Euphoria Season Finale Tonight ….. Not Ready, My Brain Is Not Processing At The Moment. Been Waiting

hi! i was wondering if you would write something like reader (gn or fem, idk if you want to specify) is jealous and sad because of jon’s close relationship with dany and just like him reassuring them and stuff.

thank you! i love your writing by the way!

before it kills me || jon snow

"Are you jealous?"

"Maybe. Or maybe I'm afraid. I don't know."

you're jealous of the dragon queen, and it's tearing you up. fem!reader. takes place s8.

Thank you so much for the request! Sorry it took so long!Hope you like it!

masterlist

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You'd always been the jealous type. Not just with lovers, but with friends, and with things, and with luck. When you were a child, you'd stare at the highborn whenever they passed through your village, dressed in silk and plate armor, on shining, well-bred horses. Why them?  You would think. Why them, and not me?

At the Wall, you'd been jealous of Jon at first. He was stronger, and faster, and better trained than you-- that is to say, trained in the first place. You'd been jealous of Sam, who could read, and Grenn, who could ride, and Pyp, who could sing. It had faded, of course, and you hadn't let it stop you making friends for too long, but still, it was your first instinct. It always had been.

Now, at Winterfell, after years of fighting, and bleeding, and freezing your ass off on the edge of the world, you found yourself jealous again. Not of someone's skill, or weapon, or training, like would be even marginally acceptable for someone of your age. No, you were jealous of a pretty woman, and how much time she spent with Jon Snow. And it was bad.

That fucking Dragon Queen had you pacing. Pacing, and brooding, and biting your nails, and cursing yourself for all of it. You had more important things to be worried about than the affections of Jon Snow, who wasn't yours to be jealous for in the first place. Gods, when did you even start loving him? Maybe you always had. Either way, this was what you got for dancing around him for years-- you hadn't made him yours when you could've, and now, someone better had shown up to whisk him off on dragonback.

Daenerys Stormborn-- First of Her Name,  Breaker of Chains, Mother of Dragons. The Unburnt, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Queen of the Andals and the First Men. How could you ever compete with that?

Did you even want to try?

What could you possibly give him that she couldn't? She was inspiring, powerful, and unmatched in beauty. A Targaryen. A gods-damned dragon rider. And you were a bastard girl who cut her hair and became a man of the Watch. Not even a bastard of someone noble and important, like Jon was. Just a Flowers of some Redwyne or Fossoway who's name your mother forgot. Rough, weary, dressed in old black ringmail and scars.

Daenerys dressed in furs and silver.

Didn't he deserve her?

You should have just talked to him. You knew that. But jealousy was an old friend, a familiar pain. It was easy to sink back into. So you let it claw at you for hours, for days, alternatingly ferocious and grieving. It ate you from the inside out and the outside in, made you irritable and anxious and guilty. Distracted. You slipped up on the sparring field. Battle plans went in one ear and out the other. No sleeping position was comfortable anymore, and your jaw ached from constant clenching and grinding your teeth.

Your friends had grown worried. You hadn't let even Davos coax out what was wrong, though you suspected he already knew. You were growing worried too. Fighting the dead would need you at your strongest, and the dull ache in your chest was taking its toll.

You grit your teeth again, and got out of bed. This has got to end. Fuck it if he loved her, if you had been wrong, and all the glances, the stray touches, the so-nearly-kisses that always seemed to get interrupted had all meant nothing to him. At least you'd know, and you'd move on. Or you'd die fighting Walkers, and none of it would matter. Either way, it'll be better than this.

The castle was sleeping, and nobody but a few wandering soldiers were there to pay you any mind. Poor bastards probably can't sleep either. Some bowed their heads respectfully when you walked past, mumbling "M'lady," or sometimes "Ser," though you were not a knight, and lady of nothing but your sword. You quickened your pace.

When you reached Jon's room, you didn't let yourself think twice. You didn't steel yourself, didn't take a breath, just rapped on the door before you had a chance to go craven and leave.

Jon opened the door. Disheveled, in nothing but a plain shirt and trousers, though clearly awake. Your breath hitched. It felt intimate, seeing him this way, out of his capes and his leather, without Longclaw on his hip. His eyes widened, and you remembered your own appearance. Your bare feet, your undone hair, your dressing gown. At least we're even, then.

Jon ran a hand through his hair. "You need something, Flowers?" He mumbled, not unkindly, a tired smile ghosting his lips.

"Do you love me?"

"What?"

You pushed your way into the room. Jon's eyes flared again, but he didn't stop you. "You heard me, Snow. Do you love me? All those times we sat on watch together. All those times you held my hand, and came to greet me at the tunnel when I came back from a ranging, and fussed over me when I got hurt. How you called for me when the fighting ended at Castle Black, and after the Boltons, and how I called for you. Did all of that mean something to you, or did I imagine it?"

His brow furrowed, and for a moment, he just looked at you. Then, his face softened. He took your hand in his, warm and rough and familiar, and threaded his fingers through yours.

"Are you jealous?"

Damn him.

"Maybe." Your voice came out a tremble. "Or maybe I'm afraid. I don't know."

"Come here." He tugged you into his arms, and you found yourself clinging. It had all been so much so fast. All the fighting, the dying, the red woman, the free folk. Ramsay, and Cersei, and the threat of the dead, and the beautiful Daenerys with her dragons. Jon held you as you cried about nothing and everything for a while, rubbing your back and carding his fingers through your hair, murmuring reassuring things that you couldn't hear.

You could've stayed there forever.

But I need to know before it kills me.

With an effort, you stepped back, feeling a little empty without his arms around you, and a little guilty about the damp spot you'd left on his shirt. You took a shaky breath.

"I need to know if you love me, or--" you pushed a sob down, before it could break. Jon opened his mouth, but you didn't let him get a word in. "It's okay if you don't, really-- I just," you offered him a watery smile. "I need to know now. If you love me, or if you love the Queen. Please, Jon. Before it kills me."

You bit your trembling lip for dear life. You would not cry if he said loved her, you swore it to every god you knew. You would not ruin it for him, more than you already had. If he said he loved her, you would smile, and thank him for his honesty, and be done with it.

But Jon Snow didn't say anything. Instead, he sat on the edge of his bed, and took your hand, and kissed your knuckles. He kissed your palm, and your wrist, inviting you to sit beside him with a gentle pull. You nearly fell into place. Something about his touch always made you lean into him without thinking. He wasn't magnetic, exactly-- it was something softer than that. More akin to the gentle urge of gravity on a feather.

He held your face in his hands, and brushed away a tear, and kissed you softer than any fur or silk in the world.

"Of course I love you," he said, voice wavering. Tears had made a home in his eyes, just as they had in yours, and the look on his face sent a wave of guilt crashing over you. "I'm sorry you ever thought I didn't. Please, forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, Jon. You know how I get, I--" you paused, trying to find the words. "I'm sorry. I'm a jealous woman, a scarred woman. I have no dragons, and no crown, and no beautiful silver hair or perfect face. I have no name of my own. I have nothing to give you but my sword and my love, and Daenerys has seven kingdoms. Well, she will, I mean. Just-- I felt like you'd abandoned me for someone better. Which is stupid, because you're not even mine to think about that way--"

"And who says I don't want to be?" Jon interrupted. He took your hand, took your scarred knuckles to his lips again. The way he was fixing those beautiful eyes on you, with such perfect sincerity, took every word you'd ever known right out of your mouth. Whatever he was going to say next, he meant it.

"I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine, and I don't want it because of power, or money, or dragons. I just want to love you. Is that so hard to believe, Flowers?"

"You would love a jealous woman?"

Jon laughed. "You would love a jealous man? I can be just as bad as you, you know. Remember when you got to be a ranger, and I didn't?"

That was true, and you chuckled at the memory. "Gods, you're right, Snow. You had on the most sullen look I've ever seen when you watched me and Grenn ride off for the first time."

"And that was me trying to hide it."

Jon Snow took you in his arms again, smiling now, and kissed your brow. When you buried your face in his shoulder, he smelled of linen, and smoke, and something that was just him. Familiar, safe, and gentle.

"Stay with me tonight. I want to hold you." His whisper fluttered over your ear, tone almost desperate, almost yearning. Your heart skipped about ten beats at once, and you shuddered. He's going to be the death of me, you thought, pulling back to look in those deep, dark eyes. He is going to be the death of me, and I don't mind at all. Gently, you pressed his shoulder, pushing him down to lie on his back, with you settled in the pocket of his arm.

He held you, and you held him, and for the first time in many days, you slept comfortably.

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the sellsword's taglist: no one here yet!

jon snow's taglist: no one here yet!

(ask to be added to taglists! 'the sellsword's' is for all of my works on this account. Each character ive written for also has their own separate taglist, if you'd only like to be notified for certain characters.)

I HATE YOU MASTERLIST

[mini series]

summary: things get pretty heated, in more ways than one, between you and elliot, who you absolutely loath.

fandom: euphoria

parings: elliot x f reader

warnings: smut, swearing, drug and alcohol use

smut: *

PART ONE *

PART TWO *

PART THREE *

completed

fluff, mention of alcohol + ib @sourcherryandsprinkles (check out their fic 🫶🏽)

coriolanus snow feels the sweltering heat of the hob reach up to him. he’s barely made it in two steps past the entrance, when sejanus takes off to a darker part of the activities. snow swivels his head, taking a mental note of where sejanus perches himself against a bar, but chooses against joining him.

no, he would much rather lie back here, where the music could reach him just fine. like waves.

he picks up a glass that seems full enough to the eye: the liquid swishes violently when he shoots it down his mouth and he needs a minute to savour the taste. he’s not inclined to remembering much of the academy here, choosing to focus on only getting out, but something feels familiar. an act he is piecing together carefully, meticulously, as bodies rush past him to join onto the dance floor. he feels himself already getting light with the facade he’s wringing raw. bloody, even, between his fingers.

would they believe him? would they let him go home? let him see trigris and grand’maam one more time? would a class act ever profess to the same standards twice?

amongst his own, rotting worries, is when he sees you. not much quieter than the covey band on stage, not much louder than the crowd that followed - no, he could have lost you easily to the ruffles and the swills and the laughter. a mere stranger, much too adjusted with her tongue. but he’s curious as you approach his table.

“hi, boys. what can i get you for today?” you click your tongue, inserting a pen between your fingers and jotting down what the other men present as options of drinks. he tries to focus, clears his throat and nods along some common choice of beverage and ah, there’s polish on your nails. scarlet and running dark, a noteworthy shade amongst that of other district folk. were you like lucy gray, a performer? or were you much like what he ran from, a class act?

but he’s far too taken to knowing who exactly you are when he sees you cut a smirk in his direction. it’s subtle and over in quick succession, but it makes him oddly glad for the shift.

“what?” he asks with a charm rebuilt, barely concealed fortitude crumbling when you play with your notepad. the edges of the papers you taunt with your fingernail are frayed and tearing slightly, but you still work a quick smile that sets his alarms and worries for the brighter horizon that will surely come tomorrow. really, your pretty face has him forgetting all of the quells for a minute and, instead, scope out what exactly you want from him.

you shift your garments about, meeting his eye with some supposed challenge, “haven’t seen someone like you around these parts of the district. you new?”

he nods, “yeah, i’m… new to this peacekeeper business.”

“you been to the hob before?”

“no… not exactly, no.”

“not exactly?”

he plays with his fingers, itching the skin softly, “just heard a lot about this place. it’s nice.”

“more than nice, just you see,” your pen clips to the notepad and you hark a smile at him, working your way around the men and onto the next table. your eyes beat with a play he isn’t familiar with, one that makes him follow you with his eyes alone, “you have a good time now, mr. peacekeeper.”

“it’s snow. coriolanus snow.”

“coriolanus,” you seem to taste the name beneath your teeth, testing it tolerably and nicely, “has a nice ring to it.”

it’s the rest of the sickly sweet night that he’s thinking of you. you’ve got a sweet demeanour, a smart mouth - something worth thinking about over a drink. the hob is not quiet but not bustling either, with patrons filtering out one after another. some drunk, warm faces sit still at tables, some dance to a slow rhythm up front. sejanus leaves for a while, but snow leaves it as unnoticed. what he does notice is you in his peripheral.

you’re wiping tables, which strikes him suddenly as odd. odd that he still has the chance to catch you whilst you’re on hours. surely, you still remember him? he’d told you his name, but never breathed so much as yours. would you be freaked by his interference?

“you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” your voice is suddenly closer. you’d crossed across the bar whilst he was meandering between freakish and urbanity, and now stood smiling at him, a rag clutched at the hip. he swears his breath catches against a row in his throat, but snow catches himself quickly.

“me? must’ve overestimated my ability to drink,” he smiles, genuine since his days of relegation and spite, missing and borrowing, “are you still working?”

“hm, but i got a few minutes on the clock. then, i’m free as a bird” when he hears you say this, his ears redden with attention. you’d be off in a few minutes?

“why, you wanna take me on a date?” you ask. and he spirals. and you let out a bark as he goes red from head to feet, his fingers itching his temple as he smiles. all polite and bucking at the seams, “i’m only joking, coriolanus. coriolanus - did i say it right?”

he finds your chatter endearing, meaning in every bit of movement between the two of you, “you say it just perfect.”

he could’ve sworn he saw a flush work up those cheeks of yours, but then again, he could be losing more than just his mind. some level of sensibility, too, maybe. still, he rises to a level of action he has never been since the poor tributes, the days of reaping - maybe its initiative. maybe its the want. maybe its you between his fingers like gold.

he licks his lips, feels the wet of them against each other, “can you i have a drink? two, actually.”

“two? the other…?”

he smiles, tries to imitate your sweetness and only lets it come off half baked, “for you.”

but really, he couldn’t care less. the smile that tears across your face is warm, your laugh hearty.

“mr. snow, you’ve got your tricks,” the smile spills into your words, he can hear it, “well, i’ve got mine.”

and he needs to ask, what are they? can i see? am i allowed? when you kiss his cheek. nothing vehement or raunchy in the least, a thing recounted as a peck, but as you swivel towards the bar in a confident front-step, snow touches the warm part of his cheek like he’d been burnt. like he was burning still, under the pustule of the soft, flaxen light the hob had to offer. burning still, when he smiles under his hand, grinning under the gap of his fingers.

burning, still, in the grasp of wanting you beneath two drinks and a kiss.

(requests for snow / tbosas are open!)

© 2023 qvrcll. do not repost any of my works on any platform.

“Someday there’ll be a celebration throughout Oz that’s all to do with me.” 💔

Can you do reader who’s the opposite of Carl? (Good grades, good house, kinda good family situation but scared of failure?)

yessss i kind of have a story like this in my drafts, ill tweak it for you, if u can comment on this post so i can tag u !

if you see me getting manipulated by a brown eyed schizophrenic cult leader leave me alone i’m exactly where i want to be.

NOOOO I NEVER NOTICED THIS💔💔

SHE WAS WEARING PURPLE SHE WAS FUCKING WEARING PURPLE FROM THE START

THE TSHIRT IS PURPLE TOO THE DAY SHE GOT ON THAT PLANE HOW COULD THEY DO THIS

STOPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SHUT UP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

okay i’m awake time to write for my silly little phone spiders

💚Lottie Matthews SFW Alphabet💚

💚Read the NSFW Alphabet here!💚

Fanfiction master list

disclaimer: don't repost my work. I only post on Tumblr and on Ao3. anything else is stolen and should be removed immediately

Warnings: Nope! All safe/fluff, mention of alcohol though

Word Count: 2,278

A/N: Hello Loves! Back again with more for Lottie! This time it's her SFW alphabter! As always, feel free to leave questions or comments in my comments or ask box, and happy reading!💚

Lottie Matthews Tag List: @elliesjoints

Yellowjackets Tag List: @frasersgf @minimickzy

General Tag List: @summergeezburr

-💚-

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Lottie does what I call quiet affection. She’s not into extravagance or making a huge display out of things and she never has. She prefers keeping your love private, but don’t mistake that for her keeping you secret! On the contrary, she’s very upfront about her marital status with others, it's just not all out and in your face. Her love languages are acts of service and touch for sure. She’s always got a hand on you in some way when she can help it and its very common to come home to her having done or actively doing a chore for you that she knows youve been dreading

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

As an adult, she doesn't seem like the best friend type. But as a teenager, she was the classic outgoing girl's best friend. She loved doing each other's nails, watching corny movies late at night with popcorn, and having sleepovers. She loves those moments of girlhood but craves them still as an adult. If she did make an adult best friend, in some way I think she’d try and reclaim and relive that feeling, as childish as it might make her feel

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Lottie is a huge cuddler. She loves being tangled up in you, face to face so she can press you into her chest and she can rest her chin on top of your head. She loves snuggling up under blankets with you to watch tv or a movie ans sneakily sliding her hand up your top 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Lottie adores domestic life. She loves mundane tasks like cooking and cleaning, especially when she can do those tasks for you. She enjoys the praise she gets and the relaxation she can feel in your body from having done a task for you. She doesn’t like living alone, so moving in together would be suggested and welcomed quite early. She loves sharing her space with you. She’s the type to want to go the whole ten miles. Living together, getting married, and having kids. She wants to give her kids some of the childhood wonder she worries she missed out on

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

I think she’d be shattered. I genuinely don’t know how she’d do it because I see her as someone as an adult who’s so careful with dating, that she’s only getting into a serious relationship when she feels she’s found the one. If she felt like she had to leave, it would likely be because she worried she was weighing you down. There would be a lot of tears and drama and she’d feel awful, but she firmly believes in the phrase “If you love something, let it go”

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quickly would they want to get married?)

This lady wants to put a ring on your finger so badly! I think she dreamed of a rustic farmhouse wedding as a teenager with all her closest friends and family, and now she envisions that with you both in white, out by her little part of the lake. I could see it taking some time though. She wouldn't want to rush into things and scare you off. She seems like the type to wait till you show obvious interest in big-life changing decisions that she can’t misconstrue, like getting married or having kids

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

Lottie is just the most tender girl. She’s so fragile with every touch like she’s afraid of breaking whatever’s in her hands, you included. Sometimes her touch is so soft it feels like she’s only hovering over your skin. You have to remind her that you aren't going to fade away or disappear and she can hold onto you. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Her hugs are warm and enveloping like she’s wrapping you up in a blanket or a bubble made just for the two of you. She gets especially huggy when she’s tired or drunk

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

She tries to wait till you say it first but slips up and ends up saying it first. She says it very casually ans naturally too, likely after laughing at some corny joke you make without thinking about it. It takes her a moment to realize she even said it at all, but before she can worry and possibly take it back you assure her you love her too 

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

I mentioned it in a headcanon request but Lottie is a self-pity type of jealous. She feels very secure in her relationship with you, but if before you established it and she sees someone flirting with you or she’s got something impairing her cognitive thinking skills (best example, she's drunk) she becomes a mopy baby, keeping you away not because she’s mad at you but she’s pitying herself 

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Like everything Lottie does, there's a warm tenderness behind every one of her kisses. She loves kissing your hands and fingers, or holding onto your hips tight as she kisses your lips, smiling at the taste of you. She loves kissing your nose and the corners of your smile, as well as your thighs, collarbones, and neck. Any exposed skin she can get her hands on she’ll kiss you there, no questions asked

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

She’s great with kids! She loves just listening to them talk about the magical worlds that they come up with. I think had she not had all the trauma from the crash, in another life she became an elementary school teacher, maybe teaching between 4th and 6th graders

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Lottie is often up first because she’s got things to do, but she always leaves the coffee maker on for you and oftentimes gets some chores done around the house before you get up and she has to start getting to work. On weekends she likes to gently wake you up and bribe you with making breakfast

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

She loves listening to music while cooking dinner, often distracting you to dance and nearly burning whatever you might be cooking because she's just too infatuated with you and your laugh. She also enjoys late-night reading in bed with her glasses on while you cuddle up beside her. Her free hand often trails over your stomach and your side so that she can feel your breathing even out as you fall asleep beside her

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Lottie wouldn’t tell you a lot about the wilderness, at least not in detail. But I think she’d reveal details about her life pre-crash very freely. But her teen years during and post-crash are somewhat of a blur. Once a heavy level of trust is established between the two of you, I think she’d be a lot more open to talking about it, but only when you’re alone ans something reminds her of something that happened out there. She wants you to know what triggers her, what she did out there because she wants to be herself with you and be accepted and taken in full as she is, but that’s extremely hard out of her fear of rejection. It would take quite some time and trial and error, but overall, she feels like one of not the more open out of the yellowjackets when it comes to their time in the wilderness

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

She’s extremely patient, especially with you. They’re a very strong line of communication between the two of you, so it’s very hard to upset one another. However, if she’s already stressed, small things that other people do can tend to set her off. It’s pretty easy to catch these triggers, but settling her down again when she’s upset can be a challenge. She always feels bad after getting upset with someone but you assure her it’s alright end encourage her to apologize and communicate what she may have been feeling

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing or do they kind of forget everything?)

Lottie’s mind is a steal trap. She remembers absolutely everything without even trying, but she doesn’t brag about it. She hopes that you don’t notice it

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

She often fondly thinks about watching you in her garden, admiring all her different plants as the sun shone down on you from above, illuminating the color in your cheeks and the sparkle in your eyes. At that moment, she realized just how beautiful she truly found you

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

She’s protective, but not in the way that she’ll get physically violent or aggressive with someone who’d bother you. She’s more concerned with getting you out of a bad situation than interfering with the perpetrator if that makes sense. She’d rather take you away and make sure you're alright because of your her priority. Not some asshole who felt the need to bother you. 

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks?)

Lottie seems like a huge tryhard to me, so she’s gonna try in everything romantically because she wants you both to be satisfied to your fullest in every aspect of her relationship, so if there's something you want, she’ll attempt to achieve it to the best of her capability. But she prefers the small things, like taking her time doing a task for you, or when you try cooking something new for you both or coming home to a new bouquet that you picked from the garden that afternoon

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

She’s got a nasty habit of overworking herself, especially into the night. She often wakes up in the night when she’s overwhelmed or stressed and you need to pull her from her computer or the kitchen and back to bed before she wears herself out

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

She’s more concerned than you might think. Of course, she’s one to embrace the unique beauty that comes with age, however, sometimes when she notices a few more grey hairs than she expected or new wrinkles forming on her face it can get to her and she can grow concerned. You always tell her that she's always beautiful, even more so with age and she finds comfort in that

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

She hates to admit it, but she can be quite clingy. She doesn't like being apart for long and is at her most content when you’re within arms reach of her. Of course, she understands a need for time apart or if you want time for yourself, and that's something she’s willing to work on, but she adores you and at the very least wants to know how your day has been. She always calls if you're apart for a day to check in with you

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

I mentioned it before but she’s a big reader. She loves getting her information from books and it's quite common to find her curled up under a blanket in her free time, book in hand with a cup of tea sat beside her, her reading glasses sliding down her nose. But she’s the kind of reader that highlights and annotates her books, regardless of what they’re about. She just likes being able to flip to where she was and read sections to you without having to go on a wild goose chase to find them

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

She’s one of those people with the cilantro gene and she hates it, insisting that it tastes like soap. She’s not usually picky with food, but if she tastes cilantro it’s an absolute no

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Lottie twitches in her sleep and she sleep mumbles. She’s very clingy and always has a hand on you when she’s asleep, but she’s an active dreamer and will murmur things under her breath when she’s out cold. Often, when she’s not having nightmares she’ll say all kinds of sweet things. It's very sweet when she takes naps on the couch with you, her head in your lap while you read. She'll hum and smile to herself when you run her fingers through her hair and she’ll nuzzle into your leg. You know shes dreaming about you then