#MIT Libraries

[biglisbonnews]

Summer 2023 recommended reading from MIT Enjoy these recent titles from Institute faculty and staff. https://news.mit.edu/2023/summer-reading-from-mit-0629

[second-hand-literateur]

do they pump the mit libraries with FREEZING cold air on purpose?!?! WTF?!?! ITS WINTER LETS TURN THE HEAT UP BESTIES

[pekasnugs]

Featured video: A musical encore for a re-imagined library

🧬 ..::Science & Tech::.. 🧬 Graduate students perform Martinů’s “Piano Trio in D Minor,” originally commissioned for Hayden Library's 1950 dedication

[sherbertilluminated]

Julius Hart's "Auf der Fahrt nach Berlin" makes stopping a train seem so erotic

what do you mean there's a piercing cry, a gnashing on the rails, the brakes moaning under a strong grip, a shine on every face...and the smoke [of the train] is flowing white now????

[londynwatson]

Library Open Large trendy open concept marble floor and beige floor family room library photo with beige walls, a wood stove, a plaster fireplace and a concealed tv

[meidui]

steve going back to school and carrying a backpack and doing his readings in the quinjet after a mission and doing research for his papers in new york's public libraries and helping out with the kids' activist groups on campus 🥹

steve wondered if tony would poke fun at him for getting a degree so late when tony got into mit at 14, but tony is crazy supportive and buys him a new laptop and tablet and expensive pens and notebooks and everything and keeps offering to drive him to and from campus and if liking the way steve looks in his computer glasses being all studious is a crime then LOCK HIM UP

[reidswhre]

could you write something about this? rossi having a teenage daughter who is just as smart as spencer, and them meeting each other and discovering the similarity, is something different but i think it could be fun to read! 🫶🏻

spencer reid x fem!rossi!reader

warnings: nothing, pure fluff

a/n: this is so cute omg thx for sending it! btw i didn’t realize it said “teenage” until now i’m so sorry 😭☹️ i hope that doesn’t bother you too much, she’s spencer’s age!

Rossi had invited everyone to dinner at his house. It was something “simple.” In quotes because, come on, for Rossi nothing was simple.

“Come in, if you break something, I’ll tell Hotch to cut half of your salary.” He gave a fake smile as he let them in.

“Aww, you’re so kind.” Emily returned the fake smile, which made everyone laugh.

“Take a seat, how about some wine?” Rossi offered, and everyone graciously accepted.

Except Spencer. “No, thanks— I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Of course you don’t, kid.” Rossi rolled his eyes. “What would you like? Orange juice? Fruit puree?” Rossi teased him.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Spencer smiled a little.

“Dad, do you know where the library is—” You came down the stairs quickly before noticing the team in the living room. “Oh�� Hello.” You lowered your voice, a bit shy.

“Hey you, I forgot to mention it.”

“You definitely did.” You said, shrinking into your spot.

“Look, this is my work team.” He pointed to each person as they greeted you. “And this is my daughter.” He introduced you by name to the team.

“Nice to meet you.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m going to… head upstairs. Excuse me.”

“Are you kidding? Stay.” Your dad encouraged you.

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Don’t say that, sweetie. You’d never be a bother.” Garcia spoke up.

“And if it does bother them, they can leave, it’s my house.” Rossi joked, and everyone laughed a bit.

“It’s fine, really,” Hotch said.

“Okay, thank you.” You finished coming down the stairs, a bit nervous.

Now, you weren’t thaaaat shy (just a little), but come on, it was your dad’s entire work team. How could you not be?

“I didn’t know you lived with your daughter.” Morgan smiled, taking a sip of his wine.

“I don’t, she’s visiting.” Rossi gave you a look to encourage some small talk.

“I live in England, I’m in university.”

“Oh, where?” Spencer asked, intrigued.

“Oxford.” You smiled shyly.

Morgan whistled. “That’s fancy.”

“It’s not as grand as it sounds.” You shook your head.

“Oxford, along with Cambridge, is the elite of education in England. One of the two always appears in the top rankings of the country, as well as the list of the ten best universities in the world.” Spencer looked at you. “I think it is as grand as it sounds.”

You narrowed your eyes a bit at his response.

Spencer, the genius of the BAU, you knew a little about him.

Your dad used to talk about him and said you two would probably get along, but he said that about everyone, so you didn’t pay it much attention.

“Cambridge is better than Oxford.”

“Depends on the field.” He replied.

“No, it doesn’t. In general statistics, it’s better.”

“You can’t rely on general statistics.”

“Said the profiler.”

Everyone chuckled at your little exchange, which made you smile a bit.

From then on, everyone started their own conversations, and you noticed Spencer sitting there, staring at his glass of water.

“Anyway, I chose Oxford for a reason, so you’re not completely wrong.” You sat next to him.

“You got into Cambridge?” He raised his eyebrows.

“Mhm.” You nodded. “Want me to be honest?”

“Of course.” He looked at you intently.

“Maybe the fact that Oxford looks like Hogwarts influenced my decision a bit.”

Spencer laughed. “That’s fair.”

“And you? Where did you go? I’ve heard you have several PhDs.”

“I went to the MIT.” He smiled nervously.

“That sounds amazing.”

“Not as amazing as yours.” He looked at you.

“Sure, yours wasn’t run by Dumbledore.” You joked.

“You really like it, huh?”

“Are you kidding? I love it! It’s my favorite series.” You got excited talking about Harry Potter.

“I’m more of a Star Wars fan.” You grimaced at that. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?” He raised his eyebrows.

“I’ve never seen them,” you admitted.

Spencer’s eyes widened. “No way!”

“Seriously! They just don’t appeal to me, sorry.” You apologized through laughter.

“Well, what else do you like then?”

“Hmm.” You looked at the ceiling, thinking. “I like magic.”

“Really? I love magic.” Spencer smiled.

“Yeah? What can you do?” You playfully challenged him with a smile.

“Uhhh.” He looked around, searching for something to show you.

“Nothing?” You smiled.

“I guess not…” He shrugged. “Unless…” He made a small gesture for you to check behind your ear.

You gave him a confused look and reached behind your ear like he did. You pulled out a little piece of paper.

You gasped in surprise. “How did you do that?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Come on! That’s amazing!”

“Nope, sorry.”

“Aww.” You pouted.

“Thank you all so much.” You heard someone behind you saying goodbye.

“Oh—I think I have to go.” Spencer stood up from his seat.

“Yes, of course—” You stood up as well to say goodbye to the others.

A little later, after everyone had left, you were helping your dad clean the kitchen while he was tidying up the living room.

“What’s this?” He asked, showing you the little piece of paper you had pulled from behind your ear earlier.

“Oh, I don’t know, it’s just a magic trick. You can throw it away.” You laughed while washing the glasses.

“Are you sure?” He said, walking over to you. “It has a number.”

“What!?” You dropped the glasses in the sink and quickly dried your hands. “Let me see!” You rushed over to your dad and snatched the paper from him.

“That kid was trying to hit on you?” He rolled his eyes while looking at you.

“Oh my God, yes!” You smiled, excited.

Then you remembered your dad worked with him, and your smile dropped.

“I mean— maybe, probably not— it doesn’t matter.” You shrugged and casually slipped the paper into the back pocket of your pants.

“Sure, it doesn’t.” He narrowed his eyes and started heading up the stairs. “Remind him you live 7,588 kilometers away!” He shouted from afar.

You smiled a little and gave a small jump of excitement in the quiet of your living room.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

MIT libraries are thriving without Elsevier

I'm coming to BURNING MAN! On TUESDAY (Aug 27) at 1PM, I'm giving a talk called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE!" at PALENQUE NORTE (7&E). On WEDNESDAY (Aug 28) at NOON, I'm doing a "Talking Caterpillar" Q&A at LIMINAL LABS (830&C).

Once you learn about the "collective action problem," you start seeing it everywhere. Democrats – including elected officials – all wanted Biden to step down, but none of them wanted to be the first one to take a firm stand, so for months, his campaign limped on: a collective action problem.

Patent trolls use bullshit patents to shake down small businesses, demanding "license fees" that are high, but much lower than the cost of challenging the patent and getting it revoked. Collectively, it would be much cheaper for all the victims to band together and hire a fancy law firm to invalidate the patent, but individually, it makes sense for them all to pay. A collective action problem:

https://locusmag.com/2013/11/cory-doctorow-collective-action/

Musicians get royally screwed by Spotify. Collectively, it would make sense for all of them to boycott the platform, which would bring it to its knees and either make it pay more or put it out of business. Individually, any musician who pulls out of Spotify disappears from the horizon of most music fans, so they all hang in – a collective action problem:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/06/21/off-the-menu/#universally-loathed

Same goes for the businesses that get fucked out of 30% of their app revenues by Apple and Google's mobile business. Without all those apps, Apple and Google wouldn't have a business, but any single app that pulls out commits commercial suicide, so they all hang in there, paying a 30% vig:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/15/private-law/#thirty-percent-vig

That's also the case with Amazon sellers, who get rooked for 45-51 cents out of every dollar in platform junk fees, and whose prize for succeeding despite this is to have their product cloned by Amazon, which underprices them because it doesn't have to pay a 51% rake on every sale. Without third-party sellers there'd be no Amazon, but it's impossible to get millions of sellers to all pull out at once, so the Bezos crime family scoops up half of the ecommerce economy in bullshit fees:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/06/attention-rents/#consumer-welfare-queens

This is why one definition of "corruption" is a system with "concentrated gains and diffuse losses." The company that dumps toxic waste in your water supply reaps all the profits of externalizing its waste disposal costs. The people it poisons each bear a fraction of the cost of being poisoned. The environmental criminal has a fat warchest of ill-gotten gains to use to bribe officials and pay fancy lawyers to defend it in court. Its victims are each struggling with the health effects of the crimes, and even without that, they can't possibly match the polluter's resources. Eventually, the polluter spends enough money to convince the Supreme Court to overturn "Chevron deference" and makes it effectively impossible to win the right to clean water and air (or a planet that's not on fire):

https://www.cfr.org/expert-brief/us-supreme-courts-chevron-deference-ruling-will-disrupt-climate-policy

Any time you encounter a shitty, outrageous racket that's stable over long timescales, chances are you're looking at a collective action problem. Certainly, that's the underlying pathology that preserves the scholarly publishing scam, which is one of the most grotesque, wasteful, disgusting frauds in our modern world (and that's saying something, because the field is crowded with many contenders).

Here's how the scholarly publishing scam works: academics do original scholarly research, funded by a mix of private grants, public funding, funding from their universities and other institutions, and private funds. These academics write up their funding and send it to a scholarly journal, usually one that's owned by a small number of firms that formed a scholarly publishing cartel by buying all the smaller publishers in a string of anticompetitive acquisitions. Then, other scholars review the submission, for free. More unpaid scholars do the work of editing the paper. The paper's author is sent a non-negotiable contract that requires them to permanently assign their copyright to the journal, again, for free. Finally, the paper is published, and the institution that paid the researcher to do the original research has to pay again – sometimes tens of thousands of dollars per year! – for the journal in which it appears.

The academic publishing cartel insists that the millions it extracts from academic institutions and the billions it reaps in profit are all in service to serving as neutral, rigorous gatekeepers who ensure that only the best scholarship makes it into print. This is flatly untrue. The "editorial process" the academic publishers take credit for is virtually nonexistent: almost everything they publish is virtually unchanged from the final submission format. They're not even typesetting the paper:

https://link.springer.com/article/10.1007/s00799-018-0234-1

The vetting process for peer-review is a joke. Literally: an Australian academic managed to get his dog appointed to the editorial boards of seven journals:

https://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/olivia-doll-predatory-journals

Far from guarding scientific publishing from scams and nonsense, the major journal publishers have stood up entire divisions devoted to pay-to-publish junk science. Elsevier – the largest scholarly publisher – operated a business unit that offered to publish fake journals full of unreveiwed "advertorial" papers written by pharma companies, packaged to look like a real journal:

https://web.archive.org/web/20090504075453/http://blog.bioethics.net/2009/05/merck-makes-phony-peerreview-journal/

Naturally, academics and their institutions hate this system. Not only is it purely parasitic on their labor, it also serves as a massive brake on scholarly progress, by excluding independent researchers, academics at small institutions, and scholars living in the global south from accessing the work of their peers. The publishers enforce this exclusion without mercy or proportion. Take Diego Gomez, a Colombian Masters candidate who faced eight years in prison for accessing a single paywalled academic paper:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2014/07/colombian-student-faces-prison-charges-sharing-academic-article-online

And of course, there's Aaron Swartz, the young activist and Harvard-affiliated computer scientist who was hounded to death after he accessed – but did not publish – papers from MIT's JSTOR library. Aaron had permission to access these papers, but JSTOR, MIT, and the prosecutors Stephen Heymann and Carmen Ortiz argued that because he used a small computer program to access the papers (rather than clicking on each link by hand) he had committed 13 felonies. They threatened him with more than 30 years in prison, and drew out the proceedings until Aaron was out of funds. Aaron hanged himself in 2013:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aaron_Swartz

Academics know all this terrible stuff is going on, but they are trapped in a collective action problem. For an academic to advance in their field, they have to publish, and they have to get their work cited. Academics all try to publish in the big prestige journals – which also come with the highest price-tag for their institutions – because those are the journals other academics read, which means that getting published is top journal increases the likelihood that another academic will find and cite your work.

If academics could all agree to prioritize other journals for reading, then they could also prioritize other journals for submissions. If they could all prioritize other journals for submissions, they could all prioritize other journals for reading. Instead, they all hold one another hostage, through a wicked collective action problem that holds back science, starves their institutions of funding, and puts their colleagues at risk of imprisonment.

Despite this structural barrier, academics have fought tirelessly to escape the event horizon of scholarly publishing's monopoly black hole. They avidly supported "open access" publishers (most notably PLoS), and while these publishers carved out pockets for free-to-access, high quality work, the scholarly publishing cartel struck back with package deals that bundled their predatory "open access" journals in with their traditional journals. Academics had to pay twice for these journals: first, their institutions paid for the package that included them, then the scholars had to pay open access submission fees meant to cover the costs of editing, formatting, etc – all that stuff that basically doesn't exist.

Academics started putting "preprints" of their work on the web, and for a while, it looked like the big preprint archive sites could mount a credible challenge to the scholarly publishing cartel. So the cartel members bought the preprint sites, as when Elsevier bought out SSRN:

https://www.techdirt.com/2016/05/17/disappointing-elsevier-buys-open-access-academic-pre-publisher-ssrn/

Academics were elated in 2011, when Alexandra Elbakyan founded Sci-Hub, a shadow library that aims to make the entire corpus of scholarly work available without barrier, fear or favor:

https://sci-hub.ru/alexandra

Sci-Hub neutralized much of the collective action trap: once an article was available on Sci-Hub, it became much easier for other scholars to locate and cite, which reduced the case for paying for, or publishing in, the cartel's journals:

https://arxiv.org/pdf/2006.14979

The scholarly publishing cartel fought back viciously, suing Elbakyan and Sci-Hub for tens of millions of dollars. Elsevier targeted prepress sites like academia.edu with copyright threats, ordering them to remove scholarly papers that linked to Sci-Hub:

https://svpow.com/2013/12/06/elsevier-is-taking-down-papers-from-academia-edu/

This was extremely (if darkly) funny, because Elsevier's own publications are full of citations to Sci-Hub:

https://eve.gd/2019/08/03/elsevier-threatens-others-for-linking-to-sci-hub-but-does-it-itself/

Meanwhile, scholars kept the pressure up. Tens of thousands of scholars pledged to stop submitting their work to Elsevier:

http://thecostofknowledge.com/

Academics at the very tops of their fields publicly resigned from the editorial board of leading Elsevier journals, and published editorials calling the Elsevier model unethical:

https://www.theguardian.com/science/blog/2012/may/16/system-profit-access-research

And the New Scientist called the racket "indefensible," decrying the it as an industry that made restricting access to knowledge "more profitable than oil":

https://www.newscientist.com/article/mg24032052-900-time-to-break-academic-publishings-stranglehold-on-research/

But the real progress came when academics convinced their institutions, rather than one another, to do something about these predator publishers. First came funders, private and public, who announced that they would only fund open access work:

https://www.nature.com/articles/d41586-018-06178-7

Winning over major funders cleared the way for open access advocates worked both the supply-side and the buy-side. In 2019, the entire University of California system announced it would be cutting all of its Elsevier subscriptions:

https://www.science.org/content/article/university-california-boycotts-publishing-giant-elsevier-over-journal-costs-and-open

Emboldened by the UC system's principled action, MIT followed suit in 2020, announcing that it would no longer send $2m every year to Elsevier:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/06/12/digital-feudalism/#nerdfight

It's been four years since MIT's decision to boycott Elsevier, and things are going great. The open access consortium SPARC just published a stocktaking of MIT libraries without Elsevier:

https://sparcopen.org/our-work/big-deal-knowledge-base/unbundling-profiles/mit-libraries/

How are MIT's academics getting by without Elsevier in the stacks? Just fine. If someone at MIT needs access to an Elsevier paper, they can usually access it by asking the researchers to email it to them, or by downloading it from the researcher's site or a prepress archive. When that fails, there's interlibrary loan, whereby other libraries will send articles to MIT's libraries within a day or two. For more pressing needs, the library buys access to individual papers through an on-demand service.

This is how things were predicted to go. The libraries used their own circulation data and the webservice Unsub to figure out what they were likely to lose by dropping Elsevier – it wasn't much!

https://unsub.org/

The MIT story shows how to break a collective action problem – through collective action! Individual scholarly boycotts did little to hurt Elsevier. Large-scale organized boycotts raised awareness, but Elsevier trundled on. Sci-Hub scared the shit out of Elsevier and raised awareness even further, but Elsevier had untold millions to spend on a campaign of legal terror against Sci-Hub and Elbakyan. But all of that, combined with high-profile defections, made it impossible for the big institutions to ignore the issue, and the funders joined the fight. Once the funders were on-side, the academic institutions could be dragged into the fight, too.

Now, Elsevier – and the cartel – is in serious danger. Automated tools – like the Authors Alliance termination of transfer tool – lets academics get the copyright to their papers back from the big journals so they can make them open access:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/09/26/take-it-back/

Unimaginably vast indices of all scholarly publishing serve as important adjuncts to direct access shadow libraries like Sci-Hub:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/28/clintons-ghost/#cornucopia-concordance

Collective action problems are never easy to solve, but they're impossible to address through atomized, individual action. It's only when we act as a collective that we can defeat the corruption – the concentrated gains and diffuse losses – that allow greedy, unscrupulous corporations to steal from us, wreck our lives and even imprison us.

Community voting for SXSW is live! If you wanna hear RIDA QADRI and me talk about how GIG WORKERS can DISENSHITTIFY their jobs with INTEROPERABILITY, VOTE FOR THIS ONE!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/16/the-public-sphere/#not-the-elsevier

[clairewritesandrambles]

More Than This - Scott Miller

Summary: A late night in the library with Scott results in revelations.

Pairing: Scott Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Heavy making out, Scott is a bit of an ass, that's about it tbh

A/N: I'm a little nervous about this one, I'm not gonna lie. This one was born out of a "surprise kiss" prompt from @broadwaybaggins, so if you like it make sure to thank her. Thank you to @seeyalaterinnovator for looking this one over for me. I wrote this over the course of like a week and basically all of it was between the hours of 11pm and 3am, so if this sucks... Uh, sorry.

You were going to kill Scott Miller.

Not only had he chosen to sit at the table next to you, despite the desolation of the library at this time of night, but now all you could hear was the rhythmic smacking of his gum. That habit was one of many that had annoyed you since you two had first met, and fought, in your first class at MIT four years ago.

"Scott!" You snapped, staring at him as his head popped up to look at you. His brow furrowed slightly at you before he realized what was bothering you, a smirk taking over his face. He cracked his gum loudly, his face breaking into a triumphant smile at the sight of the muscle in your jaw jumping in annoyance.

"Were you born annoying or did that come later?" You asked, flipping the page of your notebook aggressively enough to rip it on a few of the top coils.

"Only since I met you," he replied, nonchalantly shrugging his shoulders. "You bring out the worst in me, what can I say?"

You rolled your eyes at him, eyes drifting back to your notebook as another self-satisfied crack of gum came from his tongue. You had seen the fear in the eyes of the library staff as they left and saw you and Scott staying behind for a late night of studying. You two had become infamous to the building for the fights that occurred over textbooks and private rooms, but you were determined to show that you could survive one night alone with him without resorting to violence. Even if he was making it incredibly difficult.

You shifted in your seat and attempted to refocus on the problem in front of you, but the formulas in your notebook had started to bleed together. You glanced at the clock on your laptop, scowling as it switched to 1:15am. Your body was screaming at you for sleep, but you knew that if you wanted to beat Scott on your upcoming project you'd have to power through.

Glaring at Scott you quickly saved your document before you grabbed your water bottle and walked to the fountain on the other side of the floor. He could be trusted to not steal your things, but could not be trusted enough to not mess with your notes. You had learned that the hard way.

You began walking back to your table, still feeling the physical pull of your body to sleep, coming to a sudden stop when you realized that the resource book you had been using was no longer where you left it.

Instantly your eyes slid over to Scott. Sure enough, there he was leaning back in his chair as he flipped aimlessly through your textbook. You could feel the blood rushing through your body in anger as you slammed your water bottle on the table, making Scott look up at you in mock surprise.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" You snapped, stalking towards him.

"What's the matter?" He questioned, rising out of his seat as he took the defensive position to your approach.

"Give me the book back, Scott. I just want to beat you on this project and go home." You tried to grab it from his hands, but he was quick to raise it above your head.

"It'll be here tomorrow; you could always just go home now." You scoffed at the suggestion, kissing your pride goodbye as you began jumping to try and reach the book. "I can see the circles under your eyes, I'm doing you a favour."

"Don't patronize me," you said. "This is just another plot to make you feel superior. We both know you've hated me since we met; you don't actually care about anyone other than yourself."

You were surprised when, instead of a sarcastic retort, you were met with a scowl from Scott as he lowered the book, no longer taking joy from teasing you.

"You really think that low of me?" Your stomach dropped slightly at his question, combined with the pink tinge to his cheeks and furrowed brow. Maybe you had been too harsh. "You were the one who started that argument and then never tried any other approach with me afterward."

"Would it have mattered if I did?"

Scott let out a low chuckle as he took a tentative step towards you. "You know, for someone so smart you can be really dumb."

He stood so close to you that your chest brushed his with every breath. Your brows knitted together at his words, the meaning coming to you a split second before his gaze dropped to your lips. Then he was kissing you, one of his hands coming to cup your face as he gently moved his lips against yours.

You stayed still for a moment, the sweetness of his movements in such conflict with your perception of Scott that you felt like you were short-circuiting. Before the rational side of your brain could catch up your subconscious body pushes you closer to him, hands knotting in his worn Bruins sweater that you had become so familiar with over the years. You could taste the spearmint of his gum, almost being thankful for his obnoxious chewing for the first time. Being this close to him you could smell the hint of Irish Spring that hid under his usual scent of an evergreen forest that had just experienced rain.

God, even his smell was a contradiction; a mix of frugalness and frivolity.

You deepened the kiss, pulling him closer as you tried to ignore the butterflies emerging in your stomach. Scott backed you up in response, grabbing your thighs and lifting you onto the table when you hit it. He kissed you with the patience of someone who seemed to think he had all the time in the world to do so, hands running over your body as he pulled you desperately closer.

Finally, he broke the kiss, allowing you to breathe properly for the first time in several minutes, and began kissing down your jaw and neck. "You can be so fucking frustrating," he sighs, sucking at the junction of your collarbone and neck.

The rational side of your brain was yelling at you, desperately trying to get you to remember that this was the same man you had hated for four years. Beneath it, however, was another voice asking if you really had hated him, or if you had simply felt safer telling yourself that you hated him.

You couldn't deny the way your body reacted to his touch or the way your heart had always sped up when he gave you his full attention. The way arguing with him gave you a thrill you had never experienced with anyone else. The fact that your classes together were the highlight of your week.

Yeah, you were so screwed.

But as quick as you realized these feelings, your brain began fighting back against them. This was still Scott, after all. How could you know if he shared your feelings or if this was simply a moment of lust? Was this a secret plot to humiliate you?

"Scott," you breathed, tugging on his hair to get his attention.

"What?" He asked, chest heaving. He was close enough that his breath fanned over your face, his deep blue eyes looking so deeply into yours that you were sure he could see through all your facades.

It was terrifying and confusing.

"I, um," you stumble over your words, having to rip your gaze away from him to calm your body enough to speak. "I should really get back to studying."

You could see his disappointment bleed out of his body at your words, his face falling slightly before he corrected himself. Back to the Scott you were used to: carefully manufactured for no one to see his private moments. The brief moment of vulnerability was enough to make your heart scream at you to pull him back in by his collar, but the whispers of insecurity from your brain stopped you from doing so. You could only hope that you were successfully hiding your inner conflict on your face. Maybe you two really were more similar than you thought.

"Right," he said, stepping back to allow you to slide off the table. "Sorry."

You avoided his eyes as you grabbed your textbook off his table, sitting down in front of your stuff as you tried to refocus. You knew it would be futile, your already exhausted brain running laps around the events of the night, but it was at least a little easier to sift through your thoughts without Scott's expert mouth on you.

You couldn't help yourself from stealing a glance at Scott, back at his own table. He had put his earbuds back in, aggressively typing as he looked at his computer with enough focus that you knew he was not going to look back at you.

You rested your head on your hand as you reopened the textbook, trying desperately to form any coherent thoughts. Your brain was combing through your memories of Scott, untangling all the moments you had been too blinded by your perception of him to see the full picture.

All those times you had insisted on sitting in his favourite study spot on campus, claiming that it was to annoy him. Reflecting on it now, though, you weren't so sure it was to annoy him. After all, you had never thought to spread yourself out enough that it would force him to find a new place. Instead, you had sat there and left the other chairs at the table empty, knowing that Scott would be too stubborn to give in and would take a seat in defiance.

The years of assuming that Scott was looking for a fight when he would approach you, not even considering for a second that he may have simply wanted your attention directed towards him.

As you continued going through the years you felt yourself being pulled into the floor, utterly exhausted by the mental gymnastics of the night.

How could one kiss change so much of what you thought you knew?

Your eyes open slowly, your body fighting to keep them closed despite the sound of Scott calling your name and gently shaking your shoulders. Your arms were folded under your head for some comfort, your body's fight for sleep apparently having finally won. Your eyes flicked to the clock on your computer, reading out that it was nearing 2am.

"Come on, you should get home," he said once you had woken up enough, nodding towards the exit.

You looked toward him to answer but found the words stuck in your throat and settled for a simple nod. He had already packed away his own things, his backpack slung over one shoulder and his old grey MIT hat covering his dark hair.

You closed your laptop, beginning to gather your things as you packed them into your bag. Wordlessly Scott grabbed your textbook, one which had been put to the side for your class, and returned it to the cart marked for your class.

When you didn't hear the expected sound of the exit doors you looked up, seeing Scott shifting his weight as he held his car keys in his hand.

He looked up at you as you gave him a quizzical look and twirled his keys on his finger. "It's the middle of the night. My mom would kill me if she ever thought of leaving you to get home on your own."

You briefly thought of refusing and taking a cab instead, but he was right about the issue of time. At least you weren't the only one who dreaded being in the same car after tonight if Scott's nervous motions were anything to go by.

You thanked him as the two of you walked out of the library, making your way to the parking lot where his black Audi was waiting. Scott held the door open for you as you climbed into his passenger seat, gently shutting the door after you.

As you sat and looked at his interior, you couldn't help thinking of an incident from a few weeks after you two first met. Scott had just beaten you on a unit test in class, so in retaliation you had parked your car behind his in the parking lot, boxing him in as he tried to get home. You, of course, had feigned innocence and claimed that your car had simply broken down in the position. It wasn't entirely unbelievable, your car had already been beaten up at the time and was now completely undrivable, but you had known from the second Scott's head popped out of his car that he didn't believe it for a second. Looking back on it, maybe you really had more of an active role in the state of your and Scott's relationship than you had previously considered.

Scott got into the driver's seat, tossing his bag into the backseat before starting the car. He fiddled with the heat, scrolling endlessly through his phone in search of a playlist. Every motion of his body was filled with nerves, emphasized by his eyes flitting to you every few seconds.

He finally decided on an old rock song from the 80s, putting his phone down as he sat back in his seat, his hands flexing around the wheel. You were about to say something in an attempt to put him at ease when he spoke first. "I'm sorry about earlier."

"What?"

"I shouldn't have kissed you out of nowhere like that," he explains, pausing slightly before continuing, "especially after everything."

"Oh," your heart dropped at his words, the conflicting emotions from earlier resurfacing in your chest. "It's fine."

You opened your mouth to ask him more about it, the confusion of his words mixing with your surfaced feelings to create a bitter taste in your mouth, before deciding against it and instead giving him directions to your place.

Like clockwork, your thoughts began to race again as you ran over his apology in contrast with his actions earlier in the night. The part of you that was still coming to terms with your feelings was eager to believe Scott's words, willing to believe that he could be cruel enough to lead you on without the intent to follow through. Had he simply seen you as a conquest? A challenge to overcome and then once he had proven that he could have you if he wanted, he'd turn around. Was he just horny and you happened to be around? Was that what had caused his whiplash reaction in the night?

But then the part of you that wanted him, the part that was unsatisfied with lonely nights spent studying, would argue. You had successfully ignored any actions from either Scott or yourself that had hinted at possible romantic feelings for four years. Could you really trust your cynical side to make rational decisions when it came to him?

You were thankful for Scott's music filling the car as you both sat in silence, turning over these thoughts in your head and only stopping when providing a new direction for Scott's driving. You snuck glances at him, but his focused gaze on the road didn't give away much to either side of your internal argument.

He finally pulled up to your place, forcing you to call a ceasefire for the war inside your head. You reached for the door, feeling like all you wanted to do was sprint for the safety of your bed, but your fingers refused to pull the handle for escape.

"What was your goal?" You asked, turning to look back at the driver's seat. Scott knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, prompting you to continue. "We've been at each other's throats since we met and you just suddenly kiss me." You watched him open his mouth to respond, but you decided to keep going. "And then you just tell me it shouldn't have happened! You just completely changed everything between us and then expected me to go back to how it was like it was nothing. How did you expect me to react to that?"

The part of you still rooted in your rivalry rejoiced in the guilty look on his face, though that voice that had been warring with you all night felt a pang of sadness at the sight, head dipping to look at your lap in anticipation of his response.

"What did you think would happen?" You continued, deciding to get your thoughts out before you had the chance to lose your confidence. "Did you think I'd be a notch in your bedpost after you've hated me for this long?"

"I've never hated you," he said, turning his body to fully face you now. "What aren't you getting about that? I wasn't trying to embarrass you."

"Then what were you trying to do?" You felt like someone was physically squeezing your heart, anxiety pooling in your chest at the potential for both joy or disappointment that could come from his words.

"I thought I made myself clear when I kissed you. You're the one who broke the kiss, that's why I apologized." The grip on your heart relaxed enough to allow a flutter of hope at his words.

"So, if I hadn't stopped kissing you..." You trailed off, unable to meet his earnest gaze. Despite the hope building inside of you at his words, you were determined to not allow yourself the potential disappointment from reading him wrong again. "What would you have done after?"

Scott let out an exasperated sigh next to you, finally making you peek at him. The street lamp outside illuminated his face just enough for you to see the amused smirk on his face. "You really are an idiot."

You tilted your head up further to get a proper look at his face. His expression matched the soft tone of his voice, both in direct contrast to his teasing words. Before your brain had the chance to talk you out of it, you cupped his cheek and brought his mouth to yours.

The dam that had held the butterflies from earlier to a trickle burst open to a flood, your heart celebrating its victory over your brain for the first time in your carefully conducted life. This time, neither you nor Scott were patient. You were both pulling each other closer, fingers threading through his dark hair as your body bumped the console of his car.

Even when you two separated to catch your breath you stayed leaned into each other, his fingers dancing over your lower back. Your fingers curled themselves into his sweater as you pulled him back towards you, relishing the taste of him and the warmth that spread through you as those walls you had built through the years began to fall.

You knew you should be going inside to sleep, but now that you had experienced Scott in earnest, his touch and taste spreading over you with every movement, you couldn't break yourself away. The practicality of a relationship could be figured out later, for now, you just wanted to make up for all the time you had spent too blinded by what you thought you felt to see the potential of him.

[arinzeture]

In 1959, Ronald McNair, a 9-year-old Black boy in Lake City, South Carolina, walked into a segregated library determined to borrow books. Despite being told the library was not for Black people, he refused to leave. The librarian called the police, and his mother was summoned. Ultimately, the police instructed the librarian to let him borrow the books. This act of quiet defiance highlighted McNair's determination to pursue knowledge. The library that once denied him access is now named the Ronald McNair Life History Center, a testament to his legacy.

McNair's passion for learning and science propelled him to extraordinary heights. He earned a PhD in Physics from MIT in 1976, specializing in laser physics, and became a NASA astronaut in 1978. In 1984, he flew aboard the Space Shuttle Challenger, becoming the second Black American in space. Tragically, he lost his life in the 1986 Challenger disaster. McNair's story is one of resilience and achievement, inspiring generations to overcome adversity and reach for the stars.

[marauder-misprint]

Hiii! So I wanted to request a Remus fic where the reader is really cheerfull flirty outgoing physical with everybody and bubbly but her English is not that good. If her native language would be hungarian would be great. So she sorta struggles. And like fluff. I'm so sorry if I come off as rude. 🫶

Hi! Thank you for this request and I'm sorry it took me a while to write it. I really hope you like it and that the Hungarian isn't too horrible. And your request isn't rude at all ❤︎ All of the Hungarian words/phrases are translated at the bottom

Édesem

Remus Lupin x Hungarian!reader

2.5k words

cw: fluff :), Hungarian from Google Translate

So many people loved you at Hogwarts. You sported a bright smile everywhere you went. If someone forgot their quill, you let them borrow one of yours. They forgot their book? You offered to share yours. When your words didn’t fail you, you were the first to compliment people when they gave an insightful answer or looked especially nice or whatever could earn them a compliment. You were also quick to offer hugs and high fives, to give someone a kiss on the cheek as a thank you, to ‘boop’ someone’s nose or ruffle their hair. 

Your biggest issue? English wasn’t your first language. It meant you missed things in class and in passing with other students. Maybe that was part of why your smile was so prominent. You didn’t get half of the negative things that gossiped about. You could live in your world at times and spread the positivity that you saw. 

But then Professor Flitwick held you back after class. He had your most recent essay in front of him and a frown on his face. 

“This essay is simply illegible,” he said.

You mimicked his frown as you looked at your impeccable handwriting. 

“Mit?” 

“It’s incomprehensible. Makes no sense.”

“Ah. Can I… ah, írj… write again?” 

“Yes, I was going to ask you to. With the help of Remus Lupin. He’ll meet you in the library tonight after dinner.”

He handed you the essay. You reread your work. You thought that it made sense, but apparently not. You tucked it into your bag and offered the professor your thanks before leaving his classroom. For the rest of your day whenever you had downtime in classes, you took out the essay and reread what you wrote, trying to see where you had room for improvement. Something must’ve gotten dropped or left out during your translating. It’s your main focus for all of dinner, making it easier to block out the conversations that are happening around you. 

You hugged your friends after you were done eating. You’d see them in the common room later and now, you needed to go to the library. You quickly scanned the library when you got there, trying to see if Remus was there already. You found him at a table near the back. 

“Remus, hi!” you said as you sat down right night to him, moving your chair as close to him as you could and knocking your knees together.

The look he gave you was unreadable. You were blissfully unaware of how your closeness and brief moment of touching threw him off. He was relatively closed off to anyone who wasn’t a close friend. As bubbly and sociable as you were, you didn’t qualify.

“Rewriting that essay for Flitwick, right?” he asked before subtly moving his chair away from you.

“Yes! Thank you for help.” 

You pulled out your first attempt of the essay along with your Charms book, fresh parchment, your quill and ink. Everything you needed. 

“And….” you muttered to yourself as you grabbed your Hungarian to English dictionary that you carried with you. “Okay. Where do we start?”

“May I read what you wrote?” Remus asked, slowly reaching for your essay.

You slid it toward him with your hand barely brushing his. While he took the time to read your essay and occasionally scribble notes in the margins, you opened your textbook to the section you were supposed to be using. The air was still for a few minutes. You prepared to rewrite an entire essay and handle the criticism. 

Remus cleared his throat when he finished reading. He placed the essay down back in front of you. 

“It’s not bad, but I agree with Flitwick. There are sections that, erm, I can’t read. I noted which ones.” He reached to point to what he was referring to. “But the overall content is fine.”

You placed your hand over his. “You think so?” 

“Wouldn’t have it if I didn’t mean it.” 

You read over his notes and started to rewrite your essay. Remus watched you work for a few minutes before he took out his assignments to work on. He snuck glances at you, telling himself that he was just checking your progress. It definitely wasn’t to watch you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as you focused. It wasn’t to see you twist your lips as you reread your essay and his notes. And he most certainly didn’t smile at the way the candle light made your eyes shine. 

“I think… I think I fixed it? Can you read?” you asked, setting your quill down.

“Erm, yeah. Yeah, I can read it.”

Remus set aside his own work and took your essay. Without the confusing segments, the essay was much better. Remus nodded, giving it back to you once he finished reading it. 

“Flitwick will like that one. Much better.”

The smile that you gave Remus took his breath away. Almost as much as when you then leaned in to hug him. He awkwardly patted your arms as they wrapped around him from the side. You barely knew him and yet here you were, hugging him as if you were lifelong friends.

“Thank you, Remus,” you said before letting go. 

You started to pack your things away and Remus returned to his assignments. He tried to steady his breathing and heart rate. He expected that to be the end of the interaction. You stood up and slung your bag over your shoulder, pausing to look at Remus while he worked. 

“Could you help more? Essays are hard,” you said, your voice soft.

Remus looked up to see your pleading eyes.

“Yeah. We can meet here on Tuesdays and Thursdays?” 

Your smile somehow widened. 

“Thank you!” 

Then you left. He watched you leave, curiosity about you flowing through his veins. He knew everyone loved you and with this short evening together, he absolutely understood why. You emanated joyful energy. You were beautiful. You were… fantastic. And you had just asked him to spend more time with you. Was it for homework? Yes, but Remus wasn’t going to let that deter him from enjoying your presence. 

From then on, Remus looked forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays. He had classes with you and could see you during passing or meals, but those evenings in the library? You were all his. You sat mostly in silence, but you were always right next to him. Sitting too close, touching his hand, smiling at him, hugging him. He could sneak glances at you without the risk of anyone noticing how often he did so. 

“Can you read, Édesem?” you asked, sliding him a Transfiguration essay you had been working on. 

“Of course.”

Since that first session together, Remus didn’t usually make notes on your essays. In sections when your Hungarian messed with your English, he tapped his wand to the essay to make grammar and spelling changes. The only notes he made were when the content of the essay needed edits. He couldn't help pride he felt when he noticed your essays having fewer and fewer errors. He told himself that he was part of why that was happening.

Most of the time, you busied yourself with something else while he read over your work. Not today though. You watched him read, your eyes tracing over the scars on his face, forearms and hands. Because he was reading your essay, you stopped yourself from brushing his hair out of his eyes. It had grown a fair amount since your first session. 

You sighed. “Jóképű vagy…”

“Hmm?” he hummed, not looking up from the parchment. 

You flushed and looked away. You hadn’t meant to say that out loud. And then Remus said your name.

“Mit?” you asked.

“Did you say something?” 

“No.” Did you say that too quickly? Did you sound uncertain? 

“Oh… I thought… Ah, never mind…” A moment passed. “Here’s your essay back. It’s good.”

“Thank you, Drágám,” you said with a slight smile.

“What’s that mean? Dragon?” 

You knew your blush was becoming more prominent. 

“It’s…” You couldn’t tell him what it actually meant. Your Hungarian pet names were supposed to your secret way was expressing your feelings. “It means friend.”

“Huh. Cool.” 

He seemed to believe you. You had been calling him Drágám and Édesem for a few sessions now. He had never explicitly asked what they meant until now. He assumed that they meant something along the lines of friend, but he wanted to be sure. And now he knew. 

You hugged him again before you left. Then you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“Thanks, again, Remus. I appreciate the help.” 

As soon as your back was to him as you walked away, Remus brought his hand up to his cheek where your lips had just been. He used to think that the hug was overkill for the level of friendship you had and the amount of help he was giving you. A kiss, albeit on the cheek, but still a kiss? It felt like a lot. 

Then he noticed the small book you accidentally left behind. The Hungarian to English dictionary. He put it in his bag. He could give it back to you when he saw you in class. Remus was positive it wasn’t something you’d want to lose. He worked for a bit longer before returning to his dorm.

As he lay in bed that night, he flipped through the dictionary. He came across words he heard you say from time to time and words you mixed up for English ones. There were a few that caught his eye as he lazily scanned the pages. Édesem and Drágám were two of the big ones. The little nicknames you had called him and they certainly didn’t mean friend. 

He closed the book, setting it on his bedside table with a deep blush covering his entire face. You had been calling him terms of endearment in your native tongue. Did you call everyone that? As he observed you in the past few weeks, he noticed that you hugged a lot of people. You seemed to have a lot of love to give, not that it was a bad thing. But he hadn’t paid attention to how you spoke to others. He knew he needed to. He needed to know if these terms were your normal vocabulary or reserved for your study buddy. 

He found you the next day before Charms to give you the dictionary back. 

“You left this last night. Thought you’d like it back.”

“Remus! Köszönöm, jóképű! Thank you!”

As if to enforce his observations, you pulled him into a hug and then pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“I would be dead without this,” you said as you pulled back. 

He gave you a polite smile and made his way to his desk. He knew he had interrupted your conversation with your friends and now he was kicking himself for not trying to listen to how you spoke before he interrupted or lingering after you let him go. He also regretted not having the dictionary any more. Jóképű? That was a new name. What if that one really did mean friend? 

He figured he’d just have to wait.

And he did. He waited until your next study session together. He planned to wait until you let one of the pet names slip and he’d ask you about it again. 

It didn’t take long.

“Hello, Drágám,” you said cheerfully as you walked up to your usual table. 

Remus waited until you sat down and subconsciously moved your chair closer to his, like you did every time. 

“There it is again, Drágám.”

“Mit?” you asked, tilting your head as you looked at Remus. There was something new in his warm honey eyes that made you melt.

“Drágám. The name I asked you about.”

You cleared your throat. “Right. Friend.”

Then he chuckled. 

“It doesn’t mean friend,” he said matter-of-factly. He gestured to your bag where he knew the dictionary was tucked away. “I… I, ah, I looked it up.”

Your face burned bright red within seconds. 

“You looked it up?”

“I was flipping through the pages. Curious, you know. And I, erm, I came across it. Precious? Honey? And the other one… Éde-something.”

“Édesem,” you whispered, the sinking feeling of embarrassment covering you from head to toe. You wanted to disappear into your chair. 

“Sweetheart,” he said. 

He didn’t look angry when he said that. If anything, he looked nervous.

“What was it that you called me when I gave you the dictionary back? I couldn’t look it up… Obviously.”

You bit your lip before saying, “Friend?”

Remus chuckled and then gestured to your bag. “Do you mind if I check?”

You pressed your lips into a thin line. Your heart pounded in your chest as you reached into your bag to grab the small book. You handed it to Remus without looking at him. 

“It was… ahem, jóképű,” you said in a small voice.

Remus flipped through the pages until he found it. Then his face was covered in a matching shade of red. Handsome. It seemed to glare at him from the page. He swallowed thickly before allowing him to look at you.

You were staring at your hands, which were clasped in front of you on the table. He slowly reached out and placed his on top of yours. 

“Do you say that to all of your friends?” he whispered.

You shook your head, not trusting your voice or your own words. 

“Édesem, please look at me,” he said. 

Your heart leapt at him using the endearment back at you. He was using it to refer to you, right? The sweet look on his face only made you think that he was. He leaned in slightly.

“Do you really think I’m… joke… ah, I can’t pronounce it…”

“I do…” 

You slid one of your hands out from under his to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

“It’s a… um, előnye… a…” You then held up a finger and reached for the dictionary. After a moment of you scanning a few pages, you continued, “It’s a perk of studying with you.” 

“And I thought I was the only one with that perk,” Remus said with a smirk.

“What do you mean?”

“Having a pretty study mate. Bit distracting for getting work done, but nice all the same.”

You gave him a confused look so he continued.

“Édesem, you’re breathtaking. And I really like being near you, working with you, helping you. It’s the highlight of my day.”

“Oh,” you breathed, your blush once again deepening.

This time it was Remus who removed a hand to move some of your hair. He tucked it behind your ear before letting his hand rest on the side of your face. 

“Can I… ah… Can…” he stuttered before leaning in more. 

You could feel his breath on your face as he kept moving closer. And then you realized what he was doing a moment after his lips brushed yours. You leaned into the kiss as your silent way of accepting it. 

Translations from google translate

Mit - what 

Írj - write

Édesem - honey/sweetheart

Drágám - my precious

Jóképű vagy - you’re so handsome

Köszönöm, jóképű - thank you, handsome

Előnye - advantage/benefit/perk

[reiderwriter]

Hii~ First of all I love your writing!

Now about the request... I really wanted one where Spencer is dating a painter who has the personality of a black cat (we all know that our Reid is a total golden retriever type) and everyone thinks that she is the dominant one of the couple since she has this more punk/alternative style, but the team couldn't be more wrong! A soft!Dom Spencer makes her obey and yield every time! ~thank u

A/N: Thanks so much for the request! I can definitely see myself making a part two for this if enough people are interested!! For now though, enjoy! ~✨

Warnings: mentions of public sex, BDSM roles, mentions of using dog collars in a sexual way, mentions of creampie.

Here's my masterlist and requests are open!~

“I can’t believe we’re finally meeting your mystery girl tonight, Reid. You’ve been so quiet about her, we’d have never even known if Penelope hadn’t hacked your phone on a hunch.” Emily laughed at the man from her perch at the bar, raising her glass in a cheers with her fellow agents. 

“I’m not too sure she really exists, you know. I know what my baby girl said but the kid graduated from MIT, and we know texts can be doctored,” Morgan teased from the other side of the younger man. 

In response, he simply rolled his eyes and let them continue their fun and games. He’d known the two agents for long enough to know that their teasing was loving, if not entirely warranted. He’d only kept you a secret because you’d asked him to, having wanted to make a good first impression on them. He’d have gladly shouted your name from the rooftops, but you were on the shy side sometimes. 

“Oh you’re just jealous. You want me to help you take a little honey home tonight, Derek?” Emily turned on the other man this time and Reid breathed a sigh of relief that the attention was finally off of him.

“I am perfectly capable of collecting all by myself, thank you very much.” He turned an amused eye out to the rest of the bar, surveying the women in the bar like a predator looking or it’s next victim. 

“What about that one? She good enough for the Derek Morgan?” Spencer glanced up at where she was pointing at the same time as the aforementioned male did and did his best to repress his smile. Emily had glanced to the door, where you stood, outfitted in a tight black dress, chunky thigh high boots and a stoic expression. You’d carefully washed all the paint that usually adorned your hair and face away, armouring yourself in red lipstick and dog collar choker, letting the look speak for itself. 

“Now that is a nice piece of work, but not exactly what I’m into, sweet cheeks. I prefer my ladies a little bit less wild. A little more compliant if you pick up what I’m putting down.” 

“Coward. Dominant women are more fun, right Reid?” Emily smiled back at the other man, but he was looking past the two of them waving to you. 

“Oh great, you’re here. Emily, Derek I want you to meet my girlfriend, Y/N.” He grabs your hand and leads you the rest of the way to where they were standing, the grin on his face widening exponentially as the two splutter, praying to god that you didn’t just hear the tail end of their conversation about you. 

“Hi, great to meet you. And yes, Emily, I agree. Dominant women do seem to have a lot of fun,” you winked at the woman a little bit and let your boyfriend excitedly drag you over to the bar to buy you a drink. 

Recovering first, Emily pulled herself back into the barstool she’d recently vacated, and started asking you questions. 

“So, how did you guys meet?” 

“At the library actually. I was there installing a mural, and I saw him and decided I had to have him.” You smiled fondly up at your boyfriend, as he rolled his eyes and took another sip of his drink. You’d perched yourself between his legs, leaning your entire bodyweight back into his chest possessively, as he trailed a light hand over your waist. 

“You’re a painter? Wow, that’s so wonderful.” 

“Yeah, that’s the dream anyway. I also work part time at an art gallery downtown to help pay the bills. It’s where he tracked me down, so it worked out pretty well, I guess.” 

“Tracked you down?” Morgan asked. 

“Yeah, after our first… run in, I forgot to give him my number.” 

“Run in? You said you met at the library, what else did you do if you forgot to swap numbers?” Emily laughed, half-heartedly, then stopped as soon as she saw the smug grin on your face paired with the awkward panicked expression on Reid’s. 

“Shut up. No way, wait I don’t even want to hear this.” 

You smiled up at the man, knowing that the way his two coworkers were imagining that first meeting was probably the exact opposite of how it had gone. Sure, you’d told the truth about approaching him first, but that was the extent of your control of the situation. You’d gone over to ask for his number, find out his name and ask if he was single. You’d returned to work an hour later with sore knees, no panties and a load of his cum dripping down your inner thighs. 

He hadn’t even allowed you to give him his number, just promised that he’d find you again, and vanished from the library bathroom stalls you’d christened in sin with a lingering kiss on your lips and a whisper of “good girl.” You’d fallen for him hard, and you never wanted to get back up. 

“Wow. And he was so desperate to find you again that he followed you to work. We taught you better than that, Reid, come on. You’re going to freak out the ladies if you come on that strong.” Morgan began teasing the man, ruffling his hair, and you bit your tongue to stop the laughter from exploding from your mouth. 

You knew from your appearances that people often came to the wrong conclusions about how you and Reid were as a couple. Your style was more alternative, though not as intense as you’d been in high school, and his was more preppy nerd, but you balanced each other out well. You knew that it irked him sometimes though. And whenever he was pissed, he took it out on you in the best way. 

After a few hours in the bar getting to know Morgan and Prentiss, and the two other lovely ladies who had arrived later, JJ and Penelope, Reid’s grip on your waist tightening made it clear that it was time for you to go home together. 

“I think we’re going to head out now, guys. I’ll see you in the office on monday.” He said and moved off, but you wanted to see how far you could push it tonight, wanting to see the lengths he would take to not show his teammates that they had vastly misunderstood your relationship. 

“But Spence, I just met them. I wanna talk some more,” you smirked up at him now, and saw his jaw clench. You were thankful you’d work the dog collar choker tonight, the thought of him grabbing it to yank you away making you squeeze your thighs together for some much needed friction. 

“We’re going now, baby. Come here.” You ignored the order for another second, and you could feel the heat in his gaze, and the curiosity in his friends as they watched this struggle between you. 

“Sweetie, did you hear me, I said we’re going now?” This time, you knew he wasn’t playing anymore, so with a quick “yes, sir,” you pushed yourself out of your seat and practically skipped over to him, a delighted grin on your face. He cupped you neck, wanting desperately to pull you in by the neck but choosing restraint instead, and brushed his lips to yours. Whenever he kissed you like that, it meant you’d caused trouble, and you knew you were going to spend the night paying for it. 

“Bye-bye, everyone, it was so nice to meet you,” you called as he led you out of the doors and into the carpark. 

“What the hell was that?” Penelope was the first one to crack, the others jaws still dropped to the floor. 

“Did she just call him sir?” JJ laughed in incredulity. 

“But-but I could’ve sworn they were…” Emily blubbered and the four of them sat there staring at the door, realising that they had underestimated their resident genius a little bit too much. 

[vervepain]

Supercorp AU: no powers. Tumblr Friends/Secret Celebrity AU

Lena and Kara meet as Tumblr friends in middle school, just before the accident that kills Kara’s parents. They stay devoted internet pen pals through college when Lena invites Kara to Metropolis.

Only, Lena has been keeping kind of a big secret.

Lena Luthor is a wunderkid tech genius heiress who has been making talk show appearances since she was 16. With her brother Lex, they are using their century old family technology firm to develop new advancements and revolutionize the field of computing and bioengineering.

Kara has a huge crush on Lena Luthor, a fact Lena, her friend not the celebrity, loves to tease her about. Once Kara considered if her Lena and Lena Luthor could be the same person…but that would be ridiculous. Sure they are around the same age and both brunette, but Kara’s Lena studied engineering at a school outside of Boston, but like…not MIT. And just…her Lena is soft? She’s not the debonair heiress that drives Bugattis on sports tracks at charity races. She’s just…a girl Kara flirts with sometimes who wears thick glasses and messy buns and read Russian classics. She is Kara’s best friend.

Kara’s Lena invites her to Metropolis for a week after they graduate college. Lena explains she has big girl money and wants nothing more than to spend it on finally meeting Kara.

Kara insists she can buy her own plane ticket, but still agrees. Meeting Lena, well that would be everything. Lena is the only person who knows all of her. Who knew her before the accident and stayed her friend. Frankly, Kara has sometimes thought about moving to Metropolis…just to risk running into. So she could introduce herself. Irl. And ask out Lena.

When Kara lands in Metropolis she messages Lena. And the woman sends a thumbs up. But just as Kara steps off the plane, a man in a suit escorts her to a private corridor. Kara has no idea what is happening until she is lead to a door. The man gesture for her to enter. When she does she sees floor to ceiling windows overlooking a runway. Four leather chairs look out, further down the room extends opening into a small library and kitchen.

Kara clears her throat, and one of the chairs turns. To the utter shock of Kara Danvers Lena from Tumblr is not there, in her place is a young woman with a slicked back pony tail and an Armani suit. She is wearing killer heels. And the. Something happens that changes Kara’s entire life, the woman—Lena Luthor—reaches into her breast pocket and pulls out a pair of thick glasses. She places them on her nose.

“Please, I am so sorry. But please don’t be angry,” Lena says.

Kara can’t quite handle what is happening: the two Lena’s: her ultimate crush and most intimate home collide and fuse and resonate and dissolve until all that she can do is ask:

“Am I under arrest?” Which she realizes was the wrong thing to say.

Lena smiles a bit.

“No, I, Kara, Darling, welcome to the private Luthor Family lounge at Metropolis International. I said I would pick you up, but I thought you might enjoy a snack and a private restroom before the car. The ride to my penthouse will be an hour this time of day.”

“Oh wait, so Lena, you like, this is actually happening.”

Here Lena Luthor smiles and Kara Danvers. And in the way her teeth appear and then the pink gum, the way the smile grows, overtaking her face and infecting her eyes Kara can see: oh this is her Lena.

“Lena Luthor is my best friend. Holy shit,” Kara says.

[eeriepromis]

THE LADS AS PARTNERS-IN-CRIME

Origin Story of this idea started in the official Discord Server with me saying Caleb is someone I could steal horses with.

The German saying "jemand, mit dem man Pferde stehlen könnte" describes a person who is extremely trustworthy, adventurous, and reliable - someone you can count on for anything, even risky or mischievous endeavors. Translation: "Someone you could steal horses with." Equivalent English Saying: "A partner in crime."

[+ Marauder's Special at the end.]

I feel like Rafayel, Sylus, and Caleb give off total partner-in-crime vibes. I can just picture them as teenagers, always up to some mischievous antics, sticking together through thick and thin.

Zayne, on the other hand, would absolutely be the one trying to talk sense into them, worrying about the consequences. But let’s be real - he’d still get dragged into it in the end. He’s that friend who nervously points out how risky their plan is while following along anyway.

Xavier? Tbh I have no clue - he is a wild card. I feel like he’d be the quiet one who just goes with the flow- until he suddenly suggests something so completely unhinged that even Raf and Sylus would pause. Meanwhile, Caleb would just pat his head and agree that it’s a brilliant idea.

Sylus would definitely be the strategist, the one actually figuring out how to pull off their wild schemes without getting caught.

And Rafayel - He’d be bouncing ideas back and forth with Sy or MC- while dramatically complaining about his designer clothes getting wrinkled and dusty. xDD

Omg - Imagine them with this kinda dynamic during the Marauder Times in Harry Potter

Their Hogwarts Houses

Gryffindor - MC & Xavier Slytherin - Sylus & Rafayel Hufflepuff - Caleb Ravenclaw - Zayne

The Midnight Heist

The Gryffindor common room was dimly lit, the dying embers in the fireplace casting flickering shadows as five figures huddled together near the window. Outside, the castle grounds stretched out under the silver glow of the full moon.

“We are not doing this,” Zayne whispered, arms crossed, looking like he was already regretting showing up. “Breaking into the Restricted Section is expulsion-worthy. Do any of you have an actual plan?”

Sylus smirked, twirling his wand between his fingers. “Of course we do. What do you take us for, amateurs?”

“That’s exactly what I take you for,” Zayne deadpanned.

Rafayel, perched lazily on the arm of a chair, stretched like a cat. “Relax, bird boy. We’re professionals. Well, Sylus is. The rest of us are just here for the chaos.”

Caleb snorted, nudging MC’s shoulder. “And this one is here because she has no self-preservation instincts. I swear, Pipsqueak, one of these days I’m going to have to bail you out of actual trouble.”

MC grinned. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Caleb rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

Xavier, who had been silent until now, suddenly piped up, “Why don’t we just tame the library’s guardian monster instead? That way, we don’t have to sneak past it.”

A brief silence.

“…Xavier, what monster?” MC asked slowly.

“The one that’s supposed to be guarding the Restricted Section.”

More silence.

“…There’s no monster,” Sylus finally said, brows furrowing.

Xavier blinked. “Oh. Then what was that huge shadow I saw moving between the bookshelves last week?”

Raf sat up straight. “Excuse me?”

“Okay,” MC clapped her hands together. “New plan: get in, get the book, and get out before we find out what Xavier saw.”

“And if we do find out?” Caleb asked.

Sylus grinned. “Then we make it part of the plan.”

Zayne sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “I cannot believe I’m the only responsible one in this group.”

MC smirked. “Then why are you still here?”

With a hidden smile decorating his lips Zayne replied: “Because someone’s gotta make sure you guys don’t get eaten by an imaginary book monster.”

[h0efor2ho]

Quantum Shift : From Friction To Fusion

Yunho X Reader

WC : 3.1k

TW : Enemies to ???, Brothers best friend Yuhno, Teasing, nickname (Sunshine) masterbation, fingering, mind games,

You could pin point the exact moment, you decided you hated Jeong Yunho. It wasn't when you were 4 and he stole your butterfly net, or when you were 7 and and he used all the slides for your microscope without asking. It wasn't when he copied your science fair project or when he removed all the labels from the bottles in your micro-chem kit. No the moment you felt pure, unbridled hatred for Jeong Yunho was when you were 13 years old and he announced that he would be going to MIT for physics when he graduated high school. That wouldn't have been a problem if that wasn't your exact plan as well. And how did Yunho know your plans, well you could thank your big mouth twin brother, and Yunho's best friend, Mingi, for telling him every aspect of your life. 

You learned from an early age you would be stuck with Yunho in some compacity of life with how close him and Mingi were. But you thought it would end after high school. You thought college was going to be a fresh start for you. No longer competing with him, no longer trying to be one step ahead of him. All through high school you pushed yourself. You didn't party, you studied like it was your life force. In the end it was all for not. Sure you graduate with a 4.0 but Yunho beat you by 1 point for valedictorian. When acceptance letters go out, Yunho gets his first and of course he got into MIT. Your's comes three days later, along with Mingi's. All three of you getting accepted. 

Sure MIT wasn't huge but you thought you could at least avoid Yunho durning the day. It didn't help that you knew he would be at the apartment you shared with your brother 90% of the time. So your anger was justified when Yunho's dumb face showed up in more than half your classes that first day. His face breaking into a smug smile as he sat behind you, leaning forward as he did to say "Its just like old times" knowing it would get to you.

That was two months ago, and you haven't said one word to him since. Not a single word spoken in class, not one hello muttered when you leave your bedroom and find his lengthy frame on your couch with Mingi. Not even a look back at him now as you'r sitting in a stuffy lecture hall in a Modern Astrophysics class with Yunho's foot tapping the back of your chair. You refuse to acknowledge that the action is getting under your skin, doing so would give him the satisfaction he is looking for and you will not give that to him. He has been doing these little things over the last two months to try and get you to break, to talk to him.  

When your professor is done explaining a new paper you have to write and ends class you quickly make your way to the library, checking out the books you need and finding yourself a table to spread out on with your laptop. It's a Friday evening after 6pm, it's practically empty so it's noticeable when Yunho's 6 foot frame makes its way across the rows of book shelves and to a table two rows across from you. You try your best to ignore him, even thought you can feel his eyes on you. Finally looking up and meeting his gaze you watch as he holds your stare, eye brow hitching up and a small smirk playing on his lips. The site of him infuriating you to your core. 

You throw yourself into your paper, determined to finish it tonight. You had but in your headphones, allowing Franz Gordon's piano melodies to take over your subconscious and focus. Before long you have finished typing the last sentence of your paper. Looking at your watch you realize it's past 1am. You groan as you start to gather the books you were using to put them back. You allow your eyes to shift up for half a second to notice Yunho is no longer there. The table he was occupying now sits empty. You don't spend to much time thinking about when he left or where he went. If he finished his paper or not. 

After putting all the books back you quickly gather your things and make your way to the apartment you share with your brother. Quietly making your way inside as it's almost 2am now and you know how cranky Mingi gets if he's woken up. You quickly wash up and get yourself ready for bed. You can feel the exhaustion deep in your bones as you crawl into bed. Setting your alarm for 7am and turning on your white noise machine to help drown out any snoring that is garunteed to come from Mingi's room at some point in the night, your sound asleep before a minute even passes. 

You'r first thought when you jerk awake in the morning is that someone in your apartment is working with machinery. The loud whine-grinding noice coming from down the hall is obnoxiously loud. The second think you notice is the sun isn't even all the way in the sky yet. You reach for your phone to check the time and notice 1) it's only 5:15am on a Saturday morning. 2) You have about 5 missed calls from Mingi and 2 from a number you dont have saved in your phone around 2-2:30am. You think how that's odd since Mingi was home in bed with you. The whining grinding noise cuts through your thoughts again. You'r going to kill your brother for waking you up this early on a weekend.

You kick off your covers and stomp your way out of your room. It was too early for your brother to be making all this kind of noise. Rounding the corner, rubbing the sleep from your eyes you start your beratement of him "Mingi, its Saturday at 5am, its way t-" the words die in on your tongue when you take in the site before you. It in fact is not your twin brother, but his best friend, all 6'1" of him. Your mouth gape's open like a fish out of water before you snap it shut. He's shirtless, grey sweatpants hung low on his hips, his hair tussled from sleep. 'Why are his arms so big' you silently question as your eyes take him in. You would never admit it out loud, but Yunho had your ideal body type. You knew Mingi dragged him to the gym with him every so often and it showed. His biceps corded in muscle as he leans on the counter, his chest defined and leading down to his stomach that you know if you rested your head on would not be to hard or to soft. 

"Oh hey" he says to you as he opens the coffee grinder, your realize that is the source of the noise that woke you. "What are you doing here?" you blurt out "And where is my brother?" you tear your eyes from his long delicate fingers and the veins that run along his hands and back up to his eyes. Those big chocolate brown eyes that are now studying you carefully. "Oh she speaks" he says with a lazy half smile. "I was starting to worry you may have gone mute there sunshine" You hate the way your eyes track his stupid mouth and the way it quirks up. "I can speak just fine. I just chose to not speak to you. Now where is Mingi?" You watch as Yunho fills the french press with the fresh coffee grinds before adding the hot water from the kettle next to him before turning back to you. 

You suddenly are very aware that you are only in an oversized t-shirt and underwear. You had rushed out to the kitchen to yell at who you thought was your brother, you didn't bother with pants. Now you wish you kinda did with the way his gaze falls to the hem of your shirt that hits mid thigh. "Your brother sunshine, decided it would be a great idea for him and his math buddies to go to one of those uni parties" he lets the words hang between you as he pushed the pump down on the press. "Okay so that means he's where?" you question back. 

"He is currently passed out in his bed, and will be nursing a hang over today since they all got shit faced last night and he called me at 2am to come pick him up after he couldn't get a hold of you" You watch as his large hand reaches up and loops his finger through the handle of two mugs, pulling them from the cabinet. "Thanks for answering my call too by the way" He glances over at you "It was fun trying to figure out where his keys were while he was drunk at 2:30 in the morning" he turns and opens the fridge looking before his brows furrow. He looks over at you "Where is the 'sugar free sweet and creamy' creamer" he asks. "In the back, in the black glass bottle. Mingi will use it all if I don't switch the container" he bends down again and looks harder. "Ugh Y/N there are like 5 of those bottles back here." 

You roll your eyes, and stomp over to the fridge, lightly pushing his shoulder out of the way so you can look. "Yunho those are grey bottles, there is only one black frosted bottle back here" you say as you reach in and grab the bottle. "Seriously, for someone who is sooooo smart you sure ar-" the words die in your throat and your breath hitches as you feel a hand land on your hip. The back's of your thighs brush against the warm fabric that you realize is Yunhos sweat pants. You quickly turn and your face is inline with Yunhos bare chest. Only about 3 inches separate the two of you. You try and take a step back, but your back meets the cold surface of the refrigerator. He has you pinned, hand still on your waist.

You tilt your head back to look up at him, finding him already looking down at you. You hold your breath as he leans down, his breath fanning across your face as his hand wraps around the bottle of creamer in your's "Thanks sunshine" leaning in closer, he drops his voice. "By the way, the blue suites you" Your face must morph into the horrific embarrassment you felt on the inside because when he pulls back to look at you he lets out a small laugh while tracking your face. You can feel the blush sweeping across your face as he takes you in. Gaze sweeping from your eyes to your mouth, your neck. He watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest as your heart speeds up. 

"Ughhh my head" you nearly jump out of your skin when you hear your brothers voice come from behind Yunho. You automatically shrink back against the refrigerator as Yunho studies you. "Yea you're gonna feel like shit all day buddy" he says to your brother without taking his eyes, or his hand, off of you. "Why don't you go shower and I'll make you a cup of coffee" Your brother lets out a groan as he enters the kitchen, stopping in his tracks when you see's Yunho looming over you. "Ugh am I interrupting something?" his eyes shift from Yunho to you and back. Thankfully the way you are angled he cant see Yunhos hand gripping your hip like his life depends on it.

"Nope" Yunho says still without looking at you "Y/N here was just showing me where the coffee creamer was as she was telling me how blind and stupid I am. Isn't that right sunshine?" Neither of you look away as you shake your head yes. Mingi just looks at you for another minute "Well I'm happy you two can be in close proximity without trying to kill each other now" he smiles at you as you look at him "I'm going to take that shower. Maybe we can have breakfast after" you watch as he turns and walks out of the kitchen. You and Yunho stay where you are. Eyes locked, his large hand still gripping your hip, your shirt bunching up higher on your thigh from it. 

Neither of you move, not as Mingi pads down the hall way. Not when you hear the door to the bathroom click close. Not when you hear the shower turn on. Neither of you move until you hear Mingi let out a loud sigh and the sound of water splashing on the shower floor. Signaling he is indeed in the shower now. Two things happen, they happen so fast it takes a moment for your mind to wrap around them. Yunho pries the bottle of creamer out of your hand, placing it on the counter next to you. His hand then comes back to you, gripping your other hip. He steps into you, pushing you back up against the refrigerator more. His large, thick thigh sloping between yours. 

"Why do you insist on doing this to me?" he whispers. "Why do you keep putting me though this?" His eyes searching yours. You don't know what he is referring to. Your breath hitches as his thigh connects with your body. "I...I don't..." your mind cant form words. You can't think. You hate Yunho.. but you can't deny the feeling growing low in your stomach. You have to get away from him you think. 'He's trying to get me to embarrass myself' your mind is racing now. You slowly bring your hands to his chest. Your palms burn as they connect with his bare skin. "Let me go" you say, voice not as strong as you want it to be. His grip on you falters for a second. "I..  I dont know what game you're playing at Yunho, but leave me alone." You push slightly, he allows you to remove himself from you as you make your way around him. "Y/n im not-"

"Enough Yunho. I know we hate each other and are always trying to out do each other but please don't try and lie and tell me your not trying to get in my head and mess me up" You quickly flee back to your room, your blood rushing in your ears you barley hear him calling your name as he follows you. You quickly shut your door behind you, blocking him out his voice dies in the hallway. Your heart is racing, breathing coming in small pants. 'What the fuck was that' you think to yourself. You never thought in a million years Yunho would use those kind of tactics on you to try and mess with your head. 

He must have heard how flustered you get when it comes to anything intimate. You weren't a prude but your list of experiences were quite small. You had, had sex before with a ex boyfriend but it was nothing extravagant. In fact it was a little disappointing, and then when he broke up with you after stating that it wasn't exciting enough for him well you just went back to focusing on your education. You knew he told people you weren't that great in bed, mean while it was him that didn't seem to know what he was doing. You knew Yunho had been friends with him before that, he must have told him how flustered you got and decided to use that against you. You should be mad, furious even.. But you cant deny the feeling pooling low in your stomach. 

A feeling you haven't felt in a long time. You shake your head. It's Yunho, Jeong Yunho for god sakes. Your academic rival. You hate each other! So why are you so turned on by the memory of him pinning you to the refrigerator? You quickly strip out of your underwear and crawl into bed. You know you have to take care of this or it will consume you. Slowly you allow your hand to travel down your body till you reach your core. You were wet.. 'god I hope he didn't notice' you think. It wasn't because of him per-say you tell yourself, it was just the action its self. Your fingers quickly glide through your wet folds, finding your entrance with ease. You quickly insert two of your fingers in and work yourself up.It doesn't take long. Thoughts of Yunhos long fingers replacing yours. You think of the veins that run along the back of his hand and up his forearm. You're punching your fingers in and out of you at a fast pace, the heel of your hand coming down to put pressure against your clit.

 You quickly slap your other hand over your mouth as you approach the edge. Your pants turning into uncontrollable moans, the squashing sound of how wet you are filling the room. All while thinking about your brothers best friend and the man who is the cause of 90% of your troubles. It doesn't take long  before your back is arching off the bed and your core is clenching around your fingers. You come down in a hazy realization your just fingered yourself to Yunho. If he knew he would make fun of you to no end. Getting off to someone who hate you and you hate.You quickly clean yourself up before opening your text book and dive into studying, determined to never thing about what you just did ever again. Shame burns you from the inside out... How are you ever going to look at him again...

You successfully avoided Yunho over the next three week. You don't leave your room when he's over, you get to class right before it starts and run out as soon as it's over. You haven't gone to the library in three weeks for fear of seeing him. It was all going great till your advanced physics teacher announced you would be doing a partnered research paper. You hated group or partnered work but you saw how working with others is crucial in the science world so you always sucked it up. You were mentally preparing yourself to have to work with a stranger when you opened the roster he had e-mailed out along with the topic you had to cover. You found your name, next to it the subject "The Law Of Attraction and how it can be applied to science" but your stomach dropped when you saw who you were partnered with. Because next to your name was none other then...

...Jeong Yuhno...

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tag list ; @tunaasan

If you'd like to be tagged in pt 2 please let me know :)

[twshipoftheday]

Teen Wolf Ship of the Day, January 7th

Allison Argent x Scott McCall x Isaac Lahey

There was nothing more comforting than waking up in between Scott and Allison. Scott as the big spoon and Allison as... another big spoon. Isaac always felt cradled between the two of them.

Allison loves being a big spoon while cuddling, Isaac likes being the small spoon and Scott really doesn't mind as long as he's touching them

Isaac and Scott practise lacrosse together in the backyard

Allison likes to go to the library to study with Isaac, Scott prefers to study in his room but Allison knows they never get anything done there

The three of them spend every full moon together and Allison loves to spend time with their wolfy-forms

Isaac took up watercolor paintings and has made paintings of all his favourite places around Beacon Hills

The three of them go on a cross country road trip one summer and visit Lydia at MIT, they go to Niagara Falls and sleep out of their car the whole time. It's fun but not something they plan to do again as it was expensive

They all call Melissa 'Mom' and Chris 'Dad' and Allison enjoys spending time with Melissa while Isaac spends time with Chris, they share parents often