#the title is in reference to the book they checked out from the Library back in episode 6

[mikeystrawberry]

It’s here!! A playlist compiling every song reference made in the main campaign, with a playlist cover illustrated by yours truly

[reidmotif]

Between the Books

Summary: Reader is a librarian at the library Spencer frequents while he's finishing one of his degrees. They find themselves in a precarious situation when everyone's left and they're the last two people there.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Smut

Content Warning: unprotected penetrative sex, oral (f!recieving), fingering (f!recieving), themes of exhibitionism, public sex.

Word Count: 3.9 k

Masterlist

Being observant came naturally to you, almost as if it was a reflex embedded into the core of your nervous system. You’d say “hello” to a new face and as if under command, your eyes would naturally drift to the small pieces of hair on that stranger’s coat. 

Dog? Cat? Freakishly large gerbil? 

Whatever it was, you couldn’t turn it off. And that’s why when Spencer Reid caught your eye, you simply couldn’t find it in yourself to look away. 

And with time, it seemed like his actions mirrored yours.

You’d taken interest in a position at a university library for the summer. The job seemed to be a welcome change of pace from the likes of hectic summer jobs you’d go for typically in the past, a position that would mostly consist of monitoring graduate-level students who were, thankfully, much calmer than their undergrad counterparts.

 For the most part, you were right. Your days were filled with reading in an air-conditioned building, looking up titles of reference books for other students, and of course, the unexpected, yet welcomed, occurrence of Spencer Reid. 

The longer you spent at the library, the more you came to learn more about him. 

Well, as much as you could learn without actually speaking to the man. 

You’d learned his name from the library card he’d brandish when it came time to check out materials. He’d frequent books about Jean-Paul Sarte, Camus, and Nietzsche, opting to stay in the same, well-lit corner by the window every time he visited. While he could come in at any part of the day, he seemed to prefer later hours, when the library would be mostly vacant. His outfits weren’t over-the-top with formality, but he clearly wasn’t in the business of dressing casually.

 You found it attractive, honestly, how put-together he seemed. 

His return-rate on books was freakishly fast, and at one point, you’d assumed he was checking out books to read a certain page or chapter for research, and would then put it back, until you found yourself properly watching him and realized, no, he actually was just reading that fast. He could finish texts that would take almost a year to cover by seasoned professors and scholars in mere hours.

 How? You had no idea. Nevertheless, you desperately wanted to learn- to know him beyond the gazes of a library hall. 

You’d decided to try your luck at speaking to the man, noticing the three books he’d chosen all seemed to have one incredibly common theme amongst their authorship. 

“Existentialist?” You ask, trying to make your tone seem polite but still friendly. 

He blinks, as if he wasn’t expecting to be spoken to, and takes a second, his gaze meeting yours. “Sorry, what?” 

“Existentialist.” You repeat, motioning to the books you were checking out for him.  “Kierkegaard, Dostoevsky, Kafka. Your books seem to share a commonality.” 

He chuckles, realizing the meaning of your words and shakes his head. “No, no. Not an existentialist. I’d like to believe the world is better than what any of them make it out to be.” 

You smile, and nod. “I’d hope so.” Your eyebrows furrow, head tilting slightly. “Why the interest then?” There’s genuine fascination in your tone, and he seems to absolutely thrive off that, his eyes lighting up as you continue the conversation. 

“I’m completing my Masters in Philosophy.” He responds. “We’ve been doing an assignment on existentialism, hence the ridiculous amount of gloom and doom in my reading.”

 There’s a pause, before he cracks a smile, and then asks you, “Romantic?” 

You look at him in confusion. It’s your turn to not get the joke. “Sorry?” 

“Are you a romantic?” He asks. When you retain that confused look on your face, he continues. 

“You’re almost always reading some variation of a romance novel here. So far I’ve counted Austen, Bronte, and I think I saw a copy of Anna Karenina on the counter once.” 

You feel a bit of heat rise to your face, realizing that in his own way, he’d been observing you as well. In a second, the tables were turned, and the lens you often used on others was abruptly focused on you instead. 

“Well, Anna Karenina is hardly a romance, I’d argue.” You say, before nodding. “But, yeah. I guess I’d say I’m a fan of romance in novels.” 

He smiles, shaking his head. “I’m not asking you if you’re a fan of romance in novels, I’m asking you if you’re a romantic.” He says, putting emphasis on the last word, as if that was supposed to provide some grand difference to the statement. 

“Just as much as anyone else, right?” You respond, still a bit puzzled at his insistence on contrasting the syntax of his statement. 

“I see.” He says, nodding, continuing to look at you, as if he was sizing you up. “I’ll have to pick up a copy of Anna Karenina sometime then. See if it’s as much of a love story as I remember.” 

“I think you’ll find it’s absolutely not.” You reply, smiling. “I believe we have a copy of it here, as a matter of fact, if you’re actually interested.” There’s a hint of skepticism in your tone, wondering why he seemed to be taking so much regard to your conversation.

“Of course I’m actually interested. You seem passionate about the subject.” He counters, grinning. 

“I mean- yeah, I am! It’s a pretty misinterpreted book, I think.” You say. There’s a slight moment of silence, before you find yourself saying your next few words. “I’m also surprised you’re interested. I’m not always sure if it’s up everyone’s lane. Lots of people can’t get through it.” 

“I’m sure the least I can do is try.” He says, shrugging. 

You check out the last of his books, placing them in his outstretched hands. “Honestly, I’m even more surprised you noticed. You seem pretty into it in your corner over there.” You say, half-jokingly, but with a hint of seriousness mixed into it. 

He gives a softer smile, almost boyish, as he replies. 

“You’re pretty hard not to notice.” 

He keeps the smile on his face, giving you a slight nod of his head, before leaving you to deal with the sudden heat that had risen to your cheeks as a result of his words. You couldn’t find it in yourself to respond to his quick wit in the moment, your heartbeat still racing long after he’d left. 

Over that summer, the two of you get continually closer. To your absolute delight, he does end up reading Anna Karenina and better yet, he agrees with you. You immediately take an even stronger liking to him than before. Thus starts your tradition of recommending books to each other, the two of you discussing them when he’d come to the library, almost like a secret, private book club that only you two were privy to. 

You come to learn more about him. His doctorates, his job. The secret of his inhumanely fast reading was revealed to you later down the road, when he explained the abilities of an unconscious mind.. or something. While you wanted to give your undivided attention to him, there was an unspoken part of you that couldn’t help but find it ridiculously attractive when he explained things to you. He never seemed to notice that enduring part of your psyche, and you were grateful for that. 

Overall though, he made quite the friend. He shared your love of literature, and could be a wonderful listener at times. Your previous days of solitude in the library were long forgotten, and you found yourself looking forward to his daily visits, ready to share your thoughts on some book he’d last asked you to read. 

You find that his visits become less and less about the actual establishment, and more and more about you, especially when he opts to visit you at the front desk first, as opposed to over at his usual spot by the window. Somedays, he makes it obvious, not even bothering to peruse the selection of books he was previously accustomed to, and merely opts to talk to you the entire time, right up to the point where you’re locking the doors of the library and heading to your own place for the night. 

There’s a part of you that wonders why he hasn’t asked you out. You wonder why you hadn’t asked him out. It only seems natural, given how much time the two of you were spending- a date seemed like an obvious byproduct of the lingering gazes you’d catch him throw at you, the absolute joy that would bubble in your chest everytime the two of you shared an afternoon. 

You shrug it off. All in good time, right? 

It’s another night at the library, and you found yourself a bit frustrated. You’d asked your manager if there was any way she could take on the later shift of the day, increasingly tired with the hours of the job and simply needing a break from it all. She refused, and tonight, that refusal seemed to be on the forefront of your mind. 

“I just- I don’t get it, Spencer. I know she can take on this shift.” You say, wheeling around a cart of books to be reshelved, talking openly since the library was empty at this point in the day, all patrons packed up and soundly at home– while you were stuck here. 

He stayed, of course, following you around diligently as you completed the task, listening to every word.

 “I get that this is the worst shift to have, but come on. I’m a good employee, you know? I feel like I deserve a break here and there.” You come to a stop, picking up a stack of books with a huffy sigh. “But no. I’m the one who has to go home late. I’m the one who’s on closing every single night. I’m sick of it.” 

He nods sympathetically, and you continue to grovel, deeply appreciative that he was allowing you to vent to him like this. You stand on the provided step-stool on the ground, allowing you to have the height necessary to shelve some books that belonged further up than normal. 

“Like, is it really that hard?” You grumble, your face turned away from Spencer as you find each book’s proper place. “God forbid she sleeps at a later time than normal- or I don’t know, hires someone else.” The last book is reshelved, and you turn around, about to dismount the stool. “And another thing-” 

In the midst of your rant, you find yourself distracted,  missing the step on the stool that would’ve allowed a safe dismount, and you quickly realize you’re falling off, letting out a small yelp before a stronger force keeps you upright- a force that happened to be Spencer’s arms catching you. 

“You alright?” He asks with heavy concern, trying to look into your eyes or your legs, attempting to discern for signs where you might’ve hurt yourself on your descent. 

It takes a second for you to process that you are insanely close to Spencer. His features are almost enhanced by the low-lighting of the dark library, his eyes entirely dilated as he stares at you, his lips soft and perfect– and those cheekbones, god. You could practically cut yourself on them. 

You quickly return to your senses, trying to go back to a more suitable position that wouldn’t leave you so absolutely tongue tied. “No, no. I’m fine, honestly.” You step back, wiggling your leg a little. “See? Entirely fine.” 

He smiles a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I just get worried. I’m a doctor, you know.” He says, a teasing quality in his tone as he steps closer. 

“Not an actual doctor.” You say, rolling your eyes fondly. 

“Come on.” He says, letting his hand drift over back to your arm, which had taken most of the shock of falling onto him. “Humor me.” 

There’s that grin again, and you can’t help but relent. 

And so you humor him like he asked, letting his fingertips trail over the skin to properly check for any injuries, the action much more sensual than it should’ve been for a friend checking up on another friend. 

“You know.” He murmurs, his voice a bit lower than before. “I don’t actually think this is the worst shift to take on.” 

Your throat is dry, a physical reaction being drawn out of you as he touches you, and there’s a conscious reminder you actually have to respond to his words. 

“Oh? Why is that?” You force out. 

“It’s so quiet.” He mumbles out, immediately, his fingertips now tracing down to your waist, as the two of you made eye contact. “Nobody’s even in here at this point.” 

You swallow, trying to calm the rapid beat of your heart. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” 

“I like the quiet.” He says, continuing on. The previously feather-like touch on your waist becomes more grasping than anything else. “There’s just so much more you can get done when it’s quiet.” 

You nod and half heartedly mumble. “Mhm.” You’re far more focused on your growing proximity than his actual words, the act rendering you entirely breathless until he’s standing face to face with you, your breaths mingling due to the closeness. 

“I can feel your heart beating.” He mumbles. “So fast. Do I make you nervous?” 

You lick your lips and nod out of instinct, before squeezing your eyes shut and shaking your head. “No, no. It’s just the closeness. I’m not used to it.” You whisper, eyes opening– and his gaze is as intense as ever. 

One of his hands goes to cup your face. “Unless you tell me otherwise, I’m going to kiss you now.” 

You don’t move a single muscle. 

And then all of a sudden, he’s everywhere. He’s pulling you closer, absolutely devouring you like he’s been starved for your touch all along. His tongue slips into your mouth, and you respond in approval, humming with a deep content against his lips, your hands going to wrap around his neck, pulling your bodies flush together. You don’t want space– not now, or ever again. 

“Fuck. Wanted this for so long.” He mumbles, as soon as he breaks off the kiss, finding the pulse point on your neck, and going at it with his lips, causing you to quietly moan out in pleasure. You’d never heard him curse before, and the act only served to add to the steadily growing throb in between your legs. 

He pushes you even more insistently up against the counter attached to the bookshelves, your weight slightly more supported by the wood, as opposed to his body like before. 

“You’re so pretty.” He breathes out in between his assault on your neck, his mouth finding every inch of your nape, and marking it as his own. It’s almost like he’s hellbent on mapping out every plane of skin there, committing every spot that makes you whine or let out his name to memory.

You’re breathing so heavily, and you think it can’t possibly get any better than this, but he proves you wrong when he abruptly gets to his knees, your eyes widening. 

“Need to taste you. Please.” 

He’s begging, like, on-his-knees, doe-eyes, broken voice- begging to eat you out. 

And how could you ever say no, what, with those pretty eyes of his, and that expression on his face that made you practically weak with need?  

“Yes.” You whisper out, and in record time, he’s undoing your jeans and underwear in one clean swoop, not even bothering to fully remove the material before his tongue is all over your cunt, lapping up the wetness that had accumulated in the past few minutes. You’re half surprised he didn’t just rip your clothing off, given the enthusiasm he was showing at this moment. 

You’re suddenly incredibly aware of where you are- your place of work, a fucking library, and Spencer Reid was buried in your thighs like a man parched, lapping up wherever he possibly can. You can hear the obscene noises of your passion, his tongue lavishing over you, before he pays special attention to your clit, wrapping his lips around the nub and sucking softly.  You cover your mouth with your free hand- grateful that the wood behind you was supporting you, because without it, you truly think you’d topple over from the sheer pleasure of it all. 

“Fuck.” You whisper, voice high-pitched as you try to hold back your noises. “Fuck. Gonna come.” You warn, legs shaking as you barreled towards your release. 

Without warning, his fingers enter your cunt, and you’re fighting back a scream. 

How long had you stared at his fingers before this? How many times had you watched them run up and down the spines of the books he read, or gestured with them constantly whilst speaking? How long had such a simple part of his body captivated you? 

How many times had you secretly wondered to yourself how they’d feel inside you?

It didn’t matter anymore. You had your answer now. Fucking amazing.

“Spencer!” You whine out, his fingers naturally reaching that soft spot inside that you often struggled to even brush against. His lips find your clit again, sucking softly and you know you’re an absolute goner. 

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck-” 

Before you can even voice in coherent terms how good this feels, you’re coming, the walls of your cunt spasming around his fingers as he relishes in the reaction, using the tip of his tongue to circle your clit, and slowing his fingers down as you ride out the remnants of your orgasm. He slips the digits out of you as he rises to his knees, and sucks on his fingers, one by one, practically moaning as he tastes your release.

The sight is downright sinful.

“You taste so good.” He whispers, crashing his lips against yours again, and you’re already needy again when you can taste yourself on his tongue. 

His hands drift down to his own slacks, undoing them and pulling his cock out, already dripping with precum. 

“You ready, pretty girl?” He murmurs, guiding his tip to your waiting cunt. You’ve situated yourself on the wood of the desk entirely now, needing the support for what happens next. 

You nod, and without even realizing he was already mostly there, he pushes into you entirely, and your jaw drops. Your head rests against  his shoulder, trying to accustom to feeling of him stretching you out so fucking perfectly. 

How could you ever fuck anyone else again, when he just felt so perfect for you? 

It seemed that he agreed with the sentiment, moaning softly as his free hand steadied himself by gripping onto the shelf. “You feel so fucking good.” He murmurs. “Can I move? Are you okay?” He asks, softly. 

His other hand rubs soothing circles into your hip bone, and you’re nodding, touched by his concern for you, even during such a salacious act. 

His thrusts are slow at first, still allowing you to get used to the feeling of him inside of you, before he’s truly going at it, his thick cock rubbing against your wet walls in a way that makes you feel light and full all at once. It's delectable, and you never want it to end. 

You whine, holding onto his neck, your head thrown back as you take it, feeling the books rattle around you with every hump he deals into you. You can’t even find it in yourself to care– all that matters right now is you, and him, and how fucking amazing it feels when he’s fucking you like this. 

You can feel yourself building towards another pleasurable release, before you hear the telltale click of the library door opening, effectively removing you from the moment. Fuck. The janitor. 

“Spencer, Spencer!” You whisper-shout, biting your lip. His cock doesn’t once slow inside you, and you find it hard to think when it feels that good. 

“We’re gonna be caught!” You whine out, dizzied by how you were simultaneously turned on and utterly panicked. 

“No, we won’t.” He whispers, gruffly. With your hands now around his neck, he lets his hand drop from the shelf and covers your mouth. He leans in even closer, if that’s possible, eyes dark. 

The sight makes a shiver go up your spine. 

“Stay quiet.” He murmurs, as he begins to deal slower, more deliberate thrusts into your cunt. 

“Feel that? Feel how I’m filling you up, nice and slow?” He whispers, the words barely audible, but with how close he’s standing to you, they overtake every one of your senses, and you nod desperately, eyes glistening as you feel yourself dancing on the precipice of release. 

“Shh. I know.” He murmurs. “Come for me, yeah? I know you want to. Show me how much you like my cock inside of you.” 

It's a combination of his tone, of the risk you two were facing, and the sensation of him that has you responding exactly the way he wants, and in an instant, you’re coming with a shuddering breath, holding back a loud whine, just like he asked you to. 

The feeling of your walls spasming has him releasing as well,  a warmth flooding in your deepest point. His head drops into your shoulder as he attempts to muffle his moans the best he can, and you both bask in the afterglow for a second, trying to pant as quietly as you could. 

Spencer immediately springs into action, redressing you with precision and care, guiding your underwear and jeans back up, buttoning them up for you. You’re still in a slight haze from the two orgasms he’d just given you, and when you properly come to, his slacks are back on, and he leans in for a much more chaste kiss. It leaves you with butterflies, despite everything,  and you find yourself smiling softly at him. The fondness reflected in his expression is undeniable.

“Let’s get out of here.” He murmurs, grabbing your hand and guiding you in between the shadows of the shelves, effectively keeping you both from being caught. The janitor remains clueless, as you two sneak out, giggling like teenagers as you find yourselves outside, the summer night warm and cool all at once. 

“That was..” You mumble, laughing a bit, surprised that had even happened. 

“I know. I- uh. Might’ve gotten carried away?” He says. “I usually like to do that after a date. I just-” He steps closer, cupping your cheek. “I couldn’t wait. I hope that’s okay.” He whispers. 

“More than okay.” You whisper back. 

His thumb slowly strokes over the expanse of your cheek, and he bites his lip. “Could we? Date? Try this out?” He murmurs. “I know I didn’t get much of a chance to say it back there, but I really like you.” 

You can’t help the chuckle that escapes you. This man had just been inside you, and now he was blushing and stuttering whilst he attempted to ask you out. 

“Yes.” You nod. “Let’s try this.” 

He’s got the most genuine smile on his face, and a sigh of relief  can be heard as he leans in again to kiss you, and you can’t help the smile on your face as your lips meet his, the elation in both of your bodies absolutely radiating inside and out. 

You recount your first conversation and know now, there was a difference between liking romance, and being a romantic. 

You reckon Spencer Reid could make quite a romantic out of you. 

this is uploading an hour later than i wanted it to :( but whatever. i hope you guys like this one <3 i'm trying something new! not first person pov, but "you" ? pleaseee let me know how this works for you guys! i love experimenting out with new fic methods but if it's clear this isn't working TELL MEEE so i can go back to what did work. anyway, any likes, reblogs, comments are so so so genuinely appreciated. thank you thank you thank you for reading either way <3

[wandaslittleweirdo]

A/N: she’s so sweet and momma I can’t :(((. I want to do a part 2 of this with some more smutty stuff or lactation kink, tehe . — masterlist.

tw: age gap > reader is 20 wanda is 36, pet names (sweet girl, dear, angel), a lot of fluffs & wanda spoiling reader !1!1!1!!!!!1!

milfy!librarian!wanda ༝༝ fem!reader

ೀ “You finding everything okay, dear?” She asked softly.

Her eyes had found you from the far side of the room, where you were looking through the reference and special collections section, a notebook and mechanical pencil clutched tightly in your hands.

You wandered back and forth in that same category for almost an hour searching for something of interest. Each time you paused to pull out a book or crouched down to examine the titles on the lower shelves, Wanda’s gaze followed you. When you finally found a book you liked and went to check out, you saw her behind the counter, already watching with small smile on her face.

You had never seen a woman so beautiful in your entire life, and when she offered a little finger wave, the book slipped right out of your hands and hit the floor with a loud thud.

Upon first meeting, you were shy and couldn’t understand why this sophisticated and incredibly attractive older woman would be drawn to a somewhat directionless twenty-year-old girl like yourself. But despite your initial hesitation, her gentle demeanor and effortless charm put you at ease, even as you struggled to speak and stand up properly.

She always made time to ask about your school life, wondering how you were progressing with your studies. She loved the days when you burst through the library doors just as she was about to close up, watching as you would leap into the room with such enthusiasm, practically bouncing on your feet as you proudly announced your latest achievement—an A on a difficult test or a perfect score of 100% on an assignment. Her praises filled the air, and she would beam with pride, celebrating your success as if it were her own.

You could hardly contain your excitement as the soft creak of the library doors would mark your arrival, your heart swelling at the sight of Wanda behind the counter, bathed in the warm, dim glow of a single reading lamp. The library would be empty, and soon you'd hear her sweet, soft voice calling you over, a warm smile on both your faces, knowing a small treat awaited you.

With a twinkle in her eye, she’d reach into her pocket and pull out a small, shiny wrapper that glimmered under the light—a crinkled piece of gold foil. Inside lay a special chocolate, the fancy ones with an intricate swirl design and a tangy raspberry center. It was a little reward for your dedication to studying, calling you ‘her good girl’ as she stroked your cheek or your hair.

She would lean in, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she motioned for you to come behind the counter. "Come here and open your mouth nice and wide for me, sweet girl,"

You never hesitated, eager to hear Wanda hum softly in satisfaction as you obeyed her orders without a second thought. She’d place the chocolate on your tongue, her fingers grazing your lips.

When you would dress up all nice, you would discreetly glance out of the corner of your eye and watch as she left her spot behind the counter, completely forgetting about her duties just to come over and compliment you.

“You look even more beautiful than usual, angel. Did you do something to your hair?”

“Yes! I just styled it a bit.” You said, voice shaking slightly as she reached out to pick up a few of the soft strands.

“Who exactly are you dressing up for, then?” she asked, the words almost biting as they left her lips.

“…You.”

A mix of surprise and delight flashed across her face as she processed your answer. That was the first time you had said something even slightly bold towards her. She let out a soft, nervous chuckle, her cheeks tinged with a delicate blush.

“Oh, that’s great then! I was worried that you had plans for a date after this or something,” she confessed, and your smile grew.

“I promise, I’m only going home after this. I just wanted to look nice for you…”

She would keep the library doors open long into the evening just for you, took a genuine interest in the projects you did on the library computers and often stopped by with encouragement and guidance. She even took the time to understand your reading preferences, carefully selecting books that matched your interests. Whenever new titles arrived, she’d set aside the ones she knew you'd enjoy, creating a special collection just for you.

You once mentioned that you didn’t have your own computer—the second reason you spent so much time at the library. You barely had enough money for college; affording a personal computer was out of the question when the library computers were free and accessible to anyone. In that same conversation, you had also mentioned that your birthday was tomorrow.

The next day, she stopped you with a knowing grin. “I left something for you upstairs,” she said, gesturing toward the far corner of the second floor—your favorite study spot.

When you arrived, your usual table was overflowing with balloons, confetti, and piled with surprises: a brand-new computer wrapped perfectly with a ribbon, a letter stuffed with cash, and three rare, expensive books you’d been wanting for years. And perched at the very top of it all was a single cupcake.

Beside it sat a small note. You took it between your fingers, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. And then, as your eyes moved over the elegant curves of her handwriting, your heart nearly melted.

“…and a little treat for my favourite girl. Happy birthday—W.M. ♡”

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[heartepub]

if i loved you less

summary. wonwoo's biggest gamble starts a week before valentine's day. pairing. jeon wonwoo x gn!reader genre/tags. non-idol!au, friends to lovers, bookworm!reader, spoilers for a 210-year old novel, wonwoo wins most creative confession, suggestive at the end wc. 2.9k suggested listening. pretty u, seventeen // dreams, the cranberries // andante andante, abba // i will, the beatles // library card, janani k. jha // aphrodite, the ridleys

notes. late to a hearts day posting, but pls accept this humble offering in between thesis cramming! i first pitched this to kae waaay back, but unfortunately it is not royal/period au (sorry ueueue). i read aspen's accidental one night stand ww and dug around my wip's for this in a fit of madness LMAOOO as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Wonwoo hands you a package wrapped in brown paper, tied neatly with twine. Your eyes light up as you accept it with a soft thank you.

“Aren’t you a week early?”

“I know,” he replies simply. “I wanted to ask you to finish reading this by Friday.” Your brow furrows.

“Is it something I can finish by then?” Wonwoo nods. You feel the weight the parcel in your hands, considering his strange request.

“What brought this on?” You ask. 

The shift is subtle, but you notice it nonetheless—a flicker of something passing across his eyes, and his shoulders tensing up before he pulls them down again. Wonwoo looks away, as though steeling himself for something.

“It’s my reading recommendation.”

“Yours?” You straighten. Wonwoo’s never gifted a book to you before based on his own taste. He always based it off your reading list, after being hopelessly lost navigating a bookstore and asking the clerk for help, only to give you a book wildly different from your preferences.

You hold the book close to your chest. “Can I open it now?”

“No.”

“Fine,” you pout, then frown as a thought comes to you. “Wait. I remember telling you I’m on a ban right now.”

Normally, Wonwoo was scrupulous about following your rules, one of which being that he can’t gift you a book if your current priority was reading through the ones you already had.

He seems to weigh his words carefully before replying. “I just thought this one was too important to pass up.”

You catch how his fingers curl and uncurl in his jacket, the poor fabric already wrinkled at his fidgeting. Trying to make your voice as soothing yet nonchalant as possible, you pull your lips up to a grin, thumbing the edge of the twine ribbon. “I suppose I can make an exception for my best friend.”

It seems to have the opposite effect.

There it is again—the subtle shift in his demeanor, the miniscule purse of his lip before Wonwoo speaks. “Do you have dinner plans, or are we doing movie night again?”

“Movie night sounds good. Any requests for food?”

Normally, Wonwoo would ask you to prepare ramyeon, especially after you had figured out Mingyu’s recipe, while he brought dessert. But his reply, like everything else in this conversation, is unexpected. “I’ll handle it.” He checks his watch before leveling you with an apologetic look. “I have to run. There’s a bunch of shit to do at work between, but I’ll see you on Friday?”

If he wanted to talk to you, he would. You’d never push him to say anything he wasn’t ready to share. You repeat this to yourself, even as you nod, maintaining your façade of soothing nonchalance.

“Yeah, see you.”

For the past couple of years, Wonwoo’s gift of choice has always been a book. After your protests at the price of new titles and your steadfast allegiance to your library card, among other reasons, the rules had been laid out as follows:

Copies should, as much as possible, not be brand new. They could be from thrift stores, secondhand shops, yard sales, or those Facebook groups where owners sold their old titles. Only new releases would be the exception, and even then, indie bookstores should be the first place to look.

Refer to the Notion page of your current to-be-read list for possible titles.

If you were on a book buying ban, so is he; it’s bad enough that your shelves continue to groan under the weight of books still unread. 

The first rule was for your indulgence, too. You happened to take home a volume of the Diaries of Anaïs Nin only to find notes scribbled in the marginalia, and fell in love immediately. It’s a rare thing in your collection, but you do have someone’s old Letters to Milena and Giovanni’s Room, the latter with annotations in Arabic, of all languages.

You stare at the unwrapped gift, heart in your throat.

Emma.

Wonwoo must have been lying when he said it was his recommendation; you have your own well-worn copy, annotations and all, sitting in the corner of your shelf dedicated to Austen. Hands shaking, you open your messages, snapping a photo of the book laying on the desk.

You [picture] ??? wonwoo?? (Seen)

He sees it almost immediately; three dots appear onscreen.

aa wonu It’s a gift. Don’t overthink it. But I hope you won’t get mad.

You is it smth I should be mad abt?

aa wonu Up to you.

You you know i’ve read emma, right

aa wonu Have you started reading this one yet?

You turn to Chapter 1, and gasp. There, in black ink, is Wonwoo’s familiar scrawl, remarks littering the blank space between the heading and the text. You flip through the first half, seeing how he’d write anything from a smiley face to bracket off entire passages with an exclamation point. Some brackets and underlines have longer annotations beside them that you have yet to read.

It’s all in black pen—so characteristically Wonwoo, who wouldn’t be the type to use different colored highlighters and page flags, anyway.

You oh my god. wonwoo

aa wonu The last time I read a classic was in high school Don’t judge me too harshly. Please. See you Friday?

You hesitate before replying.

You yeah ofc! see you!!

Your thumbs are shaking too badly as you type the last message; the phone gets thrown on your bed, bouncing once before resting on the pillow. A hand comes up to cover your mouth. You stare at the book, mind whirring.

Years ago, there had been a time when you entertained the thought of dating Jeon Wonwoo. In night-outs where he’d offer to get you home, a hand on your back to keep you from stumbling as you’d fumble for keys that always ended up at the bottom of your bag. He had even taken to keeping a pair of slippers in his car, in your size, for you to change into when your feet were hurting. Wonwoo never told you—he just knew your foot size, just cared in the understated, quiet way he always did. When you found out, you remember thinking that this would be the kind of man you wouldn’t mind offering your heart to. Thought that obviously he’d only do something like that for someone he was in love with.

Now, of course, after his exes and your own, and no confession in sight, you had buried your wishful thinking in the deepest parts of your heart. You’d even grown to appreciate it more, finding comfort in the care that was independent of any romantic expectation.

Wonwoo, your best friend, chose, out of all the books to annotate and gift you, Emma. You know how the story goes. He knows you know how it goes. Yet Wonwoo’s thoughts are here, immortalized and entrusted into your hands, the same hands you have now buried your face in while trying to reel in your breaths.

Today, that bird you had deprived of the sun beats its wings against your ribcage, insistent once more. Your body is simultaneously numb and buzzing with energy, as though it could not decide whether it wanted to freeze up or run a few hundred laps.

It could be nothing—could be like that time with the slippers again where you allowed yourself to be caught in your wishful thinking. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it isn’t. You don’t know if your heart can take it if it is.

You welcome Wonwoo in your apartment with a painfully bright grin, accepting his proffered bag of takeout before ushering him inside. He had offered only a soft hello, barely a smile on his face as he took off his shoes by your entrance. You couldn’t bring yourself to keep up any chatter while he washes his hands in your kitchenette, even as you busy yourself a few feet away with peeling off the tape on the plastic containers and wiping away any grease that leaked out.

“I’ll set up the table,” he breaks the silence, gaze unreadable. He’s already holding the two rice containers, and two pairs of chopsticks from your stash. 

You paste on a smile, tape still sticking to your fingers. “Sure.” 

He walks away. Not even when Wonwoo had broken up with his last partner, who made him choose between them and you, has it been this awkward. Steeling yourself, you join him, setting down the plate of chicken and bowl of steaming kimchi jjigae a safe distance from the laptop.

Before you begin eating, you hold up a hand for him to wait. Reaching into a nearby drawer, you pull out and offer your own present—a beta-release of a game he had been eyeing for some time now. Wonwoo’s eyes soften.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, as though he hadn’t been expecting you to gift him anything.

“Of course,” you respond immediately. Wonwoo glances at you before looking away. He always sits across you when you eat, and you catch the micro-changes in his expression as he shifts, staring hard at a spot on your floor before picking up his chopsticks. He looks at anything but you. The sound of the bamboo breaking seems to echo around the space.

Eventually, it’s too much for you to bear. You square your shoulders, inhaling a quick, sharp breath.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” you begin, tentatively.

“…I thought about not coming,” he replies, raising his eyes to meet yours, which have not yet looked way from him. He looks away again. Something in your chest twists painfully, even if your body is buzzing with repressed adrenaline.

“Do you still want to watch a movie? Or are we gonna talk about it?”

Wonwoo’s eyes are guarded. “Is there anything to talk about?” he replies, an edge in his voice. “You never messaged after that day.” 

“I thought you wanted today to be the day we talked about it? Seemed like too big of a thing to discuss over text.” And you had spent the last week agonizing over what to feel, how to feel, what to say, and how to say it. He presses his lips together, fixing his gaze on the piece of napa cabbage resting on top of his rice. The broth stains the grains around it with a tint of red. 

He rests his chopsticks against the rim of the bowl before leaning back, running a hand through his hair. “I get it. It’s a lot. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “Don’t be sorry.” The response feels automatic, but you do mean it. He has nothing to be sorry for.

You look at him, really look, searching his features. There’s something in his eyes that breaks your heart—as though he had come here already expecting heartbreak, yet showed up nonetheless. 

Just like that, all the questions, any plans you had for today, vanish like smoke. 

“Just—just wait here.” You set your chopsticks on your bowl. The bamboo clacks softly right before the chair creaks as you stand, stumbling back a little as you turn to your bedroom. 

“Where is that—” you mutter. “Aha!” You run back to the table, where Wonwoo is waiting. Under his fingers, the takeout napkin is all but shreds, though he does try to hide it under the table once you arrive. You approach him, dragging your chair so you can sit beside him, nothing separating you.

“Hold out your hands,” you instruct. Wonwoo does, and you set down a copy of Emma on his waiting palms. But not the one he gave you the other day. It’s yours, the one you’ve owned for many years.

Wonwoo stares at it, before lifting his gaze to you. 

“Did you know,” you begin softly. “I used to like Persuasion the most. I loved how it was written, how both characters were more mature than the ones in her other books. Pride and Prejudice had my favorite characters. But Emma…”

You thumb at its spine, and then at the crease on the cover, a thin white line disrupting what would have been solid black. Its careworn edges are familiar under your fingertips, and you know if you fan the pages in front of your nose it will smell like the characteristic scent of old books.

“Emma is the one I reread the most. At least, certain parts of it.” There’s a page marked—the scene where Mr Knightley finally lays his heart bare to Emma. From behind your back, you bring out his gift, flicking through the pages until you find the same page in this copy, Wonwoo’s only highlight in a book annotated with black pen. 

If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.

In your copy, there’s the same, with a note in your handwriting—in the script you first learned in high school and tried to revisit some years ago before giving up: me!!! but also me when!!!!!

Wonwoo looks at both of these, mouth parted. You know how sharp he is, how the pieces have already come together in his mind. 

“Really?” He asks, voice soft, as though he can hardly believe it. The only thing left is for him to believe it. You know, because you are the same. It was only the heartbreak in his eyes, the anticipated rejection at the start, that made it sure for you. 

Tentatively, your hands wander, moving from clasping the book to cupping his hands, cool under your own. You glance down at the book.

“‘If I have not spoken, it is because I am afraid I will awaken myself from this dream.’” Finally, you allow the giddy smile to spread across your face. Your heart flutters against your ribs, so utterly alive. “We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

His lips twitch upward. After a moment, he begins to chuckle, and the weight on his shoulders seems to dissolve before your eyes. You begin to laugh too, simply out of the sheer relief of finally realizing that the past few days are now behind both of you. 

“In case it isn’t obvious, Jeon Wonwoo, I’ve been in love with you too.” You whisper. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. Where before, he was afraid to look at you, now, it seems it’s all he can do. The fondness in his gaze is enough to bring anyone to their knees.

“Thank God,” he whispers back. You just stay there, basking in the moment, letting the joy finally seep itself into bones that have been weighed by resignation for so long. After a while, you begin to pull away, only you catch how Wonwoo’s gaze drops down as you do. You pause, gazing at him questioningly.

There’s a minute tremble in his hands as he reaches for your face, brushing your cheek with his fingers. His thumb traces a line on your jaw. He leans in, but stops, watching your reaction first before closing the distance all the way.

Though his approach was hesitant, the kiss itself is anything but. His hands find your cheek, then your neck, then your waist, pulling you further forward. You thread your fingers through his hair, both to bring him closer and to anchor yourself. There’s the faint taste of spicy broth, but you don’t care, knowing you’re the same anyway.

“That was hell of a gamble for Valentine’s,” you murmur once he pulls away, shaking your head. “Why now? How long have you known?”

Wonwoo just smiles. “It’s been a few months since either of us had a partner. And after the last one, when I was made to choose…they called me out on how unfair I was being, trying to be with them even as they knew I was in love with someone else.”

Your breath catches in your throat even as he continues.

“I tried to deny it, at the time, but they knew even before I did.” he finishes. He tilts his head and leans forward, closing the distance again. It’s more insistent now, the hands on your waist fully pulling you onto his lap. Wonwoo’s teeth nip at your lower lip, and you gasp. It shifts from chaste into something more demanding; his hands wander, fingers trailing paths of fire as they run across your back and grip your waist, as though he were finally releasing everything that had been pent up in him until this moment. 

He swallows you into himself, and you allow yourself to be pulled into his passion. His mouth moves, latching down onto your neck and sucking. A quiet, shuddering moan leaves your lips. Wonwoo freezes. He pulls away, stricken, looking at you.

“Sorry,” he rasps. “I took it too far.” His hair is mussed, lips swollen and puffy. Something in your stomach stirs as you look at him like this—a Wonwoo you’d never seen before. A Wonwoo who is like this because of you. “I—”

You kiss him again, just because you can. Just a small thing, a tender reassurance. Pulling away, you smile. Absently, you play with the short strands of hair at his nape. “You’re okay. I don’t think I’m up for anything, er, more, tonight, but can we please keep kissing.”

After a beat, he chuckles, shoulders relaxing as his thumbs trace circles on your waist. Wonwoo leans in, lets your lips meet again in a slow dance, almost lazy. Like you finally have all the time in the world.

“Okay. But maybe after dinner and brushing our teeth. I’m still hungry.”

“Deal.”

Behind your ribs, the bird flies, finally free.

[cuntressgoingdigital]

BAD HABIT | abby anderson x reader - college au!!

free palestine! click this link for more info

synopsis: you catch abby's eye during class and she becomes determined to make you her's. unfortunately, she can't bring herself to just outright admit her feelings, forcing herself through weeks of yearning and agony.

notes: i have been sitting on this since early october. finally finished it up! gets kinda rambly midway through. can you tell i love writing abby as a gay loser? titled after bad habit by steve lacy :P

cw: 18+ content MDNI, reader referred to as a girl, alcohol ment, dom! reader (if you squint), inexperienced! abby, no smut technically (but def not sfw), abby doesn't know how to communicate

word count: 4.9k

it was abby’s final year of college. she was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. the last three years had been a horrendous rollercoaster of trials and tribulations. all of her classes were rigorous and extremely involved. it felt like she never slept, ate, or had any time to herself. she had a couple friends, but nothing too serious. in reality, they were probably closer to acquaintances. she made the mistake of following her boyfriend halfway across the country to attend the same college as him. all of her friends were his friends and their breakup, while semi-amicable, set her back as far as friendships go. 

it wasn’t that she wasn’t good at making friends, she just didn’t have the time. making friends in your senior year of college was its own special beast. nobody wants to go out of their way to foster new friendships because of their temporary nature. everyone was applying for grad school, hoping to get as far away from home as possible. living off campus isolates you, ripping you away from the forced community that comes with living in a dormitory.

none of that mattered. abby was perfectly fine by her lonesome.

she had never felt compelled to establish a connection until she stepped foot into her french romantic literature class. everyone called it a gimme class. do the readings, write your reviews and reports, easy A. it was a low level class and she needed the elective credit, so why not? it was an 8AM, but she had dealt with worse. 

she was setting up her ipad and pencil when she felt someone brush past the back of her chair. she looked up and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. she swears she had never seen a girl more beautiful than you. it felt like one of those cheesy rom coms where all the sound in the room dropped out, the entire world slowed, and your smile lit up the room. 

“sorry!” you whispered, making your way a few chairs down and getting as comfortable as possible on those horrid plastic chairs. 

every day for two weeks she just watched you from afar. abby perked up every time you raised your hand to give insight on that week’s readings. you were intimidatingly smart. everything you said, she couldn’t have possibly come up with. she hadn’t missed a single day of class so far. 

but, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to you. a simple “hi, nice to meet you” wouldn’t cut it. she didn’t want to come off as creepy or nonchalant. she needed a plan. 

one day you had left your bag open on your desk and abby caught a glimpse of a novel. it wasn’t one of the books that was required reading for class. was it a leisure read? immediately, she looked up the title and read the synopsis. 

she couldn’t fathom any way to make a book sound less interesting.

alas, at this point she was committed. 

that afternoon, during a small break between classes, she made her way to the library. after wandering on one of the floors for too long, she finally found the novel in question. the plan was to read it, hope that you left your bag open again, and ask about it after class. simple enough. 

she took the elevator down to the first floor and brought the book up to the check out desk. there was no one behind the desk and she wondered if she should come back later.

“sorry!” 

abby knew that voice. 

you sauntered out from the hidden staff area behind the desk. abby felt stupid for letting her crush affect her like this. her face was hot, she had to make a concerted effort to breathe evenly, and suddenly she forgot how to socialize. all she could do was stiffly set the book on the desk. 

“aren’t you in my class? french romantic lit, right?” you took the book in your hands and flipped it to the back cover to scan the barcode on the corner. 

“uh, yeah. i think so?” she had never felt more awkward in her life, sliding her student ID across the desk. 

“well, it’s nice to meet you…” you pick up the plastic card and read over it. “abby.”

there was a quiet beep and abby stood there awkwardly trying to think of something to say. “have you read this book before?” she blurted out. “i just…the reviews seemed to be pretty split. people either love it or hate it, y’know?”

a smile stretched across your face. you were clearly more than delighted to give your thoughts, recommendations for other books, and authors who had a similar writing style. abby thought your enthusiasm was adorable. she had absolutely no clue what you were talking about, but was happy you got to share your ideas with her. 

she cleared her throat. “i guess i’ll give you my thoughts after class one day?” 

you nod excitedly. “i would really love that.” 

abby collected her items and turned on her heel to leave the library. she felt accomplished, only to realize a few moments later,

fuck. 

she didn’t even ask for your name. 

that night abby started the novel. she was determined to finish before she saw you again on wednesday. homework was suddenly tossed onto the backburner. her childish crush took precedent. for the next day and a half she did nothing but read this novel, even going as far as making annotations and talking points for you. 

she woke up bright and early on wednesday. the sun was hanging lowly in the sky. she couldn’t go back to sleep even if she wanted to. she drug her body out of bed and pulled on a black tshirt and grey sweatpants for her early morning workout. she preferred to get her workout out of the way during the early morning hours to avoid the crowd of people in her apartment’s rec center and lower her chances of social interaction. 

her workout was a little more rushed than usual. she wanted to make sure she looked well put together when she approached you after class. she was meticulous with her shower routine, pairing the scent of her body wash with her lotions and deodorant. pine and amber with a hint of lavender. next was her hair that she braided and re-braided at least three times in front of her slightly fogged up bathroom mirror. she peeked at her phone and noticed it was way later than she thought. she ripped a black short sleeve button up and olive green corduroy pants off of their hanger and slipped on some shoes before she ran off to the bus stop.

she made it into the classroom right as the professor was reading off the first slide. the feeling of several pairs of eyes on her was unbearable. 

for the entire seventy five minutes of class she could only stare at you. you were feverishly typing on your laptop while also scribbling something down in your notebook. the clock seemed to tick slower than usual. 

“alright, that covers everything i wanted to address today. i’ll let y’all out a few minutes early. go enjoy the weather outside.” 

abby couldn’t pack up faster. she prayed you weren’t in any kind of rush. 

“hey!” 

abby spun around to see your face. thank god, you had approached her. this eliminated the possibility of her chickening out. 

“oh, hey!” this had thrown off abby’s entire script. “sorry i ran off yesterday. i didn’t catch your name?”

you chuckled at the realization. you hadn’t noticed either. after you properly introduced yourself, abby offered a “nice to officially meet you.”

you waste no time getting to your initial reason for approaching her. “did you start the book?” 

the sound of your voice had butterflies swarming about in her stomach. 

“yeah, i finished it actually.”

you slung your backpack over your shoulders. “which way are you going?” 

the two of you set off in the direction of the coffee shop on campus. abby went over her talking points and luckily you two shared a lot of the same ideas about the themes and writing style of the book. abby made a mental note to read more of your recommendations. 

the coffee shop was coming up on the horizon and abby had already completely derailed her walk to her next class. she had to wrap this up.

“did you maybe wanna study together sometime? you looked really into today’s lecture.” was that a weird thing to say? now it sounded like she was watching your every move.

she was. 

but, that wasn’t your business. 

“oh god, no. i hated this week’s reading. way too dense and the translation was clunky.” your head dropped in embarrassment. “i was actually playing sudoku.” 

god, you were the cutest thing. 

“dinner, then?” she ground her fingernails into the fabric of her backpack straps. “i just think it would be nice to have someone to talk about the homework with.” there was a beat of silence and immediately she felt the need to backtrack “it’s okay if not! i’m sure you’re busy and all.”

“dinner sounds fun! i can do tonight? maybe around seven?”

the two of you exchanged phone numbers and abby said a quick goodbye before rushing off in the opposite direction, praying she wasn’t late to her next class. 

you mentally high fived yourself. you had only made one friend during your time at college and that was your first year dorm roommate. she was great and all, but a senior with only one friend felt sort of pathetic. you were positive the two of you only ended up being friends because of your forced close proximity. you both loved each other to death, but you weren’t so sure you would have found each other otherwise. 

this time you made a friend all on your own. well, maybe you two weren’t quite friends yet, but you’d try your damndest to make your friendship status official. she was nice enough so far. 

and really pretty. 

like, really pretty. 

an hour or so later, abby sent a text with a link to a restaurant menu. you couldn’t help but open the message immediately. 

abby a.: is this good? 

you clicked on the link and your eyes grew wide. this was one of the places you would only eat at for special occasions. the cheapest entree was thirty dollars. there was no way you could afford that. you were a full time student living off of your need based scholarship and the meager wages you received from your work study job. if you looked you would probably see double digits in your checking account. 

you: this looks rlly nice but idk if i’ll be able to afford it 

you: i’m srry!!

before you could lock your phone, the grey bubble appeared again.

abby a.: don’t worry i invited you. i’ll grab the check. 

the idea of being indebted to her made you uneasy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disagree with her. you didn’t want to seem high maintenance. 

your 8AM was your only class of the day, so in normal fashion you gallivanted around campus and sat in front of the library, people watching, until your shift started. the older woman who worked the same desk shift as you helped you on the daily crossword, forcing the time to pass faster. 

it was a little more than an hour before you and abby were supposed to meet up when your phone vibrated. 

abby a.: i’ll pick you up. send me your address.

you had fully intended to take the twenty minute bus ride over to the restaurant. you knew the bus routes like the back of your hand on account of you not owning a car. it wasn’t as bad as everyone made it out to be. 

abby pulled up at 7PM on the dot. once you received the “outside” text you grabbed your bag from it’s designated hook near the door. 

“where ya goin’?”

you looked back to see your best friend and roommate, liz. 

“dinner.”

“like a date?”

“nah. just some girl from my class.” your hand reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open. “i’ll see you!”

“have fun. make good choices!” she called out before you could shut the door behind you. 

you peered around the parking lot, trying to find her car. you pulled your phone from your bag and unlocked it, preparing to call abby to play hot and cold until you found her. then, you heard a voice call your name. 

abby was hanging out the sunroof of her car, waving at you. you approached her car and caught the brand sigil on the front grille. it was a BMW. you didn’t know much about cars, but you knew those were expensive. you opened the doors to see a custom leather interior and a high tech touch screen on the center console. it felt like you weren’t even allowed to sit down in this car. 

“hey, sorry it’s kind of messy.” 

there were maybe a dozen crumbs on the floor mats and a couple straw wrappers in the cup holder. 

“if this is messy for you, you’d hate to see my room.” you awkwardly tried to laugh off the tension you felt. “nice car.” 

abby moved the gear shift into drive and started to pull out of the parking lot. “yeah, it’s an early graduation present. i was hoping for something a little more practical. like a subaru or something.” she immediately bit her tongue. she probably sounded so stuck up right now. “i mean, this is perfectly fine! i just…what if i have some furniture to move, y’know?” 

smooth recovery.

“no, no i get it!” you, in fact, did not get it. you would kill to be able to drive yourself across town and not have to haul your groceries along with you on the bus. 

abby’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “you can take aux if you want.” she motioned to the wire hanging out of the charging port. 

this was one of the worst things you could ever hear. now you had to carefully curate a few songs to last the duration of the short drive. shuffling your liked songs would surely end in embarrassment and you couldn’t tell what music abby would be into. you haphazardly queued a couple songs and analyzed every change in abby’s face, trying to decipher whether she liked the songs or not. to your delight she began humming along to one of the songs. 

“didn’t expect you to be into this sort of music.”

abby shrugged. “i’m full of surprises, i guess.” 

you made small talk about your major and your class load for the semester. all of the typical stuff you go over with anyone you meet in a college town. then, you discussed plans for grad school.

“i think i’m gonna take a year or two off and travel for a while. see the world and all that.” you picked up on the way abby’s eyes sparkled when she talked about it. 

“what are you gonna do about money and stuff?” finally, you had an excuse to ask how rich she was.

“my dad’s a neurosurgeon. he rolled right through undergrad into medical school with no time off. he wants me to take some time and find myself. make sure i’m committed to whatever my next step is.” 

you wordlessly nodded. the puzzle pieces fell into place. now you were almost embarrassed about not being well off. what could you possibly have in common with some uppity rich girl?

once the two of you started talking over dinner, it seemed like you actually had a lot in common. you both held a passion for the same movies, had slight overlap with your music taste, and held similar political beliefs. you had judged her a little too fast. you let her go on about her coin collection and in exchange she let you beak into a tangent about your hobbies. before you knew it one of the servers came up to your table. 

“hey folks, i brought the check over for you. take your time.”

you were mortified when you saw it was thirty minutes after close. if your server hadn’t practically run off you would’ve offered an apology. 

you instinctively peeked at the check and saw three digits. your shock must’ve been obvious as abby snatched the receipt holder from you. 

“i told you, i’ve got it.” she put down a heavy metal card and you were once again reminded about the difference in your tax brackets. 

dinner had gone so well it became a weekly endeavor. every wednesday you met up with her so she could show you a couple different spots around town. every time she paid the bill before you could even say anything. whenever you mentioned wanting to read some newly released book that the library hadn’t ordered yet, she would shyly present it to you the next time you two saw each other. weekly dinner dates turned into coffee dates between classes, which turned into study dates at home. she learned your coffee order and work schedule so she could occasionally pop into the library while you were working and deliver you a treat. you became inseparable rather quickly. often walking hand in hand across campus after your seminar. 

liz caught you smiling at your phone and peered over your shoulder. 

“hey, hey! what happened to privacy?” you scolded. 

liz looked you up and down. “what’s going on between you two? always texting, always facetiming, always hanging out.”

“nothing! we’re just friends.” 

it was clear she didn’t believe you. “there’s no fucking way y’all are ‘just friends’.” 

“i can be just friends with a girl!” 

“mhm. sure, sure.” liz left you to study (read: spend your entire night texting back and forth with abby). 

that night when you laid in bed, you finally gave your relationship some thought. were you two “just friends”? you were used to burying your semi-romantic thoughts about your female friends. that had been your MO ever since you discovered you were gay. you tried not to think about abby in that way. you were so excited to make a new friend, you couldn’t bear potentially ruining things with those thoughts. 

you two were just close friends. that’s it.

that’s all it would ever be. 

abby a.: goodnight see you in the morning <3

unbeknownst to you, abby was also spiraling about your relationship. had the little heart been too much? she was trying so hard to be subtle. either you were completely uninterested or she wasn’t being obvious enough. what was she supposed to say? “i think i have a crush on you” was way too forward. what if you didn’t feel the same way? now she would look like an idiot and have to bear the next couple months showing up to the same class as you three times a week. 

even worse, you were the first girl abby had ever properly pursued. her breakup with owen forced her to finally contemplate if she ever actually loved him. well, of course she loved him, but was she ever in love with him? after a month she had decided it had never been the latter. that had been nearly a year ago and in that time she had never actually made an effort to seek a relationship with anyone romantically. she made out with girls at parties, hooked up with one girl months ago, but this was different. she wanted your dinner dates to be real dates. to sleep with you in her arms. post you on her story with a caption that said ‘my girlfriend is so beautiful’. 

how the fuck was she going to make this work?

she laid awake drafting different text messages and formulating different scenarios where it would be appropriate for her to confess to you. 

that weekend abby invited you over for a sleepover. nothing too crazy. just wine, takeout, and a movie. the hour it took for you to respond was possibly the worst hour of her life.

you: omg sounds fun!! i’ll finish up my work at 8?

abby breathed a sigh of relief. she spent the next several hours stress cleaning. her entire house was pristine by the time she was meant to pick you up. 

confessing to you over text almost felt disrespectful. the wine would compensate for her intense fear of rejection. if you didn’t reciprocate, she’d just politely call you an uber and that would be that. the prospect of ignoring her feelings for you until the end of the semester trumped her fear of having to be in the same classroom with a girl who rejected her. 

she just couldn’t take it anymore. 

when she pulled into the driveway of your apartment she saw that you were already waiting outside, a small duffel bag in hand. 

you happily trotted over to her car and hopped in. the seat was perfectly adjusted for you as always. you took over aux without abby prompting you to. 

you always got the passenger princess treatment. 

abby listened to you tell her every intricate detail of your day. the dog you got to pet on campus, how the coffee shop messed up your order and you were too scared to tell them, and the crossword you weren’t able to finish because your usual coworker wasn’t on shift. 

while she was happy to listen to you, all she could think about was the fact that this may be the last time she got to hear your daily musings. 

“you okay, babe?” 

the hairs on the back of her neck always stood up when she heard you call her that. 

“i’m fine. just thinking about this assignment i forgot to finish.”

“i can help you when we get home. as long as it’s not your orgo chem class. you’re on your own with that.”

no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you could feel the tension in the air. something was off, but you couldn’t tell what. abby was speaking less and just seemed out of it in general. every time you asked if she was okay it was always the same 

“i’m okay. don’t worry.”

you brush it off and carry on with the night as if all was normal. you ordered chinese food from your favorite hole in the wall restaurant and plopped down on her couch. it took you thirty minutes to decide on a movie, the two of you debating the pros and cons of every option. it didn’t take long for the food to be delivered and after abby gave you permission to eat on the couch you dug into your food.

“is this your first meal of the day?” abby knew you were terrible at taking care of yourself. not that she was much better.

“shut up.” you uttered through the food in your mouth. 

a few minutes into the movie, abby offers you a blanket which you eagerly take. you rest your legs over her lap and lay back against one of the throw pillows. abby almost felt wrong touching you. she had plans to irrevocably change your relationship before the night was over. 

would you be able to stay friends with her after?

“do you want wine? i figured rosé would be a safe choice.” 

you affirmatively hummed, prompting abby to rush off into her dark kitchen. she just needed a few moments to breathe. 

“can i ask a stupid question?” you called from the living room. 

abby felt the need to dry heave. “maybe.” was all she could offer as a response.

there was a few moments of uncertain silence before you spoke again. “liz is convinced we’re like…dating, or something? is there something going on between us?” 

you were always so forward. it was a trait of yours that abby admired. except this time. 

like the day you first spoke after class, you had completely derailed her scripts and scenarios.

“i…don’t know?” the question had her hands shaking so bad she couldn’t pull the cork out of the wine bottle. 

you hummed once more. “i don’t know either.”

the movie filled the uneasy silence between the two of you. abby was panicking and you surprisingly weren’t. 

“i think i like you.” you were the first to break the silence. “wait, that sounded really childish. i just…you know what i mean.” 

finally, abby could exhale. 

“i’m sorry. did i make things weird?” 

abby rushed back into the living room and saw you cocooned in her blanket, partially shielding your face from her.

“holy fuck. no, no!” she tripped over her words, trying to skip to whatever part of the script she intended to use for this exact moment. finally, she cleared her throat. “that’s kind of why i approached you the first time. i mean, i’m glad we became friends!” once again, she felt the need to backtrack. “when i first saw you in class i thought you were really pretty. i’ve been trying to work up the nerve to say this from the first time we met.” 

you finally met her gaze. abby was shocked to hear you giggle. “that’s sweet.” you reached out for her, beckoning her to come sit next to you. “i wish i had known. you’re always acting so mysterious about your feelings.” you teased. 

you sat up and loosely wrapped your arms around her shoulders. “so…was your plan to corner me here and bombard me with your confession?”

“okay, it sounds weird when you say it like that.” how had you read her intentions so accurately?

“i don’t hear any denial.” abby refused to answer. she had suffered enough tonight. “enlighten me, what was your plan if i said i liked you back?” 

abby shrugged. she really hadn’t expected to get this far. she spent more time planning for a rejection than reciprocity. 

you leaned into her. “well, i think you should kiss me.” 

abby had been dreaming of this moment. quite literally. whenever she had vaguely scandalous dreams it was always about you. she’d wanted this for so long and here she was awkwardly fumbling as she pressed her lips against yours. 

you delicately brushed a few fly away hairs behind her ear and leaned into the kiss. you could feel the hesitance in abby’s body language and knew you’d have to be the captain of the ship for the time being. you closed the space between the two of you, now chest to chest. 

“you don’t have to be nervous.” you whispered in her ear while you moved to straddle her lap. 

abby placed her hands firmly at your hips, finally working up the courage to just touch you. the movie was long forgotten when she lost herself in your kiss. her hand made it halfway up your shirt before she broke the kiss. 

“is that okay?” 

you giggled against her lips. “yeah, have at it.” 

the joking tone eased her mind and emboldened her. her hand found its way fully under the fabric of your shirt, cupping your left breast. her thumb brushed against your nipple, making you sharply inhale. you grinded down against her crotch and abby whimpered against your lips. 

you couldn’t tell how much time had passed. the both of you were feeling sensitive and hot all over. you were desperate to draw those sweet mewls out of her. 

“okay, fuck this movie.” all at once you pulled away from her. abby looked like she could’ve cried at your sudden absence. “do you wanna…like…”

“yeah,” she took a moment to catch her breath. “yeah. the bedroom is this way.” she took your hand and led you past the kitchen to her bedroom that was bathed in moonlight from the wall length windows. she rushed to close the curtains before she pulled her shirt off, revealing her black sports bra. you took her hand and collapsed against her bed, tugging her down with you. 

your fingers reached for the string of her sweatpants, working them down her thighs and tossing them to the side. 

“have you done this before?” you whispered in between kisses to her neck and collarbones. 

“sort of. a while ago.” 

“well i’m happy to give you a refresher course.” you flipped abby onto her back so you could be on top. “just relax.” you hooked your fingers into the waistband of her boxers and pulled her thighs apart. 

the sex lasted for an absurdly long time. for a beginner, abby was surprisingly adept. she was a quick learner. by the end of it, neither of you had the energy to go back to the movie. you slept soundly in her arms, not even bothering to redress. 

the next morning you were harshly pulled from your sleep by an alarm. it was saturday. there was no way it was your phone. 

abby shot straight up in bed and hastily pulled her phone off of the nightstand. 

“fuck. i’m sorry. i forgot i have rugby practice.” she leapt out of bed and started digging through her closet for fresh workout clothes. “for the record, i had plans to make you breakfast and everything. the whole nine yards.”

you stretched out in her bed, missing her warmth. “oh, i’m sure.”

[fixyourwritinghabits]

Editing Part 4: Worldbuilding Pass

Next up, worldbuilding! We're tackling this before structure, because you don't want to get too far into the weeds, realize a critical component of your story is wrong, and then throw your computer out the window in frustration.

Anyway, when it comes to worldbuilding, there's a lot of moving parts. There is no right or wrong way to worldbuild, but my preferred approach is to worldbuild as the story goes along. Any method works, and you can check out the worldbuilding tag for more. In editing your worldbuilding, you want to think about:

Trimming Front-loading/Info Dumps

When writing fantasy/sci-fi, getting down how the world works can take over the story. In first drafting, this is fine! But when you're trying to clean that draft up, it's better to weave this information in as you go.

Need to explain how the giant mechas guarding the city operate? Maybe your main character is trying to steal some precious alloy from one, giving you opportunity to explain how they work and how society feels about them. Have a magic system that relies on singing tunes? Show that off by having students practicing, or dueling rivals taking it too far.

You probably know by now that the thing you should avoid the most is "as you know" dialogue dumps - characters explaining concepts to each other that they both clearly understand. Another, weaker version of this is the "magic class" trap, where things are explained to the main character and the reader. A classroom environment is fine, but pair worldbuilding with action - demonstrations get out of hand, spells go wrong, etc. Make it fun!

Your World Needs Clear Rules (Sorry)

Listen, this is the part I hate. I have a WIP with the word "Rules" in the title and I'm still figuring out what those rules are. Argh. But the sooner you know the rules, the easier editing will be. The more clear those rules are to the reader, the more impactful breaking them will be.

If the rules of the world (you can't use warp speed too close to a planet's gravitational pull, the same type of magic cancels each other out) and the consequences of breaking them are clear, the pay-off will be satisfying for both you and the reader.

Use Your Environment to Your Full Advantage

You've no doubt heard 'make setting a character' and that's evergreen advice. Some of the best books out there are those where it feels like you could step through the page and into a real place, be it your childhood middle school or Narnia. Getting that feeling, however, is more than just describing a place really well.

Mood - How does the location make you feel? Does a dark, cramped room leave the characters with a feeling of dread? How would that feeling change if it was an overstuffed library with comfortable chairs?

Weather - Beyond the 'dark and stormy night' descriptions, weather impacts our daily lives and is often overlooked. A rain-drenched funeral scenes seems like it's the way to go, but how differently would that scene feel if it was a sunny day with birds singing?

City Versus Countryside - These books are a great reference for description, but also take a step back to compare how different situations would feel both in the setting and to your character. Quiet can mean very different things depending on where you are. A morning fog in the countryside might feel comforting to someone used to it, but to someone new to that environment, it might feel creepy. Think about both your environment and how your character reacts to it based on their backstory.

The Empty Room Problem

This is always a big challenge when moving from the first draft bare bones basics to fleshing things out. How much description is too much? (As a note, it's always okay to overcorrect - you'll have a chance to fix it later!) This post from @novlr has a lot of great questions - but you're still going to narrow it down to the most important details.

Escape the Movie Setting - You cannot describe the room like it's a movie set. Trying to do so is going to be overwhelming, and important details will be lost in the attempt. If you were to describe your room or your favorite coffee shop and could only highlight four or five details, what would you focus on? What gives the reader the essence of the place rather than a list of things that exist there?

Establish the Essentials - Is this your first character's first time in this room? Is it going to be key to several plot-important scenes? Some big, sweeping details when entering - how big it is, what's in it, where the windows are, how it feels, etc - are good to start with. Your character can briefly admire a full bookshelf in the first scene, and then study it in more detail in the second. If you have one scene in this place and spend too much time describing it, you're going to make your reader think it's more important than it is.

Engage the Senses - Does an old room smell musty? Does the coldness of the woods have a sharp taste? Does touching a shelf bring up a lot of dust? How does the lighting in the room make the main character feel?

Getting down the description of a room or setting is not something you'll nail in one shot, but if you approach each scene asking yourself "does this feel like a real place or a white room?" you can narrow down what's missing.

[tinyshyteacup]

TW: cussing

Novel Attraction - Part 1

The air inside the Santo Padre Public Library is thick with the scent of old paper, fresh ink, and the faintest trace of lemon-scented cleaner.

Rows upon rows of tall, wooden bookshelves stretch towards the ceiling, their contents a mixture of well-worn novels, encyclopedias, and neatly organized reference materials.

The glow of the midday sun filters through large arched windows, casting long golden streaks across the carpeted floor.

It’s your first day as a Digital Archivist, a position you worked hard to secure.

All be it in this small boarder town, apparently some big wig philanthropist has funded the position to the local council.

The title alone carries a sense of importance—you’re not just shelving books or checking out library cards, you’re preserving history, digitizing rare texts, and maintaining both a hand picked and online record of Santo Padre’s past.

You’re proud of it, a chance to preserve something for future generations.

When your not in your office, most people naturally assume you’re a librarian.

Which is exactly what you let the two Reyes brothers believe.

You're behind the front desk, carefully scanning and cataloging a set of old town records for the archive, when the sound of heavy boots against the wooden floor pulls your attention.

Their entrance is a sharp juxtaposition to the quite of the library—Angel Reyes first, his stride confident and lazy at the same time, followed closely by his younger brother, Ez Reyes.

You clock them immediately they are a contrast to each other as well. Ez, with his thoughtful expression and quiet intensity, browses the bookshelves with purpose, while Angel...

Angel is looking at you.

You meet his gaze before returning to your work, sorting through a selection of old records brought in by a lovely older woman thirty minutes ago.

Angel's dark brown eyes, sharp but amused, scan you like he’s already decided you’re something interesting.

There’s something off-putting about the way he carries himself—relaxed, but predatory, like he’s already planned five different ways to mess with you.

And then, just like that, his full lips curve into a smirk.

"Damn... the library got an upgrade."

"Can I help you?" you ask, keeping your tone polite and professional.

Angel leans an elbow on the counter, his body angled towards you in a way that feels far too familiar for a first meeting.

His scent—leather, cologne, and a hint of woodiness—lingers in the space between you, dispite your stuble lean backwards.

"I don’t know, cari��o. Can you?"

His voice is low and teasing, like he’s never been turned down before.

Ez, still searching through books, rolls his eyes.

"Ignore him, he doesn’t get out much."

You bite your cheek to keep from laughing.

Angel narrows his eyes at you, like he can sense you trying not to laugh at his expense.

"You new?"

You nod, returning your eyes to your cataloging once more moving the triplet loupe over the old faded print. "First day."

"So, you just woke up one day and thought, ‘Damn, I wanna work at the most boring place in Santo Padre?’" he quipped ducking his head to try to catch your eyes.

"I don’t think it’s boring!" You offer politely.

He tilts his head, watching you.

"No? Tell me, what’s the most exciting thing that’s happened here? Some abuelita lose her library card?"

You cross your arms, finally looking up "I’ll have you know, libraries are important. They preserve knowledge, history, culture—"

"You’re in Santo Padre. We don’t do ‘culture’ here, we do tequila and bad decisions."

Ez, flipping through a book, doesn’t even look up.

"You do bad decisions. I read."

"Oh, I like you" You chuckle at Ez’s comment

Angel glares at him, then turns his attention back to you.

"So what, you just sit here all day playing with books?"

You hesitate, not bothering to correct him.  "Yea we'll go with that."

Angels smirk returns.

"Cute. Guess that explains why you still look so..."

He gestures vaguely at all if you.

Ez, finally deciding on a few books, approaches the counter.

"She’s probably smarter than both of us combined, Angel. You could learn something."

"Thank you... " You trail off not knowing his name.

"Ez, Ezekiel" he returns offering his hand.

You shake it lightly, offering your own name in return as Angel scoffs and rolls his eyes.

As you check out Ez’s books, Angel continues to watch you. His gaze lingers on your hands, your mouth, the way you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his stare.

As they turn to leave, he calls over his shoulder—

"See you around, librarian."

Ez mutters something about Angel being annoying as they step outside.

And just like that, they’re gone.

The afternoon sun hangs heavy in the sky, casting waves of heat over the cracked pavement of Santo Padre.

The small town hums with a quiet sort of life—the occasional roar of a motorcycle, the distant laughter of children playing near the corner store, the faint smell of spices drifting from a row of street vendors.

You take your time exploring, letting yourself breathe it all in.

There’s something endearing about the town, despite its rough edges. It’s not a place that pretends to be perfect—it just is.

Eventually, your wandering leads you to a small shop with faded red signage and a hand-painted wooden board.

Carnicería Reyes.

A butcher shop.

You hesitate before stepping inside, the little bell above the door chiming softly.

The cool air inside is a relief, carrying with it the rich, savory scent of freshly cut meats, spices, and something vaguely smoky.

Behind the counter, an older man with weathered hands and a measured expression looks up from where he’s wrapping a cut of beef.

"Buenas tardes, señorita. First time here?"

You nod, offering him a polite smile. "Yes, I—uh, I just moved here for work. I was just exploring the town."

His dark eyes study you for a moment, quiet and knowing, before he gives a slow nod.

"Good. People should know where their food comes from."

There’s something steady about him—like a man who has seen too much, lost too much, and has learned to speak only when necessary.

It’s oddly comforting.

As you browse, he speaks again.

"So what kind of work brings you to Santo Padre?"

You glance up from where you’re inspecting a pack of chicken thighs. "I work at the library, archive work mostly."

The corner of his mouth lifts just slightly.

"That must be important work."

You nod. "It is. I love it."

There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—approval, maybe, or respect.

"Not many young people are interested in history anymore. It’s good that you are."

You smile, a little surprised by how easy the conversation feels.

"I think history matters. It reminds us of where we came from."

The man’s hands still for just a fraction of a second before he resumes wrapping a fresh order.

"Yes," he murmurs, "it does."

The bell above the door chimes again, and the moment is shattered by the sound of boots on tile.

"Pops! You got any—"

Angel Reyes stops mid-step.

You turn just in time to see his expression shift—from casual indifference to something else.

"Damn. First the library, now Pops shop? If I find you at the bar next, I’m gonna start thinking you’re stalking me."

Felipe, calm as ever, wipes his hands on a rag and nods.

"I see you've met my son, Angel."

You glance back at Angel, who’s now grinning like he just won a bet.

"Small world, huh?" He grins

You smile politely. "I guess so."

Angel leans against the counter, studying you like you’re some kind of rare curiosity.

Felipe doesn’t react, but you catch the hint of a smirk as he hands you your bag.

You thank him, pay for your order, and turn to leave.

Just before you step outside, Angel calls after you—

"See you around, querida."

You don’t look back, but you can hear the grin in his voice.

[katsukistofu]

we are made of stardust

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ i. midoriya x fem reader. 0.8k words — childhood friends to lovers. fluff. astronomy references.

It's hard for someone to pinpoint their earliest memories. Maybe it was the moment they blew their candles out on their first birthday, or when they scraped their knee while learning to ride a bike.

For you, it’s the smell of lavender fabric softener.

You think your earliest memory is of the sight of his freckled cheeks, with nothing but the green light of the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling illuminating them.

Of sleepovers, reading the most recent copies of your favorite manga that you picked out from the library together under the blanket, holding the coolest pages up for the other to see, and hurriedly tucking the books under his pillows when Inko came in to check if you two were sleeping.

You remember his giggles as he tugs at the blanket to cover the both of you, big deep forest eyes dancing with glee. ‘To protect you from monsters,’ he whispers, only five years old, yet saying it with the unwavering confidence of All Might in those videos he loved to play to death on TV over and over again.

Inko chuckles, noticing you two once again rewinding the video for the third time, entranced by all might as he saves cats from a tree while rescuing civilians from an explosive villain, “faster than the speed of sound!” the title reads, while placing a plate of sliced fruit on the coffee table. He was starting to grow out of his favorite All Might onesie now.

Would he ever outgrow you?

Just as the moon orbits the sun, you can’t remember a time when you weren’t stuck to his side.

You’re the one holding his hands in the pool when he ditches his floaties for the first time, slowly guiding him as he kicks and kicks, holding him tight and not letting him sink.

You’re the one jumping and stomping on his bullies' sandcastles at the beach, when they try to ruin his first.

Accidentally, you’re the first one he tells when he passes the entrance exam for UA. He was calling his mother on the phone when you overheard him saying not to tell you yet, because he wanted to surprise you in person. His mother and you prepare a cute little party for him before he gets home, and upon opening the door to the apartment he’s greeted with a rain of confetti and a table full of his favorite dishes.

Streamers fall around him, and his eyes light up like shooting stars as he hugs his mother and you in his arms. ‘Proud of you, crybaby,’ is what you fondly whisper in his ear and between tears he gives a choked up little laugh.

Just as the earth needs rain, he waters your gardens and tends to your flowers.

He frowns when you frown, cries when you cry. It’s been over a decade but you’ll never forget the big fat tears that ran down his face when you jumped off the swings a little too early and fell on your face. The fourth grade teachers thought he was the one that got hurt.

When he places a bandaid on your knee with a worried pout on his lips, he lends you his light, and you shine it back.

Only five years old and in your mind, he was already a hero.

“What are you thinking about?”

Your eyes flutter open at the sound of Izuku’s soft voice. His firm thighs support your head from underneath and you wonder if he’s been working out even more than usual. He grins at your dazed face.

“Were you sleeping on me?” He teases. “For free?”

You roll your eyes as a yawn hits you, stretching in his lap. “Sorry I actually forgot to bring my card with me for this nap, sir.”

“My services aren’t cheap, you know.” He fakes a huff like he’s being scammed big time, and you have to laugh. He was so cute when he was dramatic. “I guess I can start a tab for you.”

“Aw, thanks.” You deadpan, and he snorts in response.

Taking his hand in yours, you trace the scars along his skin, addicted to the feeling of where rough scars meet his soft, baby skin.

He can’t help but blush.

He still gets it, this look in his eyes, like when he makes an observation he’s never realized before amongst his mutterings. Whenever he sees All Might merch on display in store windows, despite already owning most of it already.

But even more so, when he looks at you.

His gaze softens as he admires you in his lap, the slope of your nose and the shape of your mouth that his lips must have traced over hundreds of times by now. When he received that fateful golden strand of hair months ago, and after his mother the first person he thought of protecting was you. Though he knows you’re more than capable of doing it yourself, he wants to. He wonders if you realize it, the reason he saves. If not, he’s willing to remind you, over and over again until it’s woven into the beautiful constellation of your brain.

You’re the one that’s always been his hero.

[kairismess]

❝WRITTEN IN BETWEEN THE LINES...❞

🏐 genre: fluff ~~ ✒️ word count: 1076 💭 summary: kuroo had nothing to do one slow afternoon, until you caught his eye and... he just knew he had to get to know you. but, it seems that he's gotten to know himself better after meeting you: he officially has a thing for bookworms. chatty yet shy ones, in fact. 🍥 author's note: i need more friends like y/n / reader fr... ALSO IF Y'ALL CAUGHT THE REFERENCE ON WHICH GHIBLI MOVIE THIS IS BASED OFF, MARRY ME RN

kuroo could remember the first time he laid eyes on you, he was at the public library looking for advanced chemistry textbooks—or at least, pretending to look for a book that had word vomits of stuff he already knew very well, like the back of his hand. it was a slow afternoon, he had nothing to do since kenma and his family were out of town for the weekend, and he didn't want to stay holed up in his room doing nothing.

he had tried to fit in with everyone else there, running the tips of his slender fingers over the used and fresh spines of the books on the shelves he couldn't bother to read the section names of; to him, they were all the same, he knew most of what these books and journals had to offer. ultimately, he decided to check out the section that was most foreign to him: the fiction books section.

he saw a multitude of names, a flurry of colors that flew by his eyes as he mumbled out the titles off the books he pulled out of the shelves and from their spines. kuroo wasn't even sure what exactly he was looking for here, or what he was even supposed to be doing at the library, he just... needed somewhere to bide his time, somewhere to feel less lonely; and yet, he had felt lonelier and lonelier the more time he spent there.

on the verge of giving up, he accidentally bumped into someone about a foot shorter than him. he hurriedly apologized, seeing that the one he bumped into was... a very cute girl. "oh, i'm... really sorry, here, let me help you," he offered, helping you pick up the books that flew out of your hands when he bumped into you. you silently nodded your thanks, mumbling it out in case it came out unclear to him.

kuroo noticed that the books you were carrying were all... interesting, to say the least. "hmm, never heard of these authors before..." he thought aloud, making your head perk up slowly. you bit your lower lip, trying your hardest not to comment on that. you were an avid reader of those authors, quite passionate about their books and the genres they write, to say the least. "they're great writers..." you mumble out shyly, feeling a cold shiver down your fingers and a warm tingle down your spine; this boy was too cute, in your opinion, you couldn't keep a level head around him, at all.

when your shy little voice entered kuroo's ear, a playful smile appeared on the boy's angular face. "really? well, i don't really know much about fiction, and, uh... you seem like you knew a good amount of it to get a newbie like me started. so, care to recommend me some good writers and genres?" he asked you in a husky voice, making you even more bashful at the fact such a hot boy was asking you for book recommendations, the second thing you were most passionate about in the whole world.

your first favorite thing in the whole world, however... was getting totally engrossed in the stories you were reading. it was a one of a kind experience only you could go through, because of course, everyone had different interpretations of the texts they were reading; but you always had a fondness for discovering the rich backgrounds, symbolisms, and stories the authors wished to reach their audiences. and kuroo was more than willing to listen to you go on and on about the stories you loved, even if a shy cutie like you would take forever to open up.

for the first time in his life, the boy finally didn't feel so alone, so isolated, so out of place setting foot here in the library; he felt at peace, something he yearned for ever since he came here.

"wow, they all sound so intriguing; guess i'll have to borrow those books after you finish them." "i... already did." you mumbled, avoiding eye contact with him. he blinked his hazelnut eyes twice in disbelief. "you finished... all of them?" he asked in a soft voice, with you nodding in response. kuroo chuckled to himself, leaning closer to you. "you're impressive..." he whispered in your ear, sending shivers up your spine, good shivers, good tingles–you could tell that, somehow, he genuinely was impressed by your dedication for reading.

kuroo stayed with you until the end of the day, and when it was time for you to return all the books you borrowed, he followed up with the librarian, stating, "excuse me, may i borrow all those books afterwards? they're... very interesting, i'd like to read them. all of them," he uttered with a smile, looking at you with a glowing grin on his face.

the librarian eventually agreed, asking kuroo for his name and signing his name after yours on every book you returned, that he was soon going to borrow. "y'know what, i'll bet that i'm going to read every book here that has your name on the back of it. i probably won't be interested in any other book if i don't see your name on it, it wouldn't make me interested."

his words made your heart beat a little faster, your knees shake a bit. you fidgeted with your fingers, looking down at your shoes and the floor, as if the right thing to respond to his words were there, hidden in between the lines of where the tiles met. "but... why would you...? why me?" "because, why not? you're amazing, and i want to be a part of your world; your literary world, if you will," kuroo beamed, grinning after confessing that.

it had only been a day, but, you felt like today was a gem in the days that felt like dull, bland charcoal. today, you met a wonderful boy–a boy whose life you didn't realize you'd changed, by simply letting him in, and showing him the beauty of your mind and heart when it came to your interest in the art of words and imagination.

you'd better get used to seeing that rooster headed, teasing boy every weekend now; he has something to brag to kenma about when he'd get back from his family outing.

but the one thing to ruin kuroo's evening is this realization he had over dinner: he forgot to ask you for your number.

[coocoolahh]

My Starlight will Guide Me Home🌠💫

Summary: "Marcus Acacius is known as many things, but if you were to ask the man himself I'm sure that he would want nothing but to be known as the father to his beloved daughter who was born out of the love between him and his precious starlight. Historians have often debated over the identity of the mysterious starlight. Edward Gibbon once famously claimed in his magnum opus that Acacius' starlight was a vagabond princess from one of the Eastern kingdoms, but there is no concrete evidence to back his claim."

- Dr. C.C. Philip. 'The Roman Conquest of Numidia'.

A/N: No warning as such (not beta read). I have no idea what I just wrote but it was fun to do so. I hope that you guys will enjoy it as well🥰

r/historyloreNgossip 6 days ago

Eudoxes4lyf

Letters of General Marcus Acacius

I just finished reading R. Dike's "Epistles from the Past", which is basically a collection of translations of personal letters from various individuals across civilizations; I kid you not I sobbed and swooned so ugly when I read the part featuring the letters of Marcus Acacius (a 3rd century CE Roman general) to his daughter which were written when he was out on a military campaign to Numidia.

The man is so Girl Dad coded. That one letter where he is worried about her favourite dolly getting misplaced, while he is out there pillaging entire cities and colonizing the eastern frontiers in the name of Rome😭

Edit 2: I thought the person he is referring to as "starlight" was his wife Lucilla. Is there any extra info on the General's starlight?

Edit 2: I found a copy of Professor Philip's book in the college library. Thanks for the recommendation!

ptolemysiswife .5 days ago.

Omg yesss! The letters are so sweet. We had it on our reading list (it was a different book tho!) this semester and I kid you not I giggled like a school girl in love while reading the General's letters. Poor guy was missing his kid so much, you can't help but feel for him haha

SadguyRumi . 5 days ago.

Did you know that his daughter was born from a slave from the Orient and not his lawful wife?

ptolemysiswife .5 days ago.

Ah yes! The famous starlight. The way he describes her in the letters is so endearing. The man is outright simping for his starlight haha. It's so romantic😩🤌🏻

SadguyRumi . 4 days ago.

It's so funny that a hardened war general was down bad for the mother of his child.

BanksofVaranasi .4 days ago.

I think the OP will enjoy C.C. Philip's "The Dawn and Downfall of an Empire: A War General's Musings". It dives deep into the celebrated General's personal life, and even gives us some clues about his beloved starlight (I'm actively refraining from calling her a slave out of respect for the general who seemed to hate it when others referred to her and their daughter as such) which is backed by actual archaeological findings and not hearsay that other contemporary historians of the time would have us believe.

Hamurabishabibi .3 days ago.

This sounds so interesting. I'm a sucker for feel good stories from the ancient world. Can anyone please upload some of his letters or few wholesome excerpts? I tried looking for the books that OP and u/BanksofVaranasi mentioned but they cost a really pretty penny in my country (damn you conversion rate!)😀 I really wanna know about this starlight person as well😆😅

citethysources .2 days ago.

You're in luck cause some museum (I forgot which) recently uploaded a bunch of N. Maurice's translations of the General's letters (along with some other excerpts related to his life and times) under the section which they titled "Star Guided Letters to Home" on their website. You can check it out, they've curated all the letters in a nice chronological order

Hamurabishabibi .2 days ago.

omg the title!! I'm feeling violently sick ughhh! thanks a lot, I just found the museum's website and yes the section is curated so nicely. I think I'm in love with the web designer haha

Title: Star Guided Letters to Home: the letters of Marcus Acacius and other related documents from the 3rd century CE.

Translator: Dr. Nestor Maurice, MA, MPhil, PhD

Overview: The celebrated Roman general Marcus Acacius was once considered the darling of the Roman populi. Feared by the enemies of Rome, much of history knows him for his infamous exploits in the eastern frontiers of the Roman Empire, and for his brave defiance against the infamous co-emperors- Geta and Caracalla. The following letters were addressed by the general during his year long expedition to Numidia (in present day Algeria) to his only child and daughter Marcia (known fondly amongst the scholarly circles as "Marcia de la Stella"- Marcia of the Stars), and are a testament to a parent's love for their child, which transcends the temporal and spatial limitations imposed upon us by the natural flow of the Universe. Given the age of Marcia de la Stella at the time that these letters were penned, there is a high probability that they were read out to the child by her adopted mother Lucilla, the daughter of Emperor Marcus Aurelius and the legal wife of Marcus Acacius.

______________________________________________________________

Document 1

"The general had a surprisingly soft corner for his "slave" daughter, who was also his only known and acknowledged progeny. He could often be seen holding the wee babe in his arms within the confines of his domus.

It is rumoured that he had her manumitted in the early hours of her birth, and that there was an undertone of fear amongst the General's personal physicians that the otherwise healthy infant would inherit some of her slave mother's more peculiar cognitive functioning.

Nevertheless, it was evident to much of the Roman public that the child had the General wrapped around her tiny little finger; and anyone who dared to call her a bastard or a child of a slave would have to face the wrath of the otherwise austere and good-natured General"

- Cassius Dio, contemporary Roman historian

Letter 1: A Father's Prayer

"Marcus Acacius to his Moonbeam greetings. My dear moonbeam, a few moments ago I received a correspondence from fair lady Lucilla. She seemed worried that you haven't been keeping well. Oh how I wish I could be there for you my little duckling. But alas, your failure of a father must fulfil his duty to Rome first.

May our household gods inflict all your pain and suffering onto me! Give my salutations to lady Lucilla, and to my starlight. As always, my days are filled with your worry, and my nights are spent praying for you. Farewell, my moonbeam, may the stars and starlight guide this letter home to you."

Document 2

"Lucilla to her Attia greetings. Dearest friend, I received your invitation. I would be more than delighted to attend the wedding of your daughter Julia. I still cannot fathom the fact that little Julia is now ready to manage her own household. It saddens me to think that soon enough my little Marcia too shall come of age and become someone's bride. The child is the light in my otherwise dreary existence. Blessed be her sweet mother who brought her into this world!

I fear that my lord Marcus Acacius will be the most agitated when such a time shall come. But above all, I fear for the sake of the man who will come and ask for Marcia's hand in marriage. Give my greetings to your Julia. You shall see me and little Marcia soon. Farewell, my dearest and most longed for friend."

- Lucilla, wife of Marcus Acacius in a letter to her friend Attia dated 215 CE

Letter 2: Birthday

"Marcus Acacius to his Moonbeam greetings. My sweetheart, may you be showered with all the blessings that the world has to offer. Every year, on the day of your birth, I've taken the liberty to spoil you to my heart's content. Dearest, my good wishes are always upon you, but what has a father to offer to his dearest child from a battlefield?

Moonbeam, since the day that you were born to me and my starlight as our daughter, I've considered myself the luckiest man in all of Rome; but now, here in Numidia, I've started to appreciate the fact that I'm a daughter's father even more. May you never have to step foot in a battlefield, and may your dreams be decorated with happiness. Farewell, my dearest star child, may the stars and starlight guide this letter home to you."

Document 3

"Once at a party hosted by Senator Thraex, Lord [name erased due to erosion] made the mistake of mocking Marcus Acacius' paramour whom he decried as a whorish slave from the east.

Acacius in all his fury beat the unfortunate fool in unmitigated rage, and warned the onlookers that he wouldn't hesitate to do the same to anyone who dared to humiliate the mother of his child.

It was reported that the two co-Emperors, who were present at the gathering, had a good laugh over the misery of the man who had been the target of the general's wrath, and even offered the general to execute the "bumbling fool" as a gift to the general"

-Anonymous writer, 5th century AD

Letter 3: Dolly

"Marcus Acacius to his Moonbeam greetings. My precious star child, who is dear to the sight, but dearer still when the sight is denied, I was informed of your melancholy by dearest Lady Lucilla! I know just how precious the dolly was to you. My starlight had made it for you when you were smaller than a fig in her womb. I too, cannot help but lament the loss of your dolly. I wish I could be there to assuage your grief and mine.

Moonbeam, I promise to help you look for your dolly once I'm back there with you. The very thought of seeing you again fills my heart with joy in these difficult times. You are always in my prayers my dearest. Farewell, my sweet, may the stars and starlight guide this letter home to you"

Document 4

"Lucilla to her husband Marcus Acacius greetings. Dearest confidant and husband , you've always been considerate of me and my feelings since the day the late Emperor Septimius Severus had us betrothed. You've been respectful of my feelings for him, and I've always admired you greatly for that. As such, I was elated when you found your love in the form of [name erased due to erosion]. She brought such joy and light to you; and even bore you the most precious of daughters! Little Marcia has helped me get over my grief for my own dear Lucius, and watching her grow swells my heart with happiness and a sense of pride.

But dearest of friends, I must confide in you that the sweet child has been asking some very curious questions about her own identity, some of which I find myself unable to answer. If you could, please help her quench her curiosity. I pray for the safe passage of your campaign. Farewell, my husband and dearest of confidants.

- Lucilla, in a letter to Marcus Acacius dated 216 CE

Letter 4: Starlight

"Marcus Acacius to his Moonbeam greetings. My little Marcia, your poor father is troubled! I don't know how to begin this letter. I can start by describing the auspicious moment when I met my starlight or maybe I should start by describing her. Your mother, my starlight, hailed from a land somewhere in the far East of Rome. Her people called her [name erased due to erosion] but she was known in Rome as Macrina, for she worked in the household of Macrinus. You may know him as the man with the colouring of dawn who once came over, accompanied by his two adopted daughters, to offer you sweets. But you are too young to remember all that.

My starlight would sometimes play the lute at parties organised by Macrinus. She was so good at playing her instrument that you could swear that she had been blessed by the very gods of music. My starlight had a penchant for singing in her native tongue, but she would only so in private, and oh! how blessed was I to have been privy to her mellifluous voice. She would then try to translate them for me using her adorably weak command over the language that you and I are now conversing in. I'll tell you more about my starlight when I get back home to you. For now, I'm writing down a line from a song which my starlight once sung for me.

There’s a desire, there’s a prayer

Both of them have touched the soul of love

Read it from the left or from the right

From the earth till the sky, only love is written

My little cup of honey, you remind me of my starlight so much! Farewell, my Moonbeam, may the stars and starlight guide this letter home to you"

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

Footnote: Hoii! I had so much fun writing this aiyaaaa! (totally not due on finishing my assignments and finishing my own reading list hahahah). I think the fic is pretty open ended (is it though?). I also chose the Orient cause it truly is a microcosm of the entire world (you get all shapes, colours and almost all race combinations)!! So the reader can customise the appearance of our dear starlight as per their likes and preferences. The orient part could also be my bias speaking cause I'm an aspiring historian whose field of interest lies in countries of the "Orient" (I'm also using the term Orient very veryyy loosely here). I took a lot of inspiration from various historical sources and epistles, so if you come across some of them then do tell!

Anyways, I hope that you guys will enjoy the fic as much as I did writing it huh (It's my first time writing one so I'm sorry if it comes across as cringe)!! Do tell if I should continue this and make it into a series hehe and sorry for any mistakes that I make in advance😽

Do like, repost and comment!! I love those hehe

That one line is from this song at the 2:35 minute mark

[roguestorm]

How To Start Reading Marvel Comics

Okay, so let's say you're a fan of the Marvel movies or games or you just saw Spider-Verse and you want to know how to start reading comics. Hi, welcome! This is one method of getting into comics; it is not the only one. We're going to be heavily relying on digital comics for this one, so if you prefer reading on paper, this might not be for you.

Step One: Pick a Character

This should be easy! Pick a character whose comics you want to read. It doesn't have to be your favorite character of all time; it just needs to be a character you're interested in getting to know a little better. A character is going to work better for this particular method than a team will, although there are plenty of team reading guides if you really want them.

Let's say, for the sake of example, that you just watched the Moon Knight Disney+ series and you want to read some stuff about Moon Knight.

Step Two: Find a Reading List

The very technically advanced way to do this is to Google "[Character] Reading List" or "[Character] Recommended Reading." For Moon Knight, Marvel has an official one that pops up right away.

The official ones are good places to start, but IMO, the best ones are usually from tumblr or Reddit. Comic fans can be very intense, but we also know more about the material than anyone, including Marvel. :) Here's one for Moon Knight.)

Step Three: Understanding the Reading List

Comic names are formatted one of two ways. You might see someone say Moon Knight (vol 7) or Moon Knight (2014). These refer to the same series of comics. They mean that the title of the series is Moon Knight, that it is the 7th series published under that title, and that it started publication in 2014. Moon Knight (vol 1) is Moon Knight (1980), because it's the first run of comics called Moon Knight and it started publication in 1980.

So, how do you know? That's where the wiki comes in. marvel.fandom.com is my best friend. So, when you type "Moon Knight vol 7" into the search bar, it brings up this page. See how it says (2014-2015) at the top? That's how you know that Moon Knight (vol 7) is Moon Knight (2014).

Step Four: Accessing Comics

Now we have to get the comics. We have a number of options:

For digital comics:

Buying digital comics. You can do this on Amazon or Marvel.com. However, this gets expensive real fast - for example, Moon Knight (1980) has 38 issues, and each of those costs $1.99. That's almost $80, just for volume 1.

Marvel Unlimited subscription. This is not a bad deal TBH. It's $10 a month, and they have quite an extensive catalogue. The only problem is that the site takes forever to load and is not easily searchable. Usually, I'll type into Google the name of the exact comic I want to access (e.g. "Moon Knight (1980) #1") and then click on the marvel.com link that comes up.

Piracy. This is the easiest and cheapest option, and thus the most popular. I'm not going to link any sites, but ask a friend or Google and you'll find one easily enough.

Physical comics are also an option, but they are more complicated. Groups of issues are collected in trade paperback collections, but finding which collections contain which issues can be a bit more of a hassle. And then buying those collections can get pricey very quickly.

If you like physical comics and have a public library card, I'd recommend checking out what they have on their shelves. On a Marvel comic, you want to look at the back cover, usually in the lower right-hand corner, and it will tell you which issues are in the comic (e.g. "Collects Moon Knight (2014) #1-6"). You might find some things that were on your reading list, or you might find some comics you'd never have read otherwise. A lot of public libraries (at least in the US) have a larger comic book collection than you'd expect.

Step Five: Have Fun and Be Yourself!

The most important thing to remember is that you are supposed to be having fun. There might be some frustration if you're not used to reading visual media (I know I wasn't), but it should overall be fun. If a comic feels like a slog, you don't have to read it! Maybe you and the person who made the reading list just have different taste. Try a different comic. Try a different character.

Also, remember that it's okay to be confused. You might be jumping around a little bit and so you might not know everything that's going on. This is kind of the perpetual state of reading comics. If you want to double-check the wiki or ask your friendly neighborhood comics blogger, that's totally fine.

[midmourn]

good 4 u

title good 4 u

pairing lee donghyuck x gender neutral!reader

characters lee donghyuck, mark lee [nct] yoo jimin/karina, uchinaga aeri/giselle [aespa], kim seungmin [stray kids], jeon heejin [artms, ex-loona],

summary it’s all thanks to you that haechan is doing so great.

warnings angst

word count 1640

a/n last fic to the sour series!! next is guts series ;) if you have a song in mind for a dream member, lmk!!

“Egoistical.”

“Jerk.”

“Fuckboy.”

“You really know how to pick ‘em, don’t you?” Seungmin hummed as he took a bite of his sandwich. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him and turning back to Giselle and Karina.

“Ignore him,” Giselle scoffed, side-eyeing him before saying, “OK. Continue. What else?”

Karina snapped her fingers, getting an idea, “Name his icks!”

“Oh, God,” you sighed, putting your head in your hands. “How he’s a fucking gamer. He would be on that game twenty-four-seven!”

“Immediate red flag,” Karina said, patting your shoulder as you groaned, slumping over the table. “Are you sure you're not colorblind, Y/N?”

“More like just dumb,” Seungmin pushed your bowl of salad closer to you, bumping it into your head. “Eat.”

“I don’t think I can,” you huffed, “I see him next period. I’m afraid I’ll throw up.”

“Ooh, throw up on him!” Giselle said excitedly with Karina nodding in agreement.

You threw a look at her, “I will not! No matter how funny it would be, I’d be so embarrassed.” Seungmin stiffened next to you, making you glance his way and see that he was glaring at something in the distance. You follow his gaze and feel your mouth dry, blinking as you stare at the scene in front of you.

Here was your ex-boyfriend, only being broken up for two weeks, throwing his arm over some girl you vaguely recognized from your English literature class. Heejin, you thought her name was. He looked good, way too good for someone just broke up with someone who they supposedly wanted to give the world to.

You thought for a split second, that maybe, just maybe, they were just friends. And then his head turned to plant a kiss right on her lips and every hope you had left shattered.

“Two-timer,” Karina added bitterly to your conversation from earlier. You swallowed roughly, tearing your eyes away from the scene. You briefly registered the feeling of Seungmin’s hand resting on your knee, squeezing once in comfort. You don’t know if your eyes teared up from the sight of Haechan and Heejin, or from the once-in-a-lifetime kindness from Seungmin.

“There’s no way he wasn’t,” Giselle gaped at the sight. “In a couple of weeks? Cheater.”

“Fuckboy,” Seungmin repeated, stressing the word. He stood up, shoving the last bite of his sandwich in his mouth and pulled you up with him. “C’mon, we’re skipping class. He better hope we don’t see each other off campus.”

Your head perked up slightly at the sound of a familiar voice, watching Haechan and Mark Lee walk around the corner, neither noticing you in your corner of the library. You were surrounded by your textbooks, studying for your upcoming test in literature.

“—But yeah, this therapist I’ve been seeing, I can totally hook you up with her,” Haechan was saying, patting Mark on the shoulder as they went to a bookshelf. “She’s great, helping me work on myself to be better. For Heejin.”

You were the one who got him in touch with the therapist. Your fists clenched.

“Cool. Wait, dude, what? I thought you couldn’t refer me,” Mark said in confusion, scanning through the titles of the books.

“No, Mark!” Haechan shook his head, adding an unnecessary whine to his voice, “I think that only applies when you’re the therapist, can’t have any patients with, like, personal ties.”

“Oh,” Mark dragged out the second letter, nodding his head and coming to a stop on a book. “Hey, found it. Let’s go check it out.”

“Ms. Jang loves you more than she loves me, you do it—”

“Because I don’t defile her sacred place with all your sins—”

“Sins! What else is the library meant for? Studying?”

“Definitely not making out and going to third base—”

Their loud voices faded away the further they got. Your pencil lead broke, making you blink in surprise and turn to it, seeing you had been gripping the pencil so hard onto your paper that it made a harsh mark on it and broke. You unclench your jaw and look back down at your paper as a drop of liquid hits it, staining it.

The feeling of wetness on your cheeks made you inhale and exhale unevenly, trying to calm your breathing. You blinked away an onset of tears, thinking back to last night when Seungmin finally left your dorm. As soon as you reassured him that you were OK, he reluctantly left and when you were sure he was gone, you burst into tears.

Instead of bothering your roommate with your crying, you hid in the bathroom for almost the entire night. Being pathetic, looking at your gallery full of Haechan and crying.

You swiftly wiped under your eyes as Giselle and Karina entered the back of the library, beelining to your corner. They didn’t need to know.

“Woah,” a classmate from Linguistics gaped as Haechan pulled into his parking spot, in his shiny, bright, new Tesla. “A Tesla! That shit’s crazy.” He turned to his friends to either talk shit about Haechan or praise him. You hoped it was the former.

“Where the hell did he get money for that?” You spat under your breath to Seungmin, who crossed his arms and shook his head in reply.

“I heard he got accepted at that internship,” Giselle crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at the boy as he stepped out of the car. “That one he’s—”

The one that you helped him study for?

“He got money from that?” You scoffed, glaring even harder as Heejin stepped out of the passenger side. The two joined hands, walking off without even a glance your way. You were seething by now. You wanted to strangle him so bad. “No way. He’s gotta be, like, in the mafia.”

“He’d die in seconds because of that mouth of his,” Seungmin snickered.

“I hate him,” you huffed, storming off into the opposite direction. Your friends followed dutifully as you rambled on about your ex-boyfriend. “He doesn’t even look my way! It’s like we weren’t in a relationship for a whole fucking year! And I’m the reason he’s doing so better; that internship? I helped him with it! What the fuck?”

Haechan discarded you like he was bored of you, even after an entire year of dating. That was partly the reason why it hurt so much; did you really mean nothing to him?

His sweet words, touches that seemed to burn you everywhere. He left a mark on you like no other. You didn’t know if it would ever fade away.

You were back in your spot in the corner of the library, far away from the librarian, Ms. Jang. Your books were closed, put away. You just needed some space to think, and then it turned into a silent crying session after getting too far into your memories with Haechan. You were just lucky that no one had come to the back yet.

It was only a moment later that giggling filled your ears and you rolled your eyes so hard you thought they were going to fall out. Of course, you had to jinx yourself. There was no way you were staying to witness a happy couple make out in what they thought was an empty corner. Groaning under your breath, you go to collect your textbooks and folders, only to stop midway once you recognize one of the giggles.

Despite not wanting to, you slowly looked up to confirm your thoughts. Right in front of you was Haechan and Heejin, the boy peppering kisses all over her face with a lovestruck grin on his face.

There was a loud crack, but it seemed like you were the only one to hear it. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest, chest tightening as it got harder to breathe and see. Tears clouded your vision, but you could hear Haechan’s next words loud and clear.

“I swear, you’re like the only one that gets me,” he whispered seriously. He said that same fucking sentence to you.

Your eye twitched. That was the last straw. You stood up, chair screeching as it slid back against the marble floor and shoved your books in your bag clumsily. You could barely see, but you knew that they were looking at you.

You wiped under your eyes harshly, blinking back the tears as you sniffled. God, you hoped he couldn’t tell you were crying. That would be so embarrassing.

“Y/N,” Haechan said your name softly, almost in an apologetic way but you knew he wasn’t truly sorry. Instead of acknowledging him, you shoulder your bag and swiftly turn to walk past the couple quickly. Your hopes die as he grabbed your arm as you went to walk by him.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I—I didn’t know you were here or—”

You turned to him so swiftly it startled him, glaring straight at him and ignoring Heejin, “Oh, yes you did. You know that this is usually my spot. You came here on purpose to try and make me jealous. It’s pathetic, really. Having a new relationship yet here you are, basically chasing after your ex, trying to get my attention.” You turn to Heejin, who looks at you wide-eyed, and a bit of hurt at your words, “I truly do feel sorry for you, Heejin. He isn’t the boy,” you spat the word out, “—you think he is. He’s a liar, and I bet you he was talking to you when he was still dating me.” Your head turned to him slightly, “People don’t change. Especially people like him.”

“But, you know what,” you chuckled breathily, “Congratulations, Haechan. You seem to be getting everything you want. Good for you. But you should really be thanking me, because I’m the fucking reason you’re doing so well. Fuck you.”

sour masterlist. main masterlist.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 21 - Attack

@jegulus-microfic February 21 Word count 962

Previous part First part

Regulus returned to the library to finish his book. It was gruesome, but he couldn’t leave it half-finished. He flipped the page to the next chapter and paused. Horcrux. The title read. He remembered seeing something mentioned about them before. They were a particular branch of dark magic that split the soul if the wizard committed a murder, allowing the killer to place a shard of their soul into an object. 

There wasn’t much on them in this text, so he spent the next few days pouring through multiple tombs, checking references and extracts. 

Finally, he found what he was searching for. The page lay open before him, the only illustration he’d ever seen depicting a wizard who had split his soul. The wizard’s skin had an odd, lifeless quality to it. His eyes glinted red, and his hairline had clearly receded. This was it. This was what he’d been missing.

He felt heat radiate from his pocket. He pulled himself away to answer James’s call. He flicked the mirror open and revealed James’s stressed face. 

“There’s been an attack.” James started speaking immediately. He didn’t even say hello. "It’s Sirius. He’s in a bad way. They took Remus.” Regulus felt the air bleed out of him as he struggled to control his emotions. “He’s going to be fine.” James carried on. “He hasn’t let Remus out of his sight, sticking close to him. We warned him he’d get hurt, but he’s stubborn.”

“Can I see him?” Regulus’s cracked voice whispered. James’s eyes filled with pity. 

“I don’t think they’ll allow that, love. He’s in a safe house. They won’t even let me go without prior consent.”

The wards around Grimmauld Place reacted to someone trying to get in. He could feel the magic tugging at him. 

“I have to go, James. Someones here. Tell—tell Sirius—tell him I’m sorry.” 

“I will. Stay safe, Reg.” Regulus quickly shut the mirror and stuffed it into the secret pocket in his robes.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Evan and Barty standing there. 

“Fucking finally!” Barty grumbled. “I’m freezing my bollocks off here!” Regulus didn’t respond just let the door swing open more and stepped back to allow them to enter. He didn’t say anything until they were securely in the house.

“Why are you here?” He asked, his eyes narrowing. 

“Aww, aren’t you happy to see us? Evan, I don’t think he loves us any more, now that pretty boy’s back in his life.” Regulus turned his attention to Evan and raised an eyebrow. 

“We’ve come to drop off the new information we’ve collected. We thought it would be better in person rather than sending it via owl.” Regulus nodded.

“Yes, you’re right. Voldemort placed charms around the house, preventing owls and patronuses from entering. I doubt he’s removed them. It’s definitely safer to be here in person. Shall we go up to the library?

He listened to them relay the information they’d gathered. He wrote everything down in the notebook. Once they were done, he spelled it so the writing disappeared.

Evan and Barty settled in. They’d have to be here for a few hours to avoid suspicion. Regulus had a question that had been niggling at the back of his mind since the last time he’d seen them. 

“So,” He started, “Lily Evans?” He didn’t need to say more. Evan and Barty had gone pale and glanced uneasily at each other. 

“What about her?” Evan cleared his throat nervously.

“I saw her sneaking into Pandora’s room as I left the other night. How long has that been going on?”

“Erm,” Evan looked at Barty again as they silently decided how much to tell him. “Since school. They had to keep it secret for obvious reasons.” Regulus nodded. He was well aware of the implications of a Slytherin and a Gryffindor dating with the way things had been and still were. He left it at that. Perhaps he’d ask more from Pandora the next time he saw her.

He pulled his book towards him and turned it towards Evan and Barty. 

“I’ve been glancing through a few of the texts in here over the last week. I found something interesting. Please have a look at this and tell me what you think. Does it remind you of anyone?       

Barty and Evan peered at the yellowed pages and the faded illustration. 

“Yeah, looks like ole mouldy Voldy. Barty cackled, looking at Regulus for his reaction.  

“That’s actually pretty accurate.” Regulus laughed under his breath. “These are the effects on the body after creating three Horcruxes.” 

“Shit, you don’t think?” Evan gasped. Barty was uncharacteristically quiet and paler than usual once the information sunk in. 

“So—So you’re saying that if he has created Horcruxes. Then he’s made more than three? That’s a lot, right? I mean, he looks insane. It’s way more than three.” Barty was tapping his fingers against his jiggling leg. Regulus nodded. 

“I think we found the missing piece as to why he’s so far been unstoppable. He is by all rights immortal.”

“So, what do we do about it? Pretend we never started helping the Order and just slink back into the fold?” The fear was evident in Barty’s whole demeanour. Evan put a reassuring hand on his shoulder as he quietly looked to Regulus for his answer. 

“No, we continue listening and gathering information. If he’s created Horcruxes, he has to be hiding them somewhere. Someone must know where they are and what they are.” He straightened his back more than it already was, his resolve firmly in place. “We will be careful, act as we normally do. Carry out orders as we usually would, and at the same time, we start searching.”   

Next part

[blackbat05]

New Beginnings

Oliver Wood x Autistic! Reader

Plot: It's your final Christmas at Hogwarts but that doesn't mean you can't make new friends. While working at the school library, you meet a certain Qudditch Captain who has been observing you for longer than you think.

Genre: PG-13 (warning: suggested degrading terms towards people with special needs but not explicitly mentioned)

A/N: It's that time of the year and my obsession hasn't gone away actually, it's just been dormant. And what better time of the year to do a new character, one that I actually crushed on by simply just reading the books. Thanks @the-slumberparty for letting this gal write so many fics for end of the year!

Prompts in Bold!

***

It was a quiet day at the library. The semester break had just started and this meant that many students would be heading back home for the holidays.

You decided to stay at Hogwarts. Your friends expressed their pity but quickly forgot your supposed “plight” as they jabbered on about their holiday plans. Instead of cramped concert venues where wizards and witches would be rubbing all over each other, you decided to take on a position as library assistant at the school library. It was your final semester and you were going to miss this place. Soon, it would be the harsh environment of the working world and you weren’t quite ready to face it yet.

Apart from a student scribbling on his parchment, the library was empty. You decided to flip through the papers, looking at potential job openings for an educator at a school for young wizards and witches with special needs. You marked potential jobs with your wand, not noticing the young wizard in front of you.

“Oh my god! You scared me.” You jump a little at the sight of his burly figure.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, scratching his head sheepishly. “I was hoping you could help me find this book?” He passes you a piece of paper with the title scribbled on it.

“Professional Qudditch techniques?” You raised your brows, looking at the boy over the paper. You knew that you were talking to the Captain of Gryffindor’s Qudditch team. “I believed Madam Pince told me to stock this yesterday. Come along Wood.”

“You know who I am?”

A small smile forms on your lips. “Hard not to when your part of the Furious Seven.” You see his bemused expression and add on hurriedly, “I mean that’s what some people call the team.” You head down the aisle with Oliver Wood trailing behind you like a lost puppy. “Here it is!” You beamed, passing him a thick magenta book.

Oliver beams and thanks you. “So, are you not going back for the holidays?”

“Nah. My family’s inviting relatives over and I don’t really want to answer their intrusive questions. Especially since we’re in our final year.” You say drily and Oliver solemnly nods in understanding. “Besides, I wanted to stay for the school’s Christmas dinner and celebration. I won’t be coming back next year so I want to have a magical Christmas. What about you? Surely you can’t be studying.”

He laughs, “Nope. I was hoping to practice some moves for the professional Qudditch tryouts next year. I’m trying out for Puddlemere United’s reserve team.”

“That’s great!” You say sincerely. “I hope you make it.”

“Thanks Y/N.”

You pause in your tracks, looking at him curiously. “How do you?”

“Know your name?” Oliver finishes helpfully. “Hard not to know the Witch who is advocating for the rights of Wizards and Witches with special needs and doing a far more excellent job than those in the Ministry.”

“You read my posts?” You refer to the commentary on the school’s newspaper and an independent newspaper from the Ministry that you were involved in.

“Of course I did. I’m not going to be reading whatever purist rubbish that the Ministry has.” Oliver responds. The two of you reach the counter and he waits for you to check out his book.

“Um. I was wondering if you’re free tomorrow. Since it's Christmas Eve.” He adds hastily as you looked at him curiously.

“Sure. I would like to get a book from the local bookstore. Perhaps we could have a few butter beers while we’re at it.” You suggest. Oliver grins and you can’t help but to match his as well. You’ve never talked to him for this long before and you’ve only seen him from afar at the Qudditch matches. Kind of odd really that he’s reaching out before the lot of you graduate.

“It’s a da- deal!” He agrees a little too loudly as Madam Pince shoots her head out from one of the shelves and gives him a glare. You giggle softly.

“It’s a deal.”

***

You meet Oliver at the entrance to Hogsmeade. You can’t help but to notice that even all under that clothing, Oliver’s physique was still prominent. You prayed that the cold weather would cool your cheeks.

“Shall we?” He offers and the two of you trudge along the snow covered path.

Despite the two of you only having a real conversation the day before, it felt as if like you've known him since the very beginning. As the Captain of the Qudditch team, you always thought that he would be unapproachable and up there. On the contrary, he was charming and jovial, making you laugh at an incident that he recounted on the Qudditch field.

"You know a lot about the sport." Oliver remarks as you also added in your two cents on the recent match between the bottom two teams on the league table.

"My dad watches it. He's a huge fan. I think the two of you will get on swimmingly."

"Why didn't you join Qudditch then?" Oliver asks. He clearly remembers in first year of broom practice with Madam Hooch, you were one of the few students who could control their broom with ease and even managed to have a good swing at the practice bludgers Madam Hooch threw at you.

"Let's just say that I was a free spirit." You enter the warm bookstore and greet the saleswizard who directed you to the newest releases. Satisfied with your find, you retrieve another book and thrust it into Oliver's hands.

"I didn't want to say anything while Madam Pince was there but this is the newest version of Professional Qudditch Techniques. It has a few extra pages at the back that discusses Puddlemere United's training system and why its so effective."

Oliver is about to reach out, presumably to pay but you have a tight grip on the book. "A Christmas present." You tell him.

You hurriedly look away and Oliver can't help but to notice how your sniffing due to the cold (and also nerves at your attempt to get closer to him). He doesn't know the actual reason for your sudden sinus of course so he wraps his scarf around your neck. The saleswizard gives you a playful grin and shake your head furiously while Oliver is engrossed in a sports magazine, blissfully unaware.

Your last stop for the day was the Three Broomsticks. Oliver orders two mugs of butterbeer that you force yourself not to down with relish.

"Thanks for today." You nurse your mug. "I really enjoyed it. Best Christmas ever."

"So did I. My parents wanted me to be home for the holidays but I'm glad I made the right decision." Oliver has an unreadable expression and a honey-like gaze that would have gotten you stuck if you were transfixed on him any longer. The bell to the Three Broomsticks rings, signaling new customers and also the change in Oliver's expression.

"Flint." He hisses and you turn around to see the Slytherin Captain with a bunch of his cronies snarling at Oliver. Flint had a nasty grin plastered on his face. Oliver takes you by the wrist and you end up sitting beside him as the group approaches menacingly.

"What do we have here? I didn't know you had time to pick up girls?" Marcus Flint's slimy undertones made your skin crawl. You unknowingly grip Oliver's hands tighter under the table. You never liked the whole lot of them. For a very good reason as well. They would constantly make hateful and degrading comments at the cause that you were championing, even going as far as harassing you anonymously with thinly veiled death threats. You couldn't catch everyone, but you knew Marcus was one of many.

"Sod off Flint." Oliver shoots but obviously falls on death ears. In fact, this eggs on Marcus' taunts. His eyes fall on you and narrow into slits. You almost shrink into a ball and this does not go unnoticed by Oliver.

“So, L/N. Written any tasteless posts lately?”

Your mouth goes dry and Marcus continues to launch his assault on you. He turns to one of his cronies. “Hey, did anyone see that post about how wizards and witches with special needs should be able to attend schools?”

A snort of assent goes around and you go bright pink, fighting to keep your temper down in a public place.

“What a whole lot of dung that was. Hogwarts is already ridden with blood traitors and mudbloods. We certainly don’t need more charity cases.”

This time, you find yourself holding onto Oliver whose knuckles have gone red. He knew that both your parents were muggles.

“Did you know?” Marcus says to no one in particular but his voice is annoyingly loud. “I’ve heard a rumor.” His smile is almost sinister. “Y/N here is apparently… a special needs witch as well. A reta-”

Before Marcus can get another word out, a loud sickening crunch could be heard from Oliver’s fist coming into contact with Marcus’ jaw.

“You keep your bloody mouth shut Flint!” Oliver was shaking in rage. “Y/N, let me at him!”

“Oliver stop! He’s not worth it!” You hold him back while Marcus is held up by his cronies. “Please!” You stand in front of him and this seems to snap Oliver out of his rage induced trance. “Get lost before I break your hand next.” He snarls.

Marcus keeps his mouth shut but is shaking from fury and embarrassment from the attention that the scuffle had attracted. He storms out of the establishment, cronies slithering behind him. The Three Broomsticks resumes its normal hustle, leaving you and Oliver to clean up the mess that was a result of the fight.

You stay silent throughout the rest of the trip, all the way back to Hogwarts. Oliver thinks that he’s royally screwed up this time and is wrecking his brains on how to apologize.

“Come on in.” You tickle the pear and the door to the Hufflepuff common room opens. “Let me see your hand.”

Oliver blinks but doesn’t say anything. He follows you quietly into the common room that was thankfully empty.

“Sit.” You direct him to the sofa as you rummage through the shared medical supplies. You wordlessly take his hand and Oliver goes stiff as a gargoyle. Working your magic, the bruise on Oliver’s hand is virtually non existent and doesn’t feel sore when he grabs the cup of water on the coffee table.

“Thank you.” You speak up. “No one ever has done that for me.” You throw the last of the medicinal jars into the kit, returning it back to its original place with a flick of the wand.

“It’s what I would have done. You’re a hundred times better than them, pureblood or not.” Oliver states. Curiosity crawls up his neck and he wants to ask about the unsavory rumor about you floating around Hogwarts. But you beat him to it first.

“When I was four, I wasn’t hitting the typical milestones a wizard or witch would. My parents were worried and sent me to every muggle doctor and therapist in hopes that I would get better. It was a tough journey but with my parents’ support, I’m able to be here today.” You explained. “That’s why I’m so passionate about what I do. Because I see myself in them. Hell, I am them.”

“I didn’t know.” Is all Oliver can say. You smile sadly.

“I didn’t tell anyone. Despite what I’m doing, you’ll be surprised that there’s still stigma surrounding the magical world regarding special needs wizards as witches.”

A lull of silence falls between the two of you.

“Well, you’re still the same in my eyes.” Oliver insists. “Beautiful, brave and bold.” He realizes what he had just said and goes beet red. You can’t help but to think it’s adorable.

“Thanks. For believing in me.” Before you can even understand what is happening, the door to your heart has opened. You feel vulnerable but strangely… you’re okay with that. You lean forward and give him a kiss on his cheek.

The sight in front of you is hilarious - Oliver holds a hand to his cheek, mouth slightly agape. You laugh at his apparent shock and you don’t know where you get the bravery or confidence from.

“Do you need me to kiss you again?”

Oliver snaps out of his stupor and this time it’s his turn to leave you stuttering. “Yeah. I need you to kiss me properly this time.”

A pair of wolf whistles emit from the entrance of the common room and you see a familiar pair of redheads with identical grins.

“Way to go Cap!”

“And we thought you were only married to Qudditch!”

Oliver rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Piss off you two.”

George Weasley raises his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t your get your pants in a twist Wood. We just wanted to tell you that Christmas dinner is starting in ten. We couldn’t find you in the common room so we’ve been looking everywhere.”

“Everywhere except here apparently.” Fred adds helpfully, dodging a cushion that Oliver throws his way.

“Don’t be late!” The twins singsong and leaves you two alone once again.

"I'm so sorry about those two." Oliver groans. To his surprise, you didn't look the slightest bit mad. You shift closer to him and Oliver has to steady his heart as you look at him.

"Can I hold your hand?"

Oliver goes slack for a moment. It's funny if he thinks about it. You've kissed him on the cheek for Godric's sake! But like on the Qudditch pitch, he recovers quickly and takes the lead instead, reaching out to grab your hand that slots perfectly with his. As you leave the common room and head to the Great Hall where you can already hear the festivities in full swing, Oliver stops abruptly.

He looks so serious that you wondered if he completely malfunctioned from the moment you two had in the common room.

"You forgot something," Oliver says and you feel his lips on yours. He slowly parts, observing your expression with a lopsided grin. "A kiss."

A cold gust of wind brushes by and the two of you look out to see the first snowfall of your last year at Hogwarts. "What do you know? First snowfall of our first day together."

Once you snap out of your trance, you playfully smack him on his broad shoulder and he sprints away from you.

"You are a cheeky one Oliver Wood!" You yell.

"Yeah?" He turns around, stopping right outside the entrance of the Great Hall. "But at least I'm yours! Hey! Everyone!" He attracts attention from everyone in the hall - students, professors and even Headmaster Dumbledore himself. "I'm finally going out with Y/N L/N!"

You run after him as loud whoops from the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff table could be heard. Even the faculty were exchanging serene smiles at the sight of young love despite the imminent tough times that were about to descend on them any moment.

It was your last year at Hogwarts. Your final Christmas celebration with a place you called home for the past seven years. But with every ending, comes a new beginning.

In this case, one that involved a very charming Qudditch Captain who saw you for who you were.

[ridiculoustrainsofthought]

(So I came up with this a while back and wasn't sure if anyone else had brought it up. But I recently checked out The Mountains of Madness from the library, and remembered bringing this up with my friends a few years back and just felt like "preserving" it.)

This is going to sound crazy, but it's fun to think about, so hear me out: Have you heard of a story called The King in Yellow?

I got to looking at the source material and I'm stunned to think it may have been quite an influence on the plot of Pokemon Black and White. But I can't confirm anything since I haven't seen it mentioned as a reference anywhere in B&W. 

More specifically The King in Yellow is a series of short stories where only the first four seem to be connected to the title. But there's some clear potential parallels with the first story The Repairer of Reputations, which is what I'll focus on.

So first off, the story's main character is a man named Hildred which likely has the same basis as Hilda and Hilbert would derive their names from.

Except plot wise he'd actually be more like N.

Hildred Castaigne is an unreliable narrator living in a “futuristic New York City” of 1920 who explains at the beginning that he used to be carefree and aimless but there was an accident where he got attacked and fell off his horse which gave him a blow to the head. After that he was taken into an asylum where he underwent a complete personality change, pouring over old documents and literature, basically a recluse, but he gained a strong sense of ambition as he never had before! (Sounds a bit familiar of another extreme recluse who came out somewhat brainwashed in his conviction, right?) This is potentially brought on after reading a play called The King in Yellow which the book we read gets its name from.

We don't get much info about the play itself except "references" to it about Carcosa, an otherworldly kingdom that fell into decay and mentions several places connected by lakes. (I'm not sure if they're all cities within the kingdom or neighboring kingdoms.) Supposedly the first act starts as a simple medieval drama but the second act is left very vague except that it "reveals irresistible truths" which drive the reader into madness.

With that out of the way, here's where things get... Interesting?

Out of the asylum, Hildred, at some point before the story takes place, has ended up in the snares of a "Mr. Wilde"; an "eccentric" deformed man with a mutilated arm and face (the story makes note of this at several points) who has an equally twisted delight in abusing his cat until she attacks him and we get the foreshadow that she’s going to kill him at this rate. (I'm sure some of Ghetsis' Pokemon would love the chance.)

Mr. Wilde may be crazy but he's said to be very smart. As the title "Repairer of Reputation" he gained wealth and power through blackmailing many powerful men (like the Sages?) and subtly raising an army of over ten thousand under a cult following by use of The King in Yellow and "The Yellow Sign" the king wears. Together, they plan to overthrow the U.S. government and begin The Imperial Dynasty of America under their new king Hildred! (Whether Wilde has an army or not is still debatable. Heck, even how much influence he has is debatable since we only have Hildred's word to go by. Obviously in Pokemon the answer is yes.)

Which is curious since I know a lot of people joked about with BW like... We're in New York. What's this whole deal with kings and the castle ruins? America never had a king.

Ah, but then the parallels come up again when Hildred is oh so ready to earn his crown but Wilde tells him there's a problem. His cousin, Louis, is also in line for the throne as they're both descendents from the ancient kingdom of Hyades. And while Hildred thinks himself to be the rightful heir of The Last King, Wilde tells him that he needs to do something about his cousin first and gives Hildred a long knife.

But Hildred, much like N, doesn't really want to fight Louis, and the two meet several times through the story over the course of several weeks (months?). 

Now up to this point Louis had kinda been in Hilda / Hilbert’s position. At first he seems friendly with Hildred with Louis being concerned but not intervening with Hildred's ties to Wilde. But over time we see Hildred growing more irritated by Louis' sweet and sometimes boyish nature as he tries to humor him in his delusions even after learning about the whole kingship thing. (Much like we see N getting more aggressive as the story goes on because the player is so nice and good with their Pokemon, it's challenging what he's been told about what Trainers are like. Stop being wonderful, dang it!)

Eventually Hildred snaps. But instead of killing Louis, he confronts his cousin where he does finally reveal to him about being the King and shows him all the pages of The Imperial Dynasty records to reveal to him what's going on and demand instead that his cousin should abdicate his right to the throne and go into exile! Which Louis, having no interest in this, agrees. But Hildred also demands that Louis is forbidden from marrying then to end his bloodline. Even going so far as to say the conspiracy is going to kill the girl Louis is engaged to ensure there will be no one to challenge Hildred later on. Louis has finally had enough of this! When Hildred flees, his cousin goes after him.

(There's not really an equivalent to the murder thing, although unlike the book, it'd be about this point that the takeover occurs and Plasma has threatened to crush Alder. But that's more between him and Ghetsis. Either way, we save Alder and Hilda / Hildred is in hot pursuit of N into the Plasma castle!)

Hildred then ends up running back to Wilde's place and takes his crown and cloak in victory as he thinks he'll finally be king! ...Except Wilde ends up dying on him (finally pushed the cat too far and she murdered him.) Hildred realizes that without Wilde and his conspiracy, he personally doesn't have the means to take over. He has no connection to this “army”, he cannot read the ledger of "powerful men" to manipulate. Without Wilde, he is NOTHING. This fact suddenly has him spiralling into a full on mental breakdown before the police show up with Louis and end up taking Hildred away and we learn later he ended up back in the asylum. (Which is kind of what happens with Ghetsis in the end, he lost the one person holding his plot together, goes into a fit of madness, and albeit much later is one of the few Evil Leaders to actually get arrested.)

-Cough- 

So BW doesn't really follow the plot but the point is, I think there’s actually several elements that could be derived from this specific story. The young man being brainwashed and convinced he’s going to become king of a perfect society that was lost ages ago; led on by an even more deranged man who appears to have been mangled by the creatures he tortures with delight and who has been making all of the preparations for a full scale government takeover by amassing an army in the shadows. There’s a fight for the throne when it turns out the prophecy speaks of two heirs that need to fight each other, note the second “heir” is completely oblivious to this and just gets dragged into the lunacy more and more as they try to foil the plans of this takeover. And while it doesn’t induce madness automatically, Plasma believes that in order to get people to fall in line, the king merely needs to show the public that they’ve obtained the Sacred Dragon which gives them authority, while in this case it’s said that all those who see The Yellow Sign have no choice but to bow down to them. 

It’s just… I’m probably grasping at straws, but the parallels I see just have me fascinated.

At least in the end of BW, Ghetsis is the one to have the full out melt down upon realizing without his key to controlling the masses he's nothing instead of N like Hildred did. Not to say N doesn’t have his own lingering issues from all this, but unfortunately Hildred ended up dying in the asylum where I’m sure Louis wished (after offering several times) he could have helped him. At least Hilbert / Hilda may stand a chance.

[tnbc-thoughtsandheadcanons]

Megan Shepherd's TNBC Novelization: Review

Here are my thoughts and full review on Megan Shepherd's Tim Burton's The Nightmare Before Christmas (Novel). Although the book is closely based on the movie, there are a few unique things about it that I deem necessary to hide under a 'Read More', for spoilers to those who wish to avoid them.

Review + my thoughts below!

The book closely follows the movie with descriptives for each scene, except it doesn't contain any of the songs or lyrics, so substitutional dialogue is used instead. Most of these went well to describe/summarize the songs they replaced. I have no complaints with how Megan followed the movie in novel form, it's pretty accurate beyond some...minor things.

One example: Halloween just ended when Jack goes missing and stumbles upon Christmas Town, and when he comes back, he decides to have Halloween Town handle Christmas themselves. It's noteworthy to mention that they manage to do this from only November 1st - December 25th, a timespan of only 2 months. However. In this novel, the timing is changed - and it takes the Town a whole year to manage their own Christmas, and it is stated in the text that they "skipped their first Halloween" in order to do it.

Wouldn't the humans notice something different with Halloween, without the monsters and creatures of the night to scare them? Wouldn't it be kind of lame, and warrant the title of a "bad Halloween"? When Santa Claus and his gifts were missing, the humans nearly brought an end to Christmas. Is Halloween exempt from impacting the humans like this? Wouldn't there be any repercussions? Isn't it the Holiday World's purpose/job to bring the holiday TO the humans??

Anyway!

The text is beautifully written and I loved Megan's portrayal of Jack Skellington's internal struggle and depression, and how Sally related to it. She wrote the two of them wonderfully in the novel and even brought new details into the picture, mentioning Sally had done sewing tasks for him and is the one who recommended putting white stripes on his suit. She also delivered his book of The Scientific Method from the Doctor to him. <3

The novel contains a lot of little details/changes like these. I loved most of them and only had minor issues with a couple choices. One particular recurring mention, that I and other readers have disliked, was the heavy reference and implication to Jack Skellington's death. A few times in the novel, he thinks of his "previous life" and how he died. I share a fandom headcanon that Jack is a special skeleton from a species in Halloween Town itself, rather than him just dying. But this is a personal nitpick and doesn't impact anything, really - it's Megan's choice for his backstory, and I respect that!

Another small nitpick of mine is that I always thought Jack nabbed all the Christmas books from Christmas Town, but in this novel, it says that he got them from Halloween Town's Library. This brings all sorts of confusing questions into my mind...

A couple of my favorite lines from the book:

Also, the MOST interesting part of this novel, for me, is how it follows The Pumpkin King Game's backstory for Oogie Boogie, where he attempted to overthrow Jack Skellington to become Bug King. The novel mentions this a few times, and it's one of my favorite takes of Oogie Boogie - so I was delighted to see canon from my favorite TNBC game implemented into the novel!

Overall, I loved this novelization and the new headcanons it brought to me. It was wonderfully written and stayed close to the movie while also portraying the author's own takes on the characters and their feelings. Beyond my few minor nitpicks, it was great and I can't wait to see what the author will do with Long Live the Pumpkin Queen's sequel.

Check out this novelization if you can!