"Guess all that studying together paid off, hm?" "Guess so. Maybe hanging with a nerd isn't that bad."

It was finals week and you had been working your ass off. Late night after late night of studying with Nika had you both prepared for your exam.

Per Nika's rules, you had to take a mandatory fifteen minute break every forty-five minutes. She refused to let you overwork yourself, and for once, you agreed. You could tell she was exhausted too. She was balancing academics and her playoff games, on top of hours long practices.

You had also implemented a reward system. While doing flashcards, for every three questions one of you got right, you got to ask the other person a question. That was when you found out Nika was gay.

"That's three, I get to ask you something now." You stared at her as you sat across from her on the floor of her dorm.

"Go for it." She smiled at you.

You thought for a moment. You had already asked her about Croatia, her teammates and friends, but not anything romantically. "Ooh, I got one. Do you have a boyfriend? Or are your eyes on any guy in particular?"

She stared at you for a moment before laughing. Your brows furrowed. "What? Why are you laughing?"

"It's just funny." She took a deep breath. "How you looked at me and thought I was straight."

Your lips parted. "You're..?" She nodded. "Oh." You squeaked quietly, your face heating up. "I-I didn't mean to assume, I just figured... y'know."

"I don't think I do."

You sighed. "I just assumed you only liked guys, I dunno."

"Well I don't." She smiled. "Only like guys, that is."

"Right." You smiled a little back at her, your gazes lingering on the others for a moment too long to be considered only friendly. You cleared your throat and looked down at the notecard in your hand. "Back to studying."

She didn't look away from you. She couldn't pull her eyes away from you.

It was the day that exam test scores were going to be released. You sat anxiously in the lecture hall, in your regular seat next to Nika. Your leg was bobbing up and down as the professor explained that only two students exceled with her exam, and you prayed that one of them was you.

Nika had her eyes on you, analyzing everything you were doing. She noticed the bobbing of your leg, but also the tight grip you held on your phone, and the way your bottom lip was caught between your teeth.

"Hey." She said quietly as she reached out, placing her hand on your knee to help calm you down. Your gaze darted up to meet hers, and her expression was soft. "I promise that you did amazing."

You swallowed nervously. "But what if I didn't? What if I totally bombed it and-"

She gently squeezed your leg. "You didn't bomb it. I know you didn't. Take a deep breath." You did. You inhaled deeply and closed your eyes as you let it out. "There you go."

She wrapped her arm around your shoulder and you relaxed a bit at her touch. You leaned your head against her, closing your eyes, and hoping for the best.

The professor called everyone down one by one, handed them the paper with their grade, and dismissed them from the class to look at it. Nika had already been called, and when you were, it took you a second to snap back into reality.

You went down and collected your paper, then quickly left the room. You rounded a corner and saw no one around you, unsure of where Nika disappeared to.

You took a deep breath before opening the paper and looking at your grade. You had gotten a 98, the highest grade in the class. You let out the breath you were holding and leaned your head back. "Thank god." You said quietly.

"Everything okay?" Nika's voice came from behind you.

You spun around with a smile on your face. "I got a 98!"

She smiled at you before moving forward and wrapping her arms around you, pulling you into a hug. "Holy shit! I got a 93!" You hugged her back and smiled brightly against her neck.

You pulled back to look at her, and in a wave of emotions, crashed your lips against hers. She froze for a second before reciprocating the kiss, causing you to stumble backwards a bit.

The both of you giggled and your rested your foreheads against each other's. "Guess all that studying together paid off, hm?" You grinned.

"Guess so." She pecked your lips. "Maybe hanging with a nerd isn't that bad."

i really hope you guys like this one!! i loved writing this sm that i wrote it practically within the same sitting on the same day that I got the request. thank you anon for sending this in!!

[mercy-burning]

(3) the trilogy. || THE DOCTOR.

in which the doctor finds the landlord's favorite missing trilogy of books on a quiet, snowy day... content: strong language, allusions to sex, kissing, fade to black fingering) word count: 3.6k

series masterlist | main masterlist

NOTE: Lots of fun stuff to come with these two soon! They're my favorite <3

———

On the days where Spencer is snowed inside, the perfect remedy should be a couple of books by the fireplace, but the fireplace is quite frankly impossible to keep up with (he never knows how much wood he actually needs and despite how many times he's tried, he swears the matchbook he has is faulty. It never starts.) And, he's read through all of the books he brought with him. Three times each.

The library is an option on a normal day, but the snowfall is so extreme that Stanton had called his house earlier in the morning to inform him that everyone had been requested to hold off on getting sick or injured until the Doctor was safe to leave his home. Sardinia is locked down for the day, he went on to explain, until the crew he'd called in to plow the roads with their heavy and capable machinery could tend to them.

For a town as small as this one, Spencer had just assumed everyone would have figured out how to manage heavy snow without calling in reinforcements. It's human nature, after all, to adapt to your surroundings and make do with what you have if not to develop a solution.

And then he looked outside, and he understood. He couldn't even see white. It was gray—the most snow he'd ever seen, caking every window and blocking him inside.

He spent a solid two hours scraping what he could off the windows and away from the door, until he created a pocket of light from the window above the couch and gave up on the rest. The wind at least had died down, the only noise available to him being his breathing and the creaks of the floor as he walked around. The sun was bright and it was above freezing, so he figured that should help melt what little bit he couldn't manage to scrape away. He showered, fought with the fireplace for another twenty-minutes out of pure boredom, and then gave up on that, too, thankful that the house had electric heating and the fireplace was merely for aesthetic purposes if nothing else.

And now, he sits on the couch, mindlessly thumbing through a book he's already read and wishing he had something else to keep him busy. Boredom only leads to wandering thoughts, and whenever he allows them to, they veer off into the inevitable direction of his landlord. Which only makes him more restless.

The very moment her beautiful, swollen and kissed-out lips enter the periphery of his brain, Spencer pushes himself off the couch and forces his legs to do the wandering instead. He doesn't even care where, he just needs to walk.

She'd been avoiding him since then—until she came to visit to have her stitches removed, and then she avoided him again. Their meeting then had been professional and straightforward, she jokingly handed him a ten-dollar bill for his trouble, and then she went home. He'd debated bringing up the kiss, maybe apologizing, but he also didn't want to risk poking the bear when, in the moment, the bear seemed relatively mollified. It was safe to assume they could silently move past it and remain civil, if not friendly, so that's what he did. He never brought it up, and they simply existed in each others' lives as background characters. No harm, no foul.

It admittedly saddens him a little, that familiar glorious fire in his body slowly dying out day by day without her spark to feed it, but... it's also safe. Given his temporary arrangement, that is exactly what he needs; Zero complications.

Still, it hadn't completely prevented his thoughts from wandering... He can't help it.

But damn it, he tries so hard.

Like now, as his feet pace back and forth along the hallway connecting his living room to the two little bedrooms on the opposite side of the cabin home. His eyes scan the oak paneling on the wall, finding it odd that one board is out farther than the others. It's not a vast difference, and to anyone walking down the hallway, it wouldn't stand out at all. But since his eyes are scanning everything with intent, something that small is impossible to unsee once it's been seen.

Spencer comes closer to inspect the wood, running his fingers along the grain when he feels the board shift a little. He presses harder, then tries with both hands to wiggle it out of place as he inspects the entire board from floor to ceiling.  Eventually, he notices that the nails holding it in place are extremely rusted and barely holding the board upright.

"She has to have a toolbox hidden in this place somewhere..." he ponders, turning to search.

After finding no luck in any of the cabinets, under the kitchen or bathroom sinks, or in the coat closet, he walks back to the guest bedroom and rummages through all the knitted blankets he's collected. For a while it's like he'd find one every time he entered a new area of the cabin that he hadn't explored. A few of them lay draped over the living room furniture now, but to keep the place organized to his liking, he just haphazardly folded and piled them into the guest bedroom closet, not thinking to see if there had been anything else in there.

Sure enough, once the shelves in there are completely clear of fabric, Spencer looks all the way on the highest one and can see a small pile of something shoved in the back. He reaches for it, hoping for something useful but finding only a stack of—

Books!

Not what he'd come in here for, but he isn't about to complain. Especially since he'd really just been so bored that he went in search of a tool box to fix the most negligible problem this house could possibly have.

He flips one over and sees the words, "Agent of Seduction," embossed over a couple in embrace. There are two more, "Agent of Passion," and, "Agent of Retribution."  Their covers are worn and well-loved, pages yellowed and creased, the spines barely readable. As he quickly fans through the pages, expelling the dust from its home between them, he wonders how there are even pages left. It looks (and smells, to be quite frank) like it should be falling apart at the seams.

It doesn't look like what he'd typically reach for, but... It's new. And since he really has nothing else to do...

Spencer sits down on the floor of the closet, nestled between piles of blankets, and opens to the first page of Agent of Seduction.

———

Dear Mom,

Today I might have stumbled onto the scariest story I've ever read. Not because it contains ghosts or horrors so intense that it gives you nightmares, but because of how accurately one major aspect parallels my current situation, as if I don't already feel like I'm in the Twilight Zone.

Don't get me wrong, it isn't entirely believable, especially where the crime-solving aspects are concerned. In fact, it seems like the author had merely watched something on TV and thought, "That doesn't look too hard to make up!" and thus, "Agent of Seduction" was born...

However, I'd be lying if I said I didn't get spooked by just about everything else.

The basic premise is that FBI Agent Samuel Stern must go into hiding to protect his identity from one of the most dangerous criminals the Bureau has ever encountered. In creating this brand new life for himself, he meets a woman named Rachel West, who he falls in love with. She's feisty and quick-witted, and when Samuel's past comes straight towards them like a freight train, she refuses to jump out of the way (much to Samuel's annoyance). Their relationship is built solely on fire—mutual attraction and nothing else—but while they're on the run together throughout the three books, they learn to open up and be vulnerable in a way that only enriches their feelings and the desire to truly love and be loved in return.

By now, you already know about my very own Rachel West, my landlord and the woman I can't stop thinking about... A lot of Samuel's inner monologue about her was extremely close to, if not exactly the same as, my inner monologue about Y/N. At one point near the end of the second book, Rachel gets kidnapped, and the final installment follows Samuel's journey to find her and finally exact his revenge on the criminal who has taken everything from him.

Inevitably, this journey leads Samuel to the grand realization that he's in love with Rachel, and after they finally reunite, the two of them live happily ever after.

Unfortunately, it was rather riveting.

Given the obvious major parallel here, you can also probably understand why it's spooked me. The details behind Samuel's "vacation" aren't necessarily the same as my own, but the mere fact that he works for the FBI and is protecting his identity far away from home... That in and of itself is far too much of a coincidence.

I know it's fiction. I know that real life is different from Samuel's... But I saw something in his story and in his relationship with Rachel that filled that hole of misunderstanding deep in my gut, and while I enjoyed myself for the most part, I also, unfortunately, have come to realize that I can never let myself pursue the fire and fall in love with Y/N.

I won't let her be tainted by my real life. Because if evil does, somehow, penetrate the snowy, magical borders of Sardinia and dig its claws into the purity within, there's no telling what I would do.

I can't let it happen.

———

Y/N loves snow days. Surprisingly, Sardinia doesn't see a whole lot of them— not like this anyway. It's rare that the entire town is on standby, but on the occasion that it is, she locks herself away on the back porch and watches the snow fall through the glass. It's cold, but she doesn't mind. She prefers it— hasn't known anything else, nor has she ever longed to.

The sun has started to set, and with the promise of oven-ready lasagna in just a couple of minutes, there isn't anything that could possibly dampen her perfect Sunday.

She only wishes she could figure out where she left her favorite trilogy. On snow days like these, especially back when she was in Junior High (the act of hiding them from her grandmother making the lure of the story even better, of course), reading Agent of Seduction was her favorite pastime. She'd read the entire trilogy back-to-back at least twenty times by this point, so she probably could have had it memorized. In fact, there are scenes that she has memorized, though nothing ever compares to reading them word for word.

At one point a few years ago, she'd accused her grandmother of stealing and selling them, though the woman denied it with a howling laugh. "I never gave a shit about what you read. Hell, if only you knew some of the books I hid from my mother when I was a teenager..."

At the thought of her grandmother, Y/N sighs, wishing she'd had the courage to ask her about them. The memory of cringing and quickly changing the subject is standard and funny, sure, but she hadn't known there wouldn't be much time left to even think about asking those questions.

Now, she doesn't have her grandmother or her favorite trilogy, and all she's left with is an emptiness that she hopes soon to fill with noodles and cheese.

Instead of the oven chime, three loud knocks sound at the front door, jolting her out of her reverie, and Y/N sighs again.

So much for a perfect Sunday...

Who the hell could possibly be knocking on her door today? The whole town is on lockdown... Only an idiot would be brave enough to—

"Doctor?"

Spencer's figure, sure enough, stands before her in a backdrop of golden, glittering white. His coat is caked in snow and he seems to be drowning in layers and layers of scarves, a plastic bag hanging from his hand as he manages a stiff smile; He's freezing.

"What the hell are you doing here? Don't you know the entire town is o—"

"On lockdown, yes. I know. But I brought you something."

Her instincts are telling her to usher him inside, but there's a fear that freezes her instead. Once she lets him inside on a snow day, there's no telling how long he'll stay. And those are consequences she would rather not discover today.

"Oh?" is all she can manage.

Spencer holds the bag out and she takes it. "I found these in your—er, my closet. I don't know if they belonged to you or not, but I figured it was a safe bet since it was your house... Anyway, I just... I thought I'd return them."

Opening the bag, hearing him explain, and seeing the familiar tattered cover of her favorite book all at once is like a fever dream. She almost can't believe it. In a whirlwind of emotions, she grabs the doctor by the jacket sleeve and tugs him inside without a sound, and he stumbles through the door with a start.

"What's wrong?"

"You're a fucking wizard."

"Excuse me?"

Her shaking hands gently retrieve the paperbacks from the plastic as he shuts the door behind him. She doesn't even care that he's technically been invited inside now.

Unbeknownst to her, as she fans through the pages just as he had when he found them, the sight brings a gentle smile to his lips.

"I was just thinking about these books a few minutes ago... I used to read them every snow day, over and over again to keep my mind occupied..." Then she laughs, shaking her head. "I thought I'd lost them for good. They were in your closet?"

"Mhm. Guest bedroom, all the way on the top shelf, in the back. I was looking for some blankets, a—"

"You didn't read them, did you?"

Her head snaps up and Spencer blinks at her for a moment before carefully answering, "No."

Something about it feels off to her. They stare at each other now, and suddenly she realizes the gravity of the situation, which is that he stands in her house, claiming not to have read her favorite books (which are sexually explicit in nature), even though his face clearly claims otherwise. He had brought them to her house during a weather lockdown of all days, right after she'd just been thinking about them, and she felt so grateful in the moment that the thought of kissing him on the mouth seemed like the perfect gesture of gratitude.

Obviously, there is only one outcome.

He needs to leave, now, before she does something stupid.

"You probably wouldn't like them anyway."

"Oh?"

The beguiled look on his face practically begs for elaboration, but she's not currently in the business of giving him one.

"Thank you for bringing them to me," she says, hoping to suggest finality and get him out the door. "I haven't had an entire night with no obligations to sit down and read these books in years. I'm way overdue."

He only stares back at her, his gaze unwavering in intensity. If he's disappointed at all, he doesn't show it in the least. She's afraid he might try to banter or take off his jacket, but in the end, the doctor only gives her a gentle nod.

"You're welcome."

A flood of different sensations come racing through her body then, as Spencer turns to leave; Relief that he's relenting, excitement to finally have and hold her favorite story again, hot tension under the residual potency of his staring, and the nagging feeling that whatever wildfire the two of them seem to have made together isn't actually anywhere close to being extinguished.

The door opens, swallowing the doctor in a halo of light, and just before he closes it behind him, he calls over his shoulder, "Enjoy yourself, my dear."

The paperbacks suddenly feel heavy in her hands. She almost drops them to the ground, cursing his name.

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

"Go away!"

Samuel's heart nearly shattered at the crack in her voice. He couldn't bear to witness his dear Rachel and her burning flame slowly dwindle under the suffocation of his true identity. His real life, once again, had attempted to take away everything he held dear to him, and he would be damned if he let it succeed this time.

"Rachel, please! You have to have to understand, I hated having to lie to you!"

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" she screeched, whipping around and snarling in his face. Alas, her fire remained, though it was unmistakably fueled by scorching pure rage and not the low-simmering wicked desire he's come to crave and adore. The pain in his heart worsened as she jabbed his chest, a fragile reminder of the new life she's breathed into him and the steady ache to protect it at all costs. "You're just like every other man I've ever met, except you might actually be worse! You put me in danger, and then spared me the details! And for what, so you could play the savior and 'protect' me? Huh?"

"You don't understand..."

"Then make me understand!"

The truth was that he couldn't let her go. No matter how annoyingly stubborn she proved herself to be, Samuel could not resist the warmth that settled in his bones when she touched him. He could not sit back and tell himself that she meant nothing to him when every time she quirked her eyebrow, he felt the overwhelming need to know everything she's ever felt. He wanted to know her. He wanted to experience her, in every single facet.

But he also didn't want his life to destroy her.

"It is killing me... Every day it kills me to know that the man who took everything from me and ruined my life is out there, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it... It kills me to be away from home, and it kills me to have to pretend like I'm not filled with unbridled rage every time I wake up... It kills me to know that I've let myself get attached to someone else, because it just means that's one more thing for him to destroy. But... God, Rachel, you've fucking set this fire in me that I can't put out. You're so sharp and strong and funny and beautiful, and you're so fucking stubborn... You're breaking down every defense I have, piece by piece, and for both of our safety, I should just let it go... But I can't..."

Her hardened stare hadn't eased, but her hands started a slow, gentle ascent over the planes of his stomach, up and up until they rested on his chest.

Samuel pressed one of her hands firmly to his heart. "Do you feel that, Rachel?"

"Your heartbeat?" she asked sarcastically through her teeth, her eyebrow quickly flinching upward.

"Yes. What you're feeling there is your work, and your work alone."

Unsurprisingly, Rachel snorted. Still, her fingers flexed over the fabric of his shirt and pulled him closer. "It's not healthy to put all that credit onto someone, you know. It could do irreparable damage."

It was true, but she was being snarky, as always. Which meant she must not have hated him as much as she was letting on.

Samuel took that as a good sign, deciding to allow himself to be cocky. He stared deep into her eyes and brought a hand to her throat, gently grazing it with the back of his knuckle. "So? Tell me I haven't already ruined you beyond repair..."

Rachel hummed and leaned into him, never one to turn down a challenge. "Says the man who just bared his soul out to me with tears in his eyes five seconds ago... Sounds like I'm the one who's ruined you."

Their breaths were so close together now, noses barely touching, Samuel didn't have time to process the look in her eyes before he said, "And now you understand," relenting and kissing her deeply.

She clutched his shirt so hard, he thought she might literally tear it to shreds in front of him as her devilish mouth battled him with a strength of its own. Rachel was fighting, even now, desperate to hold onto that power and control. And that was all fine and good, usually, but Samuel felt it in his bones that this time it was different.

Things between them now were different, and they always would be.

Whether he could put a name to that difference he didn't know, but he didn't care. He just wanted her to really truly understand how important she was to him, without the fight.

She had complete control over him, but she didn't need to prove it.

Samuel could do that on his own.

He backed her into the wall and brought her hands to her sides, inching languid, wet kisses down her jawline. Never in their time together had he been so gentle in control, so slow... Fire left no time for meticulous passion, only quick, sharp lust.

"What are we doing?" she breathed, rolling her body into him. "What is this?"

"I meant it, Rachel," Samuel vowed into her neck, his hand deftly undoing the button of her pants. "You're changing me... Giving me something to live for again..."

A soft gasp escaped her as he slid his hand smoothly down the front of her pants, and he reveled in the sound. The moment his fingers breached her entrance, she melted into him, crying out in a whimper.

"That's right," he sighed into her neck. "Enjoy yourself, my dear..."

[esote-rika]

Once Upon a Dream | Spencer Reid

iv. i sleep so i can see you, or S.R. entries 5-8 | prev chapter | next chapter | series masterlist

September 12, 20—

Attached to this entry are a photocopied version of my results from my neurologist, the MRI scans and my therapist's recommended readings. I shall have to go through them soon, but it seems that the conclusion could be summed up into one line: 

My brain has sustained trauma

Both external, physical trauma from the bomb explosion, and the internal, psychological trauma of going through such an experience—and, truthfully, every other experience I've gone through in my years of being with the BAU. I've always thought I was good at compartmentalizing, and after fifteen years in service, I would be doing it so easily. Age meant experience, after all, and more experience meant more practice.

Unfortunately, that seems like it isn't the case for me right now. Perhaps there's nowhere else to compartmentalize in my head, and the trauma's catching up to me. My therapist told me not to think that way, and I know that's not logical, but at this point, nothing is really logical.

The dreams continue. I still cannot see her face, not clearly. Just the vague outline of her eyes, the rosebud mouth. And the hair. Long and abundant. Something about it made me itch to run my fingers through the strands, and she'd let me sometimes. I remember every single thing she had told me, most of which I have also disclosed on the next page. 

My therapist said to try to engage with the woman, that perhaps it will help me resolve any past issues with Maeve.

The problem was, it's not Maeve. She said it herself. She laughed when I called her Maeve. But then if she wasn't Maeve, then who was she? 

I am tempted to ask Garcia to do a search on her, but what am I even going to ask? “Hey, do you mind looking through our database to find this girl I've been dreaming about?” They'll think I've gone completely delusional…

Is that it? Is this schizophrenia rearing its ugly head? But, no, no, it can't be. The results from my scans are all here. It's not early onset schizophrenia, it's just… her.

This is a frustrating experience. I have scoured my collection for every book on dreams I have, as well as checked out the libraries nearby. I've requested to borrow their books as well. Everything from psychoanalysis to scholarly takes on divination and astrology. I cannot let a stone go unturned, as they say. 

I will find out who she is, one way or another.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: * the next page ☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Facts about her:

she dislikes the Pevear and Volokhonsky translations of Tolstoy (I made sure to recite the Maude translation for her, even though I'm not sure she really noticed the difference without a copy of the book. I had an irrational desire to impress her, and that seemed to do the trick.)

she’s always dressed in pastel colors, but her favorite color is maroon

her hair is dyed, although she does it herself and never goes to a hairdresser (she says it’s dry and never allows me to touch it)

she works in a law firm. she wouldn't tell me if she's a practicing lawyer. I've told her I work in law enforcement, but kept it vague as well.

her favorite novel is Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude (we spent quite a few nights discussing this)

Perhaps next time, I can work up the courage and ask for her name.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

September 15, 20–

Freud has extensively written about dreams - manifest and latent, the remembered and the symbolic. Different meanings for both things. My manifest dreams have always been easy to decipher, because I remember everything, thus I have never really had to examine them. I remember them because of my eidetic memory, that's easy enough to explain.

I still have my eidetic memory.

But I'm having trouble remembering her. 

She's hazy now. I don't understand. Before, I just couldn't see her face, but she… she felt corporeal. I could touch her, hear the rich quality of her voice. Now, she's completely blurry, as if I'm viewing her through water, the flowing quality distorting her until she's nearly incomprehensible. It is harder to reach for her too, as if there's something physically separating us, I feel as though I'm looking through a glass aquarium.

Who is trapped in the aquarium in this analogy - she or I? I am not even sure why I mentioned that. I am just so baffled by the turn of events. We had been getting… I realize this sounds concerning. I’m freaking out over the loss of a dream girl - a literal one, in this case. Scholars have studied that too, that sense of loss one gets when they wake up from a dream. Of the brain being unable to decipher what is fictional and what is not.

It should be wrong to mourn for someone you've never truly even met but…

Well, I suppose I have a pattern. My coworkers would have a field day over this, which is why I simply cannot enlist their help. At least with Maeve, she had been real. I knew her name, knew she worked as a geneticist. At least our conversations had happened while we were both conscious.

But this? 

She could be a figment of my imagination, for all I know. (But she is not. She isn't. I just know it, I just  can't explain why - which circles back to my frustration. There's so much I can't explain. Why am I having a difficult time remembering my dreams now? Why is she suddenly so much more ghost-like when she seemed so real only a few days ago?

Why do I even care?

Science would be a logical response. I care because at my core, I am an academic, and this is a scientific anomaly. If I can find a reason to explain this, it would be quite a great feat and dream research has been flimsy at most, downright fraudulent at best. But aren't I also the same person who loves magic? Who believes that science and magic can go hand in hand - perhaps that's the course I should take with my readings. Intersections between science and magic.

But all of those explanations are null; in my heart of hearts I know why I care so much - because somehow, in those dreams that blur the lines between reality and fantasy, I've foolishly grown to care about her too.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

September 19, 20–

I have gone through every book I could get my hands on regarding this topic. I've stopped telling my therapist about it as well, because she's begun to grow suspicious and concerned over my behavior. Certainly, from afar, her concern isn't entirely unfounded. I realize I've been acting rather obsessively over this… what even is it? A dream? A hallucination? 

I've begun reading about lucid dreaming, which seems to be the logical explanation for this, for the woman I keep seeing even though the settings are different and I never encounter anyone else. But it adds up; I have never done any of the prior preparations in order to lucid dream, but I suppose the brain injury is exacerbating that. 

So I've been lucid dreaming. That's an easy enough pill to swallow. It also does make me feel hopeful, because… well, maybe she's a lucid dreamer too. According to the books, it's possible to encounter other lucid dreamers when one does this consciously. (Some books also claim that these might just be apparitions, or malevolent beings trying to pull me under their spell, so I must take this with a grain of salt). 

Still, this theory makes the most sense. She's another lucid dreamer. And that means… She's real. She's somewhere out there. And I'm going to find her.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

September 20, 20–

I cannot understand why she keeps fluttering in and out of my dreams now. I will admit, it's driving me up the wall. The books say sometimes, dreamers will move onto another place, but she's… she's still there. Just not like she used to. Is she actually a ghost? Is my lucid dreaming theory completely wrong, and I'm actually seeing a ghost, who's now perhaps in the process of crossing over?

I cannot dwell on it too much, the team has been called on a case, we're traveling to Massachusetts in an hour. I don't enjoy writing the details of my cases in this journal, because I do keep a separate one for that, but it's a surprising case. No real MO, but the victims are all regular patrons of a coffee shop. The earliest victim died nearly two months ago, but the local PD only now recognized the pattern, and asked for our help.

Normally, I would have no issue doing some reading on the side while we're on an active case. However, as much as I want to do that, I know my colleagues will notice if I'm distracted. And ask questions. Tara especially likes to ask about what I'm reading, and I cannot risk slipping up. And so, I shall leave this journal behind as well. I don't want my team finding it by mistake.

I have to write before I forget, and unfortunately this table napkin is the only place I can spare right now. I fell asleep on the jet, like I normally do. And she - I saw her. I saw her, in full detail. Her heart shaped face. She holds her lips in a way that's pulled down as if she's forever frowning in sadness. It makes her cheeks dimple. She must know that. Brown eyes, blonde -

This is an update for @prettylittlewrites and her alone (jk if u wanna be added to the tag list let me know) also this was so late, lovely I'm sorry. His journal entries actually give me so much anxiety I started this months ago and I feel like I haven't captured his voice that well but whateverrrrr

[gghostwriter]

Pau’s Library

I’ve always liked to talk about books so I might as well keep an open logbook here. The list is a mixture of rereads, top favorites, and books read this 2025.

I won’t give a definite rating as it’s not conducive to getting anyone to read any of these. Instead I’ll be leaving a favorite quote of mine from the book, one that I wrote thoughts about in my reading journal and hope that entices you to check it out. Personal favorites will have 🌸 as its mark.

My ask box is open to any recommendations or any conversations about my list and your list too!

Yearly Re-reads

East of Eden by John Steinbeck 🌸 ↳ “It would be absurd if we did not understand both angels and devils, since we invented them.” Breast & Eggs by Mieko Kawakami 🌸 ↳ “My monolithic expectation of what a woman’s body was supposed to look like had no bearing on what actually happened to my body. The two things were wholly unrelated. I never became the woman I imagined. And what was I expecting?” Chess Story by Stefan Zweig 🌸 ↳ “People and events don't disappoint us, our models of reality do. It is my model of reality that determines my happiness or disappointments.”

2025 in books

So Late in the Day by Claire Keegan ↳ “You know what is at the heart of misogyny? When it comes down to it?’ ‘So I’m a misogynist now?’ ‘It’s simply about not giving.” Small Things Like These by Claire Keegan ↳ “What would life be like, he wondered, if they were given time to think and reflect over things.” The Hour of the Star by Clarice Lispector ↳ “She had no idea how to cope with life and she was only vaguely aware of her own inner emptiness.” The Lottery & Other Stories by Shirley Jackson ↳ “No one even noticed me, she thought with reassurance, everyone who saw me has gone by long ago.” [Pillar of Salt] Flush by Virginia Woolf 🌸 ↳ “She was too just not to realise that it was for her that he had sacrificed his courage, as it was for her that he had sacrificed the sun and the air.” The Eye by Vladimir Nabokov [tw: su*cid*] ↳ “After all, in order to live happily, a man must know now and then a few moments of blankness. Yet I was always exposed, always wide-eyed; even in sleep I did not cease to watch over myself, understanding nothing of my existence, growing crazy at the thought of of not being able to stop being aware of myself.” The Six Death of the Saint by Alix E Harrow 🌸 ↳ “But in the end, there was no saint, just a lonely girl telling secrets to herself in a dark mirror.” Journey Into The Past by Stefan Zweig 🌸 ↳ “Madness,” he exclaimed to himself, in astonishment, faltering. “Madness! What do they want? Once again, once again!” War once again, war that had so recently shattered his whole life?” Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoevsky ↳ “Man only likes counting his grief, he doesn’t count his happiness. But if he were to count properly, he’d see that there’s enough of both lots for him.” The Double by Fyodor Dostoevsky ↳ “Sorrow is concealed in gilded palaces, and there’s no escaping it.” Divine Rivals by Rebecca Ross ↳ “I don’t want to wake up when I’m seventy-four only to realize I haven’t lived.” The Door by Magda Szabó ↳ "When the sands run out for someone, don't stop them from going." ↳ "You can't give them anything to replace life. Do you think I didn't love Polett? That it it meant nothing to me when she'd had enough and wanted out? It's just that , as well as love, you also have to know how to kill. It won't do you any harm to remember that." Human Acts by Han Kang ↳ “Is it true that human beings are fundamentally cruel? Is the experience of cruelty the only thing we share as a species? Is the dignity that we cling to nothing but self-delusion, masking from ourselves the single truth: that each one of us is capable of being reduced to an insect, a ravening beast, a lump of meat? To be degraded, slaughtered—is this the essential of humankind, one which history has confirmed inevitable?” The Book of Goose by Yiyun Li ↳ “Often I imagine that living is a game of rock-paper-scissors: fate beats hope, hope beats ignorance, and ignorance beats fate. Or in a version that has preoccupied me: the fatalistic attracts the hopeful, the hopeful attracts the ignorant , and the ignorant, the fatalistic.” Ella Minnow Pea: A Novel in Letters by Mark Dunn ↳ “For the present, it is easier for us to turn away. Our repulsion, you see, will not spur us to revolt until this plague moves much closer to home.” Confusion by Stefan Zweig ↳ “We live through myriads of seconds, yet it is always one, just one, that casts our entire inner world into turmoil…” The Art Thief by Michael Finkel [Non-fic] ↳ “Art signals our freedom. It exists because we’ve won the evolutionary war.” Brave New World by Aldous Huxley [re-read] ↳ “But I don't want comfort. I want God, I want poetry, I want real danger, I want freedom, I want goodness. I want sin.” Heaven by Mieko Kawakami ↳ “For people to actually live by some golden rule, we’d have to be living in a world with no contradictions. But we don’t live in a world like that. No one does.” …

2025 in essays

Verdigris: The Color of Oxidation, Statues, and Impermanence by Katy Kelleher Notes on “Taste” by Brie Wolfson Why Are We Tormented by the Future? By Joshua Rothman Writing As Transformation by Louise Gluck What Do We Do with the Art of Monstrous Men? By Claire Dederer 🌸 What’s A Fact, Anyway? By Fergus McIntosh The Disappearance of Literary Men Should Worry Everyone by David J Morris Womanhood is the Process of Understanding Your Mother by Caitlyn 🌸 In Defense of Pretension by Ayan Artan 🌸 I Want to Look Like I’ve Lived by Amelia 🌸 The End of Our Extremely Online Era by Tommy Dixon oh so you’re a thought daughter now? Should I call Joan Didion? by Sarah Cucchiara Stop trying to make Melania happen by Sarah Cucchiara Facing My Own Mediocrity by Brock Covington Women hate women who go for what they want by Ali Kriegsman I want to everything, so I do nothing by Luisa The Art of Reading like a translator by Lily Meyer In Purging Language About Trans People, Donald Trump & Elon Musk are Trying to Purge the People Themselves The New Literalism Plaguing Today’s Biggest Movies

[murderdogwater]

How the Stardew Bachelors and Bachelorettes played as kids

Haley: Obviously, fashion dolls like Barbie and brats, she had a big box of them and all of the extra Barbie houses and stuff. All her Barbies had reality TV show story arcs that are just as dramatic as her Sims 4 gameplay. I also think Haley had a lot of costumes and loved playing dress up with Alex.

Penny: Major book kid, always in the library with her nose in a book. I think she'd like puzzles as well, Penny likes using her brain, and Pam didn't mind because a younger Penny didn't have to see her blackout drunk every afternoon. Penny was also a kid with an obsession with a stuffed animal.

Maru: Science kits, obviously, I like to think Sebastian and Maru were way closer as kids, so I think that she followed Sam, Sebastian and Abigail around as kids and played in the woods a lot, catching bugs and frogs. Otherwise, Maru was taking things apart and putting them back together.

Leah: Leah had a ton of those paint by numbers kits, not to mention heaps of play-doh and play-doh accessories. She liked art from a young age and loved to get her hands dirty. She probably absolutely loved finger paints. Maybe she even uses them now in her projects as an adult.

Abigail: I feel like Pierre and Caroline tried to get her to play with "girly" toys, but I just know she loved action figures and video games. The tank in her bedroom has had a lot of previous inhabitants, turtles, frogs, and feild mice. I also feel like her Sebastian and Sam played a lot of card games like Yugi-oh and pokemon.

Emily: Her and Haley shared toys, so lots of Barbies and other fashion dolls and dress up. Emily also loved dancing as a kid, so her and Haley played a ton of Just Dance.

Shane: Shane was a really active kid. He had a big open space to play in, so he played a lot of sports and made his own fun outdide most of the time. He definitely had a bunch of toy trucks and other stereotypical boy toys. He did have a favorite blanket, though. He still has it even now, but if you ever asked about it, he'd deny it.

Harvey: Toy planes, no question. He also had those play doctor sets and a stuffed animal that he always was "operating" on. I think he also had those barrels of army men have fun by himself playing every role.

Elliott: He had his nose in a book for a lot of his childhood. He had a stuffed animal (named after some famous author) that he would read with and would write poetry to read out loud to it.

Sam: I think I've made it obvious by now that Sam, Sebastian, Maru, and Abigail hung out a lot as kids. They played with a ton of different things. Yugioh, beyblades, video games, and a ton of time outside.

Sebastian: Sebastian had a normal bike when he was a kid with a wagon attached so Maru could come along. He liked to catch frogs (obviously), and Maru was the first person he played Solarion chronologicals with.

Alex: Obviously, he was Haley's test subject when it came to makeovers and dress up, but they also played a ton of pretend, Dusty was also involved a lot. Alex played a lot of sports as a kid. If Haley wasn't there to play, he and usually sam would kick around a ball of some kind, or he'd just play fetch with dusty.

[jtl07]

For shenangians could you please write either something fluffy and cute or hurt/comfort please?

hey anon what a nice way to end this round of shenanigans! thanks for your patience and hope you play again next time <3 

(1 - something post-war I suppose)

There's flour in Beatrice's hair - on her shirt too, and the front of her shorts and Ava can't help but laugh because as much as she loves Beatrice looking hot and competent, she loves this Beatrice just as much: befuddled and bewildered, eyebrows and eyelashes speckled white as she blinks at the half-exploded bag of flour on their kitchen counter.

When Beatrice turns to look at her, it's with a mischievous look on her face. It's not one that Ava's seen often but it's made more appearances nowadays - now that their days are no longer numbered; now that their days are theirs.

(Days where they're free to lounge on the couch reading or take turns playing video games; days where they take leisurely walks in the sun and rain both. Days spent sharing ice cream while they sit at their favorite bench near the dog park; days spent going through all the recipes in their newest baking book, now also covered in flour.)

Ava squeals when Beatrice lunges at her, barely escaping Beatrice's flour-covered hands. They dash around the kitchen then through the rest of their home, careful of the training staves hanging on the wall, the photos on the shelves, the trinkets they've collected, the life they've built together.

Beatrice eventually catches her, like she always does - and Ava relaxes in her arms, as she always does. Laughs when Beatrice presses a palm to Ava's chest, leaving behind a flour handprint on her shirt. Kisses her before she can do anything more; kisses her because she can; kisses her because they have everything and more.

**

(2 - college theatre au adjacent?)

Ava finds her.

She always does - it's become easier over the years, but this time of year it's easy because she knows it's hard. Holidays, anniversaries, birthdays - Ava's no stranger to the tide of grief that rises up especially high on days like this, the anger and hurt that make even the steadiest of ships topple in the storm. Many times, Beatrice has been her port; Ava finds her to return the favor.

There's a handful of places Beatrice goes on days like this and with her and Camila's shared apartment plus her favorite library empty, Ava makes her way to the top of her own apartment building, to the corner of the rooftop she and the others had spent a summer cleaning up and made theirs. She finds her because she knows: her, and the likely contents of the letter from her parents Camila said she'd received in the mail.

Beatrice is curled up on the sofa Mary had thrifted, wrapped in a blanket gifted by Lilith. Ava takes a seat on the opposite end, far enough to keep her thoughts to herself if she wants, close enough to touch if she needs. Tips her head back to look at the sky. Counts the stars; breathes.

"There's no shame in it," Ava says eventually, her eyes still tracing the night sky. "Being angry, I mean. You have every right to fight for what you didn't have. Trust me," she whispers - the 'I know' is unsaid.

Ava doesn't turn when she hears a sniffle, a shuffle; keeps still when she feels the cushions shift. Doesn't move until Beatrice has settled into Ava's side, has fit her forehead against her neck and sighed - only then does Ava lift her arms to wrap around her.

She brushes her lips against Beatrice's temple, feels an answering whisper of breath warm her chest.

The 'I know' is unsaid; the 'I'm here' and 'thank you' felt in all the places they touch, in the quiet they hold for each other. 

[lazerdash]

Harry Potter

Headcanons

photos from Pinterest - collage made by LazerDash

Summary: Spending time with the HP characters!

Word Count: 880

Warning: fluff, wholesome, cedric being a hopeless romantic, cuddles, kisses, hand holding, draco being draco.

A/N: I love the idea of how each of these characters act and just wanted to give my shot into making them! I hope ya'll like it.

-----> ☆

Harry:

• he will hang out with you anywhere to be honest

• you want to go to hogsmeade? He'll pay for whatever you want (boy is rich, don't forget that)

• he'll hold your hand the entire time to hogsmeade

• or he'll have a hand on on your waist/hip

• don't wanna go to hogsmeade?

• that's okay too!!

• he'll take you back to his dorm and hold you

• honestly he probably uses you as an excuse to not study or do his work sometimes

•though he will deny it if you ever bring it up

• he just wants to spend time with you! what's so wrong with that? right...?

• he might even let you try his glasses on if you ask lol

• he loves to make you laugh

• the jokes between you two is so wholesome as well

• he'll get all blushy if you call him cute too

• and deny it ofc and call you cute instead

Hermione:

• you + her = library

• just kidding... Well, not entirely.

• she definitely would love to show you her favorite books! (if you two have the free-time)

• she loves to read to you.

• and if the two- you weren't caught up on school work, she'd be there to help you.

•maybe she'll even cut you some slack if you haven't been feeling well lately.

• Besides that, you two might go hangout at Hogsmeade (she likes the three broom sticks)

• again, whenever she is free... she can't have her grades- or yours! Being interfered with.

• she may love you, but she also wants to make sure both of your education is well taken care of.

• she'll want to share all of her favorite places with you, that includes the library.

• it makes her happy that she can trust you can take you to those private locations

• once she trusts you enough she will take you to all of her favorite locations when she was a kid

• she may even make it a whole special day planned out for the two of you

Draco:

• this lil shit-

• he will presist for the longest time that he doesn't want to spend time with you

• for you to get him to hang out with you, you have to make him think it is your idea-

• and plead with him.

• "reluctantly" he will agree...

• be aware he will totally be complaining the whole time

• don't worry, he'll shut his mouth once you hold his hand

• he doesn't want to admit it but he secretly likes it (shhhh-)

• if you take him to the three broom sticks he will complain at first

• since he is so use to having some "actual" food

• he WILL be the one paying for the two of you though (so that's a plus)

• if you even suggest going anywhere near the forbidden forest-

• he will refuse

• he can't go be getting himself dirty.

• plus he has some bad memories associated with the forbidden forest (and dat bloody chicken!)

• so no Hagrid's hut or forbidden forest.

• if you two are looking for some more quiet time he will take you back to his dorm room where you two can just hold eachother.

• he doesn't want anyone to see you two in public or even to see him being so lovey dovey in front of others

Cedric:

• Loves holding your hand

• kissing your cheeks, head, hand

• he is a huge romantic!

• if you like more private locations then he'll cuddle you in his dorm room (he'll even sneak you in some food if you're hungry)

• but if you enjoy more outdoors or just wanna be social!

• He will take you to the three broom sticks (he will not let you pay)

• he will also take you to honeydukes! if you like sweets, he will be getting your favorites

• he will make this a whole day planned just for the two of you

• wether it is because the stress of school has been weighing on your shoulders

• or just because the two of you haven't had some time together lately

• he might even introduce you to his friends some time

• just so you two can hang out together more often and be apart of the same friend groups

Luna:

• You guys would totally be hanging out on the edge of the forbidden forest (or in it)

• basking in the sunlight and hanging out with the theastrals

• if you can't see the theastrals then she will tell you all about them.

• she might even take you to some other magical creature that you can see

• i swear all of these magical creatures just automatically love her (does that also make us a magical creature?)

• if you guys happen to be not be in the forbidden forest, you'll be hanging out next to the black lake

• sitting together as you talk about how your days have been

• if it is a special day or you guys just don't wanna hang outside

• she'll hangout with you inside the castle! she'll even point out the nargles floating around in people's ears

• not yours though (you're too pure to have nargles, I guess?)

• though, she prefers nature and the creatures

• if you two get hungry in sometime between then you guys will go sneak some food

• or you could just head to hogsmeade and grab something to eat there

• she also likes to hold your hand and walk beside you!

• and don't be afraid to tell her she is cute!! she'll thank you

© ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO LAZERDASH

MASTERLIST

do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or republish my work on another platform

[rootspiral]

Oh I gotta know your opinion on the covens fave books, with bonus questions: do any of the older witches have absurdly strong opinions on very old books, and does Lilia prefer to read in her native language?

Fascinating question! Let's start with Lilia, because I've also been wondering if she ever came back to Sicily after emigrating – however far back that was. When was it, actually? Did she wander Europe covenless and sad for a century or so before catching the first ship to the new world in the 1600s? Or did she join the wave of 19th/20th century southern Italian immigrants? How involved was she in the Renaissance art circles? Did she ever meet the greats? Did she model for any of them? I hope she had time to cozy up with Artemisia Gentileschi at some point, they would have been a match made in heaven.

I think it would have been difficult for her to travel back once she moved, with money being such a big issue for her, and she'd have lost contact with her roots for a while. Until she discovered how easy it is nowadays to get ebooks in Italian! I imagine her as the most technological of the coven after Jen, so you know she got her hands on a second hand e-reader (NOT a Kindle, thankyouverymuch) and started pirating Italian recentish literature like crazy, with special emphasis on female authors, she read and loved Deledda, de Céspedes, Maraini, Ginzburg, Morante, Murgia. She thinks Elena Ferrante is overrated.

(It goes without saying that you shouldn't pirate books and use your library card instead, but Lilia is a witch and by extension a rule-breaker.)

Despite her recent forays in modern literature, Lilia's favorite author has always been and always will be Boccaccio. As a teenager she would write racy Decameron fanfic – I mean, even racier than the Decameron itself. She used to save copies from church bonfires.

//

I headcanon Jen as being born in the late 1800s and I think that as a young adult she was somewhat part of the early 20th century Black cultural scene (when she had the time in between work and studies), she definitely partook in the Harlem Renaissance even if she was critical of some aspects of it. She was more into music and fashion but also read plenty, her favorite author being Zora Neale Hurston.

After Boston she stopped doing most of the things that brought her joy, including reading. But ironically enough, nowadays she has constructed a bit of a #booktok persona: it all started when she posted a picture of Normal People next to her morning matcha (someone had forgotten it at the organic coffee shop and she snatched it for the aesthetic). That seemed to interest her followers, so she started publishing biweekly videos reviewing all the buzzworthy new books. She doesn't actually read the books and the reviews are written with chatGPT (yikes). Hopefully that'll stop now that she doesn't need to scam people for a living.

//

Alice only ever reads for pleasure. 1980s fantasy holds a special place in heart because she grew up with it, she loved Terry Pratchett, Diana Wynne Jones, Tamora Pierce, Brian Jaques, Terry Brooks and Margaret Weis (in this exact order.) Today she still reads mostly fantasy and romance, her current favorites are the Locked Tomb series and Baru Cormorant.

//

Billy lately has made it his mission to inhale all Wizard of Oz lore and is making his way through the fourteen books, he's on Patchwork Girl right now and loving it very much. So far Ozma has been his favorite.

//

Agatha used to be a Goodreads top five user until she got kicked out for breaking basically every community guideline. She runs a literary blog called "The Cunt of Montecristo" and has been a controversial celebrity in the online reading circles for at least 30 years. Despite being mostly into nonfiction she has reviewed thousands of novels and has very specific beef with long-dead writers that don't make any sense unless she somehow knew them in person. She also claims to know which authors were queer and which were boring and hetero. Her pinned page is a list of all the female authors she hypothetically, definitely not for real fucked, with notable mentions like Eliot, two Brontë sisters (Anne thwarted her), Zelda Fitzgerald, Fannie Hurst, Austen of course (took her v card), and Alcott (she's the reason Jo didn't end up with Laurie).

Regrettably (or luckily) she never met Woolf. Dickinson wouldn't give her the time of day. Mary Shelley was too straight and too into pale-ass moody idiots, Agatha never forgave her and indeed Frankenstein isn't at all her favorite book and she doesn't cry every time she reads it.

//

If you try to give Rio a book she'll read it under a minute at Sonic the Hedgehog speed then toss it back like, ahaha yeah that was a good one. She'll never mention it again.

[binah-beloved]

this request is more for a friend who’s been feeling bad recently

binah but her love wants to rot in bed and nothing more sorru if you’ve already done this ask,,,,, it seems like it’d be common but idk

in a way, Binah understands. many days she felt like simply sitting down in place and not moving during her time at L Corp, only to be forced to go to work. here, in the Library, as long as your work is done or you're on a break day, she doesn't mind if you stay in bed. there's always something for her to do, yet somehow she finds the time to sit by you for a few hours, reading a book or filling out a report. her hand occasionally rises to brush over your head, scratching gently at your scalp. she watches you whenever you sleep, the slow rise and fall of your chest, so tempted to reach out and trace the features of your face. and sometimes she does. and sometimes you wake. in those moments, Binah merely smile at you, her hand on your cheek as she bids you good morning, no matter what time of the day it is

she also takes care of you, silently. cups of tea and water appear on your nightstand alongside little plates with your favorite treats. if you wouldn't mind, she'd arrange your hair for you. perhaps clean your face with a damp rag. Binah can always tell when something isn't right, even if you don't tell her. on the worst days, where you feel like you're physically decaying, she puts her work aside, stacking her books up for later. a pair of arm slips around you as Binah climbs into bed as well, snuggling you from behind. company always makes the weight of the world easier to bear, after all. you taught her that, in the depths of that accursed facility, so now she holds you gently and pats your head

perhaps, she hopes, this will lessen the pain even just a little bit

[bumblesimagines]

Imagine:

Meeting Alina

Request: Yes or No

Revamped version of this! I don't know why I felt so strongly about revamping it but maybe its cause I've started reading the first book

~~~

Not many ventured into the library willingly. There'd been Genya, until she read nearly every book and grew bored, and Zoya but it'd been back in the day when she thought (Y/N) would pay her a piece of mind if she showed interest in his hobbies before she moved on to trying to charm the General. (Y/N) couldn't fault her ambition. It was what drove Grishas.

But (Y/N) never ventured into the libraries for grand tales or recountings of past war heroes. No, he searched high and low for more information on the very man he was connected to by blood. The Darkling, the creator of the Fold and someone he once trusted and loved wholeheartedly. 

Until the Sun Summoner arrived and with her, the potential to destroy the Fold. He should've been relieved at the news of someone with the potential to overthrow General Kirigan, he should've. But the girl was clumsy, stubborn, awkward... 

Loud.

He heard her every day when she had free time away from Genya and whatever other practice had been thrusted upon her. Her footsteps were obnoxiously loud, her breathing even louder. She made flimsy attempts at hiding herself, choosing the most obvious of spots where she was still visible even if she ducked behind a shelf. Sure, she'd been a mapmaker before her discovery and all her training was for being a proper Grisha, but he'd seen children more sneakier than her. 

(Y/N) could feel her gaze stabbing into his back, distracting him from his reading. He'd changed reading spots six times since her arrival just days prior. Zoya had taken the hint after the third time, though of course, not after one last attempt at flirting that'd been promptly ignored. Stubbornness was a decent thing, especially for someone with her abilities. He preferred she wasted her stubbornness on someone else. But, he knew one way to frighten people. 

His hand dipped into his coat, fingers tracing the loops keeping his favorite throwing knife buckled to his waist. His fingers slipped around the cool handle, movements slow to not draw attention until he pulled it free of the loop and swiftly threw it in her direction. He heard it embed itself into the wood of the bookshelf, her surprised squeak, and the thud of a book falling onto the floor followed by a sharp curse. 

(Y/N) closed the book he'd been trying to read and turned around to face the Sun Summoner, watching her scramble to pick up the book she'd dropped on her foot. "I don't enjoy being watched." His sharp voice made her head raise and she clutched the book tight to her chest, clinging onto it like a child would to a toy. He cut the distance and tugged the knife out of the shelf, just mere inches from where her head had been. 

"I-I'm Alina." She finally spoke, slightly widened eyes glancing between his face and the blade.

"Everyone knows who you are, Sun Summoner." He responded and stepped away, returning to the table. He resisted the urge to sigh when he heard her follow. "I don't particularly care."

Her features seemed to brighten at that. "I've... I've noticed you spend quite a bit of time here." She said and placed her own book down on the table. Grisha Theory and Practice. A classic, if it weren't a bit boring. Alina traced the title over the book with her fingertip, her eyes darting between the book and his features. 

"Do you need something, Sun Summoner? Or are you feeling bored? I could ask Botkin to extend your lessons. I hear you're quite good." She was horrible but progress had been made, or so he heard.

"No!" She answered quickly and he nearly smirked at the terror in her voice. "I-I was just curious about you. And- please, just call me Alina. The Sun Summoner is quite a mouthful-"

"I'll call you whatever I like." (Y/N) had never been known for his sweetness and yet, she remained by the table. Her brows lifted slightly, taken aback by his sharp words again, and her eyes dropped back down to the table, just briefly. 

"What will..." She trailed off and swallowed, swiping her tongue over her lips and tilting her head up to meet his eyes. "What will you call me?"

"A bother." The answer came easily but she'd managed to make his brows furrow in perplexion. She was an odd little thing.

"That's quite enough, (Y/N)." General Kirigan's voice sliced through the air and (Y/N) spared the man a glance before turning his back to him and arranging the books on the table into a neat pile. "We don't treat our fellow Grisha in such a manner."

"Zoya's done worse." It felt childish, muttering like that.

"But you are not Zoya, are you?" General Kirigan stared into the back of his head before turning his attention to Alina. "I apologize for my brother's... attitude. He can be quite rude to those he doesn't know well."

"Brother?" Alina breathlessly repeated but before she could prod more, Genya's voice called for her from the doors. She bowed her head and stumbled over her feet before hurrying in the direction of Genya's voice. It wouldn't matter. Genya would tell her enough to quench her curiosity and leave the more important parts out. 

"It wouldn't kill you to be kind to her. At least pretend to care for her wellbeing." General Kirigan sighed. "We need her. She's important."

"You have Genya spying on her for you. You've spent the past few days trying to get her to fall for you. You'll have better luck finding the stag before that happens."

"And you wish to know why that is? Why she won't ever see me in such a light?" General Kirigan leaned against the table, his dark eyes watching him intently. 

"Because she's in love with the tracker? The one she writes letters to? Genya's shown me some of the letters. I'm surprised he's a tracker. One would think he's as blind as an old lady if he can't see her feelings for-"

"She may harbor feelings for him, yes." He nodded and (Y/N) clamped his mouth shut, the look swirling in his eyes making him feel nervous. "But I'm afraid she doesn't speak of him as much as she does you. She asks about you often. I believe you've caught her eye instead, and for our plan to work, I need her completely and utterly on our side. Your new task is to ensure those feelings grow into genuine love. If you grow to care for her, you may keep her afterward."

"Aleksander-"

"I'm sure you'll carry out this task dutifully as always. Don't disappoint me."

[attemptingwriter]

Hi I wanted to ask if you could write about Toby form scorpion (2014 TV) I haven't seen anything about him and until now I only saw Walter and Silvester on your master list.

Could be anything about him, maybe reader coming into the garage bche forgot somthing, or bc I love him and happy together, maybe poly!reader with the both of them?

PS love ur writting

Garage Kisses

Toby Curtis x Reader x Happy Quinn

It had been a slow day at Scorpion headquarters so they group decided to take a break and catch up on some personal projects. Walter had decided to go to the library to grab some reading materials for a project hebwas working on for Ralph. Sylvester had left earlier to catch the release of the newest comic book he had been waiting for. Paige was spending the day with Ralph and Cabe was off doing who knows what at who knows where.

That left (Y/N), Toby, and Happy alone in HQ. Something that made (Y/N) very happy. It had been a while since they had time to themselves where it was just the three of them. Someone or something was always coming up and interrupting them.

(Y/N) had spent the morning by themselves, watching their favorite show and enjoying a calm breakfast before leaving in search of their partners. They checked the kitchen and living areas first, hoping to maybe catch Toby sneaking a snack.

With no luck, they checked upstairs. Happy was known to snag tools she needed from her friends without asking. (Y/N) wouldn't be surprised if she was stealing something from Walter to work on her motorcycle.

(Y/N) looked around and called out Happy's name. No luck. Once again.

Motorcycle. If (Y/N) thought that Happy might steal from Walter to use on her motorcycle, then she's probably in the garage. (Y/N) smacked themselves in the forehead. Of course she'd be in the garage. Should've checked there first.

(Y/N) raced downstairs and made their way to the garage. Sure enough, they could hear Happys music coming from the radio and the soft chatter of the two people they loved most.

They pushed open the door and grinned, seeing Toby sitting on Happy's workbench, fiddling with her tools, and Happy sitting on the ground, tinkering on her bike.

"Well, howdy. I was wondering when you were gonna show up," Toby exclaimed, throwing open his arms for a hug.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, but I wanted to enjoy a nice breakfast without any shenanigans." (Y/N) walked over and slid themself in between Toby's arms.

"Us? Shenanigans? I don't think so sweetheart," Toby teased.

(Y/N) rolled their eyes and stepped back. "What are you working on, Happy love?"

Happy looked up from her work and smiled. "Just doing some basic maintenance. The last ride didn't feel as smooth as it should've been. Wanna make sure there's nothing wrong."

(Y/N) leaned down and pressed a kiss to Happy's head, careful not to disrupt her movements as she continued working on her bike.

"Where are my kisses? Or is a hug all I get?" Toby said, hopping off the workbench.

(Y/N) shook their head and made their way back over to Toby. "Geez, you're like a puppy."

"Adorable? Smart? Cute?" Toby listed, grabbing (Y/N) by the waist.

(Y/N) leaned up and brushed a kiss against their boyfriends lips. "Clingy."

Toby pouted as Happy laughed. "They've got you there, sweetcheeks."

(Y/N) kissed Toby again, giggling as he chased their lips.

"Whatever. You'd be miserable without me, admit it."

(Y/N) looked back at Happy, smiling. "Maybe just a little."

Toby kissed their cheeks and swung them around so their back hit his chest. They stood like for a while, watching their girlfriend work and cracking jokes.

[brynnterpretations]

Hi!! I'd like to request a Bowers gang ship with my IT oc Carla Lewis!

Carla is 5'7, and 16 years old. she is Scottish/Indigenous (Mi'kmaq), she has long, thick, curly black hair, tan skin, and dark brown eyes. She has a nose ring and her earlobes have two rings each. Her father is a Mi'kmaq Vietnam vet and her mom is white and was a huge hippie and feminist in the 60s/70s. Most of Carla's extended family that she's close with lives on the reservation a few miles outside Derry. She smokes and drinks sometimes (doesn't like getting wasted), her music taste is kinda all over the place (from Fleetwood Mac and Jimi Hendrix to The Cult and The Cure to Black Sabbath and Savatage. secret soft spot for The Police). she is a huge feminist and is very outspoken and sarcastic, often gets labelled as a bitch. She also extremely stubborn and head strong and clever but also can be kind (was always kind to Bev when people were spreading rumours about her because she knows how it feels). She is a artist (loses her shit if anyone even breathes on her paintings when she's working on them). She is a waitress at the local diner (gets paid minimum wage and acts like it). Despite her prickly demeanor and unpredictability, she is always down to party and can be pretty chill as long as you are on her good side lol. she probably has a mug that says 'man tears'. Is a academic weapon in English, History and art but can't do basic math😔 is the type to fuck around and either not find anything out or find out too much.. Anyways, I hope that's enough info! tysm!

Thank you so much for your request! I love Carla and would love to read anything more you might put out/write about her. I'm sorry this took so long. Chrome crashed when I was writing it over the course of a few days, and I was a dumb-dumb and didn't save it (#hubris). I hope you enjoy this!

I ship Carla Lewis with...

Victor Criss ♡

Boyfriend

Victor and Carla meet at the diner where she works.

This is not a good start.

As I think I've mentioned in a couple headcanons (and probably ships too), the Bowers Gang (*cough* Henry and Patrick *cough*) are terrorists within Derry's food and hospitality industries. If they're not dining and dashing, they're either sexually harassing the waitresses or bullying the waiters. And, also, they are making a mess. And probably stealing condiments or putting sausage links into the ketchup bottles, because Patrick thinks it's funny.

During basically all of these excursions, Victor is the one trying to keep things as clean as polite as possible, while also doing it in a way that does not A) piss Henry off, or B) catch the attention of Patrick, who will make things worse for shits and giggles. This is no easy task.

So, when Carla waits on them at the diner, it is immediate sexual harassment from Patrick and some rude comments and snorts from Henry, and Victor is just trying to keep it together (Belch is polite, but a bit too nervous to really act on it in front of Henry and Patrick, considering they put him through the ringer every time he does).

Whenever they come, Victor flashes her apologetic smiles and always finds a way to sneak her a tip with Belch, since Henry and Patrick... never leave them.

Still, despite thinking she's very pretty (and her dry nature towards Henry and Patrick causing him to have to stifle smirks) doesn't really hit on her at work, considering, you know... she's at work. He's aware like that.

However, he becomes a lot more aware of her during classes and lunch, and when he finds out they share English together (a class Victor loves), he'd start talking to her — politely, and not really romantically or sexually, just conversing about the books they're reading, projects, etc.

It would likely progress into more personal talk, like their favorite books, which would lead to some book trades and Victor asking her if she'd like to visit the library with him; a clear date, but something that is low-key enough for her to not feel pressured if she's not feeling it.

However, they've hit it off a lot. The library dates become more frequent, they begin trading books as well as exchanging things they've drawn with each other, and, eventually, they begin having more "formal" dates: Victor taking her out for lunch, having her over at his house and meeting his parents (who are very big hippies, new-age sort of people), and walking her home from work (which, while not a date, would be something he made sure to do, and would continue to do throughout the entirety of their relationship).

Considering Victor is not a "rushy" guy, but it's also high school, he'd probably ask her formally to get into a relationship in a casual but clear way 2-ish months after this.

Once they're together, Victor would do a lot to both A) be by her side and B) respect her autonomy. He wants to spend time with her, but also wants to let her live her life as well, so he'd have a pretty decent balancing act going along for them.

Vic is a huge smoker, and loves to just go to the Quarry with her and listen to music. Also likes sensory stuff when he's high, and would probably run his fingers through her hair a lot.

He doesn't necessarily listen to the same music as her, but he does love her music taste, and especially likes her introducing her to new music since he's been listening to the same stuff since middle school; he likes learning new things, but tends to be a "creature of habit". The favorite song he has that she's introduced to her would probably be Planet Caravan, which he fixes into his Walkman.

Is obsessed with her nose ring, and would ask her a lot about piercings; even though male piercings have fallen out of style a bit in '89 (and would get ridicule in ultra-conservative Derry, as did Victor's hair dye), he still really likes the look, and also likes the idea of matching with her.

Victor is one of the rare people who are "good" at all subjects (but at the expense of him having very little drive), and, because of that, would tutor Carla in math. Even if she didn't directly ask him, just mentioned frustration on a problem, he'd go over it with her, which would lead to full-on sessions on Victor's polite insistence.

He's a very patient tutor, and would be willing to take as many hours out of his day to work with her. He loves Carla, and also doesn't have a job, so it's feasible for him. Even if it wasn't, he'd probably find a way, honestly.

Is always respectful to her art and paintings, especially as an artist himself (he's a dedicated writer and loves to sketch). He doesn't press her about them, but always likes to hear about them.

For lack of a better word, those sort of "parallel play" dates would be common between them, where they both work on their own art pieces, talk every so often, but mostly just enjoy each others' company while working.

Victor is an adaptable person who tends to go by the flow — he trusts his intuition, and doesn't plan too far outside of that — so he wouldn't be too bothered by her unpredictability unless it seemed to betray some sort of issue (E.G., Carla went through something awful, and then does something completely against what she'd normally do afterward). If that happened, he'd intervene in private.

Victor would also deeply respect her ability to be kind to the "outcasts". In the novel version of It, Victor warns the Losers about Henry in the baseball field, and I believe in the movie, he'd likely do that too. Still, he is so loyal to Henry—someone he sees as a fragile, volatile friend, but still, one he stays with not out of survival, but a sense of guilt—and her ability to act purely on principle would cause him to admire her, as well as possibly compare himself to her, in his "darker" moments (E.G. when he gets super high and starts evaluating himself).

Still, this may cause difficulties in their relationship, considering Victor knows the people he surrounding himself with are acting immorally, yet he stays with them. I could see this causing arguments between them, seeing as the Gang operates purely on targeting "losers" and minorities, who Carla protects (such as Beverly, a poor girl who has been subjected to misogyny both in her town, and in her family).

All-in-all: Victor loves her deeply, and it's not a fleeting, high-school thing. However, he takes both morality and loyalty seriously, which are mutually exclusive when it comes to the Bowers Gang.

I do think he'd leave per Carla and moral evaluation though, if it came down to it.

Bowers Gang ☻

Acquaintances

So... Henry does not fuck with Carla, and that is why I'm putting the Bowers Gang, as a whole, as acquaintances, since "what Henry says goes" (per Belch, defeatedly, after three beers in ninth grade).

He's someone who's got some real, deep-seated issues towards girls and women going on, and while he finds Carla attractive, he does not accept a girl being "bratty" unless it's someone he can dominate or otherwise humiliate, which he cannot do considering she is with Victor.

Henry doesn't outright cast Carla out of the group — while he's an arguably awful friend, he does value Victor a lot personally, and knows better than to risk his allegiance — but if he's not flat-out ignoring her, he's casting her dirty looks whenever she says something that even minutely pisses him off.

He's a bitch. We've known this.

I think that a blog that I loved in high school and was hugely inspired by (@metalchickaf19/formerly @metalchick19) described him as a "convenience racist", which I agree with—as in, he is racist, but he doesn't really think that deeply on his feeling towards other races unless it's convenient with his bullying, hatred, so-on-and-so-forth, so he'd probably say some nasty, underhanded comments towards her if she pissed him off beyond belief.

Meanwhile, Patrick just outright says racist shit all the time, zero fucks given, and would absolutely crack awful jokes towards Indigenous Americans, her family on the rez, etc.

Of course, Victor would shut this shit down when he's around for it, or if Carla told him about it.

Still, Patrick is a freak (as we know) and is very much attracted to Carla, especially for the challenge of her A) being a feminist, B) probably not liking him considering he's a massive misogynist and general terror, and C) is also in a relationship.

Would try to get into her pants constantly, and whenever the Gang goes out.

Patrick would fuck with her art, 100%. Whether it's hovering over her shoulder, leaning in very, very closely to it, or full on trying to pass a cartoon "oopsie!" after splattering some paint onto it, he would be absolutely awful.

He finds joy in ruining others' joy.

However, Belch is Carla's friend, through-and-through. He was pretty intimidated by her at first, as he is most girls, but once they started talking about music, they immediately clicked. While Belch is known as Derry's resident metal fan, he also is a huge fan of OG rock like Hendrix and Black Sabbath, and would 100% trade records with her.

They would judge each other's music tastes, of course.

Victor, Belch, and Carla have secret hangouts—because, and I'm not joking, Henry would get very possessive and insecure if he found out 1/2 of the Gang was hanging out without him—at the Quarry, usually with Victor and Carla smoking and Belch cracking open a beer (weed makes Belch tweak out) while listening to music. In an ideal world, they'd probably hang out a lot more, but... Vic's in the gang, Belch is keen to stay in it out of both loyalty and survival... you know the jig.

Carla would not be cast out of gang hangouts, and, instead, likely would be readily invited to them. Henry would allow her presence for group morale (AKA Victor morale), and while Henry would mean-mug her, she'd get along with the group in whole (AKA: Belch, Henry, and Victor ignoring what Patrick has to say, unless Victor has to intervene, which is a lot).

[just-linkr]

OC ask game

I was tagged by @crackedskel

General

Name: Qaxni Thorne

Alias: Rook/Trouble

Gender: Cis woman (she/her)

Age: 30

Place of Birth: Orlais

Spoken Languages: Orlesian, Tevene, Common Trade, a tiny bit of Antivan (mostly swears)

Sexual Orientation: Pansexual

Occupation: Gray Warden Archivist, Veilguard leader

Favorites

Color: Teal

Entertainment: Drawing, reading, eating

Pastime: Watching and/or doodling Neve working

Food: Khachapuri, Fire-roasted steak

Drink: Ginger tea (and NOT gingerwart tea), the fruitest alcohol one could think of

Books: History books, Neve's messy notes, Varric's serials

Have They…

Passed University: No. She received basic education (reading, writing, mathematics) from the nobles who owned her before she joined the Wardens. Anything else she might have learned was with the help of the Gray Wardens' library and actual practice.

Had Sex: Yes, it gets lonely sometimes in the barracks.

Gotten Tattoos: She's covered in them. Someone once told her they'd keep her from being taken back as a slave as most slavers prefer 'blank states'. Though she did get the ones on her face because she found their design pretty.

Gotten Piercings: None, she got her ears pierced back when she was a slave and hated the feeling of weight on them.

Gotten Scars: She's also covered in them. Most of them are from fighting Darkspawn.

But a few are from her past life: the ones on her back from the slavers' whips and the one on her nose and neck from a bar fight she almost lost.

Had a Broken Heart: When the woman who she'd been assigned to back when she was a slave left and never returned. She was the only one who had tried to treat her decently.

Been in Love: She had a few flings here and there, but Neve Gallus was the first time she actively felt herself catching feelings for someone.

Are They…

A cuddler: It is one of her love languages. She loves to hug, kiss, hold hands: she's a sap.

Scared easily: Not really, but one can see her flinch slightly at sudden movements and sudden noises.

Jealous easily: No, she had to learn to live with what little she was allowed to have. But she does understand how one could get jealous, and she's aware that she should technically be for some things others take for granted.

Trustworthy: Yes, and being brutally honest helps.

She puts herself last too, which Neve hates but can't criticize as it would be pot calling the kettle black.

Family

Siblings: None

Parents: None

Children: None, unless you count Assan and Manfred

Pets: All the cats in the world

Tagging some of yall: @theoracraft @ilikedetectives @neveschampion @future-ghoost

Blank version under the read more

General

Name:

Alias:

Gender:

Age:

Place of Birth:

Spoken Languages:

Sexual Orientation: Occupation:

Favorites

Color:

Entertainment:

Pastime:

Food:

Drink:

Books:

Have They…

Passed University:

Had Sex:

Had Sex in Public:

Gotten Tattoos:

Gotten Piercings:

Gotten Scars:

Had a Broken Heart:

Been in Love:

Are They…

A cuddler:

Scared easily:

Jealous easily:

Trustworthy:

Family

Siblings:

Parents: Children:

Pets: