#I learned the alphabet and basic greetings at one point

[solar-wing]

⚣ Jason Todd: NSFW Alphabet 🔴

⚣🔴 A/N → I forgot I had written these out and had them on my old account. Did a little fine-tuning to them though. WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI | it's an NSFW alphabet so just expect the unexpected and the expected.

⚣🔴 Words → 3.6K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💛

⚣ ENJOY 🔴

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This man can go from rough and hard to soft and gentle in literal seconds. It’s like watching someone come out of a trance or possession. He’ll clean you up with a fresh rag and make sure you’re comfortable, especially if you’re sore (you’ll most definitely be). He’s clingy though.

You won’t get anywhere without him right beside you. And he won’t say it, but he loves it when you try to take care of him too. Jason is dominant and prefers to be in control, but that man is as needy as a newborn baby, and it gets 10x worse after sex.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Jason’s relationship with his body is difficult, but, if we’re talking about one where he’s healed, maybe been to therapy, and (slightly) moved on from his trauma, he probably favors his arms, chest, and hands. Jason prefers strength overlooking aesthetically fit, and he kind of always looks like he’s bulking but it's defined somehow. And because that adds to his overall size and level of intimidation, he loves working on those specific groups to increase them so he can in turn use them to intimidate people, especially those who try to flirt with you in front of him.

Now, on the other end, Jason is 100% an ass man. You can not change my mind. He loves you wearing any kind of tight or fitting material that molds to the shape of your butt and just being able to oogle and smack it when he wants. And smack it he does. Dude has the equivalent of 100 cheese necks in one palm and you feel it every time he lands one on your ass. 

Bonus points if you have thick thighs that jiggle when you walk. He’ll be paying extra special attention to those, especially if you’re wearing any kind of short shorts or fitted athletic wear. He also has a slight obsession or fascination with your neck. Whether in the act or just chilling, his hands will somehow find their way to your neck whether it’s a gentle caress or a firm grip. And if he’s feeling a little possessive or riled up in the moment (which is frequent) it’s his favorite place to mark, and if you try to cover them up, it’s more motivation for him to leave even bigger ones. He likes it when people can tell and see that you belong to him.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

More of an oozer than a shooter unless he’s been holding a load in for a while. And his loads are thick. He may not shoot far but he’ll definitely give you enough to fill the bottom of a glass. 

Also, no questions asked, he’s coming inside you. You just have to choose if it’s going to be your mouth or ass. Don’t ask, it’s a territorial thing with him. The thought of you walking around and greeting people while his babies are lodged deep inside your ass or fresh down your esophagus does wonders for his pride.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

If you’re not around and he’s really horny, he’ll masturbate with a piece of your clothing. Sometimes, he’ll also call you in the middle of it and won’t tell you just so he can hear your voice while edging himself to completion.

He also will purposely start arguments with you so you can have a reason to have angry make-up sex later.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Some small experiences before he died, and little hookups here and there when he came back and was somewhat in a good place with Bruce and himself. That being said, he gets most of his experience from his relationship with you. He quickly learns what he does like and what he doesn’t, and makes it known to you immediately. 

He also may or may not go to Dick for advice or tips on how to improve. Going to Bruce is out of the question. And not just because that’s still technically his dad.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Doggy for one. It’s something about him grabbing you by your hair or even better, around your neck and forcing your body against his while he pounds into you from behind. He gets an exhilarating high from having you at his mercy and you surrendering yourself to him.

He also does favor missionary if he’s in a slightly more tender mood. But, If he’s feeling jealous or pissed off about something, he’s putting you up against a wall or in a corner with his hands around your neck and ramming you like there’s no tomorrow. Your legs will not be functioning for 24 hours.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Tends to be more serious in the moment. When he’s in the mood, he’s fully in it. Especially if he needs to get his frustrations out. However, the sound of you moaning and screaming his name will definitely bring a smug grin to his face.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He keeps himself adequately groomed. May grow some facial hair and have a little bush down there along with a happy trail but he’s good about keeping it neat and clean. And, if you want him to, he’ll shave it all, no questions needed.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

This he struggles with at times. It’s something he wasn’t given much of (especially with Bruce) so he doesn’t really know how to act when in those moments and he tends to get really uncomfortable, especially if it’s a particularly vulnerable moment for him. As far as during sex, he’s definitely on the more rough and brutish side, but he’ll always do his best to check on you.

It’s something he’s getting better at though. Even in moments without sex where you two are just lounging and sitting together, he’s good at reading you and knowing what you want or how to make you happy with small gestures and actions. He just wants to make sure you’re happy and that you feel loved (and that you belong to him and only him).

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Mentioned with dirty secrets. Really only does it when you’re not around. He’ll rarely do it just for the heck of it. He prefers getting his pleasure from pleasing and fucking (owning) you.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dominance/Submission (Power Play) - Jason has had many things happen to him that he didn’t want or couldn’t control. It’s basically what influences this kink more than others. You submitting to Jason, letting him lead and have full control in sex and even in domestic scenarios creates a very satisfying and pleasurable feeling inside him. It also serves as reassurance for him, knowing that you fully trust him to the point where you basically surrender yourself to him. Getting back to more dirty things, this kink can include other aspects such as orgasm denial, bondage (on you), and verbal affirmation of your submission (dirty talk).

Choking (giving only) - This plays into the dominant/submission kink as well. It’s a rush from the feeling of control he has over whether you get to breathe or not while pounding your brains out. But, he’ll never go too far and he hopes you know that. However, he’s not at all okay with it being done to him. He does not like his neck being touched at all for that matter. Call it PTSD from his time with Joker and other things that have happened to him in the past, so it’s a big no-no. Although, with time and him getting more comfortable in the relationship, if he gives you a clear consenting sign that he’s okay with it, he’ll allow a gentle caress and rub down his neck, but only from you. Anyone else who tries to touch him on his neck risks several broken limbs.

Mirror Sex - A key part of his possessive nature toward you. He loves seeing himself fuck into you and even more, his ego gets a big boost from seeing you turn into an erotic mess while he’s inside you.

Size Difference - The fact that Jason can pick you up and throw you around like a rag doll, dwarfs you in size, or that his clothes (even if you’re tall and broad) can look three sizes too big on you is a major turn-on for him. He won’t say it, but he likes the idea of someone smaller than him that he can protect.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Weird enough, the thought comes to mind that Jason has a weird obsession with having sex with you in tight spaces. Mainly, places like the shower or the car. It ties a bit into his power and size kink. Something about the size of his body towering over you in a small space riles him up like no other. It’s the feeling or sensation that he’s got you cornered that drives that feeling. Kind of like an outlet for him to deal with his trauma of when he was actually trapped/cornered.

Also, he has it in his mind that whenever you move in together, he has to fuck you on every single available surface in your place. Christening your home with your love is how he likes to think of it. Plus, he gets a nasty kick out of when guests are over, imagining in his mind that they’re sitting in places where he had you crying out and cumming on his dick multiple times.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

#1:Jealousy & Possessiveness – The idea of you finding anyone else attractive, let alone giving them your attention which is only supposed to be reserved for him, he’ll be quick to snatch you into the nearest closet or bathroom to remind you who you belong to. And it doesn’t matter who it is besides your parents or his family. It could be the barista at the cafe, a random guy who gave you a friendly nod, or god forbid, an old classmate or co-worker you happened to bump into on the street. Jason is a selfish & protective little fucker who doesn’t even want to consider the idea of someone else thinking they can have what’s only for him.

#2: Clothes – Please, exercise caution when picking your outfit for any particular event. Jason’s never gonna tell you what you can’t wear, but keep in mind that again, he’s a selfish and protective little fucker who has the sex drive of a large animal. Wearing anything even slightly tight or a bit showy for his taste can and will land you in many situations where Jason has pulled you aside somewhere quiet and private to have at your body. And don’t let him catch others ogling your outfit or even giving you the slightest compliment or all hell is breaking loose. Not to say he doesn’t like it, he loves it. But, you’re for his eyes only. Now, if it’s his clothes you’re wearing out, please be aware that at some point, you may be buying him a new shirt/hoodie cause he’s about to rip it off you.

#3: Arguing – Something in that man thrives on chaos, and when you and he are going at it, he can’t help but get hard. And again, hot, angry makeup sex. Duh…

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

He will not do any form of rape/forced play, including machoism and sadism. His vigilante life and past trauma already left a deep scar on him and anything that resembles that can and will trigger him. Plus, he knows he’s way stronger and doesn’t want to even take the risk of hurting you in any way.

Unless we’re talking Arkham Jason. That’s a completely different story.

He would clear it with you first that you’re okay with bondage and choking, but he doesn’t want it performed on him, especially the choking, as we’re already aware that he’s very sensitive about his neck.

Any extreme BDSM kinks like piss play or fisting is also a major turn-off for him. Exhibitionism is a straight-up no. Jason would rather drink from the Lazarus pit than have anyone looking at you in a state that he’s only allowed to see you in. Don’t even attempt to pitch the idea of a threesome or foursome or just any suggestion of bringing someone else in on your fun. It will turn into a major argument and not a good one that ends in happy fun.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Inexperienced but picks it up quickly and learns what gets more of a reaction from you. He’s a fast learner and loves it when he’s able to drive you over the edge with his mouth alone. Also, if we’re talking about eating out, he’ll happily do it till the sun turns blue. There’s something about tasting you on his tongue that just really gets him riled up.

But, if we’re talking dick-sucking, definitely prefers receiving over giving. Jason finds it extremely hot seeing you go up and down on him with your mouth, especially when he grabs your hair or head and starts to force your head up and down or starts thrusting in your mouth. He loves seeing you slobber and choke all over him. And if you look up and give him a teary-eyed but submissive look, game over (in a good way).

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely fast and rough. And if it’s not, you can bet he’s delivering some powerful strokes that will have you squeezing and clenching your legs all around him. Plus, he notices the harder he goes, the more you squeeze yourself against him while pressing your nails into his back and biting at his skin, trying to silence your loud moans and cries. Though, it’s probably not the best idea because he’ll just go even harder to force those noises out of you. And, those are marks and scars he will PROUDLY wear.

It takes him time (if you even decide at all that you want him to) to learn how to move at a softer, slower, and more sensual pace. But, if it’s something you truly desire, he’ll work on it and do everything he can to make you happy. But, that doesn’t mean rough sex goes away. It actually makes it even more hot, especially when Jason is in one of his moods.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not opposed to them. But, Jason likes to take his time with you. He doesn’t like to rush and hates the idea of feeling as if someone is going to interrupt him. No one should intrude upon your special time with each other. God bless (and protect) the unlucky souls that do.

But, if he’s really in the mood and he can’t get you to an ideal private place in a fast enough time, he’s not above pulling you into the nearest dark room or corner to get down and dirty, especially if he’s feeling a little territorial because someone decided they wanted to be brave stupid and hit on you. He’s more than happy to remind you who you’re in a relationship with. Or if you’re not in a relationship, then just who’s fucking you every single night, plain and simple. Either way, quickies to him are basically just his versions of reminders to you for what happens when he gets a bit jealous.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

You’d have to move at a snail’s pace with him if you want to introduce something new to your routine. If it’s something small, then he may go ahead and give in to it, but Jason craves consistency and normalcy, and that includes sex. Asking him to try something new can hit a sore spot cause it may seem like what you two are doing now isn’t enough for you anymore.

But, if you reassure him it’s not that, and just slowly introduce the idea to him, (double points if he likes it off the start) then you’re definitely in for a treat. For you, and you only, he is willing to step out of his comfort zone, as long as it’s not too crazy or on his no-no list.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Depends on his mood and what prompted the sex. He could go for one round or two if he’s just feeling a little feral and wants a piece of you. If it’s a jealous or angry fit after an argument, you might wanna cancel any plans after, cause he’s certainly not letting you leave the bed, the house, or wherever you are until your legs are basically useless.

The same thing goes for the duration of a round, especially if you’ve got the good good (hehe). If you’re really giving it to him. Mans may be lucky to make it past 10 minutes, but that’s not too bad. It means he can cuddle you, or you cuddle him. Either way, cuddles are non-negotiable after a round. But, if you two just got done hashing it out over something or you decided to poke one too many of his buttons, he’s dragging it out as long as he can. This means exiting out of you whenever he feels like he’s getting too close, and denying you your own orgasm as well (that damn control factor strikes again).

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Jason doesn’t own any toys and never really had an interest in them. It’s not something he’d really get into on his own and only would experiment with them if you asked. The most he’s got is handcuffs or rope he’d use for bondage but that’s as far as he would take it.

If you were to use toys, he’d definitely prefer him using them on you unless there was something else specific involved that didn’t cross one of his boundaries.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

50/50. If you’re teasing him, payback’s a fucker named Jason. He’ll kiss all your sweet spots, nibble on your chest, and barely give any attention to your dick/genitals. Especially if he’s in one of his ‘I want to hear you beg for me, tell me who owns you’ moods.

If he wants to get to the point, then you can expect to be promptly thrown onto the bed or whatever surface is nearby, and the most he’ll do here is tie or cuff your hands so you can’t touch him, knowing how much you like to feel his body while he���s ramming yours.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Jason’s loud. But, in a very grunty-like way. You may have to fight tooth and nail to get him to moan for you, but by golly is he expressive when you manage to get it out of him. For the most part, though, he’s giving grunts, growls, and grumbles. You’ll mainly hear him whisper into your ear, reminding you that he’s the one currently plowing your guts and that no one else is allowed to see you like this but him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He likes fucking you with clothes on frequently. You’re wearing a tight compression shirt that’s showing your pecs, abs, and just overall body, he’s got you bent over a surface while oogling your muscle constricting under a shirt. Wearing a jockstrap or thong in the gym and he can see it, he’s pulling them down and that underwear aside just enough to get inside you. You’re not complaining though. If he’s wearing his own compression and muscle shirts all the better for you, getting to ogle and rub his muscles while he’s hammering inside of you like an animal.

He also really enjoys massages. Particularly on his shoulders, back, and chest. He loves it when you lick and play around with the head of his dick and when you run your fingers through his hair while his face is buried in your neck kissing and leaving marks all over.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Bigger than average.

8-9 inches minimum. He’s thick and girthy down as well. Maybe narrower at the base with a really large and bulbous head. Entering can be a bit of a challenge, but it gets easier the further he gets inside. Also has a curve to his dick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Jason has a fairly high sex drive and the Lazarus pit only increased that. His libido can sometimes be more emotion-driven so feelings of love, anger, or even just a slight irritation will get him hard.

Maybe you’re not fucking every hour of the day, but he’s gotta have you in some shape or form at least once or twice a day. Whether it’s a blowjob, hand-job, or one of his jealous reminder quickies.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He can go to sleep fairly quickly, but only after he’s properly cared for you and cleaned you up. Also, he has to have your body pressed against him. Cuddles are vitally important and you should never once not want to cuddle him. It’s the one intimate thing he’s got down perfectly to a T. 

However, he has more than once fallen asleep while still inside you and in the position you both finished in. It can lead to a comfortable or uncomfortable scenario, depending on the situation.

☀️ | Jason Todd/Red Hood | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

#solar-wing ☀️ #☀️🪽.fanfic #☀️🪽.dcposts #☀️🪽.hcs #☀️🪽.alphabet #☀️🪽.explicit #☀️🪽.txt #gay #dc #dcu #dcau #dc universe #dc comics #dc imagine #dc x reader #dc x male reader #x reader #x male reader #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x m!reader #red hood #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood x male reader #red hood x m!reader

[fierceawakening]

Okay, so I've got more people asking about Phyrexian and we now know a lot of the fan-made Field Guide is inaccurate. (DO NOT GET ME WRONG, it is absolutely amazing how much GuruJ_ figured out on his own. Seriously that guy is a language wizard and I for one would know like 1/16 of what I do now if I had not used it to learn from. But bits of it are very off and it's easier to learn things correctly than to learn them wrong and have to learn them again.)

So, here's... an attempt to teach a conlang, by me.

@threeoftwelve @izzet-league-mad-scientist whoever else

Lesson 1: Alphabet/How To Write Things

The Phyrexian alphabet is huge. Intimidatingly huge. Here's the version WOTC uses and where it is on their website (for the moment):

https://magic.wizards.com/en/news/feature/a-breakthrough-in-phyrexian-language-and-communications

The vertical line through any letter is called the "voice line" officially. I believe it is called that because the shapes of the letters and the radicals many carry indicate how that letter is pronounced.

People with more of a linguistics background than me can tell you in detail how this works. I can never remember it all, so I'll just note here that there are patterns to which letters are related that point to how they sound/how the mouth makes them.

(Consider the difference between how you make "mmm" and "nnn" sounds for m and n, with your lips, and how you make "sss" or "zzz" for s or z.)

So it's a "voice line" because the way a letter is written or angled with respect to it tells you how it's said aloud.

Because of this, Phyrexian can be written vertically or horizontally. It's most properly written vertically but there are canonical instances of it being oriented horizontally. A lot of us working on deciphering it typically write horizontally just because scrolling vertically to read long sentences is a pain.

If you're writing sentences, you indicate which way you're going with a starting marker at the beginning of your sentence and an ending hook at the end. (Think of the hook as a period. The starting bar is coded into most font versions as ^ so you'd write ^this is my sentence.)

For a basic sentence (not a question or an exclamation), these look like:

or, for dash space preservation, horizontally:

You use this marker between words (coded in fonts as - usually):

or horizontally:

So, just to show what this looks like, a simple greeting would be written (horizontally) as:

^xe-'ɒtan.

I greet you.

(two words in Phyrexian, separated by the -)

The major thing to notice about the letters starting out is:

Any letter that has three lines extending from the voice line is a vowel, as is the letter that looks like an O with a line through it. These lines tell you how the sound is made. The one that looks like an O is "the neutral vowel" or schwa, and has no lines because it's "generic vowel sound."

If that's confusing, say the following words in English one after the other, not enunciating or trying to sound precise, just... how you'd generally say them:

Gorilla

Camel

Pencil

Lemon

Album

The highlighted vowel is written differently in each of these words, but in all of them it's pronounced roughly like "uh." This is because it is Generic Lazy Vowel. So while in English, it's represented literally every which way, in Phyrexian you're focusing on how the letters SOUND, and they all SOUND the same.

So "uh" gets its own letter. And gets to be Very Pretty, for the Official Vowel Of Lazynoise.

Everything else is a consonant. The different angles and things represent what kind of consonant they are.

There are a few things in Phyrexian we don't have in English:

The letter shown on the chart as ' is called a glottal stop. It's made by abruptly stopping the flow of air as you speak. Think of how you say "uh-oh" or how you say "button," again not enunciating. You kind of... well, stop after the "uh-" part. "Button" comes out kind of like "buh n" with a little... noise in the middle that isn't there if you just say "bun."

Phyrexian also has "metallic" consonants. These are similar to regular consonants, but have a metallic aspect to them that humans, being fleshy, can't pronounce.

The glottal stop is (sometimes) one of these. It's most properly pronounced with a bell-like metallic noise in it, though you can leave it out if you don't mind sounding a bit like a rube. So the best fleshy approximation is that air-stoppy-thing.

Four consonants with a ' radical on them, ǩ, ť, π, and ǧ, are metallic versions of their counterparts. The ' indicates that these are followed by a clanking sound. Fleshlings can vaguely approximate this by pronouncing them as ejectives. (I am not sure what this is. I think it's blowing more air out so they pop more. Make a p sound and then do it again with your whole chest and I THINK that's the difference.)

π is both ejective and accompanied by a snapping sound.

Four consonants with a cross-like radical on them, φ, ķ, ţ, and ǥ, are also metallic. These are accompanied by a breath that sounds like a knife being sharpened. Fleshlings can vaguely approximate this by pronouncing them as aspirated (Again, not sure but I think they're kind of breathy, with your lips and not your whole throat.)

Finally, š is also metallic. It's pronounced like "sh" (what most languages would mean by š rather than plain s) but also is accompanied by a metallic sound like a blade being drawn from a metal sheath.

The metallics are important to at least be aware of in general because there are certain times in which, say, a word with k in its base form might have ǩ in its conjugated one.

If there are extra ' s or + s in the letter, it's probably metallic. I believe the one exception is h. What are you doing, h?

The other letters that look weird are letters English doesn't have (or has but doesn't have specific letters for, like the glottal stop in "button") but some other languages do. If you look those up, you should be able to find examples of how they're pronounced. (For example, without metallic embellishment, φ is the "ph" in "Phyrexia." It's close to f, like how we say ph in English, but slightly different.) If you want my guess/advice on any of them feel free to ask though.

Suffice it to say I'm sure I pronounce many Phyrexian words with a very heavy accent, even above and beyond the "doesn't have throat metal" fleshling accent I can't do anything about off an operating table. (Loud stage whisper to surgeons: You put it all too far down! I can’t talk right!)

AAAAAND I'm gonna stop there as that's a crap ton of information and I'm exhausted.

Next time: How Sentences Work.

#fierce teaches phyrexian #gitaxian braindump 1

[nonokoko13]

Child!reader being adopted by spy x family characters Pt. 2

As I said in the previous part, these adoption headcanons are really specific, including your hypothetical pronouns and name; these two are extra so you can imagine yourself with your name and desired gender. You can ask for less specific headcanons if you want too. Part 1 here

Enjoy!

Sylvia Sherwood

How you met

She carries the responsibility of WISE, she needs to be committed to it. More than ever now that the peace was threatened every day by those who wanted war to arise again

She missed her family, but she overcame it. Just like the HQ she had to be impenetrable

At least, that's what she thought

Because right in front of her there was the question which answers she wanted to hear. A kid.

It would be normal to see one if she wasn't at the HQ

It didn't help no one knew there was a kid there until you spoke up

The camera system didn't record you and there wasn't any entrance to the agency that had been forced. You weren't any employee's kid either

After scolding them and order to search your parents she met you again

"Hello little one. May I ask you how did you get in here?"

You smiled, seeming to have been waiting her to ask

"Because I like to play and explore! And I'm really good at hide and seek"

Sylvia raised an eyebrow. No matter how well someone was good at hiding there was no way you could break into the HQ; it sounded surrealistic

"But how did you find this place?"

"Because it was easy to find"

"Don't you think you could end bad breaking into unknown places?"

"If I don't know what isthis place how I'd know that?"

Fair enough

That conversation wasn't going anywhere, yet she was angrier with the security staff than you. You didn't look worried though

You gave her an idea

"Do you want to play with me?"

Both entered in the nearest police station, she talked with the officers before telling you to count until 1000 while she was going to hide. You started the count facing a wall

She felt bad, but there were some traffickers she had to catch before they made the exchange

She was following their car; everything fine until she believed to see a small hand greeting her from the car's trunk

She returned to the police station to find out that moments later of her departure you disappeared without anyone realizing. She went to the point where the delivery would be made

Outside the abandoned warehouse there was no signal that you were there until she saw you getting out from under the car on the other side

Something caused a shooting that would make the police come and caught her at any moment. The bands kept shooting at each other while you were behind a transport container

"What were you thinking?! I told you to stay with the police!"

"I'm sorry, I counted until I know, then I saw you following the car, so I followed too. But before they caught me I hid in there...I'm sorry..." You pulled out a walkie-talkie

"I got two from the police station. I left one in there so the others thought the guys of that car were betraying them, it should have worked to scape with no bad guys seeing us"

She was impressed. However, there was no time to ask where you learn that from

Analyzing the situation the principal scape was blocked, fortunately they hadn't noticed you yet so–

You pulled her shirt, pointing somewhere else

"Let's get out"

General headcanons

Sylvia was still surprised that your plan of exiting through a rear window she hadn't seen and walk away without hurry could work

She stopped walking to watch you smash the walkie-talkie and take out some matches to burn it

"Now they can't find footprints!"

The police may not get answers about it but she had many questions for you

She lied to you about the HQ, after the shooting her lie was on the floor. Thenceforth Sylvia's not able to tell if you were playing along and keeping her secret or you have no idea what's all about

You thought her name was Handler. When you knew she was called Sylvia Sherwood you pointed your hoody logo and say "S of Super, you're superman–Superwoman!"

That's how she begun to be mistaken with an endearing mother and her son. She was superwoman and you "kid", because you said that's how you were called, along with child, shrimp, demon...

"That's unacceptable". She handed you lists of names to choose, unfortunately no one convinced you

It wasn't until you two went to a jewelry store that you found the name

The casual way you break in HQ when you want still frustrates her, how do you do it?? You don't see big deal though

Fullmetal lady didn't remember how tough was motherhood

Anyone would freak out if they found out about spies. Yet there you are, admiring flying guys in underpants

Sylvia asked you about your family, but you always tell the same: you lived with dad until he left you with a woman that he said was your mom

The Handler found out your father is a repeat offender, currently on a maximum security prison in another country. Both him and the woman without offspring legally

"Please, don't tell me one of his criminal records is jailbreaking"

The informant doubted "Actually, that's the main one"

"..."

The Forgers

Scenario where it's up to both of them to adopt you. To keep Loid's mental sanity safe it will be independent of the timeline where Yor has a kid on her own, feel free to imagine both kids being Anya's siblings at the same time. You can ask me to include that idea if I write more about this

How you met

As I said before Twilight wouldn't adopt anyone due his job, only one kid for Operation Strix and that was Anya. For now Yor didn't want more kids, she loves Anya and that's enough for them

Not for Anya. She wanted a little sibling

All started talking with Becky when Damian mentioned his brother. Back at home she brought the topic and neither Pa or Ma were giving her an answer of where babies come from

That's when she begun to feel like being a sister. Any plan helped her to convince her parents though

Anya remembered something Mr Henderson told them. "If you want something, take it into your own hands"

And she took it too seriously

Next day Anya and Bond disappeared, she was in the dogs park with Yor

While Mrs Forger panicked Anya had returned to the place she met Twilight

As the time passed the Forgers worried more. When they found Anya and Bond at their building's door they felt relieved

Your presence didn't make things better

They asked Anya where she had been and where did you come from. She said she adopted you

Of course Anya wasn't going to say she broke into an orphanage and took you

Loid's scolding made you cry

"Anya, we aren't adopting–"

"If she's not my sister I won't go to school ever again!!"

"Just for a trial period" that's what Loid hoped

General headcanons

Loid thought babies were easy because it's unnecessary (more impossible) communication with a living being that can't talk; after all babies only have basic needs. He was wrong

It would be easier if you could talk. Why are you crying? You have eaten! Are you sad? Cold? You dislike him?

Yor is not better either. Because her parents died when Yuri was a kid Yor didn't have experience with changing diapers, or anything related with babies

She was more scared than Loid to the point she didn't want to hold you. She broke Yuri's ribs with a hug when he was a toddler, what if she kills you with few contact?

In less than 24 hours you already had a crib and all kinds of things a baby would need. However, having three bedrooms and parents sleeping in separate rooms meant all your things ended in Anya's room

You cried at night until they discovered you calmed down when Anya let you a plushie to hug

She can't wait for the day pa and ma share bed to take back her bedroom

The second night Anya had an idea

Ma is scared of being your mom, solution? Leave you in her bed while Yor is asleep imagining that would work

Thanks God Yor doesn't move much when sleeping. On the other hand Yor is a light sleeper due not being used to sleep with someone so she woke up minutes later

She almost jump out of the bed, realizing that would make you cry made her contain. You groaned, did she wake you up? Yor wasn't sure of holding you, instead she laid down again and approached you to her chest

Seeing you so peaceful by her side melted her, thinking about it you looked a bit like her and Loid.. She blushed at the embarrassing thought

Bold of them to not imagine that's why Anya chose you

In the morning Loid discovered what happened and had a little words with Anya during breakfast before she went to school

Yor went to work and he decided to take a day off from his work to spend the morning with you. The Handler said the first days you should see them to recognize faces

Walks with Bond, buying toys, trying to teach you sign language...Normal stuff

Loid is glad you don't do anything but sleep and eat, except your obsession with munching. When you first kissed Yor he found it normal until you munched her cheek and now you do that to everyone; probably you're teething

Yor found it really cute, but you shouldn't go kissing and chewing cheeks. Anya thinks is funny just don't try to chew her hair again please

Another problem came with names. Loid was going through a list of 850 names in alphabetical order, meanings included; Yor didn't take it to the extreme

"Hum, what about Rose? I think it's a cute name, I mean it's both decision and I'm not good with names Loid–"

Welcome to the family Rose

A spy, an assassin, a telepath and... Well, a baby. Seems like a good mix

Yor Briar

As we know Twilight only would adopt for Operation Strix's sake. Yor became mother by marrying Loid, but what if she had already a kid before being Mrs Forger?

Inspired by this post of @say-seira

How you met

Long ago before Twilight adopted the identity of Loid Forger, the Briars moved to a flat in Berlint

While the eldest sibling had recently become an adult Yuri was only a kid, Yor decided to move to the city so he had nearer his school. It was possible due her proper salary as Thorn Princess

This change would make her job easier too. She had a new client which death could pay Yuri's entrance to a good university

There was a politician who negotiated with terrorists, helping them to get into Ostania and providing them with weapons in exchange to gain good propaganda abroad and getting rid of competition

Knowing this was enough to make Yor's blood boil. He deserved to die, she was sure of it

Struggling with the security around him, Yor finally killed the target without leaving trace

The only inconvenience was a bad injury made by a bullet that she received. After removing the bullet the wound got worse

She went to the hospital to avoid an infection. In the waiting room she met a kind lady, Yor swore that she had seen her before

The woman was scared, but Yor reassured her she will wait her

While Yor was attended the girl was taken to another room. As she promised, Yor waited in the hall after her wound was treated; with a buttoned medical gown on because she didn't want to attract more attention due the bandaged wound in sight

Time passed and many people enter and exit from the room, but she didn't. A nurse carrying something mistook her for one of the staff and scolded her for standing there

"Here, take the baby to the nursery"

"Me? But— wait! What about the woman? Is she okay?"

From afar she heard the answer, but before Yor could explain the error the woman had left. She was shocked, how? She seemed fine

Against her will the dark-haired looked at the lump she was holding: rosy cheeks babbling in dreams, you were in peace

Her shock grew when she saw you shared the username that the man she killed had. That's why the woman was familiar: she was the politician's daughter

Yor searched someone who hand the baby when she recognized the doctor that guided the woman to the room, he was talking with a masked nurse

The fact they went to a private place and maintained their voices low made her suspect

"Did you take care of the mother?" the nurse asked

"Yes, they got ahead of us with her father but I think they will pay us anyway. When they found it was a medical negligence we'll be far from here"

Yor understood they were assassins as well, probably paid by a rival. Luckily they hadn't seen her yet

"Heh, do you they will pay more if we got rid of the baby?"

Yor left the hospital with you, unsure of what to do. Did you have more relatives? The widowed politician didn't have more kids, and your mother came alone. What if they wanted to kill the rest of the family?

A small hand grabbed hers, and every fear disappeared. Looking at each other, she knew you were safer with her. Perhaps it was only guilt or sympathy, but she would try

General headcanons

The moment Yuri saw Yor holding you was in disbelief. Yor said she found you in the streets and he believed it

At first he tried to convince her sister to leave you in a orphanage but once scolding was enough to cease

Still disliking you for the first months. It took some time until he saw you like one of his family

Yuri helped, although they had a rough time because you refused to eat Yor's purees. Your endurance might grew up to make you the only person who can eat her food without bleeding but it doesn't mean you like its flavor

She viewed you as a sibling until you were two, being called mom made Yor too happy to correct you. Yuri was just Yuri, you never feel like using formalities with him or addressing "Uncle" everytime you talked

Yor decided to let your belongings, it was better that way. When you were older, and only if you wanted, she would tell you the truth

She's bad with names, Rose was the only name she could think of but you're a boy. Yor's parents loved that Yuri and her had matching names, therefore you would be the sweet addition to it

The only name I could think of is Yuu because it's gender neutral and means "you" sorry

During the first year of your life she didn't try to hide the blood of her clothes from you. Yuri never suspected either and you wouldn't remember it when you grow up

Your lack of childhood amnesia was something she didn't have in count. Not that she knows you know anyway

Yor has been training you since you were able to walk, if she wasn't there when you needed at least you would be ready to defend yourself. Proud to say you're her strong boy

That said, if the assassins that tried to killed you found were you lived it's something you ignore. Being the protective mother Yor is they could be dead by now

Six years later, it was still Yor and you against the world, with Yuri being the only paternal figure you had. Before one day she met a man and everything changed

She said he will help her by accompanying her to a party so Yuri stopped worrying about her. She said it would be one night, and the next morning you woke up with Yor waiting to talk with you

In part she accepted because of you; you passed the Eden exam before knowing you needed a dad for it. That requisite seemed stupid for you, as you reassured her you could go to any other school; now you would be accepted into the best school!

You agreed and started packing. What else you could do? The decision was made before you were asked anyway, and you didn't want to argue with your mom because she was doing it for your future too

Of course it affected you. No matter how nice they were it was a huge change; in one day you had to move to a new place which didn't feel like home and live with strangers who you'll have to share mom with isn't easy

Anya was nervous too, but for different reasons. She was so excited to meet her soon-to-be sibling! For her, who was an orphan last week, having a pa, a ma and a friend to play with was great

Her expectations went down when she read your mind. You didn't think bad of them, but excited wasn't the word to describe your emotional state either

Loid may not be good at understanding children, but it was clear for him you wasn't comfortable. For him would be weirder if you didn't seem affected at all

On the contrary, Yor seemed cool with all of this to you. Even without any idea of how to be a wife or mother for Anya she enjoyed her time as Forger, which confused you a bit

Yor is happier, not only because she didn't have to worry about the SSS or Yuri anymore. They make her happier, it's just matter of time she could fall for Loid and have a baby that was her own, real kid

Being sure Yor loves you and your new family want you to feel welcomed doesn't make disappear the feelings you carry with. Still, if mom is happy you prefer to keep it to yourself and try to maker her smile too

If it wasn't because Yuri hates the idea of her sister hiding her marriage for a year and sympathized your situation he would have laughed at the irony when you told him during your uncle-nephew walk the next day of his meeting with "Loiloi"

He doesn't know they got married before you attended school so he assumed you had been holding it for a long time. He passed his fingers through your hair

"I understand it's difficult, but I'll be for you whenever you need me"

+ Honorable mention to compensate you for the mild ansgt without warning

Daybreak

We don't know much about him but I included this dork for fun

Thinking about "Daybreak" and "parenthood" makes anyone's mind stopped working

Mainly because it's difficult to say which one would be the child

Not "How you met headcanons" because he wouldn't be able to adopt to begin with

From what we saw in chapter 27 he seems to live alone, depending on his amazing spy career to afford pork steak for dinner. So he must not live too good given that after his first mission he was fired

If he had a child, it would be likely because of a previous relationship he had and didn't end well

He didn't adopt you. You're his biological kid, the only not adopted of this gang

Sorry we can't choose our family good luck ig

Not necessarily ended bad, even remaining as friends, your mother took a different path and is happily married with another man

If she knew he wanted to be a spy either thought "it's a joke" or *sigh*

She was who brought money in the relationship, now you live with her and your step-dad but at the beginning you didn't want to

Daybreak talked with you and promised you could visit each other and even live with him when he could afford it

They don't get it

Who would take care of him? The idea of living on his own was frightening to you

Imagine being father and is your kid who worries about whether pops know how to pay taxes without mom

You took after him in terms of appearance. Any signal of intelligence was from your mother

Average smart but surely smarter than him

Probably he thanked God that you were a boy. He will love whatever you are but he was relieved of saving himself of buying female products when you were on that time of the month and guide you through puberty

As much as he says to be a charming man he's not good with women either so

Your name is Sunny. Guess who chose it

Probably you see him more on weekends than during the week

Until you showed him Spy Wars he didn't have no idea that existed such good series

Of course not cooler than the legend he is but Daybreak jokes about how reading that and seeing your cool pops in action would make you half as good spy as he is someday

Quite sad is that your common sense along with the things you see on TV are enough to be better spy material

You try to watch it with him to see if he learns something

Unsure of what you'll be in the future but in the mean time you had fun watching cartoons and liking kids stuff like dinosaurs and skateboard

Current status: Busy with your first year at school and getting him out of trouble

#spy x family #sxf headcanons #sylvia sherwood #the handler #loid forger #yor forger #anya forger #yor briar #thorn princess #daybreak #child!reader

[luvring]

I saw your blog and i have risen from the dead :) anyway if it's okay can i request some headcanons about Felix with an MC that speaks another language? My goal in life is to call him a cute petname in Greek and watch him get so red he looks like a fire hydrant (i dont know if i spelled that right but whatever you know what im talking about) you know how dogs don't know what we're saying but they go off of tone? (I saw that in a tiktok once i don't know if its entirely true or not) I wanna tell felix i love him so much but my friends tell me i sound more aggressive in Greek so he might think I'm angry at him or something n then i tell him i was just saying how much i love him and he goes !!!!!!!!😳 I'm rambling sorry but i think it would be funny watching him get frustrated. Oh! Maybe he says something to the MC in Velan! (I think thats what its called) oh i love him so much...

— felix with a multilingual mc

note from nia: achievement unlocked raise someone from the dead :heart_eyes: BUT THIS IS SO CUTE...wishing i knew more than hs french & basic korean rn . sorrow

the first time he hears you speak in a different language oh he is so intrigued. gets excited about the possibilities

his menace side awakens . he's going to start making fun of sage and swearing around escell and no one can stop him

he'd ask you to teach him things in exchange for learning something in velan

i don't know if this is too specific but y'know that one couple on tiktok that made those videos of greeting the other one as they came home in their native language to surprise them. like you would talk in velan and he'd speak in greek

smh he would have practiced so hard and done little pronunciation notes. asked you how to say things at random times so you didn't get suspicious...

you can probably find a bunch of pages of him trying to write a script and also practicing his writing

especially if it has a different alphabet like greek, korean, urdu, etc. he's writing out letters and words over and over

would use it in cards or letters whenever he could because he thinks it's romantic

would get rings for the both of you with your names/a phrase in each other's languages. i'm going to cry

the kind of guy to watch a show in your language and when he hears something he understands he feels so accomplished and points out what it meant. yes they did just say do you want to eat

you teach him a bunch of petnames then proceed to immediately call him those petnames

he may not have been able to specifically connect which word meant what but even having a general idea of what you were doing got him all flustered

once he figures them out he'll use one on you to get your attention

if you do the same to him he gets all @!@?!%#?>!? especially if it's in velan and/or said casually . he loves casual intimacy help him

saying i love you for the first time and he ?? that sounded very aggressive. i didn't realize you disliked this flavour of tea so much

but then you tell him it just means 'i love you' and he short-circuits like "oh! oh. well, uhm," 🧍‍♂️ he tries repeating it back to you (it isn't good but it also isn't. bad?)

asks you to teach him how to say it and now he says it randomly to fluster you. pain and sorrow

he also starts to pick up on words and your tone . like if you say something that sounds sort of aggressive around someone who hasn't heard it before they're confused but then felix replies nonchalantly since he's used to it o(-(

felix trying to flirt/be romantic with you in your language and just getting it...terribly wrong. grammar, vocabulary,, everything . but he tried so hard you can't help but go easy on him. like yes, thank you for thinking i'm warm and kind like soup

might ask you to quiz him on basics so he can prove that he's doing better and show off

if you see him staring very hard at something there's a good chance it's because he's trying to think of the word for it in your language

he puts so much effort and time into learning that if you ever did the same for him he'd be so excited and grateful. like he didn't need you to but you're doing it anyways to prove you care ?? no way

he likes listening to you softly sing songs in your other language as he falls asleep

y'know how you can forget a word in one language and try figuring out or describing it in another one . felix will randomly be your saving grace when everyone else is just staring helplessly

may or may not get you to speak in a different language pretending to be a foreigner so you guys can reap tourist benefits

strategically . knowing a different language than any of your enemies,, in my opinion,, may come in handy. :thumbs_up:

the vocal version of [long rant text message] "i'm not reading all that. i'm happy for you tho. or sorry that happened"

like you only really ramble to each other in your other language when it's just the two of you. and you can tell when something is upsetting. pick up little words here or there but the other person finishes and it's just like. mhm. are you feeling better now? and waiting for a yes or explanation in the language you're both fluent in

he thinks the fact that you're the only ones around who can use it is very ?? intimate?? like okay...only two people in the world (real)

#🛒nia.reqs #last legacy #last legacy headcanons #felix escellun #last legacy felix #felix escellun x reader #fictif felix #felix escellun headcanons #felix 사랑해 #je t'aime

[g0atbra1nz]

sorry i am bothering you but how can someone learn a fictional language?

This answer's gonna be a long one so buckle up. Also beware that I don't know everything, so feel free to correct me if I'm wrong about anything (especially when talking about real world languages).

As far as I know, there is only one complete fictional language so, other than Klingon, you wouldn't be able to have full and fluent conversation in fictional tongue. However, a lot of fictional languages have been developed enough to the point where you can have basic conversations in them. Although, if you mean writing systems, it is entirely possible to learn and be fluent!

Now, before I get into it, it's important to understand the difference between languages and writing systems. The three most common types of writing systems are logographic, syllabic, and alphabetic.

Logographic systems use symbols to represent entire words, for example, Chinese. In Chinese, 語 means 'language' — a single symbol to represent a whole word.

Syllabic systems use symbols to represent syllables. An example of this would be Japanese, whereby る represents the syllable "ru." This symbol would be put with others to create a full word.

Alphabetic (also known as phonemic) systems use symbols to represent phonemes, or individual units of sound. The most common example of this would be the Latin alphabet system, the one you are reading right now and the one most often used for English. In this, symbols such as x would be used to represent a single sound, and would be put with other phonemes to create full words.

Writing systems will also have rules as to the direction of the symbols (vertically, horizontally, left to right, top to bottom or vice versa).

A language is a written and/or spoken system of communication. Several languages use the same writing system, for example English and French. In English, a standard, informal greeting would be said as "Hi," whereas in French it would be "Salut." They use the same writing system, however they are unique languages. Languages can also have different rules as to pronunciation.

Now that we've covered that, let's get into fictional languages and writing systems.

My favourite example would be J.R.R. Tolkien, the author of Lord of the Rings. Tolkien was an amazing world-builder and as creating languages and writing systems was a lifelong hobby of his, some made its way into his stories. His most well known language would be Quenya. Tolkien put in a significant amount of time to create words in Quenya such as "parma," which translates to "book."

For one person to create an entire language, with words to account for any and everything, is unrealistic. It is possible to learn all the Quenya words, although there are not enough for someone to have a fluent conversation in.

Tolkien also created a unique writing system, Tengwar (see below).

Tengwar is something that anyone can learn and use fully. It is an alphabetic writing system, and can be used to write English words. There are several rules for Tengwar that don't fit into the photo guide so please see other recourses to learn!

Writing systems in fiction will often follow the same or similar rules to existing writing systems, making it easier to learn. Due to a significant amount of media being of English origin, most writing systems do follow the same rules as the Latin writing system (written horizontally, left to right, top to bottom), although there are some exceptions.

One of these exceptions are Gallifreyan, the writing system of the fictional planet Gallifrey from Doctor Who. This is a logographic writing system, however it is possible to write in English (and many other languages) with this writing system. This system could be more difficult to learn if you have never worked with logographic systems before, however it is still achievable and possible to write fluently with this system.

Additionally, it is possible to learn and write fluently in the writing systems of Mando'a (Star Wars), Simlish (various versions) (The Sims), Kryptonian or Kryptonese (various versions) (Superman), Wakandan (Black Panther), Dovahzul (Skyrim) and many more!

You will find that some fictional writing systems are just randomly drawn symbols and cannot actually be learnt or translated, but there are plenty that are real.

If you're interested in learning any, I highly recommend omniglot as it has the basics of a large variety of fictional and real world languages and writing systems, and provides other recourses to help you learn!

I hope this cleared it up. Again, apologies for the long response!

#writing #language #writing systems #fiction #tolkien #quenya #tengwar #gallifreyan #gallifrey #dr who #mando'a #simlish #kryptonian #wakandan #dovahzul #star wars #the sims #superman #wakanda #black panther #skyrim

[smartspo]

As a language lover who can't possibly afford all of the language lessons I would love to take, over the years I learned the best ways to self-learn them. This introductory phase doesn't even require a textbook - I am sure everything here can be found online for free.

Disclaimer: this is the method that works the best for me, and I'm sharing it with the intention of helping other people who are stuck. There's a million different ways to self-learn a language, so if this one doesn't work out for you, don't lose motivation!

Disclaimer 2: this method might not work with all languages. I'm sharing this knowledge keeping in mind my experience with Latin (in particular French, Spanish, etc) and East Asian (in particular Korean and Japanese) languages.

Without further ado, here are the steps: 

1. If you're learning a language that uses a different alphabet, make sure that's the first thing you learn

Relying on romanization is fine at first, but further down the path it will only serve to confuse you. Romanized words of these types of languages can be written in many different ways, so often they don't even provide an accurate way of pronouncing them. Furthermore, as you make progress, you won't be able to access a lot of content in your target language since you won't find it romanized. 

2. Learn your first words

Before actually getting into all the grammar rules and whatnot, learn your first words! These include, among others:

Greetings

Answers (yes, no, maybe, etc)

Numbers

Please and thank you

Practice their pronunciation to get used to the language's sounds, and how they're written (especially if you have to use another alphabet - it's a chance to practice your calligraphy!).

3. Learn essential vocabulary and grammar

I call these "essential vocabulary/grammar" because they are words you must know to build sentences (other than verbs). These include:

Articles (definite, indefinite, partitive, etc)

Basic pronouns (personal, possessive, etc)

Depending on the language, basic grammatical particles

Sentence order! In many languages, the subject/verb/noun order is totally different. Make sure to know how your target language orders that.

Make sure to also learn their rules and remember the exceptions. The latter are always annoying, but don't worry - as you progress, you will learn these by heart, and they will eventually come to you naturally!

4. Learn the most basic verbs in the present tense

Like the vocabulary of the previous step, verbs are also essential when building sentences. Now that you're only a beginner, you don't need to learn difficult verbs or tenses, so stick with the most used ones:

to be 

to have

to do/make

to say

to go

to know

to think

to see

to want

to give

5. More vocab!

Now that you know your verbs, complement your knowledge by adding more basic vocabulary. Here are some ideas:

Places

Food

Objects

Adjectives

Family members

Knowing these in addition to the grammar points you've learned will allow you to construct simple sentences, such as I am going home or This is my sister.

6. Practice for your level

Like many other people, I'm guilty of jumping straight into watching movies and shows in my target language, only to get frustrated with myself when I don't understand anything despite everything I learned until then. Of course, I'm not saying you shouldn't do it, since it does help you develop your listening skills (especially if you do it with subtitles!), but I have a tip for the ones who prefer an easier activity.

Look for children's content! I know this sounds silly at first, but books, movies, shows, etc made for children usually use basic grammar and vocabulary. If you think about it, the listening exercises you find in language grammar books made for beginners often seem like they're made for children for that reason. Therefore, if you can't find clips and texts for your level easily, try following this tip!

A few more tips for self-learners + resources

Write a diary in your target language. Even if you don't know that much, try describing your day the best way you can (even if that means you have to write everything in the present tense). That's a way of understanding what sort of vocabulary is useful in your daily life and what are your weaknesses.

For you listening skills, other than Netflix, listen to music as well! Seize the opportunity to also learn the new vocabulary you find in the songs.

For speaking skills, if you don't have anyone to practice with, read texts out loud and record yourself to check your pronunciation. If you're up to it, finding friends online that speak your target language is also a great way of practicing dialogue!

Most used words in every language

Textbook masterpost

More helpful books!

Random tasks to practice your target language

My blog's langblr tag for more helpful posts

Happy studying! ✨

#studyblr #langblr #studyspo #languages #polyglot #language learning #advice #tips #masterpost #motivation #inspiration #self-learning #self-studying #long post #mine

[chuuulip]

The First Kiss of Love

Pairing: Hannibal Lecter x Female Reader

Warning:  Fluff with a smidges of angst

Words: 3262

Prompt: hey i was wondering id you could do a hannibal lecter one where the reader doesnt realize that hannibal likes her and she gets jealous when hes talking to another woman. when she calls him out on it he cant help but laugh. the reader is basically a oblivious dummy type and way too much of a klutz .

Summary: “Dr. Bloom is really beautiful.” your small, joyless voice continues its sentence. “Ah...yes indeed.” Hannibal replies casually.

A.N: This is for an anon that request some Hannibal fanfic. I’m sorry that it takes me so long xD I hope you like it! whoever you are ❤️ Thank you for @jewels2876​​ for helping me with this piece, love you ❤️ Also tagging fellow Hannibal fans 😉 @venusdemonroe​​​ and @detectivehannibal​​​ thanks for feeding me Hannibal content and discuss him with me ❤️

__

It’s been a couple of months since you’ve worked with Dr. Lecter. You were once a librarian; due to an accident, you lost your job as a consequence of a long time recovery.  Hannibal Lecter literally was an angel or your angel to be precise. Vividly, you remember the time you met him. By chance, Hannibal is in the clinic when you do your physiotherapy. He catches a small stack of books that you buy that day. He manages to balance the books in his left hand while his right-hand catches you before your face kisses the floor.

Long story short, both of you have some sort of conversation that leads to you applying for a job to be Hannibal’s secretary. You are excited but also nervous when you do your interview. You have no idea that Hannibal is a well-known psychiatrist not only just in Baltimore but also in Maryland. There is a fear that Hannibal will not choose you because of your clumsy tendencies. You are naturally what people will call a klutz. Physical activity somewhat hinders your ability to shine among others. You are either too slow or too weak. Not to mention lucky stars seem to distance themself from you. But not that day, the day when you get an email of your employment. Hannibal is pretty impressed with your CV and how good your skills on scheduling and data management, 

“Good morning.” the soft, accented voice of Hannibal greets you. Today, he wears a dark blue windowpane pattern jacket suit. He chooses a somewhat dark metallic floral pattern adorning the red-brown tie. His white buttoned-up shirt makes the color of his suit and ties pop. Hannibal always dresses elegantly, something that you always look forward to seeing.  

“Good morning, Dr. Lecter.” You stand up and follow Hannibal inside his office. He takes a seat on his brown leather chair. Everything looks immaculate as always.

“Schedule for today?” he unbuttons his suit jacket and you quickly help him hang the suit. “Thank you, my dear, you didn’t need to do that.”

“It’s alright Dr. Lecter.”

Sometimes when it’s only you and Hannibal in the office, he accidentally calls you my dear. You aren’t sure if it's because that’s the way he usually addresses someone he is in contact on a daily basis, or it means something more? Oh, you wish.

“Dr. Lecter…, for this morning you will have two appointments. Mrs. Potter and Ms. Randall. Also-- Mr. Franklin said he might need to reschedule.” Your slightly breathy voice points out other appointments Hannibal has outside the office. Your work had become kind of a blend between his secretary and personal assistant, to be honest. It was actually Hannibal's idea to engage you more into work that’s not strictly his office related. Not that you are complaining because it let you take a peek on Hannibal’s other persona. Not to mention that the payment is pretty generous. 

Not once does Hannibal ask your input on what type of thing should be added in his office, and by that, you are pretty proud of yourself. Not a lot of people give any thought about your opinion. Although Hannibal, like when his office has this sleek look and somewhat minimalist style, he always mixes something that you could say was classic inside his office. You have been inside his office quite a lot, but sometimes you help him tidy up his books and document. He’s somewhat more of a hard copy type of person than a soft copy one. Like you. You like the smells of an old book although some of Hannibal’s books smell too clinical for you. Like the smells of a hospital or a place with a lot of disinfectants.  

Pretty proud of your experience as a librarian in the past, and knowing Hannibal is a perfectionist himself, you practically turned the side of his office into a perfect mini library. The medical record shorts are alphabetically arranged while his other books are listed by genre, then in an alphabetical manner as well. When Hannibal stays longer in the office, sometimes you catch him drawing. A hobby that he said he has since childhood. One day he told you, “Growing up, I found my hobby really useful when I decided to be a medical doctor.” and you can’t help but agree. After he finishes with what he sketches at that time, he specifically calls you into his office and shows you the final product. That action simply makes your heart flutter in excitement.

“Thank you, you can leave for now.” He gives you his subtle yet beautiful smile. Those eyes of his when he smiles always send some sort of quick rush to your brain.

Giving Hannibal a short nod, you quickly excuse yourself. You stumble upon your own shoe and almost fall, face first. Luckily you can prevent that from happening, hoping Hannibal doesn’t notice, although you think he did. Scurrying from his office, you station yourself on your spot. Continue typing and archiving what Hannibal asks you. 

Sipping your now cold latte, your eyes shift to the books next to your PC. It’s a book called Les Fleurs du mal renaissance, a volume about French poetry that Hannibal had lent you after you finish some short of psychology 101. You have read a few pages of it, and since it’s in French, it takes you some time to understand it. 

Sometimes Hannibal invites you to his office to let you read his book while he draws things. Trying not to get caught red-handed, you glance at him from the corner of your eyes, savoring the scene in front of you. Wondering what Hannibal actually does on his day off, is there anything he can’t do? Your brain likes to take a detour on what Hannibal does at home when he’s not seeing other people’s minds.

A soft clink of steps on the mahogany floor wood, momentary pauses your fingers on the keyboard. 

“Good morning Mrs. Potter.” you stand up immediately. Greet her with a polite, shy smile. One of the things you are still learning from working with Hannibal is being confident. Since the secretary is usually portrayed as bold and beautiful, while you on the other hand are quite the opposite, Hannibal makes sure you take your time to adapt from ‘less contact with people at work’ to ‘in contact with different people almost every day.’

“I’m here for my appointment.” her British accent tickles your ear. It’s rare for you to meet a Brit, especially as posh as Mrs. Potter. Although you never glance at a patient’s medical record, you do actually google them. When you find out Hannibal’s reputation, you know that most of his patients are a somewhat well-known person. Mrs. Potter is an owner of exquisite but limited jewelry store on the east coast. From several articles that you read, she has had quite a lot of scandal. Despite that, you will not deny her beauty. She may be quite older than you, but the way her cheekbones stay supple and very few wrinkles decorating her face sometimes makes you jealous. 

“Yes, sure. Please wait a moment,” immediately, you walk to Hannibal's office door that's just a foot away from your desk. Giving a soft knock, you open the door and inform Hannibal that Mrs. Potter is already here. He gives you a quick nod, and you open the door wider, to let Mrs. Potter start her session. 

Hannibal isn’t a strict boss. Or that’s actually what you thought about him. Of course, you are a professional employee as you can be, but sometimes you spend time reading the book you borrow from Hannibal between your desk job. Mostly because you already do whatever Hannibal tasks you with. On some occasions, you join Hannibal when he attends some appointments, such as when he needs to be a keynote speaker in a well-known conference around Maryland and DC. An experience that you guess is his way to widen your social ability. 

“Thank you Mrs. Potter. I’ll see you in the next session.” Hannibal’s accent cues you to stand up and bid your goodbye to Mrs. Potter. The rest of the day comes out like it usually is. Typing and arranging schedules for Hannibal while also scrolling on another book to read. Even though you were a librarian before, there’s just so many books and so little time to read. 

When it’s time for you to go home, you knock on Hannibal’s office door and open it slightly when he answers you with a soft, “come on in”. You excuse yourself while also giving Hannibal’s friend a smile. Although Hannibal doesn’t have a lot of appointments today, his friend, Jack Crawford visits the office and you know that means Hannibal will stay late until dinner time.   

*** 

The next day your work finished earlier than you thought so you spend some time at work to continue reading the poetry book. Some people may find it weird that you like to stay a little bit longer at work than going back home. There’s always this thought of knowing there is someone close to you, without the need to do conversations in every millisecond, calming. When your eyes shift to your gold bronze table clock, you haven’t realized that you are pretty late, as the sky already turns dark. 

You know Hannibal is still in the office and you plan to excuse yourself before it’s getting really late. You don’t want Hannibal to drive you back home since you feel embarrassed about it. He always makes sure you arrive at home safely when you spend more time at the office or going home pretty late since Baltimore isn’t the safest place on earth. However, there is always a thought in your head that Hannibal being a little bit protective towards you, his employee because you are just a much of a klutz and he feels responsible. 

You aren’t sure what possessed you to move too quickly and it just messes up your footing. The point of your left oxford shoes hit the castor office chair. Ungracefully you trip to the floor and bring the chair with you. The falling chair let out a loud bang while you landed on your hands and knees, grimacing in pain. 

You aren’t sure when but your brain kind of mid freeze for a second. When you look up, you see Hannibal crouching down and calling your name, worried, “-- are you ok? Can you stand up?”

“I--I’m ok Dr. Lecter,” you try to stand up but you hold up your right hand in a sign of I need a minute. 

Hannibal takes care of the office chair first, putting it back in its original position. He carefully lifts you up, supporting you and letting you sit back on your office chair. “I’m sorry my dear, but I need to check?” He asks you for your permission and you quickly give him your approval. With an expert examination of his hands, Hannibal checks your knees for any swelling or visual deformity. Since your past accident, you are prone to any joint and soreness on the knees. Delicately, he gives a little pat on both your knees. “I think everything is ok, you may need to have some pain killers.”

“Thank you Hannibal.” you blurt it out. Sometimes you call him by his first name when you aren’t in office hours, although rarely.

He graces you with that smile of his, subtle yet it always makes your heart quiver, the kind of smile you infrequently see. You notice that sometimes he has his professional smile, it is short and kind of cold. The smile you always notice when he meets his colleague. You don’t know a lot of Hannibal’s friends, but when he has some impromptu meeting with Jack, you slightly witness more smirk and sometimes there’s this naughty element like he is planning something evil, although humorously.

“Wait a minute, I will drive you home.” Hannibal left you to go inside his office. 

There’s a guilt in your stomach that you feel you are being a burden to your boss. When your concentration dispersed like vivid smoke, the corner of your eyes caught the beautiful woman you have seen a couple of times visiting the office. Unlike other women who mostly visit Hannibal for a session, this woman is indeed different. 

“Ms. Bloom.” You greet her. Your smile may look blankly courteous even, but you definitely are not in the mood to give her your big smile this evening.

“You look unwell, are you ok?” 

“I-- I’m ok.” you try to answer her, less tense.

“Alana?” your eyes shift to Hannibal as he opens his door.

“Hey, Hannibal. I try to call you but I thought I might as well just drop by.”

Hannibal’s eyes divert from you to Alana, and he gives Alana a quick nod, letting her quickly enter the office. “It will be quick. Can you wait for a while?” you give him a nod and smile at him nervously.

At first you aren’t sure why you are nervous but something finally clear on your head. Maybe you are jealous. You know a lot of women near Hannibal are not only beautiful, or rich, they are also acutely intelligent. Although you aren’t rich, you aren’t that bad looking and you will not say you aren’t intelligent but when you compare yourself to someone like Alana, there will always be inferiority engraved in your mind. Not to mention that she has known Hannibal longer and better than you.

Hannibal's office door opens and Alana exits the door with Hannibal following her. “I heard what happened to you from Hannibal.” Alana stops in front of your desk and gives you her sympathetic smile. “Get well soon.” She gives you a pat on your shoulder and says her goodbye to you and Hannibal.

“Shall we?” Hannibal changes his focus towards you and you nod in agreement. Let him help you out of the office. 

***

“So…,”

“So?” Hannibal glances at you momentarily while driving, asking you to continue what you have in mind.

“Dr. Bloom is really beautiful.” your small, joyless voice continues its sentence.

“Ah...yes indeed,” Hannibal replies casually. 

Your eyes glance at the dark street. Hannibal’s office is located in a quite busy place and it’s nice to see less traffic when you get out of the area. 

“Did both of you date?” you blurt it out. Your eyes widen in horrors as you blatantly just spill out something unprofessional. “Hanni-- Dr. Lecter, I-- I-- didn’t mean to pry on your personal life.” 

Hannibal looks at you and lets out a laugh. Something really rare, something that you even have witnessed. The crinkle on his eyes when he laughs lets his somewhat cool and calm demeanor melted. It takes you sometimes to register on what just happens. 

“I’m sorry my dear, that’s just quite funny.” Hannibal stops laughing and sends you a quick smile.

“Also that might not answer your question but the answer is no, Alana and I, we aren’t dating. I’m her mentor and our relationship is more of colleagues and friends.”    

You aren’t sure why you hold your breath, but after listening to Hannibal's answer, you let out a long exhale, feeling that something heavy has been lifted up from your shoulders. 

Hannibal’s Bentley stops in front of your apartment complex. Ever the gentleman that he is, Hannibal asks you if you need help. You decline his help as if you can’t embarrass yourself enough in one day. 

“Before you go, I have something to tell you.” Like a deer caught in a headlight, you look at Hannibal. He switches on the light inside the car and pulls his bag from the backseat. He handed you several papers that looked likely to be a job application. Your eyes widen, vision blurry as a sudden tears drop from your eyes. This is it, maybe Hannibal has enough of your clumsiness. He doesn’t find you worthy as he sometimes needs to ‘babysit you’ when you do something you don’t intend to do. 

Feeling that he may be approaching this the wrong way, Hannibal tries to comfort you. You put both of your hands in front of your chest, like a shield in a defensive manner. Try to accommodate his tall frame, awkwardly Hannibal turns his body to the passenger seat and embraces you. He shushing you and pat your heads 

When your silent cry turns into a hiccup but more calmer, Hannibal pulls away from you. With a stutter, you explain to Hannibal that you understand if he doesn’t want you to work with him again and you are thankful that he’s been a very great employer to you. 

“Hey,” Hannibal swipes the tears that rolls down on your cheeks with his thumbs, “--it’s not that. Look, my dear, the reason I handed this paper to you is not that I want to fire you, but I have been pretty impatient lately.”

You look at him, eyes full of question on what the fuck he means by that? Although you don’t let it out loud because you don’t want to make any rude comment. Because Hannibal doesn’t like that.

“I’m one of those people who do not agree with office romance.” 

Office? Romance? What the hell? No one has any romance in the office, you thought. 

“I have been pretty much intent to court you,” his eyes flicker to your lips and back to your reddish eyes. “Alana came today because she wants to give me the application personally, there’s a librarian vacancy in her University and I pretty much just want to hand it to you.” Your brain wiring, try to connect the words as if you forgot how to speak English.  

“Apologize if I’m being rude my dear, but I have observed you for some time and I encourage myself to just lay it all here so I didn’t make you upset. Of course, if I am proven wrong, you can stay and still work as my secretary. No harm, the position will always be yours.” 

“Hanni-- Hannibal, does this mean that you like ‘like’ me?” 

He answers you with a quick nod and the smile that always makes your heart flutter. You try to reach Hannibal but your knee prevents you from doing such a thing. Hannibal let out a small chuckle as he finds your difficulty quite amusing. 

You eye him in disbelief but your anger melts right away as his face gets closer to yours. His right hand's cup at the side of your face as his lips inches closer towards you. With eyes close, you feel the brushes of Hannibal’s lips. The kiss is soft and delicate as if he is just testing the water. 

You let your hands sneak at the back of his collar as you seek more contact. Both of your lips slide and glide against each other. Letting out a whimper, you grant Hannibal’s tongue to slip past your lips. Teasing and flicking languidly, exploring something that makes you shudders in want. 

After some time, Hannibal withdraws his lips from yours. Eyes fluttering open, you can see Hannibal’s pupils expand. He let his foreheads rest at yours while his hand still cups on your face. “So...I believe it is a 'yes''?” There's humor in his voice. 

With a broad smile and less reddish eyes, you answer Hannibal with a confident nod and grant him another kiss on the lips.

__

As always, like, comment and reblog are really appreciated ❤️. Let me know what you think about this xo

#hannibal lecter #hannibal nbc #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal imagine #hannibal lecter x you #hannibal lecter request #mads mikkelsen #chuuulip post

[ridiasfangirlings]

What if the Red and Blue clans exchanged kings. Reisi as King of the Red Clan and Mikoto as King of the Blue Clan for one week.^^

I just imagine Munakata walking into Homra probably wearing like some kind of awful leather jacket and being all 'Yolo, fellow barbarians' XD Maybe Kokujouji makes them do this as some kind of learning experience, like maybe you two wouldn't fight as much and cause massive property damage if you walked in each other's shoes for a week. Kusanagi and Awashima are rightfully horrified by this idea but Munakata is intrigued and Mikoto's like whatever fine and so it's decided that they'll switch clans for a single week. Munakata is very interested in seeing how a clan like Homra might function with someone competent in charge (which he makes certain to say right in front of Kusanagi, who twitches slightly and almost breaks the glass he's cleaning). He decides that he must 'blend in with the locals' and so he lets his hair be slightly more ruffled than usual, finds himself a leather jacket and has Doumyouji print him out a helpful list of all the latest slang used among the wilder youth. The Homra alphabet are fairly certain that Munakata doesn't actually know what most of it means, as he greets everyone with 'yolo' and suggests they all go out and do some yeeting amongst the populace. Kusanagi has to explain that Homra doesn't do any paperwork and that Munakata should just relax, Munakata says he is relaxing as he sits there straight and proper in his chair at the bar slowly drinking his drink and basically looking extremely out of place.

The Homra guys are in general not very pleased at having to answer to the Blue King all week, Yata's pretty loudly declaring that Mikoto-san is way better when Munakata smiles serenely and says that Suoh agreed to this and he hopes that they will get along well 'Garasu-kun.' Yata is pretty sure he's being mocked but Munakata's so polite about it that he can't actually pinpoint how he's being mocked and it's pissing him off. Kusanagi just hopes his bar can make it until the end of the week, though he doesn't realize the true danger of the switch until Totsuka shows up asking if anyone wants to help him with his new hobby, creating scale versions of Mt. Fuji out of mashed potatoes. Munakata has immediate interest and soon he and Totsuka are discussing possible clan bonding activities for the week, Kusanagi feels like somehow they've just created a monster.

Meanwhile over at Scepter 4 Mikoto is asleep on Fushimi's desk and Akiyama is trying to keep Fushimi from stabbing the Red King because that would probably be bad (more from a diplomacy standpoint than an actual moral one as Akiyama is not in fact opposed to Fushimi stabbing the Red King, since the first thing Mikoto said when Akiyama politely greeted him that morning was 'Who's this shorty?'). Fushimi is really not happy about this change and not shy about saying so, complaining about why do they have to deal with this irritating person and it's not like Mikoto's going to actually do anything King-like while he's here, it's like they were forced to adopt a lion and can't get rid of him. At some point they manage to run him out of the office by briefly using him as a table to stack documents on, Mikoto eventually gets up and yawns and sends everything flying. Fushimi irritably tells him to go sleep somewhere else and Mikoto just shrugs and lights a cigarette, Akiyama coughs pointedly and points at the 'no smoking' sign on the wall and Mikoto just keeps smoking anyway.

Eventually he gets bored of scaring Munakata's minions and decides to check out Munakata's office, probably finding whatever puzzle Munakata was working on and burning an important piece just for fun (also the puzzle seems to have been of a blown up picture of Fushimi's face so that was kinda creepy). He looks around the office for a while, thinking this is just the kind of place a stuffy guy like Munakata would work in, and then settles himself in the big plush chair for a nice long nap. This time he's awoken by a pointed cough, Mikoto opens one eye and there's Awashima staring down at him and informing him in no uncertain terms that as acting Blue King he is expected to handle the duties that come with that title. Mikoto's all 'eh?' as Awashima sets a giant stack of documents down in front of him, informing him that these all require a signature. Mikoto tries to get out of it by saying she should have Munakata do them when he gets back and Awashima says there is no time for that, and she'll wait while he does it. Mikoto kinda wants to burn her but he's also getting this familiar feeling, like what he's felt before when he accidentally singed the bar and Kusanagi made him clean it up, and he finally sighs and starts writing, thinking that this is definitely a pain.

#Munakata Reisi #Suoh Mikoto #Talking K #Saru somehow gets appointed as Mikoto's babysitter and heavily resents it #he spends the entire week making irritated comments and then getting uncomfortable when Mikoto looks at him #Homra vows to never let Munakata and Totsuka be in the same room ever again #Munakata gets to spend all week being passive aggressive towards Kusanagi instead #Awashima becomes even more impressive as the only one who can tell the Red King what to do

[nvvermore]

Entr’acte

For the second time, Amaryllis drops everything and steps away from their comfort zone when Beatrice needs a teacher, this time with a very different group of students [@juliandev0rak]

words: 2108

cw: none

—

“What do you think about maybe visiting the school? Maybe… teaching some music lessons?”

“You want me to teach your kids?”

“Well, I’m not asking for you to come to teach full time or anything, but,”

“I’m not very good with children.”

“If you managed to teach me, you’ll have no problem with them!”

“Beatrice.”

“I’m joking! They’re really wonderfully behaved children, I promise. Besides, how bad can you really be if you’re friends with Lucio?”

“You’ve made a good point,” Amaryllis laughs. “What exactly would I teach them? I doubt they need professional-level vocal instruction.”

“You know music! You can sing and play the piano, and probably other instruments too-“

“Guitar. And violin, but only a little.”

“See! You could teach them all about notes, how to play nursery rhymes. It’s mostly about giving them something fun to do, like art class or recess.”

“So you do want me to come in on a regular basis?”

“Well, if you’re a good fit I wouldn’t mind it…”

“Alright then. I’ll come teach.”

“Really?” In her excitement, Beatrice throws her arms around Amaryllis’s neck in a crushing hug. “Oh thank you, Amie!” They return it after a moment, arms wrapping around her middle. When they part, there’s the loveliest pink flush to her cheeks, their faces only inches apart. Reluctantly, Amaryllis breaks away from her embrace.

“I am a little busy with the masquerade approaching, but I can make time.”

“Tomorrow?” Beatrice suggests quickly.

“Tomorrow, hm? You don’t already have lesson plans for the day?”

“Ah, well-“

“You knew I’d say yes.”

“I was right.”

- - -

And that was how Amaryllis ended at the old coliseum turned schoolhouse, with carefully crafted lesson plans in hand. They had even gone out of their way to dress in the most modest and brightest dress they had in their wardrobe, along with simple pumps and opaque tights.

Once Amaryllis was standing before the doors, dressed in spring green, the gravity of how fully head-over-heels they had fallen for Beatrice dawned on them. In their right, not lovesick mind, they would never willingly venture out in such a manner. They’d even completely forgone their veil for the afternoon— it was hardly necessary to do so, but Amaryllis was dead set on being a good example.

On the other side of the doors, it seemed Beatrice had been waiting for them. Seated on a nearby bench with her nose in a book, it was the same way she’d often wait for them before their lessons together. There was nothing out of the ordinary or new about the sight of her, but Amaryllis still found themself stopping to take her in. Leaning against the wall, they watched the way her lips moved as she read, how focused she was as her eyes flit across the pages.

Soon enough, the moment passes when Beatrice finally takes note of them.“Amie!” she jumps into her feet, and Amaryllis notices the way her expression drops into surprise for a split-second. Then, she proceeds to unabashedly look them up and down, grin returning to her lips when her eyes meet theirs. “You have perfect timing! The children should be just getting back from recess. Come, I’ll show you around.”

Without warning, Beatrice takes their hand, and Amaryllis has to stop themself from giving into the urge to intertwine their fingers with hers.

Beatrice leads them through the halls, enthusiastically pointing out various classrooms and other school facilities. She tells them all about what she’s already been able to do with the school and her goals for the future. Amaryllis drinks up every word, and the passion she has for her students makes them fall a little bit more in love with her.

They make a mental note to see to it that a little bit more of their salary is directed to the school— discreetly through Nadia, lumped in with what she already uses to fund Vesuvia’s public education.

“And this is my classroom!” Beatrice pulls them into a room with rows of little desks decorated in little messes of papers and books. Amaryllis looks around the modest room, in awe at all the carefully-crafted decor she had put up all over the walls. Posters and signs that must have taken her hours and hours to make.

There was the common alphabet drawn out all the way across the front wall above the chalkboard. Large and colorful drawings acting as helpful reminders of numbers, shapes, days of the week, and months of the year. Not all of it was purely educational; messages of inspiration were all over, encouragement just a glance away for any child who needed it. Even each desk had a carefully handwritten tag spelling out each child's first and last name.

Amaryllis realizes they must have looked around the room a little too long, because when they glance back to Beatrice, she’s fiddling with her the clasp of her cloak. The instinct to assure her overcomes them, and they reach out and place their hands over hers

“Beatrice, this is lovely. I can tell you truly love your work.”

She looks hesitant for a moment, as though she might brush the complement off, but smiles after a moment. “Thank you, Amie. I really do love it.”

Amaryllis quickly squeezes her hands before taking them back. “I hope I can meet your high standards.”

“If I had any doubts, I wouldn’t have asked you,” she opens her mouth like she has more to say, but then tiny voices and giggles sound from the hallway. Something in her composure shifts then, and in a second she goes from their Beatrice to the student’s Beatrice.

Greeting each child with a warm smile as they file into the room, not an ounce of hesitance or nervousness. Amaryllis can’t take their eyes off of her, wants to take in all of her radiance that comes with her moments of total confidence. That beautiful smile of hers is then turned on them, and class is ready to begin.

“Settle in everyone! This afternoon we have a very special guest!” Beatrice addresses the class animatedly. She steps back, gesturing for Amaryllis to step up. It almost feels like they’ve somehow switched places with each other; Beatrice has all of the certainty and Amaryllis is full of worry. But they would do this, and do it well, for her, and for these children.

“Hello, you can call me Amie,” they introduce themself with the nickname instead, as their name could be difficult to pronounce for ones so young. “Together, we’re going to learn all about music!” Amaryllis glances to Beatrice, who watches them with a soft expression, and in turn she gives an encouraging nod. “For today’s lesson, I’m going to show you how to write your very own song!”

- - -

The lesson had run wonderfully, much to Amaryllis’s surprise. The class was a modestly-sized one, and all in attendance were very eager to learn. They’d begun with the very basics of treble clef, explaining the lettering and telling them the silly acronyms to assist in remembering. As the children demonstrated they were catching on to their teachings, Amaryllis shed their hesitance.

In the end, they were able to assist each student in writing out their own little two-measure song. None of them really knew they were writing, but Amaryllis could hear each little song as they went over it with Beatrice’s students. Some of them put the same note down eight times, some of them followed the alphabet, some of them randomly placed notes on the staff. It was sweet, to see each child’s method of creating.

Amaryllis’s plan was for Beatrice to hold on to what they’d written, because next time they would teach them how to sing their songs. Each child was already so proud of what they’d accomplished, and Amaryllis was truly looking forward to showing them how it sounded.

Once their lesson was concluded, it was time to wrap up for the day. Amaryllis stood back once again to let Beatrice take back over, and meanwhile they made themself at home in her desk chair. When the students finally were dismissed, Amaryllis did not expect for several of them to flock around them.

One little girl told them how pretty their hair was; another told them that he thought their scar was so cool. A little boy explained very thoroughly that he’d been taking piano lessons since he was very little. It took a few more minutes of questioning and stories and several promises that they would return next week for everyone to clear out.

Beatrice saw the last little straggler out of the door and closed it behind her. “‘Bad with children’, hm?” She was beaming again, surely pleased to have something to call them on.

“I may have lied,” Amaryllis admits. Beatrice raises a brow in questioning, settling down onto her desk in front of them. “It’s just, I don’t tend to be the best influence.”

“Amie, that’s not true,” she reaches forward to take their hand, “you were just actively being a positive influence for the past two hours.”

“I tried my very best, abeille.” ‘I tried my very best for you’, goes unsaid.

“I think you did wonderful! Even I learned things I didn’t know before.”

“Then I must not be doing enough in our private lessons.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“I know, I’m simply teasing you.” Amaryllis rests their clasped hands against Beatrice’s knee. She isn’t sitting as ‘lady-like’ as she typically tends to, her legs remain uncrossed and knees apart. Her long skirts cover her all the way down to the ankle, perfectly decent, though Amaryllis’s thoughts about their current positions are anything but. Slipping their hands under said skirts, the feel of her skin under their fingers as they push the fabric up and— now was not the time or place to fantasize about her.

“You know, I meant to say,” she glances away when Amaryllis’s eyes meet hers, cheeks rosy. “You look, different.”

“I know, it’s atrocious, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely not!” Beatrice bites her lip, before continuing. “I think you look just as lovely like this,” she rushes to add, “and it’s nice to see your face. Outside of the rehearsal room. In public. That probably sounds a little odd-“

Amaryllis’s breath falters. “It doesn’t.”

“Oh, good, then.” Beatrice’s free hand picks at the surface of the desk. “Then is there a reason you didn’t wear your veil today? I’ve noticed you don’t usually go anywhere outside the palace without it.”

“It’s part of my effort to not be a poor influence,” they explain. “Little ones are so impressionable, it wouldn’t do to cover up like I’m ashamed.”

“Are you?” she blurts out, looking instantly regretful. Amaryllis doesn’t talk about these things, they never do. But with Beatrice, they feel safe enough to forgo many of their masks.

“Rationally, I know there isn’t anything to be ashamed about. But it’s,” they take a deep breath, “difficult when someone once put in a lot of effort into making you think that way. You never know who else will treat you that same way. So, I prefer to have a shield.”

“You’ve never worn it when it was just us.”

“Because I know you’d never make me feel ashamed.”

“Amie, I—“ Beatrice is cut off by a knock on the door that makes them both jump. She releases their hand, sliding off of the desk to let the interloper in. Simply a concerned parent who’s come to speak with his child’s teacher. Amaryllis takes it as their cue to excuse themself.

“I’m quite busy with preparations, so I’m afraid I might not see you again until the masquerade.”

“It’s only a few days away, and I’ll be sure to practice extra hard in place of our missed lesson.”

“Not too hard. We don’t want a repeat of the last time you strained yourself.” Though truthfully, Amaryllis wouldn’t mind bringing her tea again, or taking care of her, settling on her comfy little couch to snuggle up.

Beatrice throws her hands up dramatically. “I won’t practice that much, I promise!”

“Good girl,” they take her hand, relishing in her flustered face, “until we meet again.” Amaryllis places a kiss on the back of her hand, leaving behind a deep red stain. With a respectful nod to the waiting father, they step back out into the hall.

Normally, Amaryllis loved work. It kept them busy, kept them distracted. But they were already distracted by something other than work, and they had a feeling the next few days would be agonizing without a moment of Beatrice’s company.

#no sleep for me so i am here #i cant forget about beamie either #amaryllis leroux #beatrice viano #beamie #amie fic #my fic #i feel like i have so few tags but i do not like tagging things so its ok

[imjeralee]

Comfort in Despair: Chapter 16 - Leon with Flowers

Leon x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Summary:

Galar is rich in folklore and tales of the supernatural.

As a Pokemon Researcher who specialises in ghost types, this is a great opportunity for you to investigate and learn more about the paranormal.

Along the way, you meet Leon (in the most awkward way possible) who becomes embroiled in your adventures.

^ Basically this story is about ghosts :/

Rating: General/Teen

@marydragneell​ - here is the latest update

@crikeygatormate, @alisakagi​ - apologies for the late update

Leon with Flowers

…

…

["We're just two lost souls Swimming in a fish bowl Year after year."

- Wish You Were Here, Pink Floyd]

…

…

Leon arrives outside the Wild Area Pokemon Nursery and pushes open the door. It jingles with a light tune upon his arrival and he sees a lone nursery worker behind the counter. It's Raihan's girlfriend and her Goomy and Dreepy huddle together on one of the sofas, watching TV whilst she works, juggling several large canisters of baby pokemon food and moomoo milk in hands.

“Hi Leon,” she greets him politely as soon she spots him, despite the hectic atmosphere. Her voice is very soft on the ears.

“Hi,” he replies, and Goomy and Dreepy gurgle and chirp at him happily; Goomy uses one of its horn to press down on a random button on the remote control beside them, changing the channel from a drama to a cartoon show.

Throwing a quick glance to the clock on the wall, she says, “You’re early.”

“Ah, yeah, I managed to get everything done…I can come back if you’re not ready.”

“Not at all, give me a minute.”

“Sure.”

“Please have a seat,” she gestures to an empty couch and so he plops himself down.

Raihan’s girlfriend finishes filling up the shelves on the wall with the bottles and the milk before she ducks behind the counter and he hears more glass containers rattling within and she stacks two or three more on the shelf before she says, “Would you like some tea?”

“No, thank you.”

"Okay."

Leon casually glances around the small waiting room until he casts a glimpse at her; Raihan’s girlfriend is a pokemon breeder and she’s the complete opposite of the dragon tamer: calm, quiet and certainly not flamboyant in any manner. Apparently she’s good at handling him and there are rumours flying around that he is madly in love with her. Despite her meek outward appearance, looks can be deceiving because Raihan’s girlfriend is also an EV trainer with an arsenal of high-levelled, competitive pokemon.

And he’s asked her for help.

She dries her hand on a Bellossom tea towel and finally heads to the gate, opening it. “Thanks for waiting! Well, come on in. Sorry about the mess.”

“No problem,” Leon gets up from his seat - looks like she trusts Goomy and Dreepy to be left on their own - and he closes the gate behind him, follows her inside the interior and often unseen part of the nursery.

She leads him towards the baby pokemon room; it's covered with pastel yellow wallpaper dotted with little stars and moons and there are plenty of baby mobiles hanging from the ceiling, soft play toys, alphabet play cubes and various squeaky toys and Leon is greeted with the sight of Cleffas, Pichus, Smoochums, Magbys and Bonslys running rampant around the available space and generally causing mischief. She runs inside at once, pulling at a Mime Jr that’s about to leap off a high shelf before she separates two Munchlaxes who are squabbling over a bowl of berries.

“So sorry,” she exclaims as Leon glances around, unsure where to really look due to the chaos, “I swear they can be very well-behaved. So…what do you think?”

Leon chuckles and folds his arms. “Of course, but…” as the babies bawl and drool and roll around the playmats, he puts a hand under his chin to ponder, “...Something’s not quite right. I’m not saying she won’t like a baby pokemon but…it’s not really her.”

Her shoulders droop. “Oh, r-really? Well…maybe not a baby pokemon then?” Copying his action, an Igglybuff taps at her calf as she rubs at her chin. She glances down and it points to a bottle it cannot reach on the table. She picks it up and hands it to it and Igglybuff rolls away, and she says, “What about an abandoned pokemon?”

Leon raises a brow. “There are abandoned pokemon here?”

She nods sadly; a Riolu tugs on her leg next, wanting to be held, “Unfortunately, yes, the number of pokemon dropped off at the nursery and subsequently being abandoned has risen," she says glumly as she picks the fighting pokemon up and pats him on the head.

“Where are they? Can you show me?”

“Of course,” she puts down Riolu, goading him to play with the others and all the baby pokemon look at her expectantly, “You guys be on your best behaviour, okay?”

There’s a response of chirping, squeaking, high-pitched trilling and a few nods of the head. She looks at them worriedly but has no choice but to leave the room for now. Regardless, the baby pokemon don’t seem to be intent on wreaking too much havoc.

She leads Leon out of the nursing room and further along the corridor, stopping at a random door and opening it; she holds the door open for him and his eyes grow wide when he sees a dozen or so pokemon littered around the room, resting in baskets or perches. However, there is something terribly gloomy about this room and he realises the dullness is emanating from the Pokemon within.

An Eevee in the corner is tightly curled up against the wall but looks up when they enter and its large eyes meets Leon’s. Its ears are flat against its head and its fur is dull and matted. It's clutching a squidgy berry toy to itself.

It’s….miserable.

Raihan’s girlfriend sighs under her breath, “We initially put them together with the other pokemon, but they seem to be doing better with other abandoned pokemon so…my boss put them altogether in one room. Some pokemon have actually broken out and run away…these are the ones that are still waiting for their owner.”

Leon glances around, inspecting the remaining pokemon; a Corvisquire with rough-looking feathers sits on the perch with its head under its wing. A Skwovet hides underneath its thick tail, its wet eyes looking up at the duo. A Minccino is crying in another corner; she runs to it immediately and scoops it up in her arms.

“…This isn’t new, but the numbers are growing rapidly,” she replies as she holds the small pokemon tightly to her chest. It responds to her embrace, closing its eyes.

“What’s wrong with Eevee?”

“We diagnosed it with a permanent leg injury. It can no longer battle.”

Leon bites down on his lip; the sight of abandoned or injured pokemon makes his heart clench with grief. “Arceus, I want to take them all.”

“You can’t. Not yet. They’ve actually not passed the period yet,” Raihan’s girlfriend replies, “My boss set a month, at least. If their owners don’t return, the pokemon are officially under our care."

Leon emits a sigh under his breath until he spots a small and malnourished fox pokemon sitting quietly by the window, staring outside at the scenery. It hasn’t seemed to have noticed their presences and he observes it for a fraction longer than usual before he takes a step forward. Once he's at its side, it turns round and a single, glassy brown eye blinks at him whilst the other appears to be missing. Furthermore, it only has one tail.

Leon moves to crouch on one knee before the small creature and it regards him silently before throwing its gaze to the window once more, though it wags its small tail.

“Oh! Vulpix…” Raihan’s girlfriend murmurs, “….Poor thing, she's been here more than a month and her owner never came back. She's absolutely lovely, she would be a great choice if it suits your friend."

“I’ll take her,” Leon says, without a moment of hesitation, “Will that be alright?”

She nods with a wide smile. “Of course! I'll get the paperwork ready."

"Paperwork?" he realises he's beginning to dislike that word.

"Yes, it's mostly for our records, then you can pick her up in three days minimum."

"Thanks, I'm looking forward to it!" he exclaims, and she grins in response, picking Vulpix up and off the ground.

"Thank you, Leon!! Isn't this wonderful? You're going to have a new home soon," she coos, lifting one of her paws and wiggling it gently. He can't help but grin.

Raihan's girlfriend hands him the Pokemon and slips her into his arms; their gazes meet and Vulpix blinks her single eye, wags her tail gently, then reaches over and licks his cheek.

She's perfect.

...

Although you’re not quite sure how you managed to get a wink of sleep for the remainder of that night considering what had happened between you and Leon in the garden, you wake up in time for further checkups and the doctors inform you that you will be discharged by end of the day. It's good news, though you will need to make routine visits to get your dressings replaced for a further week or so.

And when you check Rotom, you have received several messages.

Graves will come to pick you up before you are formally discharged and instructs you to get packing. He also briefly tells you his findings about Edward Rose: he was not a satanist but he did not have a good reputation amongst the Rose family. Being one of the lesser known 'Rose', he was remembered for his descent into madness and there is no record on how he obtained or why he chose to use human blood, skin and hair for his painting.

Fifteen paintings are alleged to exist and he was about to complete one more, but this final piece was apparently incomplete and subsequently went missing following his death. The existence of these paintings are bordering mythical. No-one has seen them before and there is no evidence. Just rumours.

But they do exist, and you tell Graves you had found the final painting in the basement of Rose's art gallery, but Graves remarks that there was no such thing when they searched it.

Therefore you realise Rose has already taken it and with that in mind, your fist curls until your knuckles turn white. Realising anything to do with Rose sets you off into an irrevocable rage, you move on and try to think of other things.

Magnolia and Sonia will visit you.

And so will Leon.

You hold your breath as you nervously swipe his message open, letting your eyes roam over the screen. Your mood lifts in a split second and your heart beat speeds up. He asks how you are doing and that he has returned to his duties but he will do his best to visit you before you leave hospital. On this occasion, there is one emoji included but the remainder of the message remains rather professional and straight-forward. You reread it a few more times before a smile worms its way over your face and your heart flutters.

However, you're able to subdue this profound giddiness and your response is a very neutral sounding 'okay' and you hope that's a satisfactory enough answer.

Thus your day begins and it starts off with Sonia and Magnolia visiting as promised; they’ve bagged the first slot and somehow your poster that says 'One Visitor at a Time' no longer applies as they've also brought little Yamper, Cutie and Poltea with them and once they enter the room, you are pounced on as everyone is simply dying to embrace you. Overjoyed to see them, you hug for a lot longer than usual, before Magnolia tells you off again for the danger you had put yourself in but you tell her you will no longer be working on cases and that you will be taking a break.

Pleased with your decision, Magnolia nods to herself.

"I had a dream," you murmur as Cutie and Poltea move to sit on your shoulders, "when you came to pick me up from the psych ward."

Magnolia and Sonia watch you quietly.

"...And I'm really grateful," you add, your fist clinching over the sparse, thin duvet, "for everything. For taking me in, for looking after me. Thank you."

Sonia reacts with a cheerful smile and throws her arms around you again, holding you as tightly as possible and you do the same, whilst Magnolia nods briefly as she balances her cane with both hands.

“That was such a long time ago," Sonia replies, "Don't think about it; it was a bad chapter of your life."

You can only nod.

"How are you feeling anyway?" she adds, when she finally lets go of you.

"I'm okay," you say, and you show her your arm, "...could be better, I guess."

"Hmm... at least the doctors say it's gonna heal. And I heard Leon stayed with you most of the night."

"Yeah, he saved my life."

Sonia giggles whilst Magnolia tells her to keep her voice down, thoroughly reminding her that they're in a hospital. You chuckle as Sonia pouts in response.

They’ve brought you breakfast and lunch in case the hospital food is not sufficient (and it is) and unfortunately they cannot stay for long; their visiting time is over. You and Sonia exchange a long hug and soon, they depart; though you long to tell Sonia what has happened, you feel it’s not particularly the right moment.

In your empty room, Gengar appears from your shadow and though you're aware he dislikes emerging during the day, you're glad he's here and he is happy to see that you are well too; floating over to your side, you and Gengar proceed to share an embrace. You sprawl your arms around his rotund body and back and rest your cheek over the top of his spiky head whilst stubby arms cling to your sides.

"Aww, I missed you too,” you say, and Gengar looks at you with a concerned expression, "I'm fine."

Gengar lets go of you, then puts his hands on his hips and waggles them for a bit and you're wondering what he's trying to say until he glances around the room for a while before he spots an old magazine left on one of the counters. He grabs it, returns to your side and after flipping through some pages, points to you again and then to a random page.

And Leon is on this random page. It's some kind of advert, where he is sitting on a throne with a crown atop his head.

It can only mean one thing.

"Did you see us??" you ask nervously.

Gengar nods and grins mischievously, before he uses a hand to sweep his imaginary hair back and catwalks down your room with a hand on one hip. You didn't realise Gengar had this much sass.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you huff, as his feet leave the floor so he can float up into the air to chuckle. Pointing to you and then to Leon's picture on the magazine, he then clasps both hands together and bats his eyelashes and performs a full three hundred and sixty degree circle in the air.

You roll your eyes in response.

"Harhar, yes, very funny," you reply, but you're smiling.

Gengar returns to rest and you realise you’re missing your other pokemon so you search your room briefly but to no avail; you can’t find the ragdoll anywhere so you leave your room only to see Mimikyu seated outside on one of the empty chairs with her head drooped, crying.

Alarmed, you head over to the pokemon at once, crouching in front of her and big, fat tears drip from the two glowing dots where her eyes should be, staining the dull fabric of its disguise.

“Mimi? What’s wrong???" you exclaim, "Are you hurt? Did someone hurt you?”

“Mi…mi….” she squeaks as she shakes her head, weeping, “Me show you.”

“Okay,” you reply, and as you lower your good arm, she takes a few tiny steps forwards, hops over your elbow and climbs up to sit on your shoulder.

"Mi...are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. It's you I'm worried about."

"Mi...it's okay," she replies, and she uses a shadowy tendril to pat you on top of the head.

"What do you want to show me?"

"This way, mi mi."

She stops crying as she leads you away from your room and out of your ward in its entirety, guiding you to the direction of the paediatric ward and though you’re not sure if you’re allowed inside, Mimikyu asks you to stop at a certain corridor and as you glance at the nearby nurse's station, the nurses don't seem bothered with your presence at all.

“Mi…look,” Mimikyu says, pointing at the wall.

It is covered in crayon drawings of many pokemon that stretches all the way deep into the children’s play area and into the visitor’s hall which you cannot enter. There's even a crayon drawing of a purple pokemon that says 'eKaNs is SnAkE sPeLlEd bAcKwArDs'.

“Me saw,” she adds as you inspect the wall carefully, “No Mimikyu. Other Pokemon, yes. Pikachu…lots of Pikachu. No Mimikyu. Mi….me hatePikachu…” Mimikyu growls before her eyes gleam furiously with murderous intent under her disguise and a dark, wispy miasma begins to escape from her body. Her shadowy tendril twists into a tight claw in response to her anger, shaking with rage, “Me kill Pikachu…”

You try to reassure her but she shakes her head, trembling fiercely with hatred. Underneath the rag, the sounds of teeth grinding can be heard along with a bizarre clicking noise.

"Hey Mimi?"

"What is it, mi?"

"Why do you not want to look like Pikachu?"

Mimikyu blinks at you in shock before her eyes narrow, the glowing dots burning brightly, "....Mi...me wear the skin of the enemy....?" she growls, and this time her voice positively turns low and demonic, "Me think not..."

As Mimikyu hisses and seethes, you place a finger to your chin as you contemplate how different your Mimikyu is compared to others. Considering Mimikyu is upset that there are no pictures of any Mimikyu here, an idea hatches in your mind and you carefully comb through the ward until you pass a room full of screaming children who jump in their beds and throw pokemon dolls around in the air.

A little girl sitting on her own at a play table is busy doodling princess castles on pieces of A4 paper (and unfortunately, onto the table) captures your attention and you head over.

"Hi."

She looks up at you, blinking her big blue eyes. Then she proceeds to stick a green crayon up her nose. Lovely.

"Can I borrow these?" you ask, gesturing to a pack.

She nods, then grabs a brown crayon and sticks that one up her remaining, empty nostril.

Luckily for you, you don't need those colours so you grab several clean crayons and untarnished paper off the play table closest to you and leave the ward and return to your own; you close the door shut and climb over the bed.

“Mi…what are you doing?” Mimikyu asks, baffled, as you spread the paper over the table and lay the crayons out.

“I’ll draw you,” you utter and Mimikyu looks at you with shock.

“You…draw mi?”

“Yep.”

Mimikyu blinks at you blankly before she lets out a high-pitched squeak of glee that makes your eardrums rattle and a lurid snap rips through the room and you throw your glance to the window where a small crack has appeared in one corner. As Mimikyu continues squeaking, albeit at a lower pitch, tears of joy stain the fabric of her disguise once again and two shadowy tendrils proceed to slither out from her mouth and ensnare your head. It's a rather bizarre and cold, clammy sensation as Mimikyu hugs you.

Whilst you smile at her reassuringly, the door to your room opens and you look up to see Jace and two others you didn’t expect to see: Tanner and Cole.

“Duckie!” Jace exclaims with relief and he dives for you but Mimikyu hisses at him, her ragdoll features contorting horrifically and he comes to a skidding halt, letting out a rather high-pitched shriek in progress. "W-what is that?"

“Mimi, this is Jace," you say as you flick a casual glance to the pokemon, "Jace is good.”

“…Jace good?” she says.

“Yeah.”

“Mi…okay.”

"Jace, this is Mimikyu. She prefers being a ragdoll disguise than a Pikachu one."

"Oh, I see."

“That thing can talk,” Tanner says with wide eyes as Mimikyu slowly releases you and slides down to occupy an empty space on your bed, her tendrils slither back inside her mouth which closes up, the stitches returning to their proper place and Jace is free to approach and embrace you with no issues.

“Yeah, she can talk,” you reply, and Tanner and Cole stare at the ragdoll, bewildered. Regardless, you’re more occupied with Jace.

“Are you okay?” you ask as you let go of each other.

He nods wildly, rubbing at his eyes and nose which is very wet. “I’m fine! Are you okay?!!!”

“Yep.”

As you pat Jace reassuringly on the back, the Ghostbunkers glance at each other awkwardly as they stand in the room and everyone looks at each other and it’s as though everyone is thinking the same thing.

“I had to bring these guys,” Jace moans aloud as he jabs a thumb to their direction, “They wanted to tag along.”

Tanner steps forwards. “Yeah. Um, I know you probably don't wanna see us. Me, in particular, which I can totally understand....but we wanted to apologise. We’re really sorry. I’m sorry,” he murmurs. He looks badly battered and sickly in his fraying chalky-white hospital gown. The possession must have taken its toll on him.

“Me too,” says Cole. Unlike his best friend, Cole is in better shape.

“Can you forgive us?” Tanner asks morosely, and he gulps as though he's terrified of your response but you nod and he emits a huge sigh of relief. “Thanks. Oh god, I can't really explain it but I was still conscious when…” he gestures to your poor, bandaged arm, “I’m really sorry. Like so, so sorry. Hell, I don't think sorry's good enough so I brought Runerigus. I think he should stay with you. He's actually really nice... a totally chill guy. Cole, bring him here.”

“Yeah, sure," Cole searches in his pockets and pulls out the capsule which Tanner scoops up; he takes a minute step and leaves it for you on your table then returns to stand sheepishly before you with Cole at his side.

“We’re sorry,” Tanner says again, hanging his head low, “I’m not gonna let this slide, you know. Rose is a double-crossing, no-good Raticate bastard.”

You and Jace nod in agreement.

“I made him richer,” you murmur, “I can’t believe it.”

Cole and Jace appear confused and toss their gazes to you.

"His ancestor Edward Rose was a painter," you explain, "and he died before he could complete a painting, which was the one we found in the basement. It was a map, and it led to a treasure. I asked Chief Inspector Graves to investigate the art gallery but he says they didn't find any painting so obviously Rose has taken it and now there's no evidence of its existence. By now I'm pretty sure Chairman Rose has used it to find the hidden treasure, sold it or hid it away."

"Damn it, he's a clever bastard, I'll give him that," Tanner grunts out, "Cole, what about our video? We recorded it, right?"

"....I hate to say it but the video footage doesn't work. The moment we went into the basement, the recording went fuzzy."

"Yeah, that was probably Edward Rose's doing," you reply, “Rose will make sure it’s as though it never existed so we can’t persecute him or claim compensation.”

“Well, we’re not going to let him get away with it. I’m still going to press charges. Two can play at this game, ya know? I’ll let you know what happens, okay? It’s not fair on us. He used us. We’ve all been played and what happened last night was…crazy, it was so crazy, man.”

“Yeah, it was crazy,” Cole echoes, nodding.

And Tanner shrugs helplessly, lifting a hand and pinching the middle of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “I have no words, man. I mean I don’t really wanna Ghostbunk anymore,” he admits, “Cole doesn’t want to either.”

“Yeah, I don’t wanna Ghostbunk,” Cole says, nodding again.

Although it is of no particular interest to you, you discover Cole is different on his own; once he is paired with Tanner, he seems devoid of personality and reliant on the more confident and boisterous Tanner.

“Anyway. We’ll let you know how we get on,” Tanner finishes.

“Sure. Good luck.”

“Thanks. Good luck to you too. Here, uh…this is our number, if you ever need our help.”

“I doubt it,” Jace whispers, only for you to hear, but you elbow him and smile politely at Tanner.

“Thank you.”

Without anything else to say, Tanner and Cole apologise once again...for almost everything - for making fun of you, for mauling your arm etcetera; you accept their heartfelt apology and they leave your room silently.

"Wow, they were so sorry." Jace says and you nod. "Damn, I should've recorded it."

“Jace-"

"I'm kidding!"

"Well...I’m sorry too,” you mutter.

“Huh? What...? No, no, what are you apologizing for? You did nothing wrong, chuck.”

“It was too dangerous. I should’ve known. You got hurt because of me.”

“Oh c'mon, look at me. I’m fine!!! I'll always be fine,” he says, before he plops his hand atop your head and ruffles your hair; you muster a weak smile as he punches you in the elbow and shoulders playfully, “So...Leon saved you…?”

“Yeah. I’ve told him to stay away from me.”

Jace crosses his arms and nods to himself. “Good, he’s partially responsible for this.”

“I didn’t have to take the case; it was my decision.”

“Yeah, but if you didn’t, you would’ve made Leon look bad.”

You sigh gently. “It’s not like that at all, Jace. Look, it’s happened and no-one’s to blame. Magnolia and Graves don’t want me to work on these cases anymore and I'm going to listen to them. I’m going to go on a break. Well, there's still Spiritomb to catch but from now on, I'm just going to take it easy.”

Jace seems surprised with your resolution. “…I see."

“So, let's not dwell on this anymore. What’re you going to do now?”

“Oh, uh, I've been told I can go home," Jace utters, rubbing the back of his head, "and my friend from Sinnoh is actually coming to visit Galar, he's gonna be a guest judge for the Beauty Pageant, he's got some kind of exhibition match, he wants to try and see a Galarian Zapdos. Oh, and he's also here to inspect the Energy Plant."

"He sounds like a really busy guy."

"He is! Did I mention that he's a gym leader too? And he’s gonna stay at my place so I gotta clean up my flat and-"

You wait for Jace to finish only to see that he is staring limply into space before he whips his head to you and you stare at him in confusion. "What’s wrong?”

“By Jove, I’ve got it!” he exclaims loudly, his jaw hanging open, “Duckie, now that you're not gonna take on any cases, I take it you're pretty much free for the next couple of days???”

“Yeah, I guess…”

“Okay, okay, I’ll give you a call, alright?”

“…Uh, sure.”

“Right, I gotta go. Will you be okay on your own? Anyone picking you up?”

“Yeah. Graves.”

Jace hesitates, then says, "Arceus help you."

"Thanks," you reply, with an all-knowing nod.

After exchanging goodbyes, Jace dashes off and you’re on your own again; glancing at Runerigus’ capsule, you will deal with him at another time. Apparently he's a chill guy.

You’ve still to finish your drawing of Mimikyu and she’s been sitting quietly and very patiently beside you on the bed, occupying herself by playing with some loose threads of your blanket so you resume your sketch of her before colouring it with the crayons and once you’re done, you lift the paper high in the air with a grin and show Mimikyu who looks up and she hops onto your shoulder again to peer at your drawing, pleased with your efforts.

“Mi mi,” she croons, “Me look good.”

You giggle as she squeaks with delight. “Come on, let’s go hang this up,” you say with a grin, and Mimikyu nods.

Leaving your room for the second time, you make your way to the children’s ward and find the same room where you had asked to borrow the paper and crayons, and with the box in hands, you swiftly return the items where the little girl from before is now sticking crayons into her ears and a nurse is trying to stop her.

Returning to the main corridor, you locate the wall with the drawings and scour for an empty spot and once you’ve pinpointed an empty space, you use some blu-tack from another portrait, splitting some of it up, and use it for your own drawing. You proceed to stick Mimikyu’s picture on the wall, pressing hard on the corners to ensure it’s sticking well and Mimikyu nods with happiness and claps using two tendrils.

“Thank you, mi mi,” she says, nodding vigorously with gratitude.

“You’re very welcome, but it would be nice if I could see what’s under your disguise and draw the real you.”

Mimikyu blinks at you, then shakes her head vigorously, “...If you see mi, me will kill you and me....me don’t want that. Me actually like you.”

You stare at your Pokemon in surprise then giggle lightly.

It’s time to return to your ward but Mimikyu tears off several of the children's drawings of Pikachu along the way, prompting you to run and escape the ward as quickly as you can and before you're spotted although you're certain there might be CCTV around. It's too late to reprimand her anyway and as you pass the communal area where you see the door that leads to the yard, you remember last night’s events where Leon had tried to kiss you and your cheeks flare up.

You had almost kissed if Oleana didn’t interrupt.

“I wonder what Leon is doing...” you forlornly utter under your breath before you could help yourself.

You miss him, and you hope he's doing well and you’re brought out of your reverie when you hear someone ‘pssst psst psst’-ing at your direction and glancing over, an old man in a robe seated at a chess table by the window is beckoning you over. You look left and right, then point to yourself.

He nods. “Do you know how to play chess?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh lovely. Would you like to play against me? None of these bozos can.”

Graves won’t be coming for another three hours.

“Sure,” you say, with nothing to lose and tonnes of time to spare.

Thus you head over and sit down on the drab-looking chair, staring at the worn pieces before you pick them up one by one and begin fixing them into their appropriate positions on the board. The old man helps, setting up his own pieces on his side.

The old man looks familiar and he too seems to recognize you. He says, “Aren’t you Leon’s girlfriend?”

“Uh, no, we're not...we're not together.”

"Yet," he says.

You cringe.

“I remember you were together though,” he adds.

"Yeah, I was visiting him when he was in hospital.”

“And now it’s your turn.”

You nod as he snorts with laughter; he asks you what happened but you tell him it’s a long story, to which he tells you he has all the time in the world, so you recount the tale of Rose and the haunted art gallery as the game begins.

“Uh-huh, I see, then what happened?” he asks; he moves his pawn to forward to which you counter.

You tell him about Runerigus, Tanner, Cole, the possession. Everything.

“What other cases have you worked on?” he asks. You're surprised he's listening and not questioning your sanity as most do.

You tell him about the ghost of South Miloch as your game progresses and you're taking the lead and soon, your story has caught the attention of a passing old lady using a walking frame.

“Did you just say the ghost of South Miloch?” she says with a slight, nasally pitch to her voice, and she turns to you and the old man questioningly before she adds, “I saw it with me own eyes!”

“Sally, this young lady solved the case and broke the curse,” the old man says, and the woman subjects you to an incredulous look.

“Oooh, did you, sweetheart?” and old Sally hobbles to the closest seat nearest to your chess table and plops herself down. “Molly, come here! This is the girl who solved the Miloch case! I told you I wasn’t seeing things! I told you I saw a ghost!”

She’s addressing another elderly woman who’s seated near the telly on a plushy couch with today’s newspapers propped up in her withered hands. Upon being called, Molly looks away from her paper behind her spectacles and glances over; Sally excitedly beckons her over to join with a little wave and a toothy grin and she sighs and gets up slowly, then shuffles over and joins her on the couch.

Glancing at the OAPs, it seems you have gathered an audience who are interested in listening and learning about all your exploits.

“Well? Go on then, dear, tell us more,” Sally says with a gummy smile, and you blink wide-eyed at them.

“Oh, um…well, it was to do with a will and a massive family inheritance..."

And so you share with them the details about the case, from the very beginning of the investigation, through to the middle and to the very end though you do omit names for privacy; the chess game seems to have become forgotten and before you know it, you’ve attracted a small crowd so you move to one of the sofas near the television which grants you a full view of the entire communal area so your small group can listen and gather around you properly. They nestle themselves on the couches, listening keenly as you eagerly recount your tales of hidden treasures, lost loves and spooky phantoms.

Suddenly, a nurse enters the room and calls your name loudly.

Pausing in mid-sentence, you glance over and see Graves standing beside her. He takes one look at you, then at the elderly patients who have gathered around you and raises a brow.

“We’re going now,” he barks.

Time had flown by so quickly.

“Okay,” you rise and leave your seat and your crowd of elderly patients begin to whine but they’re quickly dispersed by the nurses. You tell them your online blog contains more details though you’re aware that they probably don’t really know how to work the internet and they should ask their tech-savvy grandchildren.

Checking the clock on the wall, it's then you realise Leon hadn’t come to visit you after all.

...

Leon has been trying to visit you but is always prevented to do so at the very last minute. He's had a photoshoot that's taken up his entire morning and afternoon, then once he's finished and he thinks he has time to go to the hospital, if it isn’t a fan asking for a photo and autograph, it’s Rose asking him to head over to a route to help sort something out before he's directed to a city or another route for something else.

He’s keen to visit you and checking the clock on his phone, he sees the hours trickle one by one yet the moment he thinks he has a minute to spare, he is lulled into a false sense of security as something else crops up and he’s forcibly whisked away.

You got him a gift last time and so he is set in his mind to get you a gift too; he’s already got Vulpix but she isn't available to be collected yet so he's keen to get you something else.

Aware that you’re going to be discharged soon, if not now, he quickly finishes up his task and uses this opportunity to venture to the hospital before he's missed. He sends you a quick message to let you know that he is coming.

On his way, he enters a gift shop on the outskirts filled with quaint décor and with Charizard, he commences some casual browsing where he eventually settles to purchase a bouquet of multicoloured flowers which he is quite certain you will like. The florist has reassured him on this, too.

Without further ado, Leon heads to the hospital.

And as you’re packing your bag in your room, Graves knocks on the door, enters and asks, “You ready?”

“Yeah,” you say, as you sling the bag over your shoulder and you make sure you have Runerigus and Mimikyu’s capsule whilst Gengar lingers in your shadow.

You try one more time to message Leon but your reception suddenly decides to go kaput and you have been unable to get through to him or receive messages for the past hour or so.

Graves waits outside as you spare one more glance to your now-empty room, at the pristine bed, the empty table and chair. The blinds are pulled up and the sun’s setting, casting a beautiful orangey glow within and your face falls when you check the clock again and throw your glance to the door as though you’re expecting a certain purple-haired someone to come rushing in, panting and looking adorably sweaty and breathless whilst unnecessarily and continuously apologising for being late and you will smile and tell him it’s fine and –

“Alright then, let’s go.” Graves says, swinging a set of car keys with one finger.

"Did you talk to Rose?"

"I did. I'll fill you in later. Let's grab something to eat first.”

"Okay."

You leave the room with Graves carrying your bag for you and promptly head down the corridor, arriving at the lift. Graves presses the button, whistling. He spots a nurse who smiles at him and he clears his throat.

“Good evening, ma’am.”

“Hello, Chief Inspector Graves. Is this your daughter?”

“Uh….sort of.”

The nurse passes sweeping looks between you and the much older Graves, and he appears to have also realised his mistake; whilst you roll your eyes, Graves splutters out an explanation but the nurse leaves with no further follow up.

“When’s this stupid lift coming,” Graves ends up complaining loudly. “Hurry up, damnit.”

There are two lifts but it seems they are exceptionally slow.

Downstairs and Leon with flowers anxiously waits for the lift to arrive, hoping he’s not too late.

People are actively staring and he will wave and smile but they appear to respect his privacy and so he's mostly left alone though the massive bouquet in his hands causes some brows to raise. Charizard helps preen him, licking his claws and tidying his hair, pinching loose strands together and flattening them over the sides of his head. Leon grins at his pokemon and Charizard attempts to give him a thumbs up.

The lift arrives and he steps in; the lift begins to ascend.

Upstairs and the lift doors open and Graves mutters, “Finally, took it long enough,” he grumbles and grunts but lets you enter first and then hops in himself, pressing the button for the basement where the carpark is.

And as the doors begin to close, you hear the sound of the lift opposite yours opening with a loud ‘ping’ and as you look up, the doors of your lift slide to a close, but through the tiny one inch gap, you think you see a familiar shade of purple -

-  and Leon steps out, just as the doors to the lift opposite his has closed and begins descending.

He rushes towards the direction of your room with flowers in hand but the door is open and the bed is neatly made and the room is empty.

Confused, he returns to the nurse’s desk and asks for your whereabouts.

“Oh, she just got in that lift,” the nurse says, pointing to the aforementioned elevator, “Literally one minute ago. You just missed her.”

For the first time in Leon’s life, he was devastated.

...

#pokemon #pokemonshield #pokemonsword #pokemonswordandshield #jeralee #fic #fanfic #reader #reader insert #archive of our own #pkmn #dande #leon #Leon x reader

[inforapound]

With Our Eyes Shut Ch.1

This is my first TLK fic written in celebration of @geekandbooknerd;s 1,000 Followers Celebration. Congratulations you!!!. Prompt in bold. I have played with the series time line here. Expect historical and series inaccuracies and I had no idea who to tag so I can add or delete you easily. Just let me know. 

Pairing - Sigefrid and OC      Chapter - 1 of 4   

The board sliding back to unlock the thick door startled the captives sitting on the floor of the dingy barn. Shushes and frightened gasps greeted the fair-haired Thurgilson as he walked in and eyed the huddled bunch. They were to be slaves to the heathen Danes and would soon learn that being cut down, like so many of their loved ones, would have been a blessing.

The siege had been fast, and the death count high with only a small number of women spared by the wicked brothers. They now had control over Beamfleot and planned to stay, establish and plot.

“Can anyone here read and write?” the Northman asked in a stern, thickly accented voice.

When no one responded, irritation flashed across his face, his kohl-lined eyes and long goatee making him look like some ghoul from a children’s fable.

“I will ask only once more.”

Reaching down, he grabbed the closest woman yanking her to her feet. Squealing like a piglet, she held up her shaking hands as if to signify she was helpless. The truth was, they all were and he knew it. Pointing his dagger at her face, he glared back at the captives, his cool blue eyes scanning them... waiting.

“Who. Here. Can. Read?” 

It was clear, his patience was gone. Most averted their eyes but some glanced at one another as if also seeking the answer, desperate for the barbarian to set his sights on anyone but them.  

“Shame,” he uttered, looking back to the woman, tightening his grip on the neck of her dress, making her cry out again.

Movement in his peripheral pulled his attention to the far corner. Pushing up to stand, a girl, a woman really leaned against the wall. She did not say a word but her terrified brown eyes met his just long enough for him to know that he had his answer.

----

“Sigefrid,” Erik stressed his name as if to make his point. “We must keep our eye on the greater plan. To have this knowledge will give us the advantage of surprise.”

“So will my blade running through their skulls.” The dark-haired Thurgilson grinned, seated on the former Lord’s chair, “Surprise!” he laughed loudly, raising the incased knife affixed to his forearm up into the air.

If that was not a simple enough response to his brother’s suggestion that they learn the Christian language, he snorted and sucked snot down from the back of his nose, spitting a ball of phlegm onto the wood floor beside him.

Crossing his arms, Erik waited, knowing Sigefrid was not yet through.

“We do not need to read or write to raid and kill, Erik. We will settle here, enjoy what this bountiful land has to offer, and prepare to take out the weak king. We can speak their horse piss language, that is enough.”

“True, but would you not care to know what this says?” Erik held up the small scroll in his hand. It had been taken by two of their warriors who intercepted a messenger leaving Winchester. “Would it not be of value to know when and where their armies travel so we can better position? What if the black scratches on this parchment say that Alfred will soon be on the move, perhaps leaving his walled city to visit Mercia. On the road, he would be ripe for an ambush, brother. Just think...”

Always the less methodical out of the two, Sigefrid was passionate and impulsive, rash and at times his anger flared but now, he responded with silence knowing he would eventually agree with his younger brother. But not yet.

Roughly clearing his throat, he snorted again. “I will join the lessons,” he spoke slowly as to exaggerate his concession, “Once I have taken a shit. Unless I do it there,” his dark brows shot high and he flashed his straight white teeth, “welcome our tutor with the task of wiping that scroll across my dirty ass.”

“By the looks of her, you’d enjoy that,” Erik chuckled.

Emptying his cup in one go, Sigefrid’s dark eyes scanned the hall, “More ale!” he roared.

----

The main building was not large, ten modestly sized chambers; six on the ground level, surrounding the main room, and four upstairs, evidently used by the previous and now dead Lord and his wife. Sigefrid would never understand why these Christian nobles did not share chambers with their wives. The only thought he had was, perhaps, it was less awkward on nights when humping the help. But domestic life, in any culture, was lost on him. He had never experienced it and did not plan to live that long. Wanting to reach Valhalla in his prime, it would be a warrior’s death for him and Erik was there to marry and breed, carry on their family’s bloodline.

Dark and handsome though, he was a self-proclaimed ladies man, always having his pick of the women. Felt them powerless against his bravado and charm and rarely went to bed without wetting his dick. Like killing, variety for him was the spice of life and Erik would tease that for Sigefrid, excess was the best show of success.

As much as he grumbled at the notion of learning the Saxon’s written word, he knew Erik would not lead them astray. Preferring to approach battle in a straight line, he charged at any target, whereas his baby brother touted strategy, suggesting that the zig and zag of tactical ambush would spare them men. Despite the glory of dying with a weapon in the hand, Sigefrid did recognize the convenience in keeping their numbers stable. They had set up shop in Wessex’s back yard and Alfred’s land was theirs for the taking.

----

No crude or threatening comments came from Sigefrid when he first saw her. No jeering eyes or aggressive words. Nothing. He just looked at her standing frozen, alone, in front of them, her large brown eyes incapable of hiding her fear. He guessed in any circumstance she was likely a quiet little thing but there, before him and Erik, she had every reason to be afraid.

There was something in the way she watched them that he liked; an anticipation that reminded him of a baby doe, afraid, yet curious and seconds from fleeing to its mother. But there was no mother there to protect this girl... or woman. He could not tell how old she was, certainly younger than him, younger still than Erik.  

Jerking his head, he lifted his blade, motioning for them to get on with the ridiculous charade, emphasizing his resistance with a loud grunt as he lowered himself into a chair at the table.

For privacy, Erik had chosen one of the upper rooms which had obviously been used as a meeting or council room. It consisted of a table with eight chairs, a fireplace, and daybed. It was not a large room or particularly bright but was situated next to their private chambers which meant it was sectioned off from others.

It was Erik’s suggestion that they understand the language from the basics up, outlining his wish to start with their alphabet and from there learn to read. Taking paper torn from one of the room’s many books, the girl, with a shaky hand, dipped one of the feather quills Erik had gathered into an ink pot and began writing out two copies of the Saxon’s alphabet.

It was quite a sight, sitting across as her trembling hand replicated the markings, her eyes looking like they fought themselves to stay fixed on the paper. As anyone would, she sat pensively as if expecting to be bit and it made him think of her, for the second time, as that little deer and them as two hungry wolves.

Watching, he wondered if her rosy cheeks were caused by fear or if her work, at whatever she did before their arrival, had her out under the sun. She had the slightest dusting of freckles and he guessed that if she were to smile, her cheeks would even dimple. The thought made him grin as he could not imagine what reason she would have to smile in her current predicament; a slave to the Danes, young and pretty, everyone she knew either dead or being worked like a mule.

Inhaling he let his impatience be known, sighing loudly and only mildly aware of some internal debate he was having; his mind slow to connect with his body’s response to the woman in front of him, loving how her small hands rushed to finish knowing he was staring.

Placing the quill down, she turned the papers for them to inspect. Straightening in their chairs, their expressions became serious, both looking unprepared for the complexity of the rows and rows of ruin-like symbols.

The men picked up their delicate feather quills, fumbling to find a position in their large hands that were more accustomed to wielding weapons and spilling blood. Sigefrid dropped the quill immediately, scoffing in an outright refusal and shot his brother a look.

“Dear brother,” he groaned, watching Erik’s earnest face, his eyes fixed on the paper below. “I feel like a fool.”

Not replying, Erik dragged the quill across the thin paper, holding it with his other to keep it in place. The tip cut through the delicate parchment from the heavy pressure he was unintentionally applying.

Looking back to the girl, Sigefrid’s eyes met hers for just instant before she lowered them again to the table. He suspected she had been looking at the knife strapped to his arm where his hand had once been. Not saying a word, he continued to study her, a mild thrill moving through him knowing, again, that she could feel his stare.

“You know I have never bothered with slaves,” he spoke in Danish. “I have no interest in bedding Christian farm girls.”

“Hmm,” Erik replied, his tongue sliding back and forth across his lower lip in concentration.

“If I want a hump, there are twenty Dane women downstairs insane to ride my cock,” he spoke slowly as if enjoying the sound of his own voice. “By the looks of her, she would not be able to handle such a beast.” He smiled at her downcast face deciding she really was quite beautiful; almost irritatingly so. “But you know what I think, brother?”

“I think you will tell me,” Erik answered also in Danish.

“This one,” he jerked his chin in her direction. “I think she likes me.”

“It helps that I told her she had to teach us or she dies,” he glanced up to her quickly but kept on with the quill. “She will do what it takes to survive. They all do.”

“What do you think?” Sigefrid chuckled, his white teeth visible through his thick black beard. “Should I make an exception? Teach her about glory holes?”

Startling, the girl looked up, spooked, as if she had just heard her name called for execution.

“Did you understand that?” Erik looked up with round eyes, asking in English but she did not answer.

Frowning, Sigefrid leaned forward in his chair, “Did you?” 

Not waiting for her to respond, he shot up from his chair and stalked around to her side, placing his hands on the table and the back of her chair and leaned down. Instead of fleeing or crying, she squeezed her eyes closed, her body rigid as if waiting for a blow or to be dragged from her chair.

He brought his face closer to hers. “I asked you,” he spoke slowly, his accented voice oozing with threat. “Did you understand?”

“A little,” she opened her eyes, causing Sigefrid to look over at Erik.

Raising his hand, Erik signaled for him to give her a moment.

“Girl, how do you know our tongue,” Erik asked, his voice less aggressive.

“I know only a little.”

“Who taught you?” Erik probed and her eyes skitted around the room nervously.

“Maybe a blade to the throat will stir your memory, Saxon,” Sigefrid warned, dragging out the title.

Her eyes flashed back to his.

“I am from Frankia,” she uttered, sounding almost apologetic.

This made Sigefrid’s head cock to one side as he noticed that her voice did, in fact, have a different sound.

“That does not answer my question,” he leaned closer, by chance catching a glimpse down the bust of her dress.

“My father!” she rushed. “He was an interpreter.”

“For who?” Erik asked.

“A noble family in Paris.”

“Was he,” Erik said more to himself, his voice sounding as if his mind was already reeling with possibilities.

“Very interesting,” Sigefrid added leaning over her a little more, the crease between her heavy bosoms holding his eye. “Where is he now? We could ask for his help to understand their walled city. It has never been breached. Fools have tried but...”

“My parents are both dead,” she cut him off. “Nearly two years ago.”

“How?”

“My father was traveling to Northumbria on business and took my mother and I...as the trip would have had him gone for so long. We were robbed on the road; I somehow got away into the woods and hid.” She looked down into her lap, clearing her throat before continuing. “Their throats were cut.”

“Were they Danes?” Erik asked.

“I do not believe so.”

“They were no Danes,” Sigefrid scoffed. “Danes would not have let her escape.”

“Your father taught you other languages?” Erik asked, wanting to keep the girl talking.

Nodding she answered, her eyes staying fixed on her lap, “French, of course, English, the two languages of Ireland, some Arabic, I can understand some Danish but I cannot speak it well.”

The brothers exchanged glances, their eyes coming alive.

“This might be your lucky day,” Sigefrid smiled, straightening to stand.

“Or ours,” Erik looked up at his brother. “What a shit idea this was,” he smiled and picked up the paper in front of him, ripping it into pieces and making Sigefrid laugh.

“Do as you are told,” Sigefrid spoke abruptly, making her flinch, “and we will kill you last.”

----

Days went by and Sigefrid entered the same room where Waylen now waited, standing guard; the girl was on the far side of the table, evidently wanting to keep some obstacle between her and the enormous Dane. Sigefrid had sent him to fetch her from the kitchen and escort her up to the meeting room. Pausing, he watched her, wondering if his mind was playing tricks on him; he could have sworn she looked mildly relieved when he entered. Not surprising, he decided, as she was all but dragged into a private room by the hulking, young warrior.  

Nodding he motioned for Waylen to leave, kicking the door closed behind. Turning his attention back to the girl, she shifted awkwardly under his gaze, clutching her apron, her expression almost expectant.

“I have been thinking about you,” he tapped his sheathed knife against his forehead. “I am too suspicious of a man to allow one slave to hold so much wisdom. Too cunning for us to become reliant on your,” his eyes narrowed, “cooperation. So..” he sucked air through his teeth, “the lessons will continue.” Dropping his chin, he eyed her from under his dark brows; she did not react but he could see her thoughts moving behind her large brown eyes.

“You will teach me... alone. This will be a,” he paused, thinking of how best to phrase it, “surprise for my brother. I will have Waylen fetch you when I want, and you will tell no one. And…despite my better judgment,” he hesitated, for an instant questioning his own thinking, “for your discretion, I am going to protect you. Hey?”

Her reply came by way of a subtle nod but the message was still clear, yes.

Next Chapter 

@naaladareia @geekandbooknerd @oddsnendsfanfics @hecohansen31​ @waiting4inspiration​ @kittybites-94​  @ceridwenofwales​ @mdredwine​ @gearhead66 @ceridwenofwales @whenimaunicorn @laketaj24 @xbellaxcarolinax @medievalfangirl​ 

#The Last Kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #the last kingdom sigefrid #sigefrid in love #sigefrid thurgilson #sigefrid thurgilson the last kingdom #sigefrid and oc #sigefrid slow burn #sigefrid fluff and smut #The Last Kingdom smut #erik thurgilson #erik and sigefrid #tlk smut

[forasecondtherewedwon]

21st Century Friction

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones (Spideychelle) Rating: T Word count: 10,817 @spideychelleweek​

Spideychelle Week Day 6: Enemies to Lovers

Summary: Peter needs an arts credit to graduate, but he didn't mean to pick the course that even the English majors avoid! Luckily, he has the help of Michelle Jones, the tutor Tony hired for him. Unluckily, she just overheard him insulting her entire academic discipline. They're not breaking off the arrangement―Peter's determined to do well in this stupid English course to keep his average up and Michelle won't let his bad attitude stand in the way of a cheque from Tony Stark.

With one tempestuous meeting down, they only have two semesters and twenty-five books to go.

Peter’s in big trouble―huge―and Mr. Stark did tell him that if he’s ever in trouble he should ask for help, so he calls, looking for help, and gets nobody, so he calls again and gets Happy, who hangs up once Peter makes him understand that, no, this isn’t about somebody trying to kick his Spidey-suit ass but about him trying to pick a new class (Happy’s next to some freaky machine at the time and it makes the cell reception wonky), but who finally listens all the way to the end on the seventeenth time Peter manages to get through to him without having his call dropped, and then Mr. Stark is told about it and though Peter isn’t immediately apprised of the solution to his own problem for some reason, he’s informed that cash has been flashed and that the solution will, inevitably, be attained.

Until then, Peter begins the first week of his third year of college and shows up to the labs and lectures of every class on his schedule, including English 1034: 21st Century Literature from A to Z.

AGUALUSA, José Eduardo ― A General Theory of Oblivion

“A tutor?” Peter hisses into his phone, pacing the tight corridor of the library’s fourth-floor stacks. “How is his solution to get me a tutor? I don’t need a tutor! I’m smart, Happy, remember? What did I want instead? Well, I don’t know! I have to keep all my core classes for my major, but maybe he could’ve made them give me credit for taking something online from another college? I’m not screwing up my schedule for English lit. I don’t even know why I gotta take this! I know how to read, you know? I’m just―”

Oh sure, he heard the other person enter the aisle, but he assumed it was to grab a book, so the noise of annoyance that leaves his mouth when his phone is snatched from his hand and his call ended is absolutely genuine.

“’Sup,” says the person, who’s a woman his age, who’s handing his phone back with a lazy gesture, who’s apparently entirely cool, casual, and unapologetic about unceremoniously hanging up on Happy for him. “You gotta take English lit because it sounds as though your vocabulary needs it and, hi, I’m Michelle. Your tutor.”

She mumbles an indelicate string of words after that as she turns and walks away from him out of the stacks and Peter picks up ‘entitled asshole’ even though he isn’t trying to listen, just follow her and set this thing straight.

“Uh, no, you’re not,” he assures her, alarmed when the place he’s trailing her to turns out to be a table where her stuff is waiting―open notebook, two different coloured pens, a copy of the syllabus for English 1034. No, no, no!

“Well, I can’t guarantee you’ll actually learn anything since you seem to have a combination of a pretty thick skull and an overinflated ego, but I’ll hold up my end of the deal. Let me guess, Business major?”

“Bio,” Peter grits out, grasping the back of the chair intended for him as this Michelle person slides neatly into hers, like the library’s her living room because she lives here. Fine. He’s happy for it to stay that way. He has access to all the books he needs in the sciences library on the other side of campus.

“Well, my condolences to the parts of your brain which, in most people, would produce non-literal comprehension and creative thought. But I’m sure you know the names for those, don’t you, Science Guy? Ok, quit making that face and let’s go over your syllabus.”

She doesn’t look up the entire time she speaks and Peter has never heard a person sound so pretentious in real life.

“Are you kidding me? No. Even if I wanted or needed to be tutored, it wouldn’t be by you. You grabbed my phone out of my hand!”

“Yeah,” Michelle agrees, meeting his eye with something firm in her own, “and you were talking on it in one of the library’s Quiet Zones. I’m not here to give you a lesson on Comparative Ignorance.”

“What makes you think you can just do that?” Peter demands. He feels sort of ridiculous and like he’s simultaneously taking the argument a step too far and a step not-far-enough; he’s not usually like this, but then, other people aren’t usually like that.

“The fact that I was paid in advance.”

She nods towards the chair and Peter doesn’t know why he does it, but he sits, still mad.

“Stark paid you to tutor me,” he states.

“Boy, are you struggling with the concept of exchanging currency for services too? Maybe there’s a basic Econ class you could still get into.”

“Why you?”

“Why you?” Michelle counters. “Why can’t smarty-pants, Stark-patroned Peter Parker just suck it up and get through a single English credit? Seriously, why not, since you seem to think it’s just reading and therefore easy. Why not just bribe the college to hand you the credit? You want me to tell you where the Financial Office is? I could show you because, ok, about me now, I’m here on scholarship because I couldn’t find a benevolent billionaire to smooth my path for me.” She straightens up in her chair, eyes practically volcanic with heat. “And here’s another why me for you: because I love what I study, I think literature has worth and beauty, and, oh right, I have the highest grade point average in the entire School of Arts and Humanities.”

Peter’s so floored for a minute that he forgets why he’s angry.

“It wouldn’t be right,” he finally says, trying to at least regain the moral high ground after her offhand suggestion of bribery. “Buying a credit. It wouldn’t be right.”

“So… instead you demean the entire discipline, like that’s going to help you.”

He scoffs.

“It’d help me more than you would.”

“Helping you is why I’m here.”

“You sound thrilled about it.”

“Hard not to be when I have the honour of tutoring the Spider-Man,” she says, matching his sarcasm.

Ugh, he hates that she brought that up. By his third year, he’s become less of a novelty in the halls―these days, people get more excited about a sighting of the local gopher who lives in a hole near the Astronomy building―and having it thrown in his face like this is even more uncomfortable than requests for selfies. Or the few mortifying pleas for his autograph. They’re locked in a mutually-irritated glare, which Peter breaks with a groan and a roll of his eyes.

“I didn’t want to be in this class,” he admits.

“And yet the online course selection process is so very hard to fuck up. Thus, you did in fact choose this class. Unless… does Tony Stark pick your classes for you?”

Peter ignores that. He can’t both fume and be cooperative enough to get her help, which he’s starting to think he might need. Maybe she can give him some kind of insider English department knowledge that will rid him of English 1034.

“It is an interesting choice,” Michelle continues carefully. Is she smirking at him? He can’t quite tell.

“I didn’t read the description.”

“What did you expect ‘20th Century Literature from A to Z’ to be?”

She’s mocking him, but Peter feels like his mistake in taking this particular class is an easy one to make. He has plenty of reasons to back him up.

“It’s a first-year level English course, it’s non-essay, and ‘A to Z’ made it sound like an overview,” he lists confidently.

“In case you don’t already know or suspect this, nobody who’s actually in the English program takes it.”

Michelle’s tone is extraordinarily smug.

“I thought you guys loved to read,” Peter says accusingly, leaning back and crossing his arms.

“Not a novel every week for two semesters! Dude, you picked a course with twenty-six required texts. ‘A to Z’ is for the alphabetical order of the authors’ last names.”

“I know that now,” he grumbles, eyeing the booklist Michelle has neatly aligned next to the syllabus on their study table. “And now all the other full-year non-essay English classes are full, so I can’t drop this one because there’s nothing to pick up in its place.”

“That’s an insanely stupid mistake.”

“Noted.”

“Ok, if you’re ready to move on, what were your thoughts on Agualusa?”

“You still want to tutor me?”

She looks at him like he’s truly the uncomprehending, unimaginative Bio-dunce she described.

“There are few things I want less than I want this. The only possible enjoyment here is getting to meet one of the unsuspecting idiots who signed up for that class, and even that doesn’t cancel out the way you belittled my area of study and those who study it. So.” Michelle extends a hand and, when Peter realizes what she wants, accepts his panic-purchased copy of A General Theory of Oblivion. “Time to prove you can read.”

BEATTY, Paul ― The Sellout

“I see you found the place,” Michelle greets without looking up from what she’s reading (which is the book for his course).

Peter attempts to glance around without being obvious about it.

“It’s the same table we sat at last time,” he says, mostly certain.

“I know.” She looks up. “I just thought you might get lost in unfamiliar territory. Had you ever been in here before last week?”

He laughs bitterly as he slings his backpack off and lets it slam into the leg of the table, making Michelle frown.

“Yeah, I had.” Once. When he toured the college with May before applying to undergrad. “Don’t be so gatekeeper-y. These books aren’t just for English majors.”

“Oh, so you avail yourself of them often for pleasure reading? Sorry, sorry,” she adds quickly and something inside Peter eases at the hope of an apology, “I forgot I was talking to the guy who signed up for the most reading-heavy class the English department offers. Of course you must love to read.”

“I just want to get my mandatory arts credit to graduate.”

The motive should be obvious, Peter thinks, but maybe she’ll take pity on him because he’s offering an explanation.

“You’ve already successfully postponed it your first two years. Why not push it to next year when you can take a lighter class?”

“There are a lot of required fourth-year courses for my major. I don’t have room for anything that isn’t impor―”

He cuts himself off, but Michelle looks pissed. What? It’s the truth! If he thought English was more important than Biology, he would’ve studied English!

“You’re trying to get me to wait for an easier class and you told me I shouldn’t assume English was easy,” he accuses.

“It’s not! I didn’t say an easier class, I said a lighter one. You know, with fewer books to read. English ten-thirty-four is an easy class.”

“Yeah right!”

“Really, Peter?” He’s startled to hear his name leave her mouth. “Exactly how deep were you expecting the analysis to go when you only spend a week on each book? That’s a Monday and Wednesday course, right? So you’re only actually discussing the book for three hours. A bunch of your assigned texts are over four hundred pages, which means covering around one hundred and thirty-three pages every hour of discussion, or a little over two pages every minute. And that’s just content. If you were actually digging into any of these books, you’d discuss themes, historical context of the subject matter, intertextual influence…”

“You’re pretty good at math,” he says wryly. “I bet you could have majored in that instead.”

“I could’ve majored in anything, but I chose a subject that actually has a soul.”

“It’s cute that you’re so noble about it,” Peter says, feeling like an honest-to-Thor asshole because he’s never disparaged anyone or anything by calling them or it ‘cute’ before, “considering the current arrangement.”

She gives him a harsh look before finally asking, “What do you mean?”

“You’re studying something so intellectual and culturally important or whatever and looking down at people in Business and the sciences. Lots of us love what we’re majoring in and some of us are in it for a career with a good salary. I’m just worried you’re being a bit of a hypocrite. How superior can you feel when you’re peddling your English-major wisdom for a paycheque from Tony Stark?”

Michelle can’t really murder him―his reflexes are too fast, his body too durable, and the most dangerous thing she appears to have at her disposal is a blue ballpoint pen―but she kinda looks like she might give it a try. Ok, so undercutting her integrity in a vengeful rant was probably beneath him. She was being such a snob though!

Finally, her expression relaxes and she uncaps her pen (Peter flinches), poising it over the page where, last week, she composed him a strong set of notes as they attempted a rocky discussion of the book.

“How much did you get read?”

CHOI, Mary H.K. ― Permanent Record

Peter sits and nods at Michelle when she looks up.

“We’re past the add/drop date,” he announces. “Guess I’m officially in English ten-thirty-four for the rest of the year.”

“And when you graduate, it’ll be right there on your transcript, smuggled through in between the important courses. Even if you can’t hack it and fail the class,” she concludes with a small, scornful smile.

“As far as I know, you’re being paid too much to let me fail.”

It feels like a gross powerplay the second he’s said it. If they’re really going to do this, he needs to start taking the meanspirited way that she roots against him in stride. Does he think about finding a different tutor every time she makes a sly comment like that? Sure, but he’s stubborn enough about maintaining a strong average to recognize the value of learning from the best student in the program.

“So…” he says after a minute, watching Michelle flip through his book to find where he’s marked the passages examined in class. “We never really agreed to it out loud, but I guess this is our standing place and time to do this?”

“Yeah, there’s a clipboard where you sign up to reserve a specific table. I put our names down for every Thursday for the rest of the year.”

“Really?”

“No, numbskull,” Michelle informs him lightly. “You can’t reserve a table, only the study rooms. I knew you didn’t know how the library worked.”

“How ‘bout, instead of that, we talk about the demands of fame.”

“Oh? Are you trying to open up to me?” She taps the end of her pen hard and fast against the table as though to emphasize this is something she doesn’t have time for.

“No. I did my assigned reading.”

He reaches out and grabs his book, dragging it back across the table.

DAY, Kate Hope ― If, Then

“I kept waiting for it to get good. Why didn’t it get good?” he asks, spinning the book on their table, then trapping it under his palm.

“Patience, spider-brain,” Michelle instructs. “It is good. It’s suspenseful and subtle and atmospheric and it’s no wonder those things went right over your head. Weren’t you at least interested in Ginny? She’s a surgeon.”

“So?”

“So, you’re in Biology. Don’t you want to be a doctor or something?”

“I don’t know yet,” Peter says with a shrug. Man, is she going to start bugging him about figuring out his career path? He has May for that. “Do you know what you want to be?”

“A tutor,” she responds flatly.

He’d smile if they were friends because she’s apparently hilarious.

“It takes some time to build if the part you’re most interested in is the sci-fi stuff,” Michelle concedes. “Did you read it to the end?”

“I didn’t have time. I had to start the next book early because I have a big lab assignment next week.” He sighs and lets his head fall into his hand just thinking about it.

She frowns and looks down, so he can only assume she disapproves of his priorities or his poor time management or something.

But then she mumbles, “You should try audiobooks.”

“Thanks,” Peter says, because that’s actually a great idea. He can listen on his way to campus in the mornings and he won’t have to carry the book on the days he doesn’t have that class. It’ll mean buying an audio copy of everything he already purchased, but he’ll still use the hard copies most of the time, and it’s not like Mr. Stark’s going to begrudge him another hundred bucks. Plus, almost all of the books for this course are novels, so it won’t even feel like doing homework!

In the midst of excitedly thinking over how much time he’ll have if he takes her advice, he glances at Michelle. She’s ignoring him.

ENDICOTT, Marina ― Good to a Fault

It’s the first week of October and Peter thinks he has the hang of this being-an-English-student thing. He read-slash-listened-to the whole book this week and even though the next two weeks’ novels are a couple of the longest in the entire course, he’s undaunted. When he gets to the library and finds Michelle―the classes they have right before this tutoring session end at the same time, but she always beats him here―he brags about being totally on top of his reading. She’s possibly starting to smile at him when he says, “I’m getting good at this. You want any tips?”

“God, Peter!” she blurts. “This is the third year of my major! Try to have some fucking respect!”

He holds up his hands placatingly. Once his books are out, Peter starts watching her and notices a syllabus at her elbow that isn’t for English 1034. Aggressively highlighted in green is tomorrow’s date and ‘MIDTERM.’ His don’t start for another week. He never consciously realized that Humanities students had midterm stress too. Michelle must be taking more than one English class right now, plus whatever else fills up her schedule. Jeeze, that’s a lot of reading, and she’s reading enough of his books to help him on top of doing her own shit. Peter winces and keeps his mouth shut until she’s ready to begin.

FLYNN, Gillian ― Gone Girl

They’re in the thick of midterms and having a particularly grouchy (on both sides) tutoring session.

“Quit writing a bunch of nothing,” Michelle criticizes, like that’s somehow useful feedback.

“I’m getting to my point!” Peter complains.

“They’re long answer questions, not essays. You won’t get any pity marks for filler like you do in a Bio exam.”

“They don’t give marks for filler in Bio exams!”

“Well then where did you learn to answer questions like this?” she snaps. “Do you want to start this one over or try another one?”

They glare at each other for several sluggish moments.

“I’ll start over,” Peter decides, meeting her challenging look with his own.

“Fine.”

This time, Michelle not only passes him the question she came up with but also rips a piece of paper out of her notebook, tears it into thirds, and hands him one of those as well.

“One-sided,” she instructs.

“Yeah, I get it.”

“Be concise.”

“If you took your own advice, I’d be able to write in silence right now instead of being distracted by the sound of you talking!”

In what seems like a blink as Peter looks up from his paper and tightly-gripped pencil in confusion, Michelle has her bag packed and shoves back from the table.

“Help me study!” he yells after her in desperation.

“Earn it with something more than money,” she calls back, flipping him off over her shoulder.

GO, Justin ― The Steady Running of the Hour

Groveling wouldn’t be well-received, Peter thinks. Instead, he brings Michelle an iced coffee as an apology for being a dick last week when he was freaking out over midterms. They’re experiencing a final flare of summer weather and it seems like a practical offering as well as a symbolic gesture. Unfortunately, the man at the front desk makes Peter toss the coffee before he’s allowed in because of a No Food and Drink policy. He feels really awkward about it and distinctly emptyhanded when he approaches Michelle at their usual table.

When it’s clear that she’s not focused on anything else, Peter spills the story and does end up saying, “I’m sorry” out loud. She likes one of those things enough to smile at him―not a big one, but not a sarcastic one either―and he exhales in relief.

“I really appreciate that you’re doing this,” he adds during a lull when they’re looking over the notes he made in class, trying to decipher his professor’s analysis of a certain passage.

He studies Michelle’s downturned face until she looks up and meets his eye.

“When do you get your midterm results?”

“Not for a couple of weeks. The prof doesn’t seem like he’s in any rush.”

“Are you worried about how you did?” she asks, propping her chin up with her fist. It makes her mouth slope into a playful pout and he follows the line of it with his eye for a second.

“Kinda.”

Michelle shakes her head.

“You shouldn’t be. You’re working hard. I know you passed.”

It’s the first session that they don’t fight. Feels good.

HAM, Rosalie ― The Dressmaker

“Holy shit,” he breathes when Michelle enters. “What is that?”

The day has finally come that he beats her to the library, which is the first shock, but this is an entirely separate and far less expected thing.

“It’s Halloween,” she states. As though it’s no big deal that she just walked in here wearing a silky-looking, floor-length, emerald green gown. Well, he assumes it’s a gown and not a skirt that sits really high on her waist, but he can’t see the entire thing; she’s wearing a cropped hoodie over top. The juxtaposition makes him grin.

“Where did you get that?”

“I made it.” Just as Peter’s mouth is dropping open, she huffs a laugh and says, “Of course I didn’t. It was my grandma’s. The style’s not totally right, but I thought the colour was a pretty good match.”

“Right,” he agrees as she swishes over and sits, cautiously smoothing the dress as she does so. “Because you’re obviously supposed to be…”

Michelle rolls her eyes as she takes the opportunity for illuminating him.

“Cecilia Tallis. From Atonement,” she prompts. “Keira Knightley played her.”

“Oh, ok, yeah. I think I saw part of that one time when my aunt May was watching it.”

“It was a book first,” Michelle teasingly informs him.

“I know you’ll be amazed to hear that I haven’t read it.”

“So amazed.”

“You look good in green,” Peter throws out there while she’s still looking at him.

“Don’t be weird about it, Parker.”

He totally sees her smiling to herself when they turn to their books and wonders if they’re friends yet.

ISRAEL, Lee ― Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Nope, nope, nope, they’re definitely not friends yet! After their revision session last week, Peter thought more about his and Michelle’s potential friendship, then started to feel weird about the fact that he’s paying her―or that Mr. Stark is, on his behalf. It’s been rare lately that both he and Mr. Stark aren’t busy at the same time, but with Peter’s midterms over and a new month beginning, Tony worked out a time for them to speak in person. Peter might have got rambling a little under the heady influence of his mentor’s full attention and maybe some things came across incorrectly. It wasn’t a meeting though, and he definitely didn’t know that decisions were being made!

“I thought you were finding this helpful!” Michelle says.

“I am,” he insists. “I left Mr. Stark a message. I’m gonna set it straight!”

“Oh, like you set it straight over the weekend? He fired me as your tutor!”

“I didn’t know he was doing that!”

“What did you say to him?” she demands.

Fuck, this is going to be embarrassing to say face-to-face. Peter glances at their table―where they didn’t sit down, due to this accidental termination―and feels himself get all overheated and shifty.

“That I felt weird about paying you.”

“Because English is so worthless you should be able to learn about it for free? Yeah, I guess you could’ve made the internet your tutor, but it’s a full two months too late for that!”

“Dammit!” Peter says, frustrated. “No! Because I thought maybe you and I were friends now because it seemed like maybe we were and I’d definitely like us to be friends, but I didn’t want you to feel obligated to be nice to me as a friend or anything more than a tutor just because you’re being paid. Do you want to be friends with me?” he summarizes bluntly.

“Yes.”

He frowns in confusion.

“Really?”

Michelle’s eyes dart to the side, then zip back to his face.

“…Isn’t that what you want? I think that’s literally what you just told me you want.”

“And the money thing?”

“Yeah, you’re definitely going to fix that as soon as we’re done today. My time and expertise are valuable as hell and I’m super willing to take Tony Stark’s money.” She gives him a weird look. “My friendship is not for sale.”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to assume―”

“I mean, I don’t know how people make friends over there in Biology, but―”

“Ok, that’s far enough,” he says, laughing when she smirks to admit she was kidding.

“I guess you better start calling me MJ too,” she says, taking her usual seat.

“If I had any extra names you didn’t know, I’d totally let you use one in exchange.”

She shrugs easily and picks up this week’s novel when he places it on the table within her reach.

“Speaking of people using other names…” MJ says as she taps the cover. “Ready to talk about a famous forger?”

“Smooth transition.”

“Thanks… pal?”

“No,” Peter says to ‘pal,’ making a face.

“No,” she agrees. “I’ll just have to remember that we’re friends now without a new name to remind me.”

“You’re officially my meanest friend,” he jokes.

MJ snorts.

“Peter, with all the time we’re spending together this year, I’m gonna be your best friend.”

JOHNSON, Adam ― Fortune Smiles

“Seventy-three!” Peter cries out when he strides into the library that Thursday. Desk Man shoots him a look and Peter mouths, “Sorry.” But if that guy’s annoyance with Peter is on the rise, so is the strength of his friendship with MJ.

“Seventy-three?” she repeats excitedly, then pauses, seemingly waiting for him to say more.

He understands. For her, getting a 73 on an English exam would probably be a blow to her average and something she’d struggle to course correct from on the final. He’d feel the same about receiving that grade in one of the classes that make up his major. But for his first college English exam? A discipline that’s forcing him to learn a completely different type of material and regurgitate that knowledge on an exam that’s neither practical nor multiple choice? It’s huge. He beams to let MJ know he hasn’t come to complain about her ineffective tutoring. Totally the opposite.

“That’s great,” MJ says. She rises from her chair because Peter’s too hyper―even a full day after getting his mark―to sit down yet.

“Yeah?”

“I told you you’d do fine,” she reminds him.

Then she goes to shove his arm and Peter misinterprets it, pulling her in to finish what he thought was the beginning of a hug. Just as he’s realizing and loosening his arms from around her, MJ’s hands come up and squeeze his back once, ending in a few reassuring pats. They break out of it, holding each other at arm’s length and she gives him a firm nod in conclusion. Peter laughs awkwardly. After that, they re-establish their usual rhythm.

“So, the first short story collection on your booklist,” she says as she sits. Rather than taking his regular spot across from her, he drags the chair around the circular table so they’re side by side. MJ watches him without protest.

“These are the first short stories I’ve read,” he tells her.

“What did you think?”

“I like it. It’s nice how it breaks the book into chunks. Makes it seem shorter maybe?”

“Definitely.”

Weirdly, their opinions about the book and what his prof wants him to learn from it continue to closely align. Of course, they don’t get through everything because, after about 15 minutes, MJ asks if he brought his midterm with him. He yanks it free of his backpack and they spend the rest of their time going over it. With a 73, Peter expects a lot of the review to be criticism (of the constructive variety) and notes on what he should’ve done better or different. Instead, it’s MJ gasping (quietly but happily) every time she finds a place where he mentioned something they went over together. He watches her eyes scan over where he described If, Then as ‘suspenseful, subtle, and atmospheric’ before going further into his comparison between that novel and Gone Girl. She catches his eye, her expressions changing like a shuffling card deck. Peter sees impressed come up, then pleased, then a third, unfamiliar thing that’s gone when MJ flips his exam to the next page.

KOCH, Herman ― The Dinner

“How is this book so horrific and so good?” Peter asks wonderingly.

They were going over his class notes until the notes referred to a page number of the novel. When he couldn’t remember what happened there, they looked it up. It was just supposed to be a refresher, but it turned into them reading nine pages―waiting for each other before flipping when their reading speeds raced, constantly slipping out of and regaining first place.

“It’s giving me rage-hunger,” MJ said.

“Rage-hunger?”

“Yeah, you know, when you’re incensed about something to the point that you start getting really hungry? Happens to me at protests.”

“Listen,” Peter says, dropping his voice to a compelling whisper. “I have pretzels.”

“Here?”

He nods.

“Do we risk it?”

“Yes,” she insists.

While she keeps watch, glancing around, Peter grasps the edge of the pretzel bag in his backpack. His expression feels pretty constipated as he struggles to open the bag soundlessly, but it’s worth the effort when he feels it give. Furtively, they sneak pretzels from his bag―balanced between their legs under the table―up to their mouths, attempting to chew as silently as possible and speaking in a soft slur with pretzels distending their cheeks.

LINK, Kelly ― Get in Trouble

Yeah, so, after being caught with mouths full of pretzels, they’re slightly afraid to immediately return to the library. Instead of meeting there on Thursday to go over all of Peter’s notes at once, he and MJ snatch time all week long. It’s another collection of short stories this week, so they go over the first one before he even attends his Monday English 1034 lecture, meaning he’s super prepared to participate for once, after running his thoughts by his tutor in advance. The next time, they do story number two, plus his class notes, then continue meeting when they can.

Peter hesitates before asking if she still wants to get together at their regular hour on Thursday. What if she feels like she’s given him enough of her time this week? What if she made other plans? But when he does ask, she’s surprised that he ever considered them not having their scheduled session. He’s not entirely sure why he was so scared she’d say no. That was silly. Although they both acknowledged that they’re friends, he thinks they’re finally starting to act like it.

So they meet on Thursday. And then they meet on Friday too. They say it’s for tutoring and keep Peter’s copy of Get in Trouble between them on the table of the student community centre, but they don’t open it. MJ trades him a bite of her pizza slice for some of his fries. He laughs hard when she gets ketchup on her lip, then swallows the sound down as she licks it off.

“Did I get it?”

“Um, yeah,” Peter replies, stupefied.

MOYES, Jojo ― Me Before You

“Well,” he says, retyping his notes to add MJ’s insights, “here’s another one where I can count watching a movie as part of studying.” Peter keeps typing for a minute, but she doesn’t respond, so while his eyes remain on the screen he asks, “Are you judging me? I promise I’m still going to read the rest of the book.”

Finished, he looks over to see MJ staring intently at the open novel. Peter concentrates on the book first―she’s right near the end―then on his friend’s face. Is she…?

“Are you crying?” he asks softly, leaning towards her.

He thought she might hide her reaction, but she raises her head and sniffs as tears pour down her cheeks. She’s so naked with emotion that Peter shudders.

“Maybe,” she says, making them both laugh, hers a bubbling noise from the wetness in her throat. “But ignore this. I said I wouldn’t spoil the ending for you.”

“Obviously, nothing dramatic happens,” Peter sarcastically infers. “You cry all the time. I have zero reason to think it has anything to do with Me Before You.”

Smiling, she finally wipes the last of her tears away with the sleeve of her cardigan.

“I still have a little bit left to read.”

“Borrow it,” he says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I can listen to the audiobook for a while, or you can just keep it overnight and we’ll hang out tomorrow and I’ll get it back from you. Unless you think you’d need longer.”

MJ rolls her eyes at him.

“Please. I eat Jojo Moyeses for breakfast. I’ll probably finish it during the break in my next class.”

“So, you wouldn’t even need it overnight then,” he says, trying to be sly. She lets out a laugh.

“You want to read it so badly, don’t you?”

“Maybe I just don’t like lending out my books.”

“Liar. I bet you’re going to read the rest all in one sitting.” MJ smirks and stands the book on the table like both she and it are taunting him. “Don’t you need to prioritize your other courses, Peter? What about Biology?”

“Offer revoked,” he tells her, making to take the book back. She doesn’t let him, holding it up and away from him.

“Are you going to spend all night reading for pleasure instead of doing your science homework? Shame on you, Peter. What about your future?”

He stands too quickly in his attempt to grab the book, startling MJ, who rocks back in her chair a little too far. But it can’t tip faster than his reflexes can react; Peter instinctively grabs her around the waist and pulls her against him as the chair topples and the paperback hits the ground with a soft thump. They haven’t been this close since they hugged after his midterm results. He opens and closes his mouth without saying anything, fingers shifting against MJ’s back as she gets her balance. Seems to take her longer than it should, but he won’t let go before she’s ready. Which’ll be any second now, he’s sure. She’s flushed, eyes roaming his face. Probably about to tell him she can stand all on her fucking own.

Any second now.

NG, Celeste ― Everything I Never Told You

It’s the second week in December and their final tutoring session of the semester. Exams start tomorrow, though the one for English 1034 isn’t until the 21st. Peter should be psyched―after this exam, he’s halfway done the course―and yet his shoulders carry some heaviness into the library, along with big, wet snowflakes. He perks up at the sight of MJ, then grows subdued just as fast. They’ve become the kind of friends who meet during the week, always at school, usually with at least the pretense of studying. She’s never been to the apartment he shares with three roommates; he has no idea where she lives. Their most secure connection is a list of 26 books and after today’s session, 14 of those will already be behind them. Theoretically, they’re committed to spending another semester together (unless the world ends via hostile alien takeover, or Mr. Stark fires MJ again and she agrees to it for some reason). What happens after that?

Peter doesn’t like the way winter break looks like a preview for the end of the school year in April. He’s sure that’ll come up quick after the new year because second semester always feels shorter than first. Will they be close enough by then to make plans for hanging out over the summer? He knows MJ’s from here, but not if she’ll be around. And what about next year? He won’t be studying English. Are they gonna see each other on campus or both be too busy with their final year of undergrad―keeping up grades and searching for their first job opportunities right out of college? And then? Will one or both of them move away for work or grad school, or just to find a cheaper place to live while they’re starting out? Seriously, they could be faint memories to each other in under five years.

He's weighed down with all of this as he flops into his seat at their table.

“Do you think you’re ready?” MJ asks just before she glances up.

“What?” Peter replies, devastated.

“For your exam.” She meets his eye and her expression collapses inward a little as she assesses his mood. “What’s wrong?”

He looks at her face. It’s easy to admit to himself that her eyes are more trusting than they used to be when they stared back into his, and he has to allow that she’s more trusting too. Same with him. They’ve smoothed each other out, rounded off each other’s bluntest angles. Peter has no desire for them to ever have another shouting match like they did during the early weeks of this arrangement. In fact, his ideal dynamic for them would be the complete opposite.

“I guess I’m… worried.”

“We should get together next week.”

“That would be great,” he tells her with eager relief.

Wow, what would they do? Grab lunch? Dinner? Hot chocolates and ice skating at Rockefeller Center? A movie at his place? All of his roommates have early or no exams (lucky bastards) and plans to head home for the holidays right after, leaving him alone in the apartment.

“This is a late exam,” MJ says, doublechecking the date in her planner, which includes all of his deadlines (in red ink) alongside hers (in blue), “but the library’s open practically every day but Christmas.”

Oh. She means get together here. Of course. He didn’t really make it clear that the exam isn’t what he’s worried about, or at least it’s not the main thing.

“Well,” Peter says, “consistency.”

“What’s up with you?” she asks, narrowing her eyes are him, apparently not satisfied since he does still sound kinda bereft.

Retrieving his novel and his laptop, he says, “Nothing,” and thinks, I was just wishing we were more than friends.

OZEKI, Ruth ― A Tale for the Time Being

They hang out once before his exam, when MJ helps Peter with prep, and once after, when he’s getting a jump on his reading for semester two. The second time, totally by accident, she meets May.

MJ’s at his apartment for the first time and the two out of three of his roommates who’ve already returned are being loud enough that Peter can’t forget their existence the way he wants to (just for right now) and ignore everything in the world that isn’t his tutor/friend/person he’s been pining for every spare second since they’ve been apart. Two weeks is too long. They’re finally taking an honest crack at the novel he’s been assigned for next week, the first week back at school, when there’s a knock at the door, followed by cheerful hollering from his roommates. Peter knows who it is even before he rises and sheepishly lets his aunt hand him everything he forgot at home when he packed; his roommates love May.

Though he told MJ she didn’t have to get up, she’s suddenly next to him at the door―he’s startled to feel her briefly lean against him―then being pulled into a hug by his aunt. When she leaves for a minute to go to the washroom, May drags Peter away from his roommates.

“Who was that?” she wonders, face lighting up with curiosity and premature excitement.

He feels himself turn red and itches at his cheek like he can scratch the flush out.

“Just a friend.”

His aunt raises her eyebrows doubtfully.

PALAHNIUK, Chuck ― Choke

After spending last Thursday giving A Tale for the Time Being the attention they should’ve the week before, they’re back on schedule with a new book. Sort of back on schedule. They start off discussing the novel, but when Peter runs one of his prof’s assertions about it past Google, he finds out Choke has a movie version. He and MJ glance at each other. Yeah, why not? It’s only their second week back on campus and they don’t have their full studying stamina back yet. They trek down to the film library in the basement to see if they have a copy.

Soon, they’re wearing bulky borrowed headphones, hunkered down at the corner computer in the viewing lab that’s kept in the dark, watching a film about a sex addict. They’re awkward at first, or maybe it’s just Peter, but eventually he relaxes, folding his arms over his chest and leaning back in his chair. MJ shifts around next to him. She kicks her shoes off and brings her feet up off the floor. They’re tightly side by side to watch the same computer screen, so when she crosses her legs, her knee lands on his thigh. Peter stares at it for a minute in the screen’s glow, missing the movie. He lays his palm on top of the rough, cool denim, and MJ turns her head to see what’s up. Immediately, he moves to withdraw his hand from her knee, but she pats the back of it, giving him permission.

Heart thumping, Peter eases the headphones off one ear. The room’s completely quiet, apart from the way MJ exhales heavily through her nose as she settles into position for the rest of the film. He swallows. He should tell her, right now.

“Hey, MJ…” he starts.

But she doesn’t look, doesn’t turn. Can’t hear anything outside those fucking headphones. Weirdly, she does glance at him a few minutes later, unprompted. She reaches out and pauses the movie. He lifts his headphones off when she does, eyes drawn to how they mess up her hair.

“Did you say something?” MJ asks.

Now, now, now, Peter tells himself.

“Uh, no.” He gives her a tight smile and unpauses Choke.

QUICK, Matthew ― The Good Luck of Right Now

“You have other friends, right?” Peter wonders aloud as MJ reads over the short responses he’s composed for an online participation thing that his prof made worth a truly stupid 4% of his grade.

“A couple.”

She says it straight, unembarrassed. He understands her well enough to know she has no interest in tricking people into believing she’s more social or at all inclined towards networking. Those people, whoever they are, were lucky to have her let them in. Abruptly, Peter realizes he’s probably being counted among them. He grins to himself.

“Plus, like, class friends.”

“Sure,” he agrees.

He does the same thing―always attempts to figure out who seems nice so he can try to be paired with them for group projects or have someone to sit with if they have another class together in the future.

“Any other kind of friends?” Peter asks tentatively. MJ quits reading his laptop screen and side-eyes him. “Like a… like maybe a boyfriend?”

It’s probably a no. It has to be a no. Even with the length of time it took for them to talk about their personal lives, she would’ve mentioned a boyfriend by now. Wouldn’t she?

“I… a boyfriend? No, I… Why would I have…? Do you?”

Well, this is a surprise. He expected her to either answer straightforwardly or question if he ever listens to what she says. But she’s oddly flustered and inarticulate. And blushing, Peter notices, though she won’t let him hold her gaze.

“No,” he says, settling for the single syllable that’ll do the job.

MJ sort of nods, then directs his attention to the screen.

“Just a question, but has anyone ever taught you how to use basic punctuation? Jesus, Parker.”

As much as that comment’s much more in character, every one of his senses screams, ‘MISDIRECTION!’

ROWELL, Rainbow ― Fangirl

“Say nothing,” MJ instructs when they run into each other in front of the library, coming from opposite directions.

About what? Peter wants to ask, but he doesn’t say even that much because the look on her face is intense and because the wind is icy, slicing their faces with snow that’s more like sharp daggers. He bounds up the stairs next to her and straight inside when she jerks the door open with her mittened hand. All the way upstairs and to their table, he keeps wary eyes on her. He only looks away for a minute to set his backpack down and shrug out of his outer layers; the library’s kept almost stiflingly warm and dry. They pile their wet outerwear on one of the extra chairs, then MJ glares at him before he can sit. He stares back, baffled.

“Nothing,” she reminds him, and unzips her hoodie.

Does he look silly with the way his jaw drops? He can’t even care. She’s wearing a Spider-Man t-shirt.

“I―”

“No words. No sounds of any kind.”

So Peter grins in silence and retrieves the usual studying accessories from his backpack. Eventually, MJ groans out her admission.

“I forgot to do laundry.”

He continues to say nothing about the shirt, even when he is permitted to speak so they can discuss his reading. What he wants to say isn’t something she’d like―that he’s deduced from the laundry comment that this is an old shirt, not a recent buy. Meaning she’s had it since who knows how long before she ever met him. Meaning she’s a fan.

SENNA, Danzy ― New People

“How are you liking the course?” MJ asks him out of the blue. She’s tracing the curving shapes and purple letters on the cover of this week’s book with her fingertip.

Peter laughs.

“My prof’s never even asked us that.”

“That’s because profs don’t want honest answers. Only in essays, and even then, you have to pad them with all the shit the prof said in class in order to stroke their ego into giving you a good mark.”

“Cynical.”

She smiles dryly.

“Thank you. But really, how are you finding it?” She looks nervous about how he might answer.

“A lot of work,” he says honestly, “but it also feels like less work than my other courses.”

“Because it’s a fluff discipline compared to Biology?”

“Stop it, no, because you’re helping me. It feels like something I’m doing for fun.”

“Who are you?” MJ shakes her head, wearing a smug smile. “If the you from September could see you now. Oh, actually, that reminds me. Put your number in.”

She hands him the new phone she mentioned she’d be getting last weekend.

“What did you have me saved as in your old one?” he asks, adding his number to a new contact page. MJ takes the phone back before he can input his name.

“Oh, you don’t want to know.” He’s fairly certain she’s joking.

“Did it contain the word ‘dickhead’?”

She shrugs and slouches in her chair, phone held low and close. She finishes entering his information out of his line of sight.

“You’ll never know.”

Maybe not, Peter thinks, when MJ gets up a while later to refill her water bottle, but he can at least check what she has him under now. She left her phone out on the table, screen up, so he texts her an innocuous ‘testing, testing’ and watches for the new message to pop up.

Evidently, he’s in her phone as his normal name. His name, plus a heart. His real one’s suddenly beating very fast.

THIEN, Madeleine ― Do Not Say We Have Nothing

It’s almost Valentine’s Day and their college’s week-long study week, two compelling reasons for Peter to tell Michelle Jones―tutor, friend, precariously deepening crush―how he feels about her.

Before their tutoring session, he psyches himself up in the bathroom mirror, until other people walk in and he has to pretend to be coughing. He doesn’t really feel ready and their time together ends up being sort of a flurry anyway because part of the library’s being painted and there are fewer tables. With a ton of people on the cusp of more exams and big assignments due before the break, it takes Peter and MJ a while to find a table. Even after that, the paint smell gradually fills the air, forcing them to stop early.

God, and he didn’t say anything!

“We should meet up later,” he asserts firmly, at the same moment MJ says, “Try again tonight?”

“Yeah,” they say together.

Peter grins and she smiles back before quickly ducking her head. He bites his lip, restraining himself from catching her chin with his fingers and tilting it up.

“Ok then,” he says. “Ok. The library’ll probably still stink, so… my apartment?”

“Or my place,” MJ offers, slightly wide-eyed.

“Oh, yeah. That would be, that’d be good.”

“You can walk back with me, if you don’t mind waiting for my class.”

He doesn’t, and they do that, and as MJ’s unlocking the door to her apartment, he finds out two things: that she has a roommate and that her roommate’s staying the night at her boyfriend’s. Whatever, that doesn’t mean it’s going to be romantic or anything. They’re discussing art and politics during China’s calamitous Cultural Revolution. There’s no way MJ would even be thinking about… but then she leads him to the couch instead of the kitchen table. And she sits down next to him, letting their thighs touch. And his breathing just isn’t steady for the hangout that goes two hours before they even think to check the time. So many times, he has the feeling they’re one brush of their legs, one bump of their shoulders, one tuck of her hair with his fingers away from something more, but every chance seems to come and go while the tension stays.

Eventually, Peter gathers his stuff and lingers with her in the open doorway of her apartment. She’s leaning into the frame, smiling at him as he says a bunch of nothing, just to make the night last longer. He takes a breath. Ok, he’s gonna do it. He’ll tell her.

The next second, MJ’s pressing her mouth to his. Then, while he’s still dazed from the kiss, she pushes him out the door and says, “Um, see you after study week, Peter.”

URQUHART, Jane ― The Night Stages

What’s this mean? Peter wants to ask her, right after the kiss and for the whole study break. Except he’s in the city, doing Spidey-patrol and finishing the nearly-500 pages of Do Not Say We Have Nothing, and she’s in New Orleans, building affordable housing with a charity. When he texts her because he can’t resist asking how she is and what she’s working on that day, she always gets back to him, but there’s nothing flirtatious in her words, nothing to assure him she shares his preoccupation over the kiss. So startling, so make-the-hair-stand-up-on-the-back-of-his-neck. And it was supposed to make everything clear, when one of them made a move (in his head over the weeks before it happened, it was him), not confuse the hell out of him.

It's awkward when they meet on campus on Monday. Neither of them goes in for a hug and they carry on a stilted conversation about how each of their breaks went, Peter twisting his fingers around in his sleeves. At least they didn’t postpone this until Thursday. He senses that they’re both thankful for the length of this week’s novel and how many times it guarantees they’ll meet (their productivity per session definitely took a nosedive when they became friends). He assumes the relief comes from wanting to push past this awkward stage by getting used to each other again. Then, when they meet in the library the next day, MJ picks a different table. Actually, a completely different floor. It’s basically dead, no other students or staff in sight, and, with his face flushed with desire and anticipation, she braces a hand on his thigh, leans in, and kisses him for the second time.

On Wednesday, it’s the same spot (but later because Peter has an evening lab) and he initiates, hand on the back of her neck as they kiss slow and deep, never even unpacking their bags.

Thursday, they meet at their old table, like normal, and do some actual work. But that night, he walks MJ home and tries to give her a goodbye kiss that turns into them making out with her pressed up against the closed door of her apartment.

They agree, on Friday morning, that Peter really needs to devote some concentration to this novel, so they study at his place that evening. Because all of his roommates are home, they’re camped out in his room, on his bed, but with his door wide open. The most they attempt is holding hands, anxiously separating when one of his buddies pokes a head in to ask if Peter’s seen his phone charger.

By Saturday, at her apartment, they abandon pretenses, though they haven’t exactly said in words what it is they’re doing without those pretenses. Are they friends who kiss? Are they dating? Is MJ his girlfriend? None of that is as pressing as pulling her onto his lap and kissing her until they’re tired and she checks her phone to see that it’s almost two in the morning. Reluctantly, MJ climbs off his lap and Peter watches her disappear into her bedroom. He strips off his jeans and falls asleep on her couch wrapped in a blanket and his school hoodie.

The next morning, they look over his notes because he’s here and they might as well. Their socked feet overlap beneath her kitchen table. She refills his glass of orange juice before he notices it’s almost empty.

VÁSQUEZ, Juan Gabriel ― The Sound of Things Falling

He’s in love with her. It’s the beginning of March, the air has quit biting, MJ’s blushing when he uses his high school Spanish to correctly pronounce the characters’ names, and he’s in love with her.

WALKER, Karen Thompson ― The Dreamers

Peter falls asleep at her place again. This time, MJ’s tucked into him when he wakes up. Gradually, he drags up a fuzzy memory of her padding into the living room during the night, putting him on alert until she nudged him over to make room on the couch. Her roommate’s home. They don’t care, don’t flinch apart when she walks into the room. He hangs around most of Saturday, only leaving because he really needs to do some work on his other courses. MJ kisses him when he goes, gently stroking his earlobe with her thumb.

X ― N/A

“No X?” she checks. “Are you sure?”

“It’s on the syllabus,” Peter points out, pulling MJ’s feet across his thighs as he eats an apple. They found an alternate study spot that allows food.

“Yeah, I know, I have the copy from the beginning of the year, but I figured your prof would update it to add something.”

“I think he told us one time that he was going to,” he says, trying to remember exactly. “Now, he says he was always planning on leaving this week free for us to ask questions in class before the exam.”

“But there are still two full weeks of classes before exams,” MJ says skeptically. “If this break was intentional, he’d do it the last week of classes instead.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I know there are two weeks left, but I don’t know what else to say. No X.”

“Semi-related,” she prefaces, giving him a serious look that makes Peter pay attention, “is it ok with you if I consider you my boyfriend?”

He laughs until he realizes she looks genuinely unsure of what his answer will be.

“Please.”

Peter holds his apple out of the way when MJ wiggles forward to hug him.

YAZDANIAN, Showey ― Loopholes

“You wanna go somewhere with me?” MJ asks.

Peter knows she’s been watching him rearrange the digital copy of his notes―simplifying and streamlining so they’ll be easy to study from between now and the date of his final exam. It’s very comforting, her undemanding gaze, and he feels himself emotionally stretching into it, like a cat. He loves to be near her. His girlfriend.

“Yes,” he says. “I mean, where?”

She laughs gently at him and props her elbow on the table, right next to his.

“The English Department scheduled a year-end trip to see a play.”

“That sounds very… high schoolish,” he decides, grinning.

“Hey, some of us aren’t too up our own asses to understand the thrill of a field trip. Maybe in Biology―”

“Ugh,” Peter groans jokingly at her relentless, unserious digs at his chosen discipline.

“―you’ve lost your sense of childlike wonder.”

“But I might be able to get it back if I go to this play? What’s the play?”

“Romeo and Juliet,” she mumbles.

“You want to see that? It’s depressing and, and overdramatic,” he states, though he’s never seen it performed, and definitely never read the play.

“I don’t really care about seeing the play,” MJ says as she gives him a meaningful look.

“Oh. Aw.” He smiles at the thought that she just wants to spend time with him. “Do I have to sign up or something?”

“I… might have already signed you up.” Peter raises his eyebrows at her and it’s enough to push her to continue. “It’s supposed to be an internal thing, just English majors, but the turnout for anything with any significant cultural value’s always really low―” MJ rolls her eyes. “―especially right at the end of the year, when people are starting to focus on exams, even though it’s a great opportunity to see a high-quality production with cheap student-group-discount tickets. Anyway, I talked to the prof because he knows me from teaching me last year and asked if you could come because you are taking an English class even if you’re not majoring.”

“He agreed?”

She nods.

“As I suspected, there were a bunch of tickets left over because they always reserve too many. They’re great seats.”

“Why are you trying to convince me to come?” Peter teases. “Apparently, I already signed up.”

Despite the dozens of times they’ve met this year, comprising probably a hundred hours, and the affectionate admissions, and the kissing that’s been driving him insane for more, this is their first date date. He’s excited to be at the theatre because he’s never gone before, and he purposely didn’t tell Mr. Stark about this so he wouldn’t try to pay for it; Peter bought his own ticket. They’re deep into the second part of the play, intermission behind them, and before things can get gruesome on stage with the stars meeting their violent ends, he leans in so close to MJ that his nose brushes her ear.

“You’re my best friend,” he whispers.

She turns her head, smile clamped together by the way she’s biting her bottom lip. There’s joy in her eyes that makes his heart drop and flip and soar back up, too high, into his throat. He’s still looking at her when she turns her face back to the performance.

“Also, I love you,” Peter says, almost choking on his heart.

Swiftly, he kisses her cheek and settles back into his seat, but MJ tugs the hand that’s been entwined with hers since they sat down. She leans across the armrest between their seats and he’s happy to move the rest of the way. Something hot courses through him when she not only kisses him more roughly than he anticipated but grabs the tie he wore with his button-up, blazer, and good jeans. When she releases him with a smirk and a pat on his chest, Peter practically collapses back into place, stunned.

“Oh,” MJ adds, glancing at him again in a quick flick, “I love you too.”

ZOBOI, Ibi ― Pride

There are three stacks of books on the surprisingly nice hardwood floor of MJ’s bedroom. It’s small compared to the size of his sense of accomplishment for seeing this demanding course through to the end. Although this is the first time Peter’s assembled all 25 books at once, they aren’t organized alphabetically; there’s a pile each for books he remembers well, those he wants to reread sections of, and ones where, logically, he knows he read them, and yet he can barely recall the plot. He feels pretty goddamn good about the fact that, out of 25, only 2 made the third pile. Actually, one’s unaccounted for, because it’s the last book on his syllabus and it’s currently dangling from his hand while he takes a break from reading it.

“Hey,” he hisses at MJ.

Lying on her back on her soft, thick rug while she studies for one of her exams, his girlfriend angles her head to look at Peter, hanging over the side of her bed.

“What?”

He grins.

“Nothing. Just wanted to say, ‘hey.’” He’s so used to her rolling her eyes. “How’s the floor?”

“Not bad.”

“You wanna come up here?”

MJ eyes him suspiciously.

“I need to study,” she reminds him. “Everything I know about your books got mixed up with everything I’m supposed to know about my books and I’m still mentally untangling.”

Peter keeps staring down at her, trying to make his eyes wide and pleading. It takes her seconds to give in. She groans as she starts to sit up, appearing to lead with her knees and elbows as she rearranges her limbs, collapsing and unfolding like a portable lawn chair. MJ steps gingerly over his book stacks, then he’s grabbing her waist and pulling her to the bed, where she flops down beside him. Her head’s facing the wrong way though, so Peter shuffles around, getting her socks out of his face. They take turns sighing tiredly―the extreme burdens of another year of lectures over and another round of exams about to begin―then Peter tilts his forehead to touch hers.

“Happy you’re almost at the end?” MJ asks softly.

“Yeah, but I also kinda wish I could take another English class next year. I think I actually did better in Bio this year because I got to take a break from it with something that was totally different. Does that sound possible?”

“Mhmm.”

She lets her eyes close―probably resting them after concentrating for so long.

“I’ll miss reading this much.”

“And?”

With her eyes shut, only her eyebrows prompt him to go on.

“And I’ll miss talking about what I read with you,” he says.

“Maybe you don’t need to worry about that,” she suggests.

“Why not?”

MJ smiles.

“Because I’ve been working on a new list of books I think you’ll like since October. We can meet in the library and talk about them.”

“Every week?” Peter checks. “What about Biology?”

“If you have time,” she clarifies.

“No, I mean I’ve spent a year studying English lit, learning about your discipline.” With a grin, he trails his fingers down MJ’s throat, stopping at the neck of her long-sleeved shirt. “So, I was just wondering, if you’d be interested in studying Biology.”

He kisses her neck where he stroked, then up beneath her jaw, making MJ laugh until she gasps instead, gripping his hair.

“I don’t think we should wait for September.”

“Well, you’re still the tutor for another week,” Peter reminds her. “I’ll follow your lead.”

#my writing #spideychelleweek2k20 #spideychelle #spideychelle fic #spideychelle fanfiction #peter parker #peter x mj #peter x michelle #peter parker x michelle jones #michelle jones

[thisstableground]

Headcanons for kidsnavi and young nina? I've been reading lots of your fics and love their brother/sister dynamic!! (sorry if this has already been done before oops)

usnavi is probably around 16-17 months older than baby nina, and since his mother is best friends with camila and his father with kevin, it’s inevitable that she’s a big part of his life. 

 nina comes home from the hospital a fairly short time after her birth with her exhausted but delighted parents, healthy and quiet. usnavi, recently learned to run at high speeds before he’s even bothered attempting to walk, is hurtling happily around the rosarios’ living room while the adults talk about the new arrival, and is veering dangerously close with his drunken baby-running to tripping right into the carseat where nina is placidly observing the brand new world around her.  his mom says, “mind the baby, usnavi.”

“mind a bebé,” he says, and then noticing nina for the first time is so surprised he falls right off his feet, and scoots on his butt closer to the carseat to peek in cautiously. “oh! bebebé!” 

 he waves at her and says, “hi! hi!” she doesn’t wave back. she is, after all, less than a week old and so not particularly sociable yet, but she watches him with solemn fascination and if there’s one thing usnavi at this age loves, it’s having someone’s full and undivided attention on him. 

 he adores her immediately. he stops greeting camila and kevin at all, when they go round to visit, instead immediately demanding “my baby!” and trying to fling himself out of his mother’s arms to go hunting for nina if she isn’t in his line of sight. he does silly stompy dances in front of her to entertain her and when she is old enough to laugh usnavi is the first one to ever make her giggle. he chatters away to her in alternating spanish, english and baby-babble, but he’ll also sit as quietly and patiently as anyone has ever seen him when he’s holding her, his clumsy toddler hands careful when he’s feeding her her bottle, aggressively shushing anyone who talks when she’s asleep. 

 and nina, as a toddler when she develops awareness of these things, adores usnavi too. there is a period of a few years where she listens to absolutely everything he says and follows him everywhere she can, which is a source of terrible stress for everyone because usnavi is a sweet child but gets into a lot of mischief entirely by accident. but usnavi is basically her big brother, and so tiny nina wants to be just like him, and to learn everything from him.

 he teaches her the alphabet song and clapping games and all his favourite animal noises. when she gets shy in front of other people, it’s usnavi who she stands behind and hides her face in his shirt. its usnavi who she whispers to about all her deep and important four year old secrets. on her first day of kindergarten, they both walk to school together with their moms, and usnavi holds her hand and says, “its okay, don’t be scared.”

 nina learned to read at age three, long before she even started school. usnavi struggles far behind his grade on reading and writing, the gap only growing as he gets older, nina only overtaking further. at some point, it goes from her wanting to learn everything from him to him coming to her for academic advice, especially after he has a bad time in special education which makes him much less inclined to talk to adults about that kind of thing. sometimes he feels stupid next to her, but nina herself never treats him like he’s stupid and gets very heated when he implies that he is. 

 nina is a quiet, nervous, overly-mature for her age child, usnavi is loud and hyperactive and seems much younger than he is. when they get a little older, they start joking that even though she’s younger, usnavi is nina’s little brother. he makes her laugh and looks out for her and draws her out of being too self-serious so that she remembers to have fun. she gives him advice and listens to him patiently and encourages him to think a little more about things. 

 the one “fight” that nina ever gets into in elementary school is when someone trips usnavi on purpose in front of her at recess. she yells at the kid and pushes him over, which is so wildly uncharacteristic of her but she does it without even thinking about it then immediately has an entire panic attack because she’s going to be in So Much Trouble, but she also refuses to say sorry. of the several fights that usnavi gets into when he goes through a bit of a scrappy phase between age 6-8, three of them are in defense of nina. 

 usnavi, even when they’re into their teens, is the only boy that kevin allows to have sleepovers with nina. they’re just so clearly siblings that there’s never been any worry of anything untoward happening. there are many weekends that both of them stay at abuela’s and curl up in her bed with her, and spend all of saturday morning in their pajamas together, and go for walks holding one of abuela’s hands each. they make her shared hand-drawn birthday cards signed by both of them. 

 usnavi’s best friend is benny, of course. but in high school it’s nina that he goes to when he needs someone who will sit and listen quietly when he talks about how sometimes he feels like his head is just ready to explode with how much overthinking he’s doing and how he sometimes feels like his heart is trying to claw out of his chest with stress over the smallest things, and she nods and says “i understand” and he knows she does. 

 nina’s best friend is vanessa, of course. but out of her friends it’s usnavi who she first tells that she’s pansexual, and he nods and says “oh, that’s cool” and then hugs her when she bursts into relieved tears, and promises not to tell her parents or anyone else, not even benny, and even though he’s a blabbermouth about most things she knows he never, ever will, and when it’s just the two of them she talks to him about girls she likes and he never treats it like anything other than totally normal. ( he later turns out to be bi, which might explain it, but at the time they don’t know that, and either way it helps her immensely to know she’s still accepted)

neither of them, at any point in their relationships with each other’s respective best friends, feels the need to do an “if you hurt them” conversation. who would they trust more than each other?

 nina, even though her parents told her that she should go home and rest and they’d stay with usnavi, sits in the waiting room of the hospital for a full day until, several hours after his wife is already gone, mateo de la vega flatlines too, and she watches her dad catch usnavi when he collapses. she holds usnavi’s hand silently in the car the whole way home. 

 usnavi, the day before nina goes back to stanford to retake her failed first year, stands with her on her fire escape and says, “nina, you could come back next week and say you changed your mind again, or they kicked you out, or you forgot how to read, and i still ain’t ever gonna be disappointed in you.” she doesn’t need to ask how he knew exactly what she was thinking without her saying a word. 

 in short: they are Siblings who Love and Support Each Other unconditionally.

#in the heights #usnavi de la vega #nina rosario #fandom: in the heights #character: usnavi #character: nina

[wanna-be-glottal-poly]

A Stats Oriented Introduction

So I guess for an introduction of sorts I should say that I’m currently primarily using Duolingo for language learning as it is the most accessible for me (aka it’s free and you can do pretty much everything on the app that you can do on desktop).

And now you’re going to get my stats on Duolingo bc that’s all I can think of, and I am not at the point where i can have an original thought in any language other than English (and that’s only bc it’s my first language lol my brain doesn’t work well) without giving myself a major headache.

To be clear: I’m not going to be focusing on all of these languages. My main ones are Spanish, Hebrew, French, German, and Greek (in that order lol). The other’s might show up but they’re not the main ones I’m trying to learn.

so

Languages I am currently working on:

Spanish- started learning this on Duolingo my junior or senior year of high school and it’s the only language I’ve started and not stopped (tho sometimes I’ll go several months without doing anything)

Total XP: 7469 XP

# of Crowns: 73

Approx. amount of time I’ve been working on it: 6 years

Hebrew- started learning this bc I’m in the process of converting to Judaism and I want to know Hebrew; I’m also about to start a Religious Studies MA program and I imagine knowing Hebrew will be useful when I eventually go for my PhD

Total XP: 1704 XP

# of Crowns: 18

Approx. amount of time I’ve been working on it: ~2 or 3 months

Russian- I wanted to be able to tell what’s up with the Cyrillic alphabet tbh; I don’t practice this one much and it’s not one of my main focuses right now

Total XP: 895 XP

# of Crowns: 10

Approx. amount of time I’ve been working on it: 9 months (this is the second time I’ve started it tho)

Dutch- idk I just wanted to and then I got into it and was thrown for a loop because a lot of the early sentences it gave I was like ‘wait i understand what this is saying’ which was cool

Total XP: 751 XP

# of Crowns: 10

Approx. amount of time I’ve been working on it: ~10 months (i didn’t do anything with it for like six months tho)

German- I’m learning this solely bc my MA Handbook says that most PhD programs for religious studies require German & French

Total XP: 721 XP

# of Crowns: 18

Approx. amount of time I’ve been working on it: 1 month

French- I’m learning this solely bc my MA Handbook says that most PhD programs for religious studies require German & French; also i just want to try to understand what’s up with French

Total XP: 510 XP

# of Crowns: 9

Approx. amount of time I’ve been working on it: 1 month (this is the second time I’ve started it)

Latin- i had a 9 weeks long class in 7th grade where we did Latin on Rosetta Stone and I was the only one who did fairly decently in it so i figured why not (and it’ll probably help with Religious Studies at some point)

Total XP: 500 XP

# of Crowns: 8

Approx. amount of time I’ve been working on it: 5 months

Greek- solely for religious studies reasons (yes i know it’s not Biblical Greek but it’s a jumping off point and I’m sure there’s some similarities and if I know modern Greek it might be easier to figure out ancient Greek)

Total XP: 479 XP

# of Crowns: 4

Approx. amount of time I’ve been working on it: 1 month

Total All Time XP: 13,044 XP

Languages I’ve started and then quit:

Japanese

Korean

Arabic

Turkish

Irish

Hawaiian

Romanian

Welsh

Scottish Gaelic

Klingon (hi, big Star Trek nerd here)

Esperanto

Topics I have Crowns in:

Spanish: (some of these exist bc I’ve been doing Spanish since before they restructured into Crowns)

Intro: 5

Phrases: 5

Restaurant: 5

Travel: 5

Family: 5

Shopping: 5

School: 5

People: 5

Greetings: 4

People 2: 1

Family 2: 1/2 of 1

People 4: 1

Vocab 1: 1

Home 2: 1

Times: 1

Adj. 1: 2

Present 1: 2

Grammar: 2

Adverbs: 2

Objects: 1

Places: 1

People 5: 1/5 of 1

Hebrew:

Letters 1: 5

Letters 2: 5

Letters 3: 5

Phrases: 2 1/2

Basics: 1

Greek:

ABC: 4

French:

Basics 1: 5

Greetings: 2

Basics 2: 2

Dutch:

Basics 1: 5

Basics 2: 5

Phrases 1: 1/3 of 1

German:

Basics 1: 5

The: 5

Basics 2: 5

Phrases: 3

Latin:

Intro: 5

Greetings: 3

Russian:

Alphabet: 5

Basics 1: 4 1/2

Phrases: 1 1/4

#introduction #langblr #duolingo stats #Spanish langblr #Hebrew langblr #Greek langblr #French langblr #German langblr #the rest I'm not focusing on just wanted to share

[sincerelyreidburke]

What about nando learning asl for Quinn? How would Quinn take it? Maybe nando just learns cute phrases, how to say beautiful, bravo and are you okay? Like basics that he needs to communicate if case Quinn turns his hearing aids off? ALSO on another note, the hockey team is aaalllllll about ‘got you back’ Quinn is a small skinny freshman, what if someone is mean to him and nando isn’t there. Quinn could def hold his own and say something but it might be more intimidatin if two Dmen are back up

Anon, this is so soft. Here’s part 1 of the Nando and ASL saga, because you’re one of two people to ask me about it— now let’s do part 2! And I’ll also address your other question, which is equally wholesome and lovely.

(Ask me anything about the crickets!)

So the thing is: Nando really wants to learn. And I love your idea about him starting with small phrases. (The fact that you included ‘bravo’ in there makes me mad emotional.) With the help of the Internet and a book he got from the library, he learns one thing at a time, starting probably with the alphabet and basic greetings. He maybe downloads an app on his phone for it?

Rhodey notices. Nando does it in their room when they have idle time, and he’s also watching a lot of videos on buses to and from roadie games. I don’t think Rhodey knows right away that Quinn is HOH, so at first he’s kind of confused, like, bro, are you learning sign language? Is that for one of your soc classes?

And Nando is like, 🥰🥰 no, I just feel like learning it.🥰

Rhodey: 🤔🤔🤔🤔

But since their relationship is relatively new, and you have to be actually looking closely at Quinn to realize he’s wearing hearing aids, it still takes Rhodey a bit to realize. When, one day right before Christmas break, Nando invites Quinn to join him and Rhodey and Touille for some random lunch, and Rhodey spots his hearing aids and finally puts the puzzle together, he’s like YOOOOOOOOOOOOO I CAN CHIRP HIM SO HARD FOR THIS LATER!!!!!!

And he does. But even though I love Benjamin Shaley, this post isn’t about how much he loves to chirp his lovestruck best friend.

Nando is slightly embarrassed to share with Quinn what he’s been learning, mostly because he’s worried about not doing it right or messing up a sign or Quinn thinking it’s overkill. (We’ll discuss this in a post soon, but Nando has some leftover insecurities from his pretty shitty relationship with N*te, which was the only relationship he’s ever known before Quinn.) The point is: he’s nervous. But he’s also really hopeful that eventually he’ll feel confident enough in his small learnings that he’ll be able to share them with him.

It doesn’t come out until maybe, like, around spring musical season. After one of the DEH performances— not opening night, but another one— Quinn comes out to meet him in the lobby, as has become something of a post-show routine, and Nando waves to him and then signs, Hi! Bravo! You did a great job.

Quinn stares at him for a second because he’s processing, and then he breaks out in this huge smile and goes, Sebastián, did you just sign at me?

Commence the moment in the rom-com where Nando gets kind of flustered but thoroughly adorable and is like, well, yeah, I tried to learn a little; I know it might not be completely accurate, but I wanted to tell you the show was great and I figure since we’ve been dating for awhile I’d like to start to know a couple phrases—

And Quinn cuts him off and gives him the biggest kiss and it’s soft as fuck and from that point forward Nando makes it his mission to learn as many small phrases as possible.

You did not hear this from me, but Nando signs his wedding vows.

And re: your second point!!!!! Because I haven’t forgotten even though I’ve now turned this ASL thing into a rambling session!!!! That is so wholesome, and I support fully the idea of the hockey guys being backup for Quinn because he’s tiny. He may be sassy, and honestly has the full ability to be a huge bitch if he’s pissed enough, but you’re absolutely right that the added factor of two D-men as backups would be hilarious and also really wholesome. I’m laughing so hard imagining Quinn taking Nursey and Dex as his bodyguards to go bitch out the theatre kids who hid his hearing aids in the dressing room.

That’s another story. But yes, got your back. And because SMH supports Nando, they support his boyfriend by extension. Even though they’re all just slightly terrified of Quinn.

Thank you for the ask!!!!!🤍🤍🤍🤍

#oc taddies #crickets #mini quinny #nandoooooooo #quindo