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cookopera81 · 2 years

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The Method To Do Financial Institution Reconciliations

The instance detailed above makes financial institution reconciliation seem easy, however it can get extra difficult when you’re cross-referencing hundreds or hundreds of transactions. ScaleFactor may help you automate these tiresome and tedious tasks using our powerful accounting software program so you'll have the ability to everything else in your plate. Smaller companies could not have the time or resources to carry out daily reconciliations, however they can still regulate when they go through the method to cater to their needs. Many small businesses which might be seasonal or heavily busy during one a part of the month shift their reconciliation process to a much less busy time to have the ability to concentrate on serving customers. Contact your bank to make clear their fee construction and interest rates so you probably can more accurately predict this number earlier than receiving the statement. Though bank reconciliation is an undoubtedly important course of, it can also be time-consuming. Or you could have written a NSF check and recorded the quantity normally in your books, without realizing there wasn’t insufficient steadiness and the examine bounced. If you utilize the accrual system of accounting, you would possibly “debit” your cash account when you finish a project and the shopper says “the cheque is going in the mail right now, I promise! Then whenever you do your financial institution reconciliation a month later, you notice that cheque by no means came, and the cash isn’t in your books . Increase the financial institution statement stability by $2,000 to mirror the deposit and decrease it by $1,000 to account for the unprocessed examine. Unexplained discrepancies in a company’s financial data can level to serious problems like fraud or theft. It’s necessary that your accounting staff steadiness the books accurately, lest you miss out on spotting points early. We advocate a reconciliation be carried out no much less than monthly to ensure accuracy and permit you to catch any unusual transactions. Unusual transactions might be brought on by fraud or errors, particularly if a couple of account is used. Once corrections and adjustments are made, evaluate the balances to see in the event that they match. Though accounting software is widely in style with small enterprise house owners, firms still must frequently evaluate their bank statements in opposition to their private information. This course of, often recognized as financial institution reconciliation, ensures that the enterprise records are correct and helps the business spot any discrepancies, errors or fraudulent charges. Use This Method To Calculate A Breakeven Point Ethical managers need an estimate of a services or products's cost and related income streams to gauge the possibility of reaching the break-even level. 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#會計師事務所

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girlbloggingy · 3 years

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this or that tag game !!!

thank you all for tagging me i love these lil things <3 @whovie-reloaded @prodmina @sweetestlamb @serxeins @the-void-i-scream-into

light colours or dark colours / long nails or short nails / boots or sneakers / cold weather or hot weather / high waisted jeans or low waisted jeans / crop tops or band t-shirts / cool showers or hot showers / kpop or pop / day or night / sunset or sunrise / singing or rapping / chocolate or candy / apples or bananas / writing or reading / coffee or tea / strawberries or raspberries / roses or tulips / tattoos or no tattoos / piercings or no piercings / night drives or evening walks / long hair or short hair / chokers or necklaces / soda or energy drinks / hot sandwiches or cold sandwiches / stay up or go to sleep early / dogs or cats / horses or sheep / pasta or rice / bubble tea or banana milk / nude lipstick or red lipstick / dyed hair or natural hair / texting or calling

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tagging: @seojunly @theodoranott @juwrites18 and anyone else who feels like participating!!! you can say that it was me who tagged u hehe

#Okay but it was so hard bc im so indecisive #and i did my hardest to choose between those options otherwise i would be like none <3 or both <3 to the half of the list sorry #no cuz i like cloudy days better? cloudy days without major temperature drops and it’s just good outside to live !!!#i also don’t like neither tea nor coffee but i need coffee sometimes and I like the smell of it? drank coffee today bc i woke up earlier #i like hot showers when it’s freezing cold and i like cold showers when its hot enough to melt your brain. im adaptable and mutable #fun fact i take cold showers to feel better sometimes bc idk why but it helps me w anxiety? i feel relaxed afterwards #light colors fit my appearance better but i find dark colors so elegant #i don’t have 1 single piece of crop tops and that’s a crime. i wish i was hot</3 #i tend to stay up but i wish i was a morning person...#anything else is 100% undebatable!

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spicysoftsweet · 3 years

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summary: gojo’s tired of you resisting him

warnings: home invasion, noncon, degradation, fem!reader

a/n: this was supposed to be a crumb for @mahitopegger i have no idea wtf happened. i didn’t edit this || reposted from sideblog (now deactivated) on 4/17/2021.

It was only after the soft click of your door, and the eerie silence thereafter that seemed to threaten to close you in, that you realized that something wasn’t quite right. Your eyes darted left, then right, and you kicked off your shoes slower than usual, setting them semi-haphazardly to the side of your entryway.

Even if you weren’t paranoid, you were still the type of person to double check, sometimes triple-check your locks on occasion before you left your home, and you did remember your key turning the right way just seconds ago.

Maybe you were overreacting - after all you lived in a relatively safe area, alone save for your cat with a propensity to mewl for food at all hours of the day. Ah, that was possibly the issue, the fact that your little furry friend hadn’t made his presence immediately. But he knew how to be quiet sometimes, and was fond of an early afternoon nap.

The sound of your keys clattering on your coffee table now seemed unceremoniously loud, like you were disturbing a religious service. In your own house.

Your heart started to race for just a moment, and you turned around quickly.

Nothing. No person, no ghost, no cat. Just you, a sudden sense of unease, and your rapidly beating heart.

Why were you so anxious?

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d felt so unsettled for the moments in which you paced down your hallway, ears tuned to the soft footfalls of your presumably sleeping companion. You would have whispered its name but you didn’t want to wake up the needy little bastard unnecessarily.

It was only three paces in that you stilled suddenly, and the memory of the last time you’d felt this way suddenly struck vividly in your mind.

Clear blue eyes, bordered by long, pale white eyelashes. A smile, once easy and bright, with corners turned up far too high into malice.

You froze.

Was it him? Was Gojo in your house? He wouldn’t... would he?

Your last encounter had been... suboptimal, to say the least. You’d all but told him to get lost, that you weren’t and would never be interested, not after knowing who he was, what he was.

You needed a quiet, calm existence. Your imprint on the world would be measured. You had to stay away from bad omens like his.

But his reaction had been unnatural. He hadn’t given you a real response, just a smile, and you had felt just as unnerved then as you did now before you parted.

You were clearly still spooked.

But these nerves were just vestiges of your anxiety. Gojo knew how to take no for an answer. Of course he did.

He didn’t - you opened your bedroom to find the young sorcerer waiting for you, your cat comfortable in his arms.

“Ah! You’re back~”

Gojo didn’t move; rather, he continued to sit in his relaxed position, legs outstretched onto the bed, palm stroking softly at the soft orange fur. The soft purr of the docile animal filled the air with sharp contrast to your wordless mouth, opening and closing once in shock, and the frenzied beat of your heart.

He smiled before his eyes did, and shifted on top of your covers, getting to his feet. Dressed casually in a white t-shirt and a loose pair of sweatpants, as though he’d been lounging around your house the entire day... as though he lived here.

“W-what are you doing here?” You choked out.

His eyebrows furrowed, and his hold on the little creature relaxed, who remained for just a moment, mewing once before jumping off his lap, brushing by your legs that felt as though they would start shaking any moment, and then promptly sauntered out of the room.

“You didn’t tell me you had a cat,” Satoru remarked, now sitting with legs criss-crossed on the bed, hair mussed and relaxed, and with affect as bright as a child on his first sleepover. He patted the space on the bed next to him, beckoning you to come sit. “Did you have a good day?”

“Gojo, please get out of my house.”

His expression darkened for just a moment before it returned to its natural cheeriness. He patted the space next to him again.

“You must be tired. I can make you something. Tea?”

Your feet were glued to the ground, neither advancing nor retreating.

“P-please leave,” you repeated, more wary this time. Your hands were starting to shake and you watched his eyes flicker to them, then back to your eyes.

“Why would I do that?” He said, tilting his head ever so slightly.

His eyes bore into yours and you felt your stomach turn.

“Don’t you like my attention?”

“Satoru, please,” you continued, your lower lip wobbling inadvertently. “Please, just leave... I won’t tell anyone you came here, just... I can’t return whatever feelings you have, so just go.”

Your fists clenched and unclenched, but you still were so tense, planted onto the floor as though you were a sharp dagger thrust into vulnerable flesh. Why weren’t your feet moving? You should be running. Running as far as you can from this man who could just as easily become a monster if he so pleased.

As though he knew you’d already become powerless - not that it made a difference, the power differential was already so vast - he rose, walking towards you in an open, unguarded stance. He wasn’t afraid of you in the least. The very thought made your blood boil.

Once he stood before you, towering over your shorter, smaller frame, his lips pursed.

“Stop shaking.”

It was a command, given in an annoyed but direct fashion.

You don’t know why you eked out, powerlessly, “I can’t.”

“You weren’t this afraid when you were telling me to fuck off a couple days ago,” he noted. His hand rose to grip your chin, tilting your face to him. You don’t know when you’d started crying, but tears were now streaming down your face, warm and wetting his fingers.

“You’re crying? Where’s the sass you had then?”

“Please...”

Against your better wishes, his lips pressed to yours, and somehow then, your body remembered that adrenaline could also make you fight, and you did fight, thumping your hands balled into fists against his chest and his shoulders, as his hand gripped your chin tighter and his tongue forced its way down your throat. Once he’d gotten tired of your struggle, his other arm hooked around your waist, and he pulled you closer, pressing you against his body.

Your screams were muffled by his kiss as it grew deeper, and at some point, he’d decided on biting your lip painfully, drawing blood once he’d threatened you to shut the fuck up before he gave you something to cry about for real.

You remembered that the first time Gojo had kissed you, it had been soft and tender, nothing like this kiss that was violent and demanded submission; once his hand moved from its grip on your chin, it grasped your hair, fingers twisting and tugging to tilt your head back.

His lips left yours, now red and soon purple and blue, and made their way down your neck to mark them the same.

Every scream was futile, every plea for mercy fell on deaf ears.

At some point, you may have heard your cat meow for something... food? Out of sympathy? You weren’t sure, all you could think about were the painful hickeys on your collarbones and traveling down your bosom.

“I don’t know why you’re so resistant. You yourself called me selfish,” he murmured, ripping the top part of your clothing with the nonchalance with which one would peel a banana. At the sight of your exposed breasts, he was like a man rabid, slamming you backwards into the wall without much regard for head injury. His left arm caged you in, while his right pressed painfully onto your breast.

He paused for a moment, and grinned salaciously.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that~! You look so docile... it’s weird coming from you.”

To that, a fire renewed in your eyes, and you spat directly in his face. His lips curled again in satisfaction, barely reacting to the spittle dripping down his pretty features.

“Fuck you.”

“I will.”

With a small chuckle, he jerked your face painfully to the left such that you couldn’t look at him directly as he took your breast into his mouth.

The idea of this bastard suckling on you, loudly, lewdly as though you’d belonged to him only made the churn in your stomach worse, but the desperate attempts to a knee to his chest were met with barely a resistance. Like he knew you couldn’t hurt him and it was only a matter of time until you stopped and succumbed to him.

The process was already happening - you could feel your nipples hardening and a new flow of heat in your panties. Your tears became more prolific - no longer fear, but rage, but the hand that kept you steady against the wall was impossibly strong.

Your head swam as a confused pleasure started to replace the pain and fear you were feeling. More clothing was torn off of you, more of your skin was marked and licked and sucked. Once your panties were ripped to shreds, he lay your now languid and fight-drained body against him, cooing appreciatively at the new helplessness, pumping two slender fingers up and down your wet inner core as he moved you from the hard wall to the soft bed.

You almost thanked him.

His fingers remained within you as he laid you down, but once he withdrew his touch as your pounding hazy head hit the pillow, he replaced them with the roughness of his tongue, penetrating you without the least bit of shame.

You let slip the moan you had been holding in in defiance.

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you.”

He continued to lick and you continued to mewl.

Once he’d tired of the taste of your cunt, he invaded your privacy in the most all-encompassing way possible, pushing every inch of a greedy, throbbing cock inside of you. As you cried from the stretch, he shushed you with a hand clasped over your mouth to muffle your screams.

As if someone was going to help you. Maybe your cat would come and watch, but he’d found something else to do.

“I know it hurts but you’ll get used to it, I promise, babe,” he murmured, groaning slightly as he seated himself to the hilt. “There.”

He stilled and in the silence of the moment only punctuated by both of your soft pants, you remembered how to sob.

His nose crinkled, and he let out of a soft sigh, cock jerking impatiently inside you.

“Why are you so stubborn?” He mused, leaning against you so that his head rested in the softness of your breasts. He could hear your heartbeat that doesn’t beat for him... but rather it did, because he is the one making it quicken in some odd rhythm of terror and pleasure.

You didn’t speak because there was far, far too much to yell.

As though a timer had rung to mark the end of his empathy, he rose onto his hands again, sighing as he adjusted into the plushness of your walls that didn’t reject him as fervently as you did. He moved, shoving two fingers down your throat to gag your renewed protests as he thrust into you repeatedly.

The short gasps with every stroke only encouraged him, and the immense pleasure he found in the light of your eyes starting to fade into a placid dullness.

“You love me,” he informed you with every rut.

You didn’t answer.

You weren’t sure what this disgusting repetitive sensation bringing your body to climax was. You were no longer sure what he was even talking about, just that there was a warm thing pumping inside of you and fingers down your throat and pain everywhere else in your body, particularly your neck and shoulders and arms and breasts, and you were staring into precious sapphires littering the base of twin lakes.

“You love me,” he repeated. “I know you do.”

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo #yandere gojo x reader #tw noncon #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #gojo sm #not sfw #gojo smut #mae.drabble #mae.writing

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astaroth1357 · 4 years

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A Lazy Day with MC and the Brothers

I was just chilling one day and thought about how a lazy day in with our boys might be like… I like hijinks, don’t get me wrong, but sometimes we ought to slow down too, you know?

Check my Masterlist for more!

Warning: Slight NSFW-ish? I dunno how to tag innuendo...

Lucifer

First off, hats off for managing to convince the guy to just do nothing for any length of time. That’s some seriously impressive persuasive powers, MC, you sure you don’t know how to charm?

Lazy Lucifer=Sleepy Lucifer. He spends so many nights up late getting work done then follows it up by getting up early in order to wrangling his brothers. It's honestly like it all catches up with him... He’s sleeping in and he’s sleeping in HARD.

Might text one of his brothers to bring them in a late breakfast at some point (never mind the fact it’s practically dinner). Beel would be the one most likely to agree to it, but he also may just eat whatever he picked up on the way there so hopefully someone else is feeling charitable… Try Asmo.

Honestly, his entire goal is to not leave the bedroom at all. If he leaves, then he runs the risk of people seeing him… wait for it... relaxing. Oh, just imagine the scandal!!

Some classical music, a bit of conversation, and maybe a good book in bed would all sound like heaven to him. They may have to get up to make some tea to go along with it, just remind him that drinking coffee on your recharge days can have the opposite effect. The taste of coffee could always just end up reminding him of work anyway…

The evening can go one of two ways. Calm and peaceful or "stress relieving." If they chose the stress relieving option, best be prepared because he'll have a whole night's worth of stress to let out and he's going to need some help… 😏

Mammon

He’s going to want to be close to the MC the whole time, they can hold onto him or him onto them, whatever works. It doesn’t matter as long as there’s still some kind of contact happening.

A whole day with just him and the MC? And they don’t even have to be doing anything? Where can he sign up??

Cue a lot of doing nothing in particular with Mammon tangled up on them in some way: hugging their waist while he checks his phone, resting their legs on his lap during a gaming session, wrapping himself around them while they just have casual conversation. That kind of thing.

When they eventually get hungry then he might pop down to the kitchen and make them some instant noodles (I wouldn’t trust much else he tries to make since… well we know he kind of just adds whatever’s around to his food).

He might start getting a little restless part of the way through the day though, so they’re going to have to do something to get that energy out… 🤔

Use your imagination, I know this fandom can.

Leviathan

The reigning Prince of Lazy Days. Everything about Levi screams “goof off/game night buddy” (at least if the MC is a fellow otaku anyway).

He probably didn’t sleep the night before because he was playing/watching something so the morning will go down one of two ways: 1) He just pulls an all-nighter and begins to progressively lose his mind as the day goes on, or 2) He’s dead to the world until 2pm. Only one of those options is entertaining so you know what I'm going with.

Things will go pretty smoothly through the morning. They don’t have to go anywhere because his room has plenty of snacks so they can just chill out and watch anime or play video games.

Buuut stuff will get more dicey as the afternoon rolls around and his sleep deprivation sets in. He’ll start losing a lot of his filter and may ramble for even longer than normal with even less coherency. He’ll also get more um… "bold" than usual.

Or he may just want to cuddle with them while he babbles on about how much he loves them and how warm they are and how much they remind him of Henry, which reminds him have they seen the latest season of “My Life with Seven Demon Brothers Who All Love Me!” yet because the main character there also reminds him of them and-

He’ll pass out eventually, probably latched onto them somehow with his tail around them tenderly. Don’t bring it up to him in the morning because he will unsuccessfully try to deny it ever happened.

Satan

Not opposed to the occasional lazy day. It actually does good for his nerves since holding in all that pent-up anger can feel like stuffing an elephant into a tea kettle sometimes...

They’re going to want to get him out of his bedroom or the library if they don’t want to fight for his attention against whatever new book he’s eating through today. When the man gets engrossed then it’s like nothing else matters, the House could split in two and he'll only notice if he suddenly can’t reach his drink anymore...

May actually be advantageous to go outside with him, take a nice stroll around the House while having some interesting conversation. They could poke his brain about anything that suits their fancy while they’re out amongst the trees and nature.

If they don’t want to go outside and rather take their chances with the book then okay but the engrossment problem still applies. He may even forget to eat...

Best way to combat his lack of attention is to be a little brat that’s juuust cute enough not to piss him off. It’s a delicate balance. That means getting real close to him, like sitting on his legs, and just occasionally reminding him of their presence with longing looks while tapping, flicking, or messing with the book from time to time (yes, kind of like an attention-seeking cat).

Play it just right and they’ll get attention on them alright, but he may also be looking to punish his “needy kitty." Hope that’s what they’re aiming for... 🤷‍♀️

Asmodeus

Really? They want to do nothing? Nothing at all? Are they sure they don’t want to do him instead...? 😏

A relaxing day with Asmo is more or less like a day spent wrapped up in mutual worship and adoration. The guy wants all of their attention and love but he’ll return it and then some. As long as they treat him like the love of their lives it will honestly be like having their own day spa day in Heaven.

If the MC wants to relax, then he’s just the sort to know how to provide for them both. The only question is how do they want it?

The man can give them a full treatment, I mean, just look at his bathroom alone! A good soak in a hot bath, facial masks, back massages, mani-pedis, just say the word MC and he’s more than willing to bestow whatever their little heart desires. That’s his job, isn’t it?

Asmo may be a party boy, but if it’s a little TLC you need, emphasis on the T, then look no farther MC. He’s the guru.

On the flipside if they’re looking for a little release well… who better to ask than Asmo right? He’ll make sure they’ll never want to leave that bed again. 🤭

Beelzebub

As long as snacks are still involved then he’s all in, babe. He’ll do nothing with them all day as long as they keep him fed.

Two words. Couples. Cooking. They can’t skip a meal with Beel so if they’re going to spend lazy time with the dude then they better be planning on being a tag along to the kitchen.

It doesn’t have to be a super strict though, it’s not like they’re not cooking with Barbatos or anything, so they can goof off and make a bit of a mess together. Chances are Beel will eat the ingredients to whatever they’re making anyway so... 😅

A lot of lingering touches and just being close to each other as they go. He might want to hold their waist while they stir or they end up feeding each other in cutesy ways... Really it’s a ridiculously wholesome time.

At one point a food fight may break out and they'll cover themselves in flour, tomato sauce, or some other kind of messy food substance...

Careful, MC. Whatever they get covered in will likely only make them look more delicious to him and he might want to "clean them off".... They'll need to take that out of the kitchen, though, like what if someone needs a snack??

Belphegor

The reigning King of Lazy Days. Take notes, MC, for you are watching the Master at work...

Sleeping in and cuddling is a must. He will not let them leave the bed all morning for anything less than a Category Four Emergency (i.e. “I’m going to starve to death” or “I really gotta go piss”). He will pin them under his sleeping body if he has to!

Once they’ve thoroughly missed breakfast and half past noon rolls around he might call in takeout from Hell’s Kitchen for them to eat in the attic room. Expect some cheeky conversation, probably jokes at the expense of his brothers. Cuddling is still absolutely happening, of course, they cannot shake him off.

May borrow an anime from Levi to watch while they snuggle on the couch. He has all the best blankets in the House so they will be neither cold nor uncomfortable throughout.

His hands get a little grabby during these kinds of cuddle sessions, especially during tense moments in the show because he likes to give them a little jolt to make them yelp, the jerk... 😖

If he manages to not drift off during the show (flip a coin on that chance) the night will end in the planetarium, backs on a pile of blankets while they draw pictures in the stars… All hail the King. 😏

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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erin-bo-berin · 4 years

Text

Sweet Cheeks

MASTERLIST

This was an anon request for a smut where Spencer and the reader have a Garcia and Morgan like relationship and boy was this fun to write. I think I got to around 3,000 words before I even got to the smut part so I might’ve gotten a little carried away. Happy reading!

Also, HUGE thanks to @multifandommandy for inspiration and help with Morgan quips in this. You’re the best. :)

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 5,056

“Last night around 2 am in Alexandria, Virginia, Desiree Armstrong was brutally murdered in her bed.”

Your finger pressed the button on the remote to bring up more images of the grizzly murder on the screen. You grimaced, looking away.

“Yeah, this is why I never look, kid,” your mentor Penelope Garcia said from the round table, her back turned towards the screen.

“It was definitely brutal alright,” Emily Prentiss commented.

“There’s so much blood, you can hardly tell what happened,” Derek Morgan piped in.

“Don’t remind me,” you groaned, “The poor woman.”

“Has the autopsy report come back yet?” Jennifer Jareau—JJ for short—questioned.

“Yeah. She was stabbed 24 times with a-”

“Kitchen knife. It looks a lot like a Santoku knife. They’re similar to a chef’s knife, but they’re shorter and thinner with a flat blade instead of a curved one. Mostly, they’re used for mincing, slicing and dicing. You can tell because the stab wounds are slightly longer than a normal knife wound would leave,” Dr. Spencer Reid cut in.

You gave him an exasperated look.

“Okay hot stuff, would you like to come up here and finish my presentation for me?”

He grinned, looking back down at the file.

“Anyway, as I was saying. Her 18 month old Willow was missing from her crib when the neighbor found Desiree.”

“That means she’s been missing for at least six hours already,” David Rossi noted.

“Which is why we need to get a move on,” Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner said, “Let’s go.”

Everyone gathered their things, heading for the door.

“See ya later, Dite,” Spencer called over his shoulder as he headed to the door.

You grinned at his special nickname for you, remembering how the nicknames had all started between you two.

“You know how to reach me if you need me big boy,” you called back.

“You two sound like Derek and I,” Penelope chuckled from behind you.

“Well I did learn from the best.”

•

When you’d started at the FBI, you were placed in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Working under Penelope Garcia, their tech analyst as her assistant/protégée, you were anxious to learn as much as you could.

You were endlessly amused at the playful banter and nicknames Derek Morgan and Garcia had for each other. Although it appeared to be flirty, it was none other than just platonic teasing and banter. They just had the personalities for that.

To not be a profiler, Garcia sure could pick up on things as well as the actual profilers.

Like your almost immediate crush on Dr. Spencer Reid.

Maybe it had to do with the fact that it took you a few months to finally be comfortable around him.

You could do your job well, but not without awkward fumbling or the nervous voice cracking.

One time he actually thought you were losing your voice and suggested you drink some warm ginger tea with honey for it. He couldn’t see you through the phone, but your cheeks flamed from embarrassment.

Garcia had laughed for almost ten minutes when you told her.

“Loosen up Y/N,” she said, “He doesn’t bite.”

“I know,” you grumbled, “But he makes me nervous.”

“Well it never hurt anyone to be a little flirty,” she pointed out, “Try it sometime. Even if it’s not reciprocated it can go a long way for your confidence and helping you be more comfortable around him.”

You had to admit she had a point.

Thus, your nicknames for him began.

“Ready to help sir,” you’d walked into the briefing room where the team was sitting around the table, working a case.

“Okay, Y/N we need you to look up every male in a 100 mile perimeter of D.C. that owns a Lamborghini,” Hotch said.

“Well that’s gonna be like looking for a piece of hay in a haystack,” you mumbled.

As good as Garcia was, you knew broad searches were still tedious to comb through without other search parameters.

“Narrow it down to owners that are between the ages of 25 and 35,” JJ said.

“Are married or have just recently been married,” Morgan added.

“Okay, keep it coming,” you scribbled your notes on your notepad.

“Look for owners that have no children. Also, check their financial records. They might’ve come into a large amount of money recently,” Spencer said.

“Got it, sweet cheeks. I’m off to search.”

You left to head back to yours and Garcia’s lair, missing Spencer’s raised brows and slightly flustered and confused expression.

Morgan smirked at Spencer, holding back a laugh.

“Which cheeks?” he teased.

Spencer blinked slowly, looking quite dumbfounded.

“She means the ones on my face...right?”

Morgan laughed out loud at this as he stood to grab more coffee. He patted Spencer’s shoulder on the way out.

Pretty boy had a lot to learn.

Sure, the first nickname had kinda just slipped out. But Penelope was right. It kind of was enlightening to tease Spencer. It was amusing and adorable when he would get flustered.

What you didn’t expect was Spencer’s nicknames for you.

The phone rang and you hit the answer button.

“Y/N’s the name, researching is my game.”

“Wow, you sound just like Garcia,” came Spencer’s voice.

“She learned from the best!” Garcia called from across the room.

“I need your undivided attention, bright eyes.”

The pet name slipped from his lips so easily that you actually stared at the phone, making sure you were actually on a call.

“Y/N?”

“Bright eyes, huh?”

“Yeah, you’re not the only one with Garcia rubbing off on you,” he chuckled.

“Okay. I’m all ears,” you positioned your hands above the keyboard, ready to work, “Fire away, stud muffin.”

•

It’d been five years since you first joined the team. You and Spencer were now incredibly close and flirty nicknames were now an everyday occurance.

Even Garcia and Morgan were no match for your banter and here you’d thought theirs was crazy enough.

Maybe it was because you had feelings for Spencer, maybe not, but it didn’t faze the team much at all. They were used to Derek and Penelope, so it was just another day at work.

That didn’t stop their passing comments on the matter.

“Jeez, the sexual tension in here is so thick I can cut it with a knife,” Garcia once commented.

“Will you two ever just suck it up and date?” Rossi shook his head after listening to another every day banter.

“Can these two just fuck already or something?” Was a comment you’d accidentally overheard Morgan say when neither of you were around.

You weren’t exactly sure what to call you and Spencer, but he was a friend and that seemed to be how it would remain, regardless of your crush.

“Any luck in finding Willow’s father?” you asked Penelope as you scanned Desiree Armstrong’s documents.

“Nope,” Garcia huffed.

The two of you nor the team had any clue who would have done this to Desiree. They decided to start looking for a father, to see if he could be a suspect. So far, a search for him turned up nothing. He seemed to be a ghost.

Your phone rang and you answered it with a click of a key.

“Hey Aphrodite, I need your brains.”

Aphrodite or Dite was what Spencer had taken to calling you pretty early on. It was quite flattering considering what she was the goddess of.

“Well if it isn’t Hunky Brewster,” you commented, “And to think the genius needs my brains, I’ve never felt more special.”

“That you are,” he chuckled, “I need you to look into a neighbor: Evan Kelly. The victim’s sister said he had been bothering her for a while.”

“Gotcha,” you typed out the name, waiting for search results, “I’ll hit ya back when I got something.”

You hung up, beginning your research.

•

Spencer was in front of the murder board, studying it. So far, they only had Evan Kelly and the missing father.

He was currently on the phone with Y/N, going over the findings on Evan Kelly.

“Basically there wasn’t a window this guy hadn’t peeped in,” your voice came from the speaker.

“Any arrests?”

“Nope. Seems like this guy was just a creep.”

He sighed, rubbing his jaw, thinking.

“Any luck finding a father of Willow?” he asked.

“Garcia is still looking, but he’s just not there,” you said.

“Like not in the picture?”

“Like doesn’t seem to exist. We can’t find a record anywhere.”

“Look into adoption records, see if you can find out if she was adopted. She might not biologically be Desiree’s,” he said.

“Good point,” you said, “Now I know why you’re the genius.”

“I aim to please, pretty lady,” he smirked.

“I’ll get back to you in an instant, sugar lips.”

When he hung up, he turned to see Emily staring at him, jaw dropped.

“What?” he asked.

She shook her head in exasperation before she spoke.

“What did you do to her?”

•

The team was back at headquarters, working hard to find the precious little girl.

You sat at the round table, working on the new lead the team had just discovered.

“So let me get this straight,” JJ said, “Willow Armstrong was adopted by Desiree Armstrong, although not through a legal company. As in, the company wasn’t legit?”

“More like it wasn’t done through any company at all. There was no paperwork, no legality, nothing,” Garcia answered, “It’s basically like the birth mother just handed over Willow and disappeared.”

“Maybe that was part of their verbal contract?” Rossi brainstormed.

“If so, then there might be an angry birth father out there,” Spencer thought out loud.

“And nearly impossible to find,” Derek sighed.

“Um, hello? Have you met me and my protégée here?” Garcia asked, motioning between you and herself, “We can find almost anything.”

“Any luck on finding an adoptive father of Willow?” Hotch questioned.

“No, there wasn’t a father,” you said, “Desiree was a single mother but her ex-boyfriend Scott Griffin knew she wanted to adopt apparently. I’ve contacted him and he’s willing to talk to you guys.”

“You never disappoint, angel face,” Spencer mumbled, still studying the murder board.

“Okay, Morgan, Reid you go speak to Griffin. We’ll stay here and see if we can track down the birth mother,” Hotch said.

“Got it. Thanks baby girl and protégée,” Morgan teased.

A moment later they were out the door.

•

“I hadn’t spoken to her in some time until just a few weeks before her death,” a bereaved Scott Griffin said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“We’re sorry for your loss,” Morgan said sympathetically.

“Mr. Griffin, did Desiree ever mention the name of the birth mother?” Spencer asked.

Scott sat, thinking for a moment.

“Yeah. Yeah, she did. It was a unique name. Lorina something. Lorina Cano I believe. She wasn’t from here, but she lived around here she said.”

“What about the birth father?” Morgan asked.

“I never got a name, but Desiree said she claimed the birth father didn’t even know about the baby.”

Morgan and Spencer shared a look before turning back to Scott.

“Thank you for your-”

“Wait, there’s something else. I don’t know if it’s relevant, but the last time I talked to Desiree she said she thought there was a man following her. She caught him on her surveillance once.”

Morgan nodded while Spencer pulled out his phone.

“Thank you. We’ll see ourselves out.” Morgan said.

With a knowing look at Derek, Spencer hit your number, putting the phone to his ear.

You answered the call, putting it on speakerphone so Penelope could hear as well.

“Hola papito, how may I help you?”

You heard Spencer’s easy chuckle.

“Dare I ask what that means?”

You opened your mouth to speak but Garcia answered for you, not even looking up from her computer.

“Hot daddy,” she called.

If you could see him, you were sure he was blushing a bright red.

“I forgot to mention you’re on speaker, so keep it clean, both of you,” you chuckled.

“We need you to pull the surveillance from Desiree’s house. Scott Griffin said there was a man stalking her,” Morgan said.

“Okay will do. It’ll be ready for your viewing pleasure by the time you get back,” you said.

“Thanks Dite, you’re the best.”

“You know it, dreamboat.”

•

Half of the team were following other leads while you, Morgan, Rossi, Spencer and Garcia attempted to view the surveillance footage. It was slow going since it was pretty grainy.

Spencer stood in front of the big screen in the briefing room, studying it closely, his chin resting in his palm as he watched. He glanced over his shoulder at you.

“Honey, can you come here for a second?” he asked.

“Sure, sweet cheeks,” Morgan smirked, walking over to him.

Spencer looked at him, exasperated.

“Not you. Y/N.”

“Oh I see how it is. That hurts, kid,” Derek said, a hand over his chest mocking hurt.

You noticed Rossi’s lips quirked as you walked past him towards Spencer.

“Not. A. Word,” you mumbled to him.

“Do you see this car here?” Spencer pointed to the screen, “I think our suspect just got into it. Can you zoom in and see if we can make it out?”

This, he said to Garcia.

“On it, boo.”

He turned to you.

“I need you to see if you can find anything on Lorina Cano. If we can find her, maybe we can find the birth father.”

“Yup. My fingers are ready.”

You were back in your chair working on your task, Spencer watching from behind you.

“Okay, got it.”

You pulled up the page for him. He read it, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“Do you mind?”

“Not one bit,” he mumbled, still reading.

You rolled your eyes, turning back to the screen. Your heart sunk when you saw the same thing he just had.

“Dammit,” he groaned.

“She’s been dead since last year,” you mumbled, feeling defeated.

“Well I guess we have to track down the mystery father another way,” Rossi mused.

“I’m sorry,” you frowned, feeling like you’d failed.

“It’s not your fault Y/N, don’t worry,” Spencer said, pecking your cheek, “I have an idea though, I’ll be back.”

You were still stunned from the kiss that seemed to come out of the blue. It took you a second to notice the other three staring at you, raised brows and amusement all over their faces.

Your gaze went back to the screen quickly, your cheeks flaming hot.

Derek’s amusing response made you blush even further.

“Reid never kisses me like that.”

•

“Guys, I think I got it!” Garcia said, rushing in with her laptop.

You had been lounging at the round table eating your dinner. She’d been sympathetic to your frustration and ordered you to take a break from your research to have some dinner.

“Got what?” you asked, slapping Spencer’s hand away from stealing more of your fries.

“Ow!” he pouted.

“Fine,” you groaned, putting one in his mouth.

You turned back to see, once again, the entire team staring at you two. Garcia especially.

“What’d you find, Garcia?” Hotch prompted.

“Right. Yes. Okay, so from the partial license plate I found who I believe is our unsub. His name is Noah Elliot and he works for a trucking company. I just spoke to his boss. Well, get this. We know the father didn’t know about the baby, right? Somehow he got clued in—whether by a friend, a family member, who knows—about little baby Willow and he was furious. So, he finds Lorina I’m assuming and finds out that she gave Willow up for adoption. Somehow he found Desiree and killed her, kidnapping Willow. If you think I’m done yet, I’m not, I have so much more! According to the boss, a truck recently went missing from the company, they haven’t been able to trace it. Noah hasn’t showed up for work in a week and the boss was cleaning out his locker since he was gonna fire him when he finally showed up again. In the locker he found this.”

Garcia turned her computer around. Pictures of Willow and Desiree had been hidden in his work locker, assuming no one would ever find them.

“He was stalking her,” Emily said.

“Yeah and hardcore,” Garcia said.

“Garcia is there a way for them to track that missing truck?” Hotch inquired.

“Yes, they’re working on it now and before you ask the address is being sent to your phones right now.”

“Let’s go,” he ordered, the team following behind them.

“Be safe!” you and Penelope called after them.

•

“I’m exhausted,” you sighed, plopping down in your chair.

In total, it had taken a little over 24 hours to find little Willow Armstrong, safe and sound. After managing to activate the tracking of the missing truck, Noah Elliot was located and caught trying to cross the Virginian border into North Carolina. He would be going away for a minimum of 25 years.

Willow would be placed in the care of Desiree’s sister. It was a bittersweet ending. Even though the child had been saved, it still upset you knowing that the poor little girl had lost her mother at such a young age. But, it was a win. Not all cases ended happily and you were glad this one had.

“Same,” Garcia mumbled.

You were waiting for the team to come back. Garcia had ordered pizza and everyone was going to relax and rewind before heading home. It was well deserved. They had been on the move almost constantly throughout this entire case.

“Good work today, bright eyes,” she smirked.

“Stop it,” you groaned.

“Aphrodite, Dite, Angel Face, Honey,” she replied, heavy emphasis on each nickname.

“Okay, so? You call Derek nicknames all the time. Spencer too and the others.”

“That’s different. I do it out of love and you know Derek and I just have that type of close, comfortable relationship,” Garcia pointed out

“That’s the same with me and Spencer. I don’t see your point.”

“Yeah because you don’t see all the flirting that happens around this office like we do,” Garcia gave you a look, “You were feeding him fries earlier for God’s sake! I wish you two would just do something.”

“Well that’s going to be hard to do considering it’s a one way street, Penelope.”

“You clearly don’t know the boy genius like I do,” she smirked, “He doesn’t...what’s the word for it? Flirt. Not like he does with you because he’s comfortable around you and likes you.”

“I love you Garcia, but you’re delusional,” you heard a noise in the hallway, “Say is that the delivery guy?”

You hopped up to go check.

“I swear Y/N, I will lock you two in a room if I have to,” she mumbled.

You turned around, an eyebrow raised.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” she grinned innocently.

You walked out into the hall, Garcia at your heels and found Spencer carrying three boxes of pizza, a big smile on his face.

“Someone order pizza?”

•

You were the last to leave, so it seemed. You wanted to tidy up your desk and get some work done so you wouldn’t have to worry about it later.

You stood in the deserted hallway, waiting for the elevator.

“Late night for you too?”

You startled and turned to see Spencer exiting the BAU, walking towards the elevator.

“I didn’t know anyone else was here.”

“Sorry for scaring you, by the way,” he chuckled and you waved it off.

“Tough case, huh?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, walking into the now opened elevator.

“You did some great work, Y/N,” he said, walking in behind you, hitting the button for the lobby.

“Hey, you’re the real hero here,” you smiled, “I just do computers.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t know what to do without you,” he said then quickly clearing his throat, realizing his mistake, “I mean we wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“Well, thank you. That’s sweet.”

You rode in silence until a loud crash rang throughout the elevator, followed by a shuddering sensation. Suddenly, the elevator came to a complete stop.

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me,” you gasped.

“Uh, well. This isn’t good.”

Spencer hit several different buttons with no luck. The elevator still hung between floors and you were stuck in here.

You were literally stuck in an elevator with Spencer.

With your feelings bubbling to the surface even more lately, especially during this case, this was your worst case scenario.

This was not good.

•

“So,” Spencer said, pocketing his cell phone, “Hotch said it would be at least an hour or so before he and the building engineers can get down here.”

“Wonderful,” you mumbled, pacing the very small space of the elevator.

You were sort of freaking out. Not because of the actual being stuck part, but because you were afraid of what you might do or might say. This was dangerous territory.

Of course, there was no way Spencer knew that and he obviously interpreted your anxiety as a reaction to being stuck.

“Hey, calm down, it’s okay.”

He grabbed your elbow, stilling your steps in front of the metal doors. You slumped back against it, but at least you stayed still.

“You okay?” he asked, concerned.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Studies find that the best distractions in stressful situations are meditation, helping others and-” he paused.

With a quick purse of his lips, his eyes glanced upwards nonchalantly and his brows raised just the slightest.

“Orgasms.”

Your eyes widened, sure you’d misheard him somehow.

“I may not be the best at social cues, but I’m not an idiot, Y/N.”

Your mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water.

“What exactly are you saying?” you asked hesitantly.

“I think you know good and well what I’m saying.”

You were astonished and exasperated.

“Dammit Spencer, if you’re just messing with me, I swear.”

He was closing in on you now, a slight grin on his lips, tongue flicking over them in a quick movement, moistening them.

“I’m not,” he whispered.

Then his lips were on yours. It took a moment for you to get over the initial shock, but when you did, you were kissing him back.

His hand that rested gently on your cheek, slid into your hair, pulling your head closer to him. After a minute of pure heaven for you, he pulled away much to your dismay.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he murmured, lips hovering over yours.

“Yeah?” you whispered, eyes still on his lips.

You were on cloud nine and you just wanted his lips back on yours.

He hummed his response, pressing his lips towards yours again. His hand slid along your waist, pulling you into him. Your lips moved feverishly with his, your first initial soft kisses quickly gaining intensity.

“Hold on,” he said after parting from you again.

He shedded his suit jacket and your eyebrows rose. He moved to the opposite side of the elevator, tossing the jacket over the camera that hung in the top corner.

You bit your lip, trying to hide your giggle.

“Just in case,” he smirked.

It took about only two steps for him to be in front of you again, his mouth busy against yours once again.

You still hadn’t quite wrapped your mind around the fact that you were currently trapped in an elevator, your back pressed against the metal doors, making out with Spencer. But then again, you didn’t want to focus on anything but him at the moment.

A small moan escaped you when he tugged your lower lip gently, teasingly. His hands had somehow made it under your dress, sliding up your bare thighs.

You broke away with a gasp when his touch ghosted over your nether region through your underwear. He pressed his lips together, pulling them inward, his dimple showing up because of the expression.

“Is this okay?” he asked, hand hovering near your pulsating core.

“Y-Yes,” you managed to croak.

You don’t know just how long you’d been lost to his kisses, but he had gotten you worked up and you could feel yourself throbbing with the want. All the sexual tension the both of you had shared was coming to the surface and you were craving every bit of it ten times more now.

His fingers traced a line upwards along the outer portion of the undergarment, his lips on your jaw, making a slow descent to your neck. He was taking his time with you and it was driving you crazy. His hands slid up, pushing your dress up with them.

You reached out for his pants, unbuttoning them and pulling the zipper down. Other than your heavy breathing, the only sound was the slow grinding of the zipper as you pulled it down slowly. Your anticipation and arousal were making you short of breath and Spencer pulled back, eyes searching your face.

“I’m sure,” you answered his questioning expression, firmly.

That was Spencer. Always making sure to think of the other person first. You knew he wouldn’t have continued if you weren’t comfortable with it.

His own arousal had grown to match yours, though his was obviously more apparent. You pushed his suit pants down, his underwear following.

Before you realized it, he’d hoisted you up and your high heeled feet were crossed behind him. His hand reached down, pushing your underwear to the side with a determined roughness as he kissed you. Then he was inside you.

Your hand tangled in his hair as he thrust gently to begin with, his eyes locked on yours. You felt a funny sensation in the pit of your stomach that wasn’t caused by your desire.

The way he was looking at you was giving you extreme butterflies. It was as if you were the most beautiful woman in the world to him.

Your hips moved in time with his and you bit your lip, whimpering from the pleasure. Your arms wrapped around him, holding him tight.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned lowly, sending your body aflame even more so than it already was.

Never would you have thought that Spencer moaning in your ear would be so hot, but it was.

The more he thrust into you, the more your moans became less restricted, flowing freely from your lips.

“Spencer,” you moaned, gritting your teeth, “Harder.”

If he wanted to fuck you as hard as he wanted against these elevator doors you’d be totally okay with it.

He obeyed your wishes, his body rocking into yours, one hand behind your head to keep you from hitting it. You briefly register the thought that even during a situation like this he was caring enough to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself.

“Y/N, shit,” he grunted, the sound sending shock waves down to your core.

As much as you loved his nicknames for you, you couldn’t help but love hearing your name fall from his lips in such extreme pleasure.

You grinned slightly, his nose pressing lightly against your cheek as he pulled you closer to him, his thrusts becoming uneven. He was on the brink of losing it, you knew it.

“Come on Spence.”

Your hand gripped his hair and he lost all control his groan rippling through you. You had trouble realizing that you were the one having this affect on him.

But he wasn’t done with you, yet.

If he’d told you once, he’d told you a thousand times that he knew how to be a gentleman.

You reached down to finish yourself off but his hand moved yours out of the way, thumb landing on the bundle of nerves that sent an electrified feeling through your veins when his touch reached it.

“If you don’t know me by now, Y/N,” he grunted, his thrusts coming hard and fast.

“G-Gentleman. I know,” you moaned, your head lolling back against the metal doors.

His lips ravished your throat, his combined efforts releasing the fire in the pit of your stomach. You completely let go, your breathy moans filling the elevator, your back arching away from the doors.

When the intense feeling had subsided, your eyes opened to find him watching you. Your cheeks heated as you realized how out of control you must’ve been the entire time. But instead of being horrified or regretful, Spencer was smiling at you.

He cupped your face in his hands, kissing you gently, igniting the butterflies once again. It was this that truly confirmed that you’d fallen and fallen hard for Spencer.

After parting, you readjusted your clothing in silence, not exactly sure what to say.

“So, uh, wow,” he laughed a bit as he pulled his suit jacket back on.

He’d retrieved it from over the camera shortly after you’d disconnected from one another.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

Your legs were definitely feeling like jelly at this point and you were pretty sure he could tell. It had been pretty amazing sex.

“I know this is kinda backwards from how it’s usually done,” he chuckled, suddenly timid, “But could I take you to dinner sometime?”

Your hand found his and his fingers automatically threaded through yours. You kissed his cheek before answering.

“I’d love nothing more.”

The whirring of the elevator startled the two of you. Ironic how it was just in time, it seemed.

The elevator arrived back to the floor of the BAU and you were surprised to see Garcia and Morgan in the hallway.

“What are you guys doing here?” Spencer asked, stepping off the elevator, you at his side.

“Hotch had a thing he wanted us to do,” Garcia explained lamely.

“Like getting us out of the elevator?” you asked, suspicious.

“Yes! That’s it.” Garcia said, eyes flickering to yours and Spencer’s joined hands.

She was heading back to her lair when you heard her call.

“See Morgan? I told you stopping the elevator would work!”

Spencer’s jaw dropped and you gaped after Penelope dumbfounded.

Derek laughed heartily at your matching reactions before following after Garcia, calling over his shoulder to Spencer.

“Hope you had fun, sweet cheeks.”

Tag List: @dreatine @reid-187 @groovyreid @reidslibra @suvikamahes98blr @fuckthealarm @whatspunispun @iamburdened @cindywayne @thomasfoockinshelby @tinyminy88 @theitcaramelchick @missprettyboy @hushlilbabydoll @sammy-jo1977 @theonlyone-meeeee @haileymorelikestupid @lemonypink @multifandommandy

#spencer reid #spencer reid gifs #Spencer Reid fic #spencer reid fics #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #dr spencer reid fic #dr spencer reid fics #dr spencer reid gifs #dr spencer reid smut #Criminal Minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fics #criminal minds gifs #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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det-loki · 3 years

Text

poison & wine pt. one

“I know everything you don’t want me to.”

warnings: angst, cursing

pairing: detective loki x fem reader

word count: 1,378

A/N: I’ve read and reread what seems like every detective loki fic and I’ve decided it’s my turn. I’m still relatively new with writing series, but I’m very proud of this. Enjoy, feedback is greatly appreciated! (if you find a grammar mistake, let me know)

REWRITE MASTERLIST

⌽ 2 3 4 5 6

You hated the rain. It was cold and wet, always sending a bone-chilling cold through you. It reminded you of too many bad memories. Hospitals, pain, and blood. Yet all it seemed to do in Conyers was rain.

You sat across from Loki while you were toying with your fried rice inside of the vacant restaurant. This was yours and Loki’s spot, always seeming to end up here at least once a week for the past five years. You grew to hate the food but it was a constant in yours and Loki’s life and you refused to mess that up. Too many memories have been made in this shitty restaurant, good and bad.

Neither you nor David cared much for Thanksgiving and you couldn’t be bothered to cook for just the two of you. It was too depressing, so Chinese food it was. The waitress came to your table with the check and hot tea, Loki reaching for the check before you could. Not once has he ever let you pay for a meal. Even when he could barely afford socks.

“Happy Thanksgiving, detectives.” You wondered if she was waiting on you two to leave for her to go home to relax and celebrate the holiday. You felt bad, considering you and Loki were the only ones there, like usual.

Loki mutters a ‘thanks’ into his coffee cup before continuing, “Do you have any of the fortune-cookie things?”

The waitress looks at Loki with a smirk, “My boss told me cops don’t like fortune cookies.” Classic.

David looks down at the zodiac placemat, “What year were you born? Are you a dragon, or a snake, a horse, or a sheep?”

“I’m a monkey.” The waitress ogled David who was barely paying attention to her. You knew he would never act on her advances, he was too caught up in whatever the two of you were. Lovers, roommates, co-workers, family. He was everything to you and vice versa.

Both you and Loki look down to read, Loki responds, “Oh, you’re a monkey. You’re very intelligent. You have the ability to influence people. Think maybe you could influence your boss to lower the check a little bit?” He was flirting. Sometimes you thought that he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. It’s how he charmed you all those years ago. Both of you young and dumb; too young to know any better or any different.

The waitress brings you out of your head, “No, I cannot. My boss is a rooster.”

Again, both you and Loki look down to inspect as the waitress walks away. Selfish and eccentric. Nice, reminds me of Captain O’Malley.

Loki looks at you with a genuine smile before asking, “What’s your zodiac? I forget.” You loved it when he smiled, he didn’t do it enough. You couldn’t really blame him though, neither did you.

“Well, considering it’s tattooed on your hand, I feel like you should remember. I’m a horse also a cancer, whichever way you want to look at it.” He had gotten the tattoos a month after it.

Loki laughs and looks down again, “Energetic, passionate, and aspirant. I’d say that’s pretty accurate for you.”

You laugh, “Yeah, what’s yours?” You already knew the answer, it was tattooed into your skin years ago along with two other zodiac symbols next to it. Never allowing you to abandon Conyers or David. You were forever tied to it all, inked permanently.

Loki looks at you, his eyes teasing, “I’m gonna give you the same line. Considering it’s tattooed on your collarbone, I feel like you should remember.”

Before you could respond, both yours and Loki’s phones interrupt with a call. Two missing girls, fuck.

The rain is coming down in sheets as you step out of Loki’s car. You pull your raincoat tighter as you follow David to the RV that was called in surrounded by cops at the edge of the woods.

You take your radio out of your pocket, “13-40 and 13-43 engaging with the suspect. Be advised.”

You creep along with Loki towards the RV as the driver revs the engine, tail lights flashing red against you. The RV violently backs up, Loki instructing everyone to not shoot. The driver changes gears, driving forward and slamming into a tree. You advance forward, gun in hand along with a flashlight. Arriving at the door of the RV, Loki takes your flashlight, “Stay here, keep watch.”

Loki entered the vehicle while you and other officers stood by, waiting. The door opens violently, Loki throwing the suspect out. The man stumbles as Loki takes hold of his jacket, dragging him further into the woods. You followed silently, letting David handle him. He never was gentle with cases when children were involved.

Loki yelled at the man with no response, only a blank stare. David shoved him forward, falling at your feet, “What the fuck is this guy on?”

You take his forearm and haul him to his feet, instructing an officer to take him to the station while David called out for someone to call PSP. This case was already bad. Fear, and pain already settling into your bones.

You sat in the interrogation room while Loki had the suspect, Alex Jones, backed against a corner. The interrogation had been going on for 2 hours and nothing useful has been said and Loki was getting impatient. You could see it in the way he squinted his eyes and the tension in his shoulders. He needed a break before he exploded.

“Detective, let me try. Take a break.” Loki looks over his shoulder at you, frustrated. He knew you were right but he didn’t want to give up. With a hard sigh, he left the room. Alex visibly relaxed as Loki left.

You had your suspicions about Alex’s cognitive abilities by the way he was speaking, you wouldn’t be able to confirm until the psychologist arrived. Your best bet was to speak as if you were speaking to a child, “Alex, would you like to sit down with me?”

Alex nodded his head, slowly shuffling towards the chair sat across from you. He visibly trembled as he sat down.

“Alex, is it okay with you if I ask you some questions?”

Alex only nodded, “What were you doing today with the RV?”

Alex speaks softly, voice cracking, “Just driving.”

You sigh, “Yeah, I like drives. Was today a special day to drive?” You did not like drives, you preferred not to. David had always been the driver between the two of you.

Alex shakes his head no. You couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. He had no idea what was going on, however, you quickly shoved that thought down, he was a suspect in the case of two missing little girls.

“Okay Alex, I’m going to step out for a minute to give you a break, I know this is all different and scary. Let me know if you need anything.” With that, you left the room. You turned towards the interrogation viewing room door where you knew Loki already was watching your questioning.

As soon as you step foot in the room, Loki snaps at you, “What was that? You were too soft, we won’t get anywhere with that.”

You scoff. David was good at his job but he had a habit of going too far, “No, I wasn’t. You scaring him speechless isn’t going to get us anywhere either. Let me do my job the way I need to and I’ll let you do yours.”

Loki knew you were right so instead of protesting, he went to go talk to the forensics team, leaving you alone in the room with your thoughts. This case was going to be bad for the both of you, you already knew that. You needed to keep your head on straight and keep composure, if you didn’t, this case was going to consume and eat you alive. It was bound to happen, your good luck as partners was going to run out one day and you hoped this case wasn’t it.

You walk back to your desk in hopes to find David when you look outside to see it’s still raining. Stupid fucking rain.

Taglist: @lexie-wayland @whew-oh-em-gee @winterlavenderskysworld @buck-this-nasty @heeyirenee

#detective loki #detective loki imagine #detective loki x reader #david loki #prisoners #prisoners 2013 #jake gyllenhaal #poison and wine #detective loki fanfic #detective loki fanfiction #jake gyllenhaal imagine

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vidalinav · 3 years

Text

Sister’s Day

Summary: Sometimes when you’re sick, you’re not actually sick; or Nesta doesn’t want to go out with the Inner Circle and instead of being left on her own Feyre, Elain, and Cassian opt to stay with her...

Read on AO3 and fanfic; General Masterlist

Her sisters keep looking at her. She can see their not-so-subtle glances as they casually reach for the shelf next to her or explain that they need to grab a book somewhere behind. The light is dim, you’ll hurt your eyes if you read in the dark. It’s been a few hours, try a snack.

They’re ruminating, she decides as Feyre stares deeply at where she sits on the armchair and minds her own business. Yet there comes Elain with a plate full of cookies and the gaggle of the rest of them entering the large foyer.

Feyre does this on purpose, she thinks, making the estate’s library in the center of the living room. Perhaps, Feyre knows that if she wants her older sister out in public, she must entice her with solitude.

Truthfully, they’ve been this way since her and Cassian’s inevitable return.

She supposes it’s her own fault, for giving them the cold shoulder, for being oddly quiet about her life in Illyria. Cassian doesn’t tell them anything, which doesn’t help, and Nesta likes watching them squirm enough that she simply stares ahead, a curious gleam in her eyes as they ask her a question she will not respond to. All of them try to ask, even Amren who outright questions whether she’s back to her old self.

Nesta scoffs, old self. She has not changed. All she’s learned is to hide herself better or reap the consequences.

But something must be different about her, because Feyre and Elain will not leave her alone.

She sighs, pursing her lips as the bedraggled gang set themselves into the chairs nearest her. Cassian taking up the whole loveseat, Mor hiking herself onto the desk as Azriel goes to the window, his shadows following. Amren sets herself up on the coffee table, puzzles already strewn about in pieces and Rhysand… he goes to Feyre as he always does. Nesta resists rolling her eyes as they do that thing they often do where they talk into each other’s minds. Do they actually think they’re being inconspicuous?

Cassian looks to her casually, but she does not meet his gaze, opting for sinking further into her seat and hiking her book up to her knees.

“Well, I think we should celebrate your return with a night out at Rita’s,” Mor offers brightly.

“That seems more like a celebration for you,” Azriel admits, his tone light even in the deep, sardonic notes.

“Maybe it is. I quite frankly am glad your back,” She points to Azriel and Amren, “these two were no fun while you were away. And those two—” Mor points to Feyre and Rhys who both turn at the same time, “well, they were the same.”

Cassian laughs, and Nesta sinks further in her chair as they talk around her. Talk as if she’s not there as if she doesn’t really exist. Just another book on the shelf, another window to peer out of. As nameless as one of the puzzle pieces that bedeck mahogany lines.

“You are coming with right? No excuses this time?” Mor asks, her eyes pleading. The sound makes Nesta want to cover her ears, and she has to clench the pages of her book to keep from sighing out right.

Cassian shrugs, his lips upturned and Nesta thinks he just... fits somehow. In the way that Nesta can’t.

And why wouldn’t he when this is his family?

She has her books, her grimaces, her words, but she doesn’t have… that. These are not her friends, and her sisters only sort of like her. Obligation at the very least, pity at the best of times. Nesta squeezes the hard cover until she feels the bindings start to tear.

What is with their fascination with Rita’s and going out?

But Elain tugs on her sister’s sleeve, and Nesta blinks up at her slowly, lost as much in the words of her feelings as the sentences in the book. Her spine goes straight without her knowledge, her chin lifting until she peers into warm brown and Elain swallows.

Nesta feels guilty for the look.

“You haven’t been out with us in some time…” She starts, “I’ve missed you.”

It wasn’t my fault, she wants to say, but the strangers in the room are staring at her. She can feel their eyes move like a match of wits and daffodils. Which one will win—the lovely fawn or the wily serpent that bites before she’s fed?

Feyre interjects, “Come to Rita’s with us!”

She claps once as if it is a fantastic idea, and Cassian tilts his head perhaps knowing better after all these months. His eyes glaze over hers, and she can read that look. Nesta turns away in answer.

She hopes the chair will engulf her as she sits back, her book open and waiting for her to join back into the world that she can’t not belong to. Even Amren waits for a nod of her head, and Nesta is tired of them. Go away, she wants to yell. Leave me alone!

“I doubt you’ll run into any of those males you slept with,” Amren sniffs, because she’s never really forgiven her for that argument on the sidra.

She can feel the static as the room dulls into a harsh hum and the others go oddly quiet. Stiff and straight, Feyre whips to the tiny ancient one. “Quiet,” she demands.

My, my, what a loving family you have, Nesta thinks. But she doesn’t back away from the challenge, not when they seem to agree with their sweet, dear friend.

“If I don’t,” she smiles, her eyes burning, “I’m sure I can find one before the night is over.”

Wrong answer, because Elain jumps and hugs her side, her cheek squishing into the chiffon. Nesta stiffens at the affection. “Oh! We’ll have such a good time. Won’t we Feyre?”

Her youngest sister nods but doesn’t look convinced. Still, Feyre smiles strangely at her and Nesta sighs, a headache forming behind her eyelids at her seemingly professed agreement. Elain noticing that Nesta’s tea has gone cold, goes to refill her cup, and before she can say she doesn’t need another cup, Elain is gone. Leaving her to a pack of wolves.

Nesta lifts the book to her face, ignoring the not-so-subtle glances her way, and begins reading once more.

He grabbed the sides of her face, his palms warm against her skin. He trailed his hands down her neck until they stopped at the ties of her bodice. She could see the blush already blooming at her breasts…

Cassian coughs. She looks up to see him smirking. That teasing grin that usually makes her hands clench and her temper flare red with blood.

Nesta quickly looks back down.

Her blush already blooming down her neck.

“It would be good for you to get out girl, show your face around here. Mother knows the city must have forgotten what you looked like.

Then maybe you all shouldn’t have sent me away; she thinks as she looks at herself in her midnight blue gown. The fabric shimmers as she moves, and stars seem to be imprinted where the fabric drips and drums. It is the most… scandalous dress Nesta’s ever worn.

It isn’t her own, and she’s surprised she even fits in one of Feyre’s dresses. Though she’s gained weight, it is not nearly enough to fill out her previous figure and she’s always been smaller than her little sister… except at the bust, where Nesta feels she’ll spill out if she trips even slightly.

Elain remarks that she looks beautiful as Nesta stares into the large mirror on the living room wall, but all she thinks is liar. Liar. Liar. Oh great pretender, you can’t pretend well enough.

Mor sweeps down the stairs with Feyre, her revealing dress a putrid red that looks so bright it hurts her eyes. Feyre is dressed in no more than cobwebs, but Nesta shakes the feeling away that women must be protected in fabric, because lace is armor and men are beasts out to prowl.

The Illyrians understand this as traditional as they are. The females are always dressed in sleeves and gowns to the ankle, but furs also adorn their skin… Because the furs are harvested by them, she remembers. Cut by them, woven by them as if to remind the males that they wear animal pelts because they are ferocious themselves. Regardless of whether they captured the beasts that stomp in the woods.

Starve then, she heard one female say. Starve then, to that husband who refused her. What were men in a world where women supported the living?

But this is a power, too, Nesta learns. These gowns, the skin that is bright and burning, the legs that go on for miles. Just like sex. Just like money… Choice and freedom hidden where skin is revealed and skirts part softly.

Oh, great pretender, pretend just a little longer.

Feyre pauses in front of Nesta, looking her over with a pleased expression and Nesta wants to claw that image off her face, but Elain sets her hands on Nesta’s shoulders, her own gown pink and pretty and light. The embodiment of spring in Nesta’s endless winter.

I am not myself tonight, she wants to yell. Who am I?

“I knew that dress would look good on you.” Feyre smiles, “I know it’s not what you usually wear, but I’m glad to see you in it.”

Nesta smiles, gritting her teeth.

“Are you all going to just stand there or are we actually leaving sometime soon?” Amren asks, leaning at the edge of the doorway.

Mor and Feyre give each other knowing glances, and Elain grins sweetly as they all walk ahead of her out onto the porch where the males are waiting, laughing, and huffing that they took forever to get ready. “Not all of us can just roll out of bed and throw on a clean shirt.”

“Rhys took longer than any of us combined. Be honest.”

Nesta swallows the apprehension as she steps out to the porch and immediately she wishes she had a jacket. She refuses to go back in and get one, because she knows if she goes back in she will not come back out.

But Cassian, takes off his own jacket, the fabric warm and soft, and sets it around her shoulders before she can say one word. The others pretend not to look, but they look… the curious, cautious stare that alight in questions that neither Nesta nor Cassian will answer.

Mor taps her heeled foot and crosses her arms. “We ready to go?” She asks, raising a brow.

Cassian gestures forward and they all move as a herd through Velaris nights.

Nesta marks every landmark she passes as if she is leaving behind a clue as to how to get back. She can hear the others laughing and joking, but she doesn’t comprehend any of the words. She looks to the cosmos. The sky swirls with purples, blues, and milky white and Nesta… feels small.

A dot on a map. A fleck of dust in the air. She grasps the edge of Cassian’s jacket, pulling it closer to herself and it smells like him. Pine and wood burning.

“I wish all nights were like this,” Feyre says breathlessly, looking to the stars.

“They are,” Rhysand jests. Feyre elbows him in the stomach, and Rhys jumps away, only to reel back in. A tether connecting the two.

“That’s not what I meant, smartass. I mean that it feels nice we’re all together again.”

At the words, Nesta stops. Her feet pause and the others keep going. She watches them go and go and go and her eyes start to burn. Her fists clenching, her teeth gritting, her eyes blinking over again.

And yet, they walk. They don’t even notice her gone…

She’s a tiny fleck of dust.

Nesta turns back towards the estate, sniffling as she quickly wipes her eyes. Angry that she is crying without a reason to cry.

The dress is suffocating, and her hair is tight around her head. Her eyes burn but not her heart, not her soul. It seems that the wind has snuffed the flame out and only whispers are left.

Pretend no longer, it says.

It’s Elain that rushes after her after the storm has settled. She pulls her by the shoulder and stops as she sees her face, probably red and blotchy. The others are miles away, but at least Elain is here…

“Go,” Nesta commands softly, for she can never be truly mean to her sister.

“Nesta—” She starts, moving her hand from her shoulder down her arm.

“I don’t feel very good.” She replies and Nesta looks to her sister. At the warm brown that looks comforting…understanding, and she wonders if Elain would ever truly understand the back and forth like waves coming and going in Nesta’s head. That make her feel as if she’s downing. Alone. Unafraid, perhaps accepting that this is her life. But always drowning. “Please just go.” She repeats, and at last gives her a small smile for reassurance. “I have a headache that’s all.”

As an afterthought, Nesta takes off the coat, crossing her arms as the cold seeps into her skin. “Give this to Cassian for me?”

Elain nods as concern is written all over her face, but she heeds her older sister’s instructions. And with one more glance behind, Nesta joins the darkness and Elain joins her group of friends.

~ “Where’s Nesta going?” Feyre asks loudly, panic in her voice without realizing that she is nearly breathless.

Cassian takes a step closer to her. Practically his own younger sister who’s in need of comfort, but… there’s someone else who needs comfort. He can feel it. He can see it as Elain comes back with his jacket in her hands.

Elain doesn’t look at them as she answers, settling for staring out into the sidra where the colorful faelights reflect across the water. “She says she doesn’t feel good so she’s going home.”

Cassian watches as she hands him his jacket, still warm from her skin and Elain looks defeated. All of a sudden tired and far away. “She told me to give this back to you,”

He grips the leather in his hand until he can count all of the folds that form in its fabric. Twelve.

Twelve folds. Twelve minutes she’s been gone.

He swallows down the worry, the fear that makes him want to rip the jacket apart, and the plain…sorrow that starts blooming like moonflowers decorating the sidewalk.

“Maybe I should try—” Feyre starts, but Elain shakes her head solemnly.

“She says she has a headache.”

The sisters look at each other as if the statement puts an end to their trying. Mor lays an arm around the girls and sighs, speaking softly—comforting. “Come on you two,” She frowns slightly, “Nothing a night of dancing can’t solve.”

“And a huge bottle of liquor,” Amren adds, “Maybe two.” Though she is equally reserved, as if the night has suddenly gotten darker and they can longer see as many stars.

Cassian wants her to see this. He wants Nesta to know this.

When she is missing, they miss her. Her sisters miss her. Amren misses her. He doesn’t want to leave without her, and… Cassian for the first time, since being back, understands. Because when she is missing, he suddenly feels very alone.

He closes his eyes, his wings rising to catch the breeze, and when he blinks awake his friends surround him. Azriel giving him a look that’s almost apologetic for the stoic shadowsinger. He can hear their laughter begin again, the lights getting brighter with every step, and Rhysand cracks a joke that Amren groans at, but makes Feyre laugh.

They are alive.

He is not back in the war. Not in Illyria. Not in any nightmare. But he’s alone… because she’s alone, and he can’t leave her. He can’t.

“Come on, Cassian, keep up!” Mor calls after him, but Cassian steps back, looking behind, practically seeing Nesta’s figure in the shadows.

“Nesta’s sick,” he responds matter-of-factly and the rest stop in front of him, a few feet ahead. Mor’s brows crease, her lips tilting down.

“You heard them; she has a headache.”

“She’s doesn’t feel good,” Cassian reiterates. “I have to go take care of her.”

“You don’t have to…” Rhys mutters under his breath.

“I want to,” He proclaims, sternly.

Feyre steps forward, her hand dropping from Rhys’s grasp. “Are you sure? Once Nesta gets a headache, it doesn’t go away very fast. She usually doesn’t want to see anyone.”

Cassian huffs a laugh, counting all the bullshit lies that Nesta must have told all these years. Headaches, my ass. She’s probably already back sequestered in some chair with a book in her hand. “You see Feyre, I too am like a headache—”

“By the Mother,” Amren complains.

He can see the look Azriel gives Mor, Mor’s smile straining as she says nothing. Rhys grasps Feyre’s hand as if he can’t stand one moment without touching her, and he leans his head back, sighing as he waits for the implication of a fight in the air.

Cassian won’t give them one. Nothing they can say will convince him to continue on to Rita’s and leave Nesta behind.

But, Elain steps forward, walking towards him.

“I’ll go with you,” She gasps.

Cassian doesn’t know how Nesta will feel about that given her silence towards her sisters, but if Nesta will not go with them, they will go to Nesta.

Elain breathes deeply, her eyes glancing to the midnight blanket set atop them. “It’ll be a sister’s day. Like old times,” she answers softly, laughing as she adds, “Except of course with you, Cassian.”

He can feel more than see Feyre stand straight, her grip tightening on Rhys’s hand. The air turns stale in the wake of their decisions, and he can see all of the doubts already forming in her head. Cassian understands these thoughts, too, for he was once inadequate to the rest of the world.

Yes, that was still a sore spot for them wasn’t it?

But Elain gestures to Feyre, her head tilting towards her baby sister. “Unless you’d rather go to Rita’s...” She adds.

Feyre’s raises her brows, but the look of shock passes quickly, and she reaches out her hand as Elain extends her own. She gives Rhysand a small, satisfied smile at having been included, before nodding to Elain. Rhys lifts the side of his mouth, but the happiness doesn’t reach his eyes.

It does not go unnoticed by any of them.

~ Nesta is dressed in pretty silk pajamas, the only pants he’s ever seen her wear. Her hair is loose and golden brown as it falls down her back, a casual, alone type of look. In which, he means that she would not look this casual if she wasn’t alone.

She hangs by the door, her eyes glazing over one, two, three of them in disbelief and something akin to irritation burns in those pale blues. At the look, Cassian wants to kiss her head in fondness, combing her soft hair with his fingers until her face is red with a feeling she’ll play off as stubborn anger.

Cassian sighs inwardly. He misses Illyria.

She crosses her arms. “Why the hell are all of you here?”

Cassian pushes past her, ignoring her question and surveying the living room as if the answer is obvious. “We’re here to take care of you. Since you’re sick.” He pronounced.

He eyes the bright lamp in the corner, the glow lighting the armchair, where a book lays flat on the seat.

Tsk. Told you so, he tells himself.

Cassian whirls to face her as Nesta stands next to her sisters, her hands on her hips. That Who do you think you are? look permanently painted on her perfect face. “Have you checked your temperature by the way? Taken any medicine? I’m positive I saw some in the main bathroom down the hall.”

“What?” Nesta demands, shaking her head.

He places his hand on her forehead and she shakes him off, her mouth dipping to a frown. “You must be sick if you can’t follow what I’m saying.”

“You must be a lunatic if you can’t understand I don’t want you here.”

“People who don’t feel good,” He offered slowly, “need to be taken care of.”

“In the murder kind of way?”

“In the ‘Nesta, there’s medicine in the main bathroom’ kind of way,” He answers haughtily. Cassian can feel Elain and Feyre’s eyes on them, the back and forth of their gaze as if their conversation is a battle and they aren’t sure who is winning. If he was a betting male, his bets would probably be on Nesta... but more so because she’d appreciate the gesture and less because he was losing.

She frowns, perhaps concluding that he in no way will back down from this. Nesta should know after all these months that Cassian cares too much for his own good and plus... he quite likes the look Nesta gives him when she gets pissy.

“Okay, but how come there’s three of you?”

Feyre opens her mouth to answer, but Cassian beats her to it.

“Why? Did you miss us? We were only gone for a few moments.”

“That in no way equates to what I just said--”

“We’d be happy to start following you around. We wouldn’t want you missing us too badly.”

Nesta reaches her hands up as if she’d wring his neck. Her eyes point daggers, and Cassian isn’t ashamed to admit shivers run down his spine, but it is certainly not from fear.

“I swear Cassian, if you bother me one more time—”

“You’ll what? Tell me, sweetheart, what you can possibly do that will make me leave when you so graciously left us all out in the cold, wondering where you went?” His eyes widen, waiting for her answer. Cassian cups his ear, tilting his head towards her as he starts to hear the tapping of her foot.

“I didn’t feel good,” She explains, crossing her arms once more.

“And as we’ve established, we’re here to take care of you.”

She gives him a bland look. “Fuck. Off.”

Instead, Cassian turns towards her sisters. Elain and Feyre standing dutifully behind the eldest, most beautiful Archeron. “Your sister’s words warm my heart,” he teases.

“Now Feyre if you could go get the medicine that Madja left,” Cassian orders brightly, “And Elain if you could heat up some water for tea. Nesta prefers peppermint.”

The two nod, but Nesta scoffs, “And, what exactly are you going to do?”

Cassian smiles, his grin wide as Nesta glares. “I’m going to make french toast.”

Feyre looks at him confused, and Elain tilts her head waiting for an explanation, but Nesta… Nesta’s eyes light up in the way that he knows she’s pleased and is trying her best to hide it.

Nesta raises her chin, sniffing at his words, as if they don’t mean too much to her, but he knows. Sweets are Nesta’s favorite food group, and french toast is her favorite food. He’s made it more times than he can count in that little cabin between the mountaintops and nothing can convince him that she’s not secretly rejoicing.

“Fine,” She answers in that dismissive way of hers, moving to her reading corner in a flourish and sitting on the chair as if it’s her throne. She picks up the book, her eyes widening as she reads the first sentence.

Nesta looks back up to him sheepishly... nonchalant and all too familiar.

Cassian smirks, wondering if he perhaps is the luckiest bastard alive.

When Nesta’s upset, he learns, she will make up stories.

It makes sense to him since she reads so many books.

Cassian can’t recount exactly when he’d heard her lie the first time, somewhere in between the glaring insults and the wine drunk days. In Illyria, he could count them all from I left my jacket at Emerie’s to it clearly wasn’t me when your wings knock everything off the shelves when you move!

He smiles as he remembers, flipping the bread on the hot griddle. The smell of vanilla and cinnamon reminding him of cold winter days and harsh moonless nights. As much as he misses Illyria, not much has changed since those months in the mountains.

Briefly, Cassian hears the sharp tone of Nesta’s grumpy antics.

“At least take a couple drops,” Feyre demands, aggravated.

“I don’t know what child you’re speaking to but point that spoon somewhere else.”

“Elain!” Feyre calls, as he can hear Nesta huff.

“You can’t just call Elain and expect me to--”

Nesta goes silent, and in a second Cassian can hear the clink of a spoon and the sound of Nesta gagging.

When Feyre speaks, she seems oddly satisfied. “It looks like I didn’t need Elain’s help after all,” she sings, laughter in her voice.

He looks at Elain who surveys the living room. She wears a soft smile and when she looks over to him her eyes are alight with mischief. “I think she’s mad,” Elain mouths.

Cassian can only smile, looking slightly to the living room and imagining her face, her ire.

He wonders, then, what it must have been like growing up as Nesta, being a part of a group of sisters who so obviously care for each other. Never to forget that they love one another. Never to be completely forgotten, and always, always unconditionally loved.

Not for the first time does the guilt settle in the pit of his stomach. He once wonders how anyone could love Nesta... Like a gods-damned idiot, he’d said that to her. Not because he truly believed it, but because it hurt to be denied by her.

Realistically, Cassian knows that he doesn’t have to worry about it anymore, when they’ve squashed this topic months ago, but still… He feels guilty hearing Feyre’s laughter, seeing Elain’s bright eyes, knowing that he too denies his friends in favor of spending time with her.

He would do it again... In a heartbeat. In one breathless moment.

How does she not see it? He questions. How does she not know how much they care for her? Because he knows. He can see it plain on their faces.

But when Cassian takes the sweet bread off the griddle, and onto a large plate for the four of them, he can tell she doesn’t suspect a thing. She sits with her book on the lone chair, while her sisters gather at the table, and he can almost see the distance between them. As if Nesta has set her book high in front of her nose to make a barrier between her and the rest of the world.

Cassian leans against the table, raising a brow.

“Are you going to sit there all day, or should we eat these ourselves?”

Nesta lowers her shield in favor of the offense, “If you touch mine, I’ll castrate you,”

Cassian shrugs, frowning for a moment contemplating the threat, tilting his head back and forth as if he is actually weighing his odds. She does know where he sleeps.

“Fair enough,” He responds in answer.

They eat until the whole platter is gone, but not before Cassian tries to steal a bite from Nesta’s plate, just to piss her off even more. She raises her fork as if she’ll stab him with it, and Cassian secretly wants her to try. If Nesta will not train with him and grant him the ability to see her skills with a sword, he will assess them elsewhere.

“Are you two always like this?” Feyre asks, abruptly. She looks to Elain as they both turn to her and Feyre looks shocked she’d spoken the words allowed.

Cassian opens his mouth to reply.

Nesta drops her fork.

The chair shrieks as she gets up from her chair, and she makes her way back to her podium where Cassian thinks she will sit there like a living statue, perfectly safe in her stony façade. He almost feels offended that she dismisses them so quickly.

Sighing under his breath, Cassian begins clearing the plates. Feyre and Elain help, whispering to each other something Cassian chooses not to listen in on, because he’s staring at her. Always her.

By the time, he’s out of the kitchen, blankets and pillows lie in the center of the room, the plush carpet underneath it all.

Elain and Feyre jumble in the kitchen in what smells of chocolate and cinnamon, and Nesta is left to her own devices in this strange, decorative landscape.

She doesn’t really fit in, he notes.

Not because she doesn’t look the part, but because she doesn’t act the part. There’s something odd about her movements, her looks, the way she carries herself. This room is casual… colorful… homely, and Nesta is rigid, straight, and her eyes, the bright grey, reach out to him.

“You’re staying?”

Cassian nods his head, that grin back on his lips. “Yes, I’ve just been informed it’s sister’s day, and as an honorary sister myself, I feel I’m allowed. Do you want me to leave?”

She looks up at him and at her perusal he lifts his wings higher. Primping, he thinks, like a gods damned fool.

She shrugs one nonchalant shoulder, looking away and back to her book. Almost too casually. Cassian can’t help the giddy feeling that erupts inside of him, that says Nesta wants him here. Nesta wants him to stay. Even if the words never come out of her lips. He has learned to read her beyond spoken language.

But Elain and Feyre come back in the room, and he notices how she tenses up. Her eyes turning molten and hard. Her lips tightening into a subdued scowl she tries to hide behind pages.

It makes his heart ache in ways he doesn’t know how to fully explain.

Nesta knows he’s pretending to sleep. He lays on the couch, his large form draped over the heavy blue, his wings not sparing any of them as she pushes them away where they fall at the top of their heads.

He snores occasionally for good measure. Loudly and offkey. She thinks she’ll tell him that later and let him remark how she’s judgmental even amongst sleeping patterns. Well, Nesta does warn him early on that she wouldn’t be any nicer.

She shifts on the hard floor, bumping her shoulders into her sisters. The heat of them making her want to throw the blankets away. She lies in the middle. Feyre to her left, fiddling with a string on the woven cloth. Elain to her right, scooping her arm into her own, until she cuddles close, tucking her head in. Nesta doesn’t know how they convinced her of this.

At first, she’s too engrossed into her book to notice, lost in seas and a sea captain that is reminiscent to Cassian and his ample physique. But also, by the way his hair is cut at the shoulders and how the wildness exudes from his smile. She will never tell him this of course lest he tease her more than he often does already.

Nesta thinks it must have been her fault, though, because the next thing she knows she’s being pulled to the carpet, being offered hot coco, and they’re all in pajamas. Feyre owns a large enough house, she wants to remark. They don’t have to sleep in the living room, together like they still live in that washed out cabin.

But then they’re asking about her book, and Illyria… and if she made any friends. Poking and prodding and… they look interested enough. So, Nesta tells them. Stubbornly at first, and then in more detail as they ask more questions, answers them until she’s sure she has never talked this much in all of her short life.

All good things must come to an end, though, and they lie complacent and quiet while Nesta looks to the ceiling. She counts every color in the painted swirls. Golds and blues and—Cassian snores.

Nesta lifts her head, ready to smack him with a pillow, but Elain giggles softly.

At the sound, Nesta turns to her sister, but Elain is looking at Feyre, a fond look on her face. Her baby sister smirks slightly, holding her grin tightly in her cheeks.

She gazes at them both, suspicious.

It’s Elain who treads carefully, “Cassian is… awfully sweet.”

Oh, gods.

Nesta sighs, rolling her eyes. His head is only going get bigger.

Feyre shifts to her side, laying her head on her hand. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like anyone.”

Before Nesta can look appalled and answer back that she’s never said she “liked” Cassian, Elain replies.

“She liked Tomas.”

Nesta doesn’t say a word, but even unconsciously she knows Cassian tenses. He knows all about him, can probably pinpoint exactly when the pin drops. She can feel her fists clench between the fabric. Would it rip like her dress that day, she questions.

Feyre scowls, disapprovingly. “Tomas was a—He was a—”

“Poor excuse for a human,” Nesta says, her voice drawing from her throat like music.

Nesta refuses to say anymore, and her sisters seem to take her sudden silence as a plea to drop the subject.

“Oh,” Elain finishes, but perks back up, “But Cassian is--”

“Nothing like Tomas, thankfully,” She answers forcefully. “And that’s all I’ll say about either of them.”

Nesta sees Feyre give Elain a look. Pitiful Nesta, they probably think. Shutting everyone away, can’t bother to hold a conversation.

She lays on her side, wishing she was on the outskirts of them both so she can turn her back on both of them. But the floor is hard and it hurts her shoulder, and she is forced to turn back and begin her venture with the ceiling anew.

“I’m glad your home,” Feyre whispers after some time, as Elain squeezes her arm in what feels like an agreement.

You wouldn’t be if you hadn’t sent me away, she thinks. But instead of answering, Nesta closes her eyes, and pretends to sleep.

“How was my performance? Ten out of ten?”

Elain continues to comb Nesta’s hair as she sleeps. But instead of commenting on his question, she smiles up at him, far more teasing than he’s ever seen her.

"You like her,” She says, not a question at all. Feyre whips towards Elain, giving her a look that seems baffled that she outright says what they’re both thinking. “You get on each other's nerves. You argue incessantly. You have an act for pissing her off that’s rather impressive. But you like her.”

“Is that your seer skills?” Cassian drawls.

“That’s my sister skills,” She answers brightly. Elain shrugs a shoulder, “Well and anyone with eyes can tell.”

“It’s true,” Feyre interjects. “Nesta may deny it, but… something is going on between you two.”

“You are both too nosy for your own good.”

“But then again, I’m not hearing a denial. Am I Elain?”

Elain laughs, shaking her head. “I haven’t heard one yet. It seems he might have really fallen for our big sister. What do you think? Should we allow her hand?”

“I think Nesta has more of a say in that than us. Maybe we should wake her so she can decide? What do you think, summer wedding?”

Cassian huffs, sitting up on the couch and crossing his arms. “You two think you’re really funny.”

“I think your antics make us laugh,” Feyre replies, smiling wide. “Why don’t you just tell her? Assuming you haven’t.” Feyre back tracks, looking to Elain in fear. “You haven’t right? Did she reject you?”

Cassian groans, taking a throw pillow from the couch and throwing it at Feyre. It hits her square in the face. Feyre scoffs, reaching for the pillow, ready to throw it like a javelin, but Elain lifts her hands.

“Stop!” She shushes, checking on Nesta who tosses the blanket in her sleep. The medicine Madja left had left Nesta drowsy and she had quickly fallen asleep after the sister’s kept her talking. Cassian doubts she’ll wake anytime soon.

But Feyre drops the pillow, pointing viciously. “You got lucky.”

Cassian grins victorious. Feyre lifts a brow.

“Why?” She prods, as if the question is her payback. “Why not stop this charade?”

Cassian doesn’t know how to answer. He’s almost afraid Nesta will wake and scold him herself, but she rests peacefully where she’s tucked in tightly once more.

He can’t help the fondness that appears on his face, he can’t help most of what he feels for her. She was a surprise, after all. A happy one. But he wasn’t looking for her, the female of his dreams. He didn’t think she even existed.

But then… Here she is.

She gets under his skin, warms his blood in ways that are both invigorating and infuriating. But Nesta… they understand each other. In ways that no one else could or dared to try. They see each other, accept each other. The ugly in spite of the good. The good in spite of the ugly. Every single part.

So, when Feyre look at him expectedly, Cassian asks himself truly what is he waiting for?

They’ve slept together, though he will not tell them that. He’s sure she’d maim him if he did. They live together… sort of now. Her stuff is still in his house in Windhaven. There’s bookshelves and wallpaper and tiny glasses that Nesta says she likes. And, he is always near her. They spend nearly everyday together, and when he’s not near her, he thinks of when he’s going to see her, what he’s going to say. He enjoys hearing her rant about her stories and he wants to know all of her thoughts. What does she think of Illyria, the conflict, the treaties, but also about the new bakery down the street?

Truly, they’re together. Aren’t they?

But… not really.

It’s different in Illyria. It’s different in Velaris. It’s easier in Windhaven. It’s infinitely harder surrounded by them, when Nesta doesn’t like his family and he’s not all too sure they like her.

“I’m waiting for… the right time.”

Feyre blinks and Elain frowns and Cassian is sure he looks baffled at his own words… Right time? Didn’t he want more of it?

Wasn’t he losing it every time he didn’t make a move?

Huh?

“But aren’t you just wasting time?” Feyre concludes, “Wouldn’t it make more sense to just tell her how you feel and damn the consequences?”

Elain tilts her head, her gaze squinting at him. “Haven’t you waited this long?”

“You sister does have a say in this you know. She could very well take the lead and confess. I certainly wouldn’t stop her.”

Cassian watches as they give each other a bland look, something that calls Cassian an idiot without saying it aloud.

“Nesta reads romance novels,” Feyre offers obviously, as if that is answer enough.

At his confused gaze, sweet Elain rolls her eyes. “Nesta is… hopelessly romantic. Even if she doesn’t seem like it. She always has been since she was young. And she’s very traditional, if you haven’t noticed. Won’t dare to wear pants, not that I do either, but I’ll try new things, new foods. It took Nesta three months to even try a bit of jam on her toast when I first started cooking.”

“It took her three years to stop putting her hair up in those braids. Two seasons for Nesta to go into restaurant down the street, three to go shopping for new clothes that weren’t corsets and long gowns.” Feyre argues. “She needs to be very comfortable to do things that are unfamiliar to her… But she’s comfortable with you.”

“We can tell,” Elain smiles, lifting a shoulder. “She seeks you out when you enter a room, her eyes follow you. She won’t talk to anyone, but she’ll argue with you easily. Even seems to enjoy it. Nesta makes sure that I make blueberry muffins on Monday’s, the same day that you come back early from training… I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you that but here we are.”

Cassian looks down at Nesta, her nose red and her lashes casting shadows on her cheeks. Gods, he loves her doesn’t he? And… she loves him?

Negative. Impossible.

But not impossible…

Because she… cares for him? He thinks. Maybe. He’s not certain.

But what he is certain of is her sister’s knowledge of all things pertaining to her.

“You pay a lot of attention to Nesta’s actions.”

Elain looks to Feyre, “Is that surprising? She’s our sister.”

“I just thought… I don’t know.”

“No, what?” Feyre pleads, “That we didn’t care about her. Did Nesta say that?”

Feyre sighs. “She’s never going to forgive me for sending her to Illyria.”

Cassian grimaces, but shrugs a shoulder. “I don’t know about that, but she’s—Nesta’s trying her best. Perhaps, it’s not the right time,” he repeats back to them, a smug look on his face.

Feyre does hit him with a pillow this time.

Elain frowns, staring at Nesta’s pale skin. “How do we help her?”

Cassian and Feyre pause their antics, and stare at Elain in her yellow cotton dress.

“I think only Nesta can tell you that. Maybe ask, first?”

“And if she says nothing?”

“Then be there for her and… try again.” He answers, softly. “Nesta reads romance novels, yes, because she’s a romantic at heart, but she also reads because the books are there. They are always there, when she’s alone, when she’s upset, when she needs to escape there’s another world. More characters, more stories to rely on because sometimes this world and the people in it aren’t very reliable.”

Cassian gets up from the sofa, as the Archerons look to him where he stretches, striding to the lamp. He looks to them both and then to Nesta.

He’d be someone she could rely on, Cassian promises himself. All of them could rely on him. He’d take care of this little family he now belongs to—wants desperately to belong to…

“Make a world she doesn’t have to escape from,” He calls out softly.

“Now get some sleep.”

He reaches to turn off the lamp, as Elain lays down content with the answer. Feyre gazes up at him, her lips titling upwards, raising a hand in goodnight. And he watches them both, cuddle up to Nesta, tucking her in to their embrace as if they’ll protect her from the world.

Cassian hopes they know Nesta, without a doubt, would travel to the ends of the world for both of them.

Tagged: @cassianscool @fatimafares123 @rotstamp @nestalytical @my-fan-side @pizzaneverdisappoints @courtofjurdan @nahthanks @nestable @soitsgorgeous @arin1030

This is way longer than I thought, but it was really easy to write surprisingly. I think either I have more skill or I make things way too complicated on a regular basis.

I really, really loved writing this in-between stage of Nesta and Cassian being officially together. Having some sort of connection that they haven’t worked out fully yet. I absolutely loved writing Cassian hopelessly devoted to Nesta, but I wanted it to be subtle, a quiet sort of devotion.

I have a fascination with writing Nesta done with everyone, because well she has a right to be, but also because she reminds me so much of a Darcy character from 2005 Pride and Prejudice where she’s just a hopeless, awkward bean whose so inherently introverted that she can’t stand to have people around her and then ends up being rude for no reason, but also has that complexity about her where she secretly does want people around her but she doesn’t know how to ask for it or create the boundaries that she’s comfortable with. It’s always so interesting writing Nesta. I’m going to miss it when the book comes out. SOON! But hopefully, I get more content to write and not less. I’m still thinking of finishing “Queen of Monsters” regardless of the book, since I’ve written so much of that. I just haven’t posted it and I need something to hold me over for the next one.

The next one-shot (provided I write it) will be actually about the Inner Circle trying to get closer with Nesta, because they figure that they’re kind of making a line between all of them if they don’t start including her. But Nesta absolutely does not like being around them and is almost grumpy the whole time. I think it’s funny. But you know, maybe it does helps… you never know.

Anyways happy reading! And it’s almost the release date woohooo!!!

Reblog, like, comment, let me know if you want to be tagged on the next one.

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #feyre archeron #elain archeron #acosf #acofas #nessian fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acotar #vidalinav

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totallytododeku · 4 years

Text

☁ studying together ( x reader hc's) ☁

characters: midoriya, bakugou, todoroki, kirishima, yaoyorozu, uraraka, + ashido

genre: fluff <33

☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁☁

I. Midoriya 🌳🍀🌻

this poor boy is so excited to be spending time with you

but he will not take his nose out of his textbook

he can't help it

he's so happy to be in the hero course he takes his schoolwork a little too seriously

however, you can use this to your advantage ;)

normally you're almost as invested in his journey to becoming the next Symbol of Peace and achieving his dream as he is

and you would never dream of doing anything that could jeopardize it

So you were silently bouncing off the walls with glee when you realized he was impervious to distractions when it came to studying

literally anything is fair game

which is why studying with him is your new favorite time of day

pet his hair

kiss his cheeks

climb into his lap

pat his head

hold his non-dominant hand

hug him from behind his chair

rest your head on his shoulder and take a nap

do whatever you want

you can basically do anything to him while he's studying without having to worry about distracting him

he will blush a little bit of you kiss him but but you think it's adorable

lol turn on whatever tv or music you want

but only if you're done with your work!!

hes very adamant that you keep up with your work as best you can do you can graduate side by side and be pro heroes together someday

K. Bakugou 💣💥 📢

he would totally be the one to invite you to study and he would probably want to study in his dorm

it's super quiet and nobody will bother you guys because they know it's that spiky gremlin's room

overall his room just has a really relaxing atmosphere

you love being near him as much as possible

and he's much more affectionate in the comfort of his dorm room

but that doesn't mean he's gonna go easy on u ;-;

he still has his gruff attitude and will make sure you're studying every day

or else he will call u baka and force you to sit down and study until you know all your material

he's actually a great tutor tho

he writes out all the work for each problem and explains them thoroughly

all while holding in you in his arms while you sit in his lap

sometimes you can convince him to play a game with you where every time you get an answer right he gives you a kiss

but you whine when you get one wrong and he won't kiss you

he huffs before giving you a kiss while still trying to look annoyed

stupid girl he mutters

but he pulls you a bit closer to him to hide his blush and moves on to the next problem despite your giggles

S. Todoroki ❄🔥🍜

he doesn't really need to study but he doesn't know how to just .. relax

like he doesn't know how to not do what his dad tells him to do

and his dad wants him to study

it's just easier for Todoroki to do what his dad wants than to rebel

that is, it was

Until he met you and the dekusquad

obviously everyone cares about their homework and wants to graduate well and go Plus Ultra!

but study sessions with Todoroki usually end up just being you guys trying to help him be less hard on himself while you have him as a captive audience

he doesn't really mind, though, especially when it's just you two

the intimacy of studying together in comfortable silence and just

enjoying each other's company

makes his heart go (*￣∇￣*)

like i said he doesn't really need to study so he'll just end up helping you review material

please just ... hold his hand :)

after you're done studying for the day just pull him into a hug and over to your bed

he needs a nap

you feel warm fuzzies inside from how caring he's been to sit with you while you finished your homework and bring you warm tea

you don't even think you just

Time for cuddles :3

it becomes your daily ritual to study together and then cuddle

he always falls asleep in your arms with a small smile

E. Kirishima 🗿🗿🗿

(HAHAHSHNSJ THE 🗿 EMOJI OMG I'M LITERALLY SO FUNNY LOL I'M CRYING)

"Okay, Y/N, let's study hard and do our homework like men!" *fist-pumping the air and grinning like an idiot*

"...what's so funny? "

he doesn't care if you're not a man it's his trademark

he likes to study at his desk because he says it's "important to stay focused and work diligently"

generally he is the least focused person, ever. besides kaminari.

however, he's so energetic and enthusiastic that once you sit down and start studying he'll be able to keep your motivation up until you've finished all your homework

GREAT at studying for tests and quizzes (in theory)

he will never give up

like I said he could keep studying for hours once he sets his mind to it

So you have to compromise and get him to study in short bursts throughout the day to help him have a better chance of remembering anything ;-;

his memory is not great but it's kinda cute

you, being the smart cookie that u are, realized the best way to help him memorize things was to study with flashcards frequently throughout the weekend while doing other activities

so you plan to hang out together and do something fun every week while having your study material on index cards in your back pockets

it's a literal study date.

a weekly date out to the mall or the park or a little coffee shop but with math trivia thrown in randomly throughout the afternoon!! :D

Of course he was ready to turn it into a game he's a literal puppy

he just wants to show you you can be proud of him

you giggle lightly when you hear him say that and let him know that you'll always be proud of him, no matter what

M. Yaoyorozu 👑🏆☕

studyblr wants what u have.

studying in momo's room makes you feel like a Victorian young lady studying moral philosophy, writing poetry about the mourning doves outside the garden window, and waiting for her husband to come home from sailing the seven seas

it's your Belle moment where she's in the royal library except it's every day

stacks of beautiful, old books

the smell of the crisp, white pages

soft classical music floating through the air

the window cracked open slightly

and you are the luckiest student in all of UA because you get to study with the smartest girl in the whole school

she's also gorgeous and sweet and perfect which def doesn't hurt

u know that joke that ur teacher can spend a year explaining something and u never understand but then a random indian guy on YouTube explains it in 2 minutes and you finally get it

she is that random indian guy

you will never struggle with a single concept after you start studying with her

And she's so proud of you for every little question you answer correctly

(even thought she's the one that explained it all so well in the first place)

it's the definition of comfortable silence

she insists that neither of you study too hard and that you take lots of breaks to stretch

she says its to help you stay concentrated but really she just wants to feel your gentle hands on her shoulders as you massage out the knots

you take turns kneading the tension out of each other's shoulders

you feel a pleasant tingle down your spine at the feeling of her soft breath on the back of your neck

She pulls away and you share awkward smiles, neither of you realizing the other one of blushing, too

(((*≧艸≦)ﾌﾟﾌﾟｯ

O. Uraraka 🌜🚀🙏

ur actually super productive study buddies

Like u started studying together and then all of a sudden you were almost at the top of your class

she's just so sweet that being with her gives you the energy you need to write that essay all in one sitting instead of procrastinating like a normal person

Shows up at your dorm with snacks and drinks to keep your energy up!! :D

even though she's still going to end up getting sleepy anyway later in the afternoon

You get most of your studying done at the beginning of your study date so it's not really a problem

you know she doesn't have a lot of money to be throwing around so you pay for dinner every night

It's usually takeout but sometimes you guys make your own dinner for fun!

it always turns out almost inedible and burned because neither of you were paying attention to the stove

don't let baku see it or he'll start screaming about how you need to try your best at everything so he can beat you fair and square and that includes cooking too

neither you nor uraraka can handle spicey food so you never eat what Bakugou cooks for the class

You grab a few bags of chips and some sushi and shut yourselves in your dorm to pull an all-nighter study session about once a month

it should make you tired but, again, studying with her is so enjoyable that you don't mind

u two enjoy each others company in studying so much that you sometimes read ahead in your textbooks just to be able to study more

overall, hanging out with her is just lighthearted and filled with giggles

and you just so happen to get all your homework done along the way

M. Ashido 👾👽🚿

"studying" with her is so much fun

Hanging out with Mina in general is so much fun

it's impossible not to smile when she's around so even if you have a huge exam tomorrow, all your worries fade away just from being with her

She is pretty distracting in cases where you actually wanted to get stuff done

But you don't care

Change of plans

you're doing mani pedi's with Mina

No more studying

it's not as bad as it sounds though

You're not slacking off or anything and you can still keep your grades up with help from your other friends like Momo and Iida

you guys are just goofing off in the privacy of your dorm room when you should be studying

"It's not a crime to be young, Y/ N ;)"

she's just so energetic and happy like a little pink ball of sunshine

you can't help but laugh at her silliness and cute antics after a long day of classes

she makes your heart beat faster like you're on a roller coaster but without the nerves

somehow you feel giddy and comfortable in her presence at the same time

it doesn't matter what you two are doing, you always have fun

make sure she goes to bed on time, though, or she might end up baking a seven-tier cake at 3 am and Bakugou will scream at you for waking him up

don't feed her after midnight lmao

i started writing this after i almost died of boredom in my online calc class. my senioritis is already kicking in and it's still September (｡-ω-)

#boku no hero academia x reader #bnha x reader fluff #bnha headcannons #bakugou katsuki x reader fluff #midoriya izuku x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shoto todoroki #Uraraka ochako #uraraka ochako x reader #Mina ashido x reader #yaoyorozu momo x reader #yaomomo #Kirishima eijirou x reader #eijirou kirishima #mha x reader #my hero academia x reader fluff headcannons #study date #hc

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hyukmoon · 3 years

Text

Class trip.

Synopsis | you're a teacher going along on a trip for a week with your class and a colleague you despised for a good amount of time now. Things turn around and you don't know what to think about him anymore.

Teacher!Xiaojun x Teacher!gn!Reader

warnings | kissing is the most rated things happening in this, all over awkwardness from you, terrible humor, pretty much just fluff and a there's only one bed situation

word count | 2.2k

things to note | this is the first thing I wrote here, so I'm open to constructive criticism, also [P/A] means prefered form of address bc you're a teacher and all that (not proofread yet)

Let’s preface this. You never really wanted to go onto this trip. You genuinely loved the children in your class, but to go onto this trip for an entire week seemed to be a compromise in the least. Neither were the other teachers your preferred ones nor was it your say where the class trip was going to take place. To be honest, you even found the colleague you were going with a bit annoying.

“It can’t be this bad, you might even enjoy it there. Our fellow colleague is pretty to look at and the worst that could be happening on that trip is that one of the children puts their finger into a pencil sharpener again.”, your friend Yasmin and also, teacher said. Your tired face was working, she shut up. Of course, your fellow colleague was incredibly handsome.

You would and could never argue against that, yet every time you heard their kind and expressive voice you felt like you were blinded by the sun. He just seemed to exude everything you lacked. It is not that you weren’t a good teacher, every time you were out of breath or already done with everything only half through the day, he almost smiled compassionately at you sometimes even winked for that matter.

Xiao dejun, who also went by Xiaojun was the topic of your discussion, a man that handsome you wouldn’t be able to make up in your dream and smart enough to make up for every “inconvenience” you faced with him.

Well, he was that smart to bring you coffee every morning into teachers lounge, share his chewing gum with you and sometimes write you notes if you seem stressed. “Jeez, what’s your problem in the first place? I’m kinda sure he is into you. Every time he looks at you, he literally has heart eyes and bringing you coffee every morning? Please.”, she rolled her eyes at you.

“I don’t think so, I just subbed some of his classes a few times. You know how nice he is.”, nervously you now shy away from looking into Yasmin’s eyes.

Xiaojun didn’t like you, you would feel terrible if he did. Tweaks of shame overcame you; this trip was not going to work out.

Fully packed and all over suspiciously you started counting again the fourth graders on the bus while also having a very good view of the chocolate brown hair of the teacher going along on the field trip. This time his hair didn’t fully cover his forehead, his glasses eyeing you as well. Suddenly his hands tapped on the seat next to him. Heat rose up to your cheeks gradually making it harder to move forward to sit next to Xiaojun. “Mila’s parents called me, she’s sick so don’t worry about her. Just sit down [Y/N], I brought some tea.”, he smiled while pointing at his thermos can. “Uh, sure. I have some cookies with me if you want.”, the last sentence closely sounding like a question as you quietly took the seat next to him.

Not only were you now stunned about the fact that there was a possibility for him to view you in a light like this in spite of you being so passive towards him in the past. Yet there is still the lingering feeling far, far up in your head that you were only imagining things and Xiaojun read everything wrong. “Are you feeling well? We can also sit farther in the front if you feel better there- “, he worriedly stroked your shoulder. “No, it’s completely fine. Just fine.”, you interrupted his ramble and put up your mouth into a cramped smile. His eyes returned that favor, crinkling up into a smile as well.

The bus drive didn’t take as long as you might have thought, your counterpart on the excursion was more than enough to keep you on your toes. Casual glances along a few accidental brushes over your hand kept you in your seat. Now counting again all the children in the lobby of the youth hostel you anxiously eyed Xiaojun again. The amount of children matched up, so your job was done for now, you were most likely only seeing them for dinner. The only thing to do for you now was to go up to your room and contemplate how to not have a physical reaction every time your favorite colleague called your name. Very obvious, you had of course no crush on him or anything like that. He was just blessed with beautifully shaped eyebrows and a voice that could make the worst words you knew sound like a ballade. You moved up from the hotel lobby with some of the grade schoolers to the elevator.

"[P/A] [L/N], do you think when I make Lasagna with my mum it’s the same as cake?”, Xia, a girl from Xiaojun’s music class asked while her classmates giggle about her question. A few loud no’s were to be heard with the occasional high pitched laughs from her friends. “That is a very good question I have never thought about before”, you stopped for a second, what exactly does it mean to be a cake? It is still baked in an oven with layers and contains the tomato sauce as frosting? “I am pretty sure it is. Even though I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow though, I am not a baking expert. I promise I’ll look it up for you, yes?”, you were pretty content with your answer. “Hmmm. Okay. They wanted me to ask.” Xia answered while pointing at the three boys in the back of the elevator which earned her some distraught faces from her classmates. The familiar sound of the elevator bell ringed. “Anyways, if you have as burning questions as these please come to me or …, we’re happy to help. Also, if you feel homesick or sick, I’m always in my room, just knock.” As soon as the last syllable was said stormed the children to their respective rooms and left you there looking at their body shaped dust cloud remembering the cartoons you watched at their age.

You walked down the long corridor towards the light brown lacquered door which showed in golden numerals written the 420. Your shoulders visibly sank down, finally you were able to take a nap. The door opened and closed maybe a millisecond later. Seeing a wide back heaving some shirts on to the rooms ear chair made you catch your breath. His glasses missing and his usually kempt hair was now chaotically drifting across his forehead into separate directions. More importantly though, he was most likely about to put on a fresh shirt, and you stood across the dark brown carpet in the door with a perplexed face.

“Sorry!”, you yelled and closed the door to just sink down with it in your back. Xiaojun packing out his suitcase along his pullover wasn’t what you were expecting to after talking about lasagna and wanting to fall asleep for at least good 30 minutes to then decide if it’s worth it to start to watch a movie. Yet you were barely discussing the fact that he was in your room. Neither did it make sense nor were you able to really comprehend the situation right now.

The door opened and you jumped up onto your feet. “[Y/N]? Why were you in my room?”, Xiaojun quiet voice slid through the gap of the door. “I swear there’s an explanation to this. I think they might have given me the wrong keys or something like that, I didn’t look at you or anything-”, he interrupted your nervous chatter to push the door open and face your confused state. “It’s fine, we’ll figure it out together.”, the usual quirky smile you normally saw when he was trying to cheer up one of his students appeared on his face. Your breath stopped at the together while a comfortable warm feeling churned in your stomach.

“Then let’s go downstairs and work it out with the staff!”, he gifted you another wink which not only gave you the final confidence to grab onto his arm before heading again into the elevator but to for the first time give him a wink back.

“The school only booked one room for the teacher. I can’t really do that much about it, most rooms are already full and other guests will arrive tomorrow, so I’m very sorry for the inconvenience.”, the hotel worker returned to the computer in front of them. “What are we supposed to do now?”, you sighed and gazed at the visibly pondering man. “Honestly, no idea. There isn’t much we can do, so I guess we could talk about it in my room?”

The walk to his room had to be filled with an uncomfortable silence, neither you nor he were able to say something that made the current situation less painfully horrendous. Almost as if the newly gained confidence left your body, you didn’t even dare to make more than an unfunny joke about your nonexistent room or more like transferred room for another alone soul. His room was already coddled with the scent of freshly washed clothes along his close to quiet cologne. “So here we are.You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the ground.”

“This is so inappropriate, dear god.”, you started to sigh again caressing your temples. “Also, no, please take the bed, the school probably forgot to book another room because I said yes to this trip so late.” Even though Xiaojuns throat seemed to struggle a bit with his next proposition, it was still loud and clear what he said. “We can also share the bed... We’re two grown adults.” He laughed awkwardly; you were pretty much speechless.

“Yeah, of course. Two adults. Nothing to worry or think about.”, you tried to brush off any thought you could possibly have about your opposition. No thoughts about his warm breath in your neck while holding you loosely in his sleepy state to waking up to his beautifully messy bed hair in the morning.

“I’ll take a shower if you don’t mind, some of the children were kinda fussy today and I just need a few minutes.” You nodded and unpacked your suitcase, followed by changing into some comfortable shorts and large shirt.

The second you were done; you sank into the still cold sheets of the large bed. He didn’t make you wait for him very long, barely noticeable however his eyes rested on you when he entered the small apartment again.

Neither did it take too long to sit along with you on the bed. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with us doing this?”, his soft voice hit you unexpectedly. “I can also sleep on the floor, or we switch everyday to do it.” You shook your head simply and crawled up the bed to make yourself comfortable under the duvet. “I’m so tired, just don’t steal the blanket, okay?”, barely able to keep your eyes open you sank even more into the mattress.

You really thought it would be easy to sleep next to him, yet the thought of holding his face in your hands didn’t leave your mind. Even asleep he had a stunning presence around him. “[Y/N]? Do you like me?”, Xiaojun turned around to see your surprised expression. “Of course, I do. I just thought that because you were so good at everything, you did all of these things just to spite me.”, you quietly confessed. “[Y/N], I wanted you to like me. You’re a wonderful teacher and I really admire you. You’re so funny with the other colleagues and generally so, so gorgeous.” Xiaojuns eyes lingered on your lips. They stayed there.

“Can I kiss you?” You nodded. His lips brushed softly across your bottom one. You took the opportunity to gain closeness to his warm side before shifting your hands onto his back. Slowly you began to pepper small kisses along his jawline resulting in a small whine from his side. His hands started to wander across your waist to rest on your lower back and pull you in even closer.

Not a lot longer after he started to skim your neck with his teeth. You rested your head now in his freshly scented neck. Again, his lips on yours moving over to just behind your earlobe, nipping on it and breathing into your ear: “Do you want me to continue?” Still resting his soft lips on your ear goosebumps rose up your spine. Waiting for another hint of pressed lips against your skin your arms lethargically crawled up and grazed his cheeks.

“Ah right, the children.”, your voice hitched he was still so close to you. “We could discuss this maybe on a date?”, he looked almost hopeful when his dark and strangely staring eyes met yours in the dim lit room.

“Us kissing and almost doing the deed? Sure. I’m much better at physical presentations though.” You pressed a delicate kiss against his lips. “Since when so provocative?”

“You bring it out in me.” “I’m glad it’s me and no one else then.”, he smiled into the kiss he gave you now. Not long from this you actually found the peace and quiet to fall asleep in his embrace.

#wayv xiaojun #wayv #wayv fluff #wayv x reader #wayv scenarios #wayv fanfic #xiaojun #xiaojun x reader #xiao dejun #xiao dejun x reader #wayv oneshots #xiaojun wayv #xiaojun fanfic #xiaojun scenarios #fluff #xiaojun fluff #xiaojun x y/n #xiaojun x you

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zevlors-tail · 4 years

Note

Heyyy! Is it okay to request something? If so could I request nightmare comfort? I don’t mind which character!💕 I move a lot in my sleep and sometimes wake up 2 or 3 times throughout the night, I also notice when I’m about to wake up from a nightmare I kick my feet around like I’m running away. I’m also v cuddly and clingy (to my pillows ;~;) if not, that’s okay! Thank you 💛

A/N: I hope this was okay! Just some background real quick, I wrote the reader as a pro hero working at UA for plot purposes and for pairing purposes. I also hope I picked a character you like. I don’t actually have this character listed on my writing list but I remembered seeing a post of yours saying they were a comfort character for you, so I picked them because of that. <3 Hope this helps.

You tossed and turned, darkened images flashing under your eyelids as you dreamed of awful, twisted things. No matter how many times you’d seen them, no matter how many times the nightmares repeated themselves in your mind, you would never get used to the horrific scenes that unfolded while you slept. On nights like these, there was hardly any peaceful rest for you.

You woke up for the second time that night, legs kicking behind you as you cried out silently to no one and struggled to regain consciousness. You were so tired of the sleepless nights...and tired in general. Finally bolting upright, your breaths came ragged and shaky as you looked around quickly to gain your bearings. Your room looked just the same as it always did; hero costume hanging on the closet door handle in case of emergency, last night’s clothes strewn about on the floor, and bed sheets pulled halfway off the bed, no thanks to your restlessness. Familiar though it was, it brought you little comfort as you sighed, exasperated, and let yourself fall back down.

Nothing helped. Night after night, you saw the same things, different things, anything your mind deemed terrifying enough to pass as nightmare fuel. You’d tried everything you could think of to stop them. Warm milk before bed, listening to music while you slept, leaving the TV on for background noise, even sleeping during the day and drinking relaxing teas to calm yourself even though you didn’t like tea in the first place. But all of those things just seemed to make it even worse- the milk only made you feel sick, the music and TV noise only played into your dreams, and now you felt tired 24/7 with a wacky sleeping schedule. And the teas? Well, they were just gross. All of it did nothing to lessen the amount of terror you felt in your sleep, let alone calm you down before or after your awful dreams. And tonight, it was especially bad.

Your heart was still hammering in your chest, your hands balled into fists as you tried to forget the things you had just seen. It had been a very, very long time since your brain decided to plague you with such gruesome and horrific things, and you were suffering tremendously from it. Usually you could gain your bearings and force yourself back to sleep within the same hour you awoke, but tonight was different. Tonight, you couldn’t get back to sleep no matter how hard you tried. You felt more than restless, more than tired, more than exhausted with yourself and your mind. An hour passed, and then another, and another, and before you knew it your clock read 2:30am on a Friday morning as you lay there, wide awake, drained for all you were worth.

You needed something to do. You couldn’t just stay here and suffer; you needed move. Come on, you told yourself, it shouldn’t be that hard. Maybe if I wear myself down. Yes, that’s it, maybe a walk would help. Even if it’s past curfew...but, does that really apply to teachers? You sucked in a breath of air, mentally preparing yourself to get up. When you felt you were ready, you swung your legs over the edge of your bed and brought your hands to your face, rubbing harshly as if that could take away the stress you were feeling. It did nothing to help.

One random pair of pants and your favorite jacket later, you were headed out the door and on your way. The night air caused goosebumps to raise on your skin as you trekked around the dorms at UA silently, the only light illuminating your path from the round moon poised high above in the sky. The stars glittered over your head without clouds to obstruct their view, and the only noise you heard was the occasional chirp of a cricket and the hooting of the local owls that liked to nest in the trees nearby. Every so often you whipped your head around to look behind you and make sure you weren’t being followed, your nightmares leaving you spooked even on what should have been a peaceful walk. Was there any aspect of your life that they didn’t completely consume? Would you ever feel normal?

You were so busy looking behind you at the time that you didn’t notice the person in front of you until it was too late. Just as you were swiveling your head back around, you face planted into someone’s chest and let out a strangled noise of terror, suddenly sure that your horrid dreams had come alive and were out to get you. Which one was it? Who was after you now? You didn’t want to know. You turned tail to run shamefully- in the back of your head, you knew better. Heroes shouldn’t run, shouldn’t be scared of dreams or things that weren’t real. But you couldn’t help yourself even if you were a trained pro hero...your nightmares were getting the best of you.

A long arm reached out to grab at the back of your jacket, whoever’s hand it was preventing you from going any further. If your fearful stupor, you didn’t think to use your quirk to get away, nor did you consider that maybe the person keeping you from running away was not an enemy, but in fact an ally. You ran in place for a moment, arms flailing, tears forming in your eyes as you crumpled to the ground.

“Don’t touch me! Get away!” you pleaded, your small voice ringing out through the night. “Let me go, please!”

“Calm down.” a stern voice commanded from behind you. The deep tone and familiarity of it calmed you instantly, and you stopped struggling against their grip as they pulled you back towards them. “It’s just me. It’s Eraser, Y/N.”

You let your body relax slightly but remained on edge, still not entirely sure that Aizawa was really behind you. What if it was another nightmare, or what if this wasn’t real? What if, when you turned around, he had a horrid looking face, or his head was twisted around, or-

“What are you doing out here this early in the morning?” Shouta asked you, interrupting your thinking. You said nothing, your thoughts rendering you speechless and bringing fresh tears to your eyes. You felt like words were stuck in your throat, like you were choking on your own tongue. “You’re shaking like a leaf,” he noted a few seconds later. After a long bout of silence on your end and a pause of uncertainty on his, he sighed and tried one more time to get through to you. “Y/N.”

As if your name was a spell to break the curse you felt you were under, you opened your mouth to explain yourself. “I was just- I wanted to walk...needed to get out of bed, and.” Even if it sounded disjointed, it was the best you could do. You were still too afraid to turn around.

“If I let go of you, are you going to bolt on me?”

“I don’t know,” you blurted out honestly. Really, there was no way of knowing what you would do. You felt glued to the sidewalk with jelly legs and and hardly any air in your lungs.

Wordlessly, Aizawa placed a hand on your shoulder as if to test the waters before slowly turning you around and pulling you into him. You glanced up at his face in terror as he did so expecting to see something surreal, but to your utter relief, he looked completely normal and like the Eraser Head you knew and loved. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding, your face pressing into his shirt as you shivered. Suddenly, it was a lot colder out than it had been before. The sound of his heartbeat thrumming through your ear made you feel grounded and real again too.

Thu-thump.

“Come on, it’s cold out here. Let’s get you to the teacher’s lounge.”

You walked to the school together in silence, neither of you asking any questions or making any small talk, just grateful for the fact that UA was always open for teachers if needed. For Aizawa that was the usual anyways- he was always direct and to the point, and didn’t say much unless he had to. If he had any questions for you, he must have been saving them for later. For you, though, it was little odd. You were always chatting with the other teachers, always engaging with your students, always willing to share little bits of information anyone else might find useful or amusing. Always bright and sunny during the day, wanting to bring smiles to everyone and make them laugh. Lately though, Aizawa had noticed you just didn’t seem like yourself. You looked tired, more so than was normal for you, and had been more quiet and reserved. But who didn’t get tired every once in a while? Eraser didn’t really have the right to judge you or ask any questions about it anyway, considering his own sleep schedule.

“Here.” After you were situated on the couch with a spare blanket from the closet and a small couch pillow to rest your head on, Aizawa brought over a large, steaming cup of tea. You thought he had brewed it for himself, but it seemed he had other intentions as he set it down in front of you on the coffee table.

“I don’t drink tea,” you tried to protest, but he just shot you a look and sat next to you comfortably before pushing the cup closer to you.

“I know you usually don’t, but you should drink that. It’s completely herbal, not like what you’re probably used to, and it’ll help you relax and get back to sleep. I doctored it up with honey and milk, so the taste shouldn’t be too strong.”

He watched you with careful eyes as you gingerly picked up the mug and brought it to your lips, apprehension reflecting in your own orbs as you took a small sip. You made a small sound of surprise as you took another larger sip, not minding the taste as much as you usually did.

“It’s not that bad,” you admitted quietly.

“It’s my own blend. I made it for when I have especially rough nights.”

Silence washed over you both as you busied yourself with drinking the tea, Shouta’s eyes never leaving your face. After a bit, when your cup was a little more than half empty, he started up conversation with you again.

“So what were you doing outside at three in the morning?” Straight the point, as always.

“I was on a walk. I couldn’t sleep, so I thought maybe it would help.” You took another sip of your tea.

“Do you normally take walks at three in the morning when you can’t sleep?”

“Not often, no. Only when it’s-” You stopped yourself before you could finish your sentence, not quite sure if you wanted to admit what you were going through. You hadn’t told anyone before, mostly because it felt like a private problem that you needed to deal with on your own, and something that you didn’t want to burden others with.

“When it’s...?” he prompted. His eyes desperately searched your face for any clues on what might be bothering you, though he already had an idea of what it might be.

“Ah, nothing.” You quickly swept the issue under the rug by trying to change the topic. “What were you doing out at three in the morning, hm?”

“I was patrolling the dorms, like I was supposed to.”

Oh. Well...that was...a pretty logical explanation. You weren’t sure what you were expecting.

“So I interrupted your patrol. I’m sorry.” You realized you must have pulled him away from what an important task, and suddenly you felt immensely guilty for causing him trouble. “I didn’t mean to take you away from that...”

“Don’t be. I got Mic to finish up for me after I took you over here, so it’s fine. I don’t mind.”

“Mmn.” You gave a quiet sound of acknowledgement, unsure of what to say after that, so you just kept drinking your tea.

Aizawa stared off into the distance as if considering something, then brought his focus back to you as he spoke. “So, how long have you been having the nightmares?”

Judging by the look on your face, he had hit the nail right on the head with his assumption. After seeing all of the little red flags, he had pieced the puzzle together in his mind and concluded you were suffering from something sleep related. And after seeing how you acted when he encountered you on his patrol, he thought it obvious that you clearly were disturbed by something lately, to which his guess had been nightmares, or maybe even night terrors.

You remained quiet for a moment, your grip on the still warm mug tightening ever so slightly as you shrunk in on yourself. “For a while...” you breathed out.

“And how long is ‘a while’?” he pressed gently. He didn’t want to push you too hard.

“I don’t know...a long time.”

“Have you told anyone?”

“You’re the first person I’ve said anything to, since you asked.” You nervously took another swig of tea.

“You don’t have to talk about them unless you want to,” he offered, hoping his words implied his obvious invite to let you vent if you needed. You understood his intent, though you genuinely didn’t want to bring the subject back up. The less you thought about them, the better. If you rehashed the nasty things you’d seen earlier tonight, then they would just slink back into your dreams and cause you more grief than they already had.

“I appreciate that, Eraser. I really do.”

“Just call me Shouta.”

There was something in his voice, something endearing, so full of care in the way he said it.

You didn’t need nor did you want to talk about them. For now, it was enough to be in the presence of someone you cared deeply about and that you knew cared deeply about you too, that understood your silence, that could hear the words unspoken by you when you felt you couldn’t speak. It was enough to just be close to him, a calm quiet between the two of you as you finally finished your drink. You set the mug back down on the table and leaned into the couch to rest your eyes, finally feeling somewhat safe to do so, and sighed as you snuggled into the blanket.

Shouta stayed with you while you drifted off safely under his watch, his lips turned up slightly at the corner as he watched you slip away peacefully. And at the first signs of any discomfort while you slept, he didn’t hesitate a single moment to pull you into his side and cradle you in his arms as he laid back with you, his hand supporting the back of your head while he held it to his chest. You woke briefly, just long enough to hear him murmur an apology for waking you before hushing you softly. His heartbeat reverberated through your ears and into your dreams as you cuddled into him, the sound calming you and lulling you back to sleep easily, and you finally felt at peace. Miraculously, the nightmares that had plagued you for so long gave you reprieve for the night, and you slept soundly on top of Shouta until school the next morning.

Your day carried on as normal after that, and you felt like your old self as you taught your students, genuinely excited to see your kids and engage with them through the course curriculum. The students seemed to sense this as well and were rather overzealous and giddy all day, which only helped to boost your mood more. After your classes were over and your hero work was done for the day, however, you headed home and lay down in your bed, fears and worries all coming back to you. What if you had nightmares again tonight? You didn’t think you could take another sleepless episode, especially after the peaceful rest you had last night. It had felt so good to actually rest, and now you had to go back to this?

And that was exactly how you found yourself in front of Shouta’s door two hours and a nightmare later, tears on your face and clothes haphazardly thrown on. He welcomed you with open arms and a “It’s unlocked,” which you were so grateful for, and the world just seemed right again as you curled up together on the bed, limbs intertwined as he held you close.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” he asked.

“No, can we just stay like this?”

“Of course.”

From then on his door was unlocked every night. He left it that way for you, made sure to tell you that fact so you knew you were welcome there in his space. Every night you made your way to him. He calmed you down, made you tea if you so wished, and held you. And every night you fell asleep to the same sound.

Thu-thump.

You found that nightmares weren’t so scary anymore when you had someone to love you through it.

And love you through it, Shouta did, always.

#aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa #eraserhead x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa #shouta #aizawa shouta #eraserhead #bnha #shouta x reader #mha #request #sleepymonokuma #sweater writes #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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hard-boiled-criminal · 3 years

Text

Venus Ambassador - 1

Loki x gender neutral reader

Loki tv spoilers

Prologue

You could feel your frustration build as you read through a court hearing where the judge and the defendant just kept going in circles, repeating themselves over and over and you were sick of it.

With a groan, you tossed it back on to the desk and leaned back in your chair, massaging your temples to try and soothe your growing headache.

‘I wasn’t made for all this legal shit,’ you thought, frustrated and annoyed. ‘Couldn’t they have, I don’t know, spiced it up a bit for me at least? All I’m asking for is maybe some more information on these different worlds and species. It’d be good to know what the heck a Daijiq is, not about how “x did this and altered the timeline so we gotta dust ‘em” and all that boring bullshit. They’re just having me read the court transcripts and write documents about how my dimension works. Not to mention making me watch that Hanna-Barbera-esque cartoon and then quizzing me on it.’

With another groan of mental pain you slouched back forward.

“You know what? Maybe I just need a (tea/coffee) break. Yeah, that sounds nice.”

You stand up from your chair and stretch, groaning as your bones and muscles protest at moving after being idle for so long. Thankfully, you were able to easily convince the TVA to provide you with a (tea/coffee) maker, which now sat and a small table in the corner of the room. You purposely placed it in the corner furthest away from your desk so that you’d be forced to get up and stretch your legs every so often, lest your muscles waste away into nothingness.

As your beverage was brewing, two knocks rapped at your office door. Before you could respond, they let themselves in. They held up a manilla folder and gave you a nod.

“New variant case.”

“Thanks.”

They placed the folder on your desk and promptly left. It seems neither you nor the TVA were still quite used to each other’s presence, despite you being here for a month already. You couldn’t really blame them. Afterall, your dimension’s inner workings completely went against their own and their ideals.

With a sigh, ‘more paperwork. Great,’ you head back to your desk with your piping hot drink. Not wanting to pick up that dreadfully boring court transcript you were reading, you decided you might as well take a look at the new file.

You take a sip of your drink as you open the file and gasp, accidentally letting in too much of the almost-boiling drink. You immediately start coughing and sputtering, and your tongue is definitely burned. After your coughing fit subsides, you rub your eyes and look at the file again in disbelief. You had only learned that this was the TVA in the Marvel Cinematic Universe last week; you weren’t expecting one of the characters to be here as a variant so soon!

Loki.

Drink forgotten on the desk, you grab the file and rush out of the room. You couldn’t let your anxiety take over now, not when you had the chance to meet the Loki. If we were talking about problematic favorites, then they were number one on the list. ‘I mean, they’re a villain and they’re hot. What was I supposed to do? Not simp over them?’ You knew Loki would be here eventually, having seen the trailers for the tv show, but when you arrived here, you had no idea what point of the timeline you were at. The show hadn’t aired yet, so you have no idea what’s to come. That thought makes you both nervous and excited.

It doesn’t take you long to reach the circulation desk. You hand the file to the person sitting there, and a bit out of breath you ask, “that variant… where are they?”

They give you a strange look before looking through their own files. “It looks like they are currently with Agent Mobius in Time Theater A, floor 2WE.”

“Thank you,” you hurriedly grab the file and speed-walk to the elevator. You’re not about to risk running through halls filled with armed TVA that could vaporize you with a single tap from their zappy sticks, especially since it seemed many of them didn’t quite like you. Luckily, there’s an elevator close by and you get there quickly, waiting for it to come to your floor after hitting the button. As soon as you confirm the elevator is empty after the doors open, you rush in and hit the button labelled ‘2WE.’ Now stuck with nothing to do but wait, your mind finally has a chance to catch you up on all the anxiety you forgot about—all those doubts that started to build up, wondering if this was a good idea. You start to pace around the small space as nerves get the better of you, nearly jumping out of your skin when the elevator dings and the doors slide open. There’re people rushing about, like always, and you do your best to squeeze past them to Time Theater A.

You slip through the theater doors as quickly as possible, letting out a quick sigh of relief as soon as you’re out of the crowd. You look up, and there he is, sitting on the steps to your left, face in hands and tesseract beside him.

He looks so… lost.

“Um, are you okay?” You asked without thinking, immediately berating yourself in your head. ‘Stupid! Of course, he’s not okay! They just got kidnapped by the TVA and now look at them! He looks so… despaired? Unsure? Like everything he thought he knew was a lie? Again?!’

He glances up at you, slightly lifting his head out of his hands and raises an eyebrow.

You stand there awkwardly for a couple seconds, not quite sure what to do. ‘They seem like a tea person; I should’ve brought tea… wait, shit, I don’t have a thermos. There’s no way I could bring some tea all the way down here without spilling it all over myself and—okay, you know what. Fuck it,’ you leave all caution to the wind and walk over to him, sitting on the steps to his left.

“…that was a stupid question, wasn’t it?” you said, letting out a single self-deprecating huff of laughter. A moment of silence passed between the two of you. You take a deep breath. “It’s okay to feel things, you know. It’s also okay to let others see that you feel things. I know that it’s hard, but sometimes it’s easier with a stranger. So, if you want to, you can…vent? Fuck, sorry, I can’t think of the other word for it, and you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with—actually, you know what, forget it, just forget I said anything at all and now I’m rambling and making a fool of myself—okay, deep breaths.”

You felt absolutely mortified. He you were, tiny insignificant mortal you, trying to comfort a literal deity who you may or may not simp for and making a complete fool of yourself. This time, it’s your turn to bury your face in your hands. You want to scream in frustration at yourself, but there’s no way you’d do that in front of them. You peek at them between your fingers to see that he’s looking at you with confusion written on his face.

“Heheh… sorry about that. I tend to ramble a lot… especially when I don’t know what to do,” you take another deep breath and turn to look at them. “But where are my manners. I’m (y/n), nice to meet you—"

“Loki,” Agent Mobius cuts you off as he enters the room, wielding the phaser stick.

‘This… this is not a good situation right now, is it?’

Hey. I know some people (like myself) like to be added to the taglist so… if you wanna… lemme know and I’ll slap your name on it. Ok. So. I’m going to try to update this weekly as the episodes air. Maybe biweekly if I need to cut some chapters in half because they’re long and I wanna post what I’ve finished so far. But maybe, just maybe, as we get further into the series, I’ll drop some little omakes here and there, small fluffy interactions…

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keanureevesisbae · 3 years

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Coach Cavill - Chapter 9

Summary: Before they go to the autumn market, Amelia, Benji, Isabella and Henry have to talk about what happened the day before.

Coach!Henry Cavill x Amelia Jung (Asian ofc)

Wordcount: 6.3k

Warnings: None

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

I wake up before the kids do, as I usually do. I mean, maybe it’s a habit that I adopted back in Korea, because in the first fifteen years of my life, I wasn’t able to function properly before ten in the morning. However, during my trainee days and when I was still in Forever Hope, that meant starting the day at six in the morning. You had to eat breakfast, get ready for the day, dance practice, singing lessons, improving my Korean, going to the gym. By the time I moved back, my biological alarm goes off at six a.m. and I always get up then, since I can’t help but to get up early.

This habit comes in very handy, as I’m a mother now.

I take a quick shower, get myself ready for the day and I catch myself putting in extra effort for my appearance. I put on a little blush, put on some light lipstick and I spend a lot of time on my hair. I descend downstairs, where I make myself a cup of tea, before I plop on the coach. I think I only got one hour of sleep at the end of the night, because I kept worrying. Worrying about what this might to do Benji and Isabella. How the dynamics will change between them and their father.

Oh no, I haven’t even thought about how this will go over in town. I remember when the people in Luna Meadows got ear of what happened between Dean, me and how Mindy Simpleton was involved. However, that barely had anything to do with the kids. To some extent, of course it had something to do with the kids, but it was mostly about me and Dean. This however, is between Dean, Mindy and my kids.

Tears burn in my eyes, the same tears I have been holding every single time I looked over at my kids while they were asleep. Why does everything has to be so complicated? Why did I have to get divorced in this manner? It’s not that I have anything against divorce, but I just wished that it was one where Dean and I just fell out of love, but we still had the kids best interest in mind. That we would work together, just like we did when we were still together.

But that is not the case, not at all.

My phone rings, indicating I have received a message and I look at the screen. My heart starts to race, my hands all of the sudden get really clammy. Henry is already texting me? It’s only seven in the morning…

Henry: I hope I’m not waking you up, but I was wondering what time the Jungs would like their breakfast? 🤗

I let out a small chuckle, as the tears of either sadness or happiness—I don’t know at this point—run over my cheeks again. The fact that he uses an adorable emoji, one that is my favorite too… I don’t even know how this makes me feel.

Amelia: I’m up already, so whenever you want.

Henry: The place opens up at seven thirty. I can come right after I picked it up?

Amelia: Sounds good.

Henry: Want some cappuccino with that as well?

Amelia: You know me too well

Henry: I’ll bring you a cappuccino and I think Benji could use some coffee. How about I also bring some smoothies with me for whoever wants to?

Amelia: Just make sure the smoothie doesn’t have pineapple in it. Isabella is allergic to that.

Henry: Noted

Amelia: Please bring the receipt, so I can pay you back

Henry: You can pay me back with your presence, Amelia. That’s good enough.

Henry: I mean that

I lean back on the sofa, as I let out a deep sigh. Time slowly passes, as I continue to sulk over this. When I just started dating Dean, I never thought about having kids and neither did Dean. When I missed my period, Dean actually went to the store, to buy me some tests. They were all positive and despite being terrified, we both were also over the moon. It felt complete and I was so happy, just like Dean. We were going to be parents and he promised me that he would be there every step of the way.

As I told Henry on our date, I had to recover quite a few years after I had Benji, before I even dared to have another child. I wanted two kids, wanted that my firstborn had a companion, someone that no matter what happened to Dean and I, was there for them. But after two kids, I knew that it was enough for me. I have no desire to expand my family and I thought that even after the divorce, he would keep his promise to me: no more kids for us.

But Dean is doing what he promised me we wouldn’t do. I know that it’s unfair to want him to keep his promise…

I remember his face when Isabella was born. He missed the birth, being unable to get out of his meeting in time. It was rough, it was painful and unexpected and I so wished he was there with me. But he looked so happy, as he was holding Isabella in his arm, sitting down next to me on the hospital bed. ‘I’m so sorry that I wasn’t here,’ he whispered. ‘But thank you for this beautiful human being.’

I leaned against his shoulder, nuzzling my face in his shoulder. ‘I don’t think we should have more kids,’ I told him. ‘Unless you want me dead.’ I couldn’t believe that Eve tried to tell me that the second time giving birth would be easier and worse: that I blindly believed her. ‘Two is enough, don’t you think?’

He softly chuckled, visibly scared to wake her up. ‘I do think that two is enough. I love you, princess,’ he told me, kissing my temple. ‘I’ll forever do that.’

What a fucking liar.

The doorbell rings, snapping me out of my thoughts. I quickly jump up and rush to the door. When I open it, I see Henry with some bags in his hand, Kal—who is excitingly wagging his tail—standing right next to him. ‘Good morning,’ he says with a smile. ‘Kal and I come bearing gifts in the form of breakfast.’

I want to say something, want to be polite or funny or at least grateful, but I can’t seem to find the words.

Except tears.

‘Oh, no,’ Henry says, placing the bags on the porch. ‘Come here.’ He holds out his strong and protective arms and I don’t even think a second letting myself being engulfed in his arms. ‘You look exhausted,’ he notes.

‘I am,’ I mumble. ‘I don’t think I have slept more than an hour last night.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ he whispers. ‘Let’s get breakfast settled, okay? You drink the cappuccino while Kal keeps you company. I can make myself at home and set the table. How about that?’

‘I don’t want you to think that I only invited you so you can serve as my butler or anything.’

He holds onto my shoulders, so he can look me into my eyes and says: ‘I know that is not your intention and nor is that the case here.’

‘Thanks once again,’ I say, placing my hands on his. ‘You’re amazing.’

‘Not a single problem.’

He grabs the bags, before I step to the side to let him and Kal in. We walk to the kitchen and he hands me my cappuccino. This is exactly what I need. I lean against the kitchen island, as Kal presses his cold wet nose against my hand, urging me to pet him. ‘Henry,’ I say, to gain his attention. ‘I’m sorry about yesterday.’

‘Don’t,’ he says, in a tone a lot sterner than I have ever heard him use before and Amelia, I swear, don’t let your mind wander. ‘Don’t you dare feel sorry about it, not even for a second.’

I’m not listening. ‘I’m not just apologizing for last night’s events,’ I say. ‘I’m especially apologizing for that kiss. I shouldn’t have done that.’

‘Why not?’ Henry asks, placing the smoothies on the table, checking the labels again.

I shrug, but he isn’t looking at me, so I add: ‘I don’t know, felt… Wrong. Weird. Too much too soon.’

‘Well, if this eases your mind: I don’t think it felt wrong, weird or too much too soon.’ Henry smiles, causing my stomach to twist in a way that I forgot that was pleasant and I smile back at him. When was the last time I felt like this? ‘And besides, I didn’t mind it one single second.’

Maybe it’s a good thing I hear two sets of footsteps storming down the stairs, so I don’t have to think about an answer for this. ‘Coach!’ Isabella yells, before rushing up to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he crouched down for her. ‘You’re here! For what?’

‘I brought breakfast,’ he says to her. ‘I have four smoothies and you can pick the first one, how about that?’

She smiles brightly. ‘Really?’

‘Really,’ Henry confirms.

She looks over at me with a hopeful and happy smile on her face. It’s such a change from yesterday. ‘Mom, I get to pick the first smoothie.’

‘Make the choice worth while,’ I say with a smile.

Isabella’s eyes fall on Kal. She jumps a little, as Kal trots over to her, pressing his cold nose against her cheek, causing her to squeal.

Benji carefully approaches. ‘Hi coach,’ he says.

‘Hi Benji, slept well?’

‘I did,’ he answers. ‘Thank you.’ He stands next to me, lets out a long sigh and then says: ‘Good morning, mom.’

‘Good morning honey. I’m glad to hear you slept well.’

He nods. ‘Did you?’ My silence must be his answer. ‘I’m sorry. I think Isabella and I both forgot how this situation must be tough for you too.’

Henry looks over his shoulder, as one corner of his mouth curls up as he looks over at us. I sometimes wonder what I did in life to have two amazing kids, who are very considerate towards me and others for that matter.

‘Don’t you worry about me,’ I tell Benji. ‘I’m all okay. Go help set the table.’

He holds my hand for a brief second, giving it a squeeze, before walking over to his coach to help. My phone beeps, only to tell me that Dean send me a text.

Dean: You up?

Amelia: We don’t want to talk to you yet. If we did, I’d text you, remember?

Dean: I want to talk.

Amelia: Please, just read my previous message and for once think about your kids first, instead of yourself.

Sometimes it stuns me that I was married to him. Was he always this selfish and nearly childlike or did that change the moment he exchanged me for a younger model?

Who he got pregnant. Oh my, I still can’t believe that.

‘Mom, you can pick your smoothie now. I chose the orange with tangerine juice. Benji chose the one with banana, oranges and coconut milk. There is a banana mango one and a strawberry raspberry one left,’ Isabella says, dragging me out of this virtual conversation.

‘Banana mango, sweetie,’ I say, as I walk over to the table, to sit next to her. I look over to Benji and Henry, as they sit across from us. Henry thanks Isabella as she hands him the smoothie that is left and I let out a deep sigh. ‘Okay, we have to talk about the elephant in the room.’

‘We know,’ Benji says, though he looks like he’d rather be somewhere else. I mean, you and me both, kid. If I could, I’d skip this conversation, but if there is one thing motherhood taught me, it’s that the most painful conversations, the ones that deprive you from any sleep, are the ones that are very very important. ‘If there is something that you only want to tell me, maybe only to each other or only to Henry, you can just say so. I won’t judge and neither will anyone else at this table. Is that clear?’

‘Yes mom,’ the two of them say.

I nod. ‘Yesterday it became pretty obvious that you weren’t happy about Mindy’s pregnancy. How did they tell you about this?’

If there is something I have learned over the course of this divorce and trying to make this co-parenting work, is to always ask about the entire situation, so I know all about the wrong things their dad said, so I can make it up to them as we go.

Benji clenches his jaw, as he looks away from us. Isabella looks at me and decides to speak up. ‘We were sitting at the table in the kitchen. Mindy made us cupcakes and it had the text: ‘Congrats big brother’ for Benji on it and ‘Congrats big sister’ for me on it,’ she says. ‘Benji asked if it was a joke and then dad told us it was not and we should be happy about it.’ She looks at her big brother, before she says: ‘That was when Benji got pretty mad.’

Benji scoffs. ‘Well, he can’t fucking force me to be happy, right?’

‘Language,’ I say. Maybe Kal senses that he needs the most support right this moment, because the big dog struts over to Benji, placing his head against his arm. ‘But you are right,’ I say. ‘People can’t force you to feel a certain way. What happened after that?’

‘Well,’ Isabella continues, ‘Benji went upstairs to grab his stuff and came back with mine as well. He told dad that we were going home, that we had to think about this. That’s when dad got very angry. He told us that we should stay here and celebrate this. I told him that I wasn’t feeling very festive. He then said to me that I had to suck it up and fake it.’

When I was still together with Dean, he wasn’t the most well equipped dad, with the greatest parental decisions. I mean, he was a well loved English teacher in high school and to some extent, he is actually good with kids, but only for a certain amount of time (read: a maximum of three hours spread over multiple days). Naturally, he isn’t a good father. But when we were raising Benji and Isabella, he was willing to listen to me, to at least try his best to make the right decision. Though I sometimes wondered what on earth was going through his mind from time to time, I saw that he tried and I loved him for that. He admitted multiple times that he wasn’t naturally a good parent, not in the way I was, but that he was willing to learn from me. It was rough, but it was also doable, since we worked as a team.

The second he moved out of this place to move in with Mindy, it seemed like every parenting tip I had ever given him over the course of fourteen years, was thrown right out of the window.

‘Right,’ I mumble, thinking about Dean’s “fake it” tip. I gave the kids that tip once, when they had to go to parties thrown by kids they both didn’t like. Then it was useful, now it feels depriving our kids from having their own emotions. ‘Okay, then what?’

Isabella looks up at me, taking a sip of her smoothie. ‘Then I said I wanted to go home with Benji, but dad told me that it was too late for me to go home. Benji told him that if I wanted to go home, he was going to take me home, no matter what time it was. He grabbed our things and we went home.’

‘But he followed us in his car, continuing to say how we broke Mindy’s feelings and while that wasn’t my intention,’ Benji continues, ‘I was just mad, because he ruined everything.’

‘What did he exactly ruin?’ I ask him, though I think I might know where he is going.

‘Our family.’ He stares at the muffin in front of him, as I see tears form in his eyes. Henry gently places his hand in the back of Benji’s neck, almost as an encouragement for him to continue talking, but also for letting him know that he is not alone. That we are all here for him. ‘He ruined us. He betrayed you, mom,’ Benji says, his voice breaking in the process, something that on my end breaks my heart. ‘Now… He is betraying us, because he is not a good enough dad for me or for Isabella. How is he going to love another kid, when he doesn’t even love us? What if he loves them more than he loves us? What if that kid is better than us?’

No ‘recently divorced’-blog prepared me for this, at least not the ones that I have been reading. Fuck, how do I respond to this? I mean, his worries are obvious and valid, but as his mom, there is something that I can say that will help him in understanding and dealing with this situation. I clear my throat, as I look over to Henry. He bites his lip, as he seems to be at a loss for words as well. I really have to figure this one out all by myself. I wished Johnny and Eve were here as well. Or even my parents for that matter.

‘He did ruin our family,’ I eventually say. ‘He did betray me and I don’t understand why he is starting a new family, when he indeed has shown that he wasn’t the greatest dad to either of you.’

‘You are going to say but, aren’t you?’ Benji asks.

I look at my smoothie. ‘Maybe,’ I say. I take a sip of my smoothie and say: ‘I will let you decide what the two of you are going to do with this. But I’m going to tell you something that you have to keep in mind, okay?’

The two of them look at me, both with a nearly identical frown, a trait they inherited from their dad. ‘Okay.’

‘This is going to be a very happy time for Mindy.’

‘How do you know?’ Isabella asks. ‘You weren’t even there.’

‘True, but I have been pregnant two times. Knowing that I was expecting you two, were the two best moments of my life. Mindy will have a kid of her own and that is very exciting. Being a first time mom, or a second time mom, third time, whatever, for most people it’s wonderful. Hearing that she went out of her way to tell you guys, means she is very happy.’

Benji frowns and Isabella doesn’t seem too sure of what I’m trying to do here. I don’t really know how to continue this, if I’m being totally honest.

‘What your mom is trying to say,’ Henry decides to butt in and I’m so thankful for that, ‘is that you don’t have to go your dad anymore, but that you can send a card for example, to wish Mindy well. You can write that in a card, with something for their new baby.’

‘Why would we do that?’ Isabella asks.

‘Because that is the mature thing to do,’ I explain to them. ‘I mean, there are a million things I would rather do, but I am mature and will not do that.’

Benji sighs. ‘But if we do that, we don’t have to go anymore?’

‘Well, you don’t have to go in the first place,’ I say, ‘but if you do this, there isn’t any reason for your dad to be angry at you. He probably will be, but we didn’t hand it to him on a silver platter.’

Isabella nods. ‘We can buy something for the baby,’ she says. ‘And we can write a card. Maybe you two can help us.’ She points to me and Henry. ‘You are actual adults, so you probably know what to say.’

‘Henry can help us with that,’ I say. ‘He was born in England and he might be a little bit more polite than I am.’

Benji chuckles. ‘Because you might be very mature about this, but you actually want to tell them that this is a bad idea?’

I let out a laugh, but I also have to hold in my tears, because… That is exactly what I want to do. While I’m not the biggest fan of Mindy at the moment (or ever will be for that matter), she is a young woman and from the looks of it, she is not very happy in the life that she rolled into from the last few times I saw her, so… This is a bad idea, for both parties involved.

But I’m not interfering with other people’s love life, especially not in theirs, since it is not my place to do that.

‘Is there anything else that you want to tell me?’ I ask.

‘Well,’ Benji says, ‘just one thing, to all of you: I’m sorry for yesterday. I know that I scared Isabella, I know that I broke some things here and I know that I hit coach.’

‘It’s all good, kid,’ Henry says. ‘Don’t you worry about it.’

‘You know I don’t care about those types of things,’ I say to him. ‘As long as no one is injured, we’re all good.’

Benji looks at his sister, who blinks her eyes. I can already tell that for dramatical sake, she keeps quiet. ‘Well,’ she says, looking at her smoothie, ‘you did scare me a little bit.’ Isabella, honey, for your brother’s sake, don’t drag this out… ‘But I understand that you get mad from time to time, so I’m not mad at you. I forgive you.’

Benji is visibly relieved and nods. ‘Well, good then.’ He takes a bite of his muffin and Isabella copies his movements.

‘That’s it?’ I ask, a little bit confused.

‘That’s it,’ Isabella confirms. ‘Benji and I are going to be mature.’

‘Okay…’ I have no idea what I have to say to them now. ‘Remember, if you change your minds, that’s okay. You can always think about it again and if you want to you can always talk to me or Henry or Eve and Johnny about it.’

‘We know,’ they say in unison, both taking another bite from their respective muffins.

Have I done parenting exceptionally good? Was sleeping on it for a night, enough to digest this easier? Am I a successful parent? Should I write a book or something, to share my apparent wisdom with others?

I look over to Henry, who has a smile on his face as he nods approvingly. We eat our breakfast and Isabella is the ever drama queen, while Benji continues to seek approval from his coach, something that will forever warm my heart.

I tell them that we’re going to the autumn market and that they should get dressed. The two rush upstairs, already fighting who can shower first, and I lean back in the chair. Kal sits next to Henry on the floor, his head against his arm. It must be nice, to have a companion like that. ‘Answer this for me: have I found the perfect formula for parenting?’

Henry smiles. ‘I think you might have,’ he says, finishing up his smoothie. ‘How are you?’

‘I think I’m good,’ I whisper.

‘Come here,’ he says, as he pulls back the chair where Benji was sitting on a few moments ago, patting on the seat. I walk over to him, plopping on the seat. Henry pulls the chair closer to his and honestly, that is the biggest power move I have ever seen someone of the opposite sex do.

Before he can say anything to me, I ask: ‘I’m doing good, right? It was the right thing for me to tell them to be mature?’

‘It was,’ he says. ‘You are an excellent mother.’

Oh no, this shouldn’t make me cry. I bite my lip, before I let out a soft sob. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘No, no, no,’ Henry says, ‘This is all totally understandable. This is a lot of change and quite the stressful time for you, Dean and your kids. But remember, you are doing good.’ Just as he did with Benji, he places his hand in the back of my neck and smiles. ‘When we’re at the autumn market, we should not only buy something for their new baby, but maybe, if you allow me, I can buy something for the kids. Something they want.’

I let out a chuckle, wiping away my tears. ‘You are a very interesting man, mister Cavill,’ I say to him. ‘Very smart too, working your way into my heart, by being kind to me and my kids. Men around the world should take notes.’

He smiles, as his cheeks turn red. For a second I wonder why on earth he does this. The fact that I have kids is not scaring him away. My ex-husband and the way he and his new fiancée are involved in my life, doesn’t make him leave.

This man is the jackpot.

‘Henry, I’m sorry you rolled into this whole family mess,’ I say.

‘What did I tell you about apologizing?’ he asks me.

I smile, as I shake my head. ‘I should save it, I know, I know. Let me say this instead: Thank you for staying. I know many others wouldn’t have done that.’

Henry smiles, but he can’t say anything to it, because we are brutally interrupted. ‘Mom!’ Isabella yells, ‘Benji won’t let me in the bathroom.’

I chuckle. ‘Duty calls.’

✰ ✰ ✰

‘Dear Mindy,’ Isabella reads from the card, ‘congratulations on your baby. We are very happy for you. However, co- consi- Benji, what is this again?’

Benji scoots closer to his sister, reading the card. ‘However,’ he continues, ‘considering the circumstances, we find it very difficult to celebrate with you. Please accept this gift for your new baby and we wish you nothing but the best. We hope that we are welcome when we want to come over. Lots of love, Benji and Isabella.’

We are sitting at a large picnic table, with some hot chocolate and extra whipped cream, specifically asked for by Isabella and me. Henry, who sits next to me, has placed his hand on my leg and that is exactly the kind of support I need. I have wrapped my arm around his, to place my hand on his. My fingers play with his. ‘You agree with this?’ I ask the two of them.

‘I do,’ Isabella starts. ‘It sounds very mature, don’t you think, Benji?’

‘It does,’ he agrees. ‘Thank you, mom, coach… I feel better already.’

‘Want to drop it by or send it to them?’ Henry asks. ‘If you want, I can drop it off, if none of you want to bring it.’

We Jungs all agree a little too quick.

This causes Henry to smile. ‘Well, I’ll do that and before you worry, Amelia, it’s all good. I don’t mind.’

‘Coach,’ Isabella says, ‘you like my mom, don’t you?’

Henry nods. ‘I do like her and I sure hope she likes me too.’

‘She does,’ she confirms for me. Am I that obvious? ‘Do you like us?’

‘Very much, so,’ Henry says. ‘And Kal really likes you too.’ Kal sits next to Isabella, licking her cheek. ‘I really like spending time with the Jung family. Makes me feel less alone.’

‘Do you miss your family?’ she asks.

He shrugs. ‘Maybe a bit, but not a lot.’

Isabella nods, before she says: ‘We like it too when you are around.’

‘That’s wonderful to hear,’ Henry says and it almost sounds like he is touched by it.

She looks at her brother and coerces him to say something, with just her eyes. Since Benji has a very hard time saying no to her—ever—he nods and adds: ‘We like it that you make our mom happy.’

‘Oh guys, that is really not necessary,’ I say, hoping they would stop, but Isabella won’t zip it, because she adds: ‘Our mom deserves someone. She always tells us that we are her greatest treasures and while we believe that, it’s nice to see someone who cares.’

‘Okay, now you really need to stop talking,’ I laugh, ‘because I’m going to cry if you keep going.’

Henry squeezes my leg, before he admits: ‘You have wonderful kids, Amelia. Both of them.’ And that on their end, causes Benji and even Isabella to blush.

I nod. ‘Yeah, I sure do. Now, enjoy your hot chocolate, before it is cold.’

‘Can we go into the ferris wheel?’ Isabella asks, licking some of the whipped cream of her drink. ‘Please, mom?’

‘Of course,’ I answer.

‘Will you come with us?’ she pushes.

Benji nudges his sister. ‘Bella, remember that mom is afraid of heights.’

‘You’re afraid of heights?’ Henry asks, sounding genuinely surprised.

‘Maybe a bit,’ I confess, ‘but the last time we went was three years ago and I think I have grown. Besides, we have a wonderful dog and a Henry with us. I think I can manage.’

Henry starts to laugh, as well as Benji and Isabella, who give each other a high five, because we’re going in a cart together. ‘Coach,’ Benji starts, but Henry shakes his head.

‘When we’re not training, you can call me Henry,’ he tells them. ‘Both of you.’

‘Really?’ Isabella asks, her eyes starting to sparkle with hope.

He nods. ‘Really. I might be Benji’s coach, but when I’m at your place, I’m not. I’m just Henry, okay?’

‘Copy that,’ Benji chuckles, before taking a sip of his hot chocolate. ‘Henry.’

When we finished our hot chocolate, we get in line to go in the ferris wheel. Thankfully for my kids, dogs are allowed, otherwise I’d happily stay behind on the ground with Kal. We get in and I sit next to Henry, as Benji, Isabella and Kal sit across from us. ‘This is okay,’ I say, looking around me.

‘Mom,’ Isabella laughs, ‘we’re still on the ground. Don’t be ridiculous.’

Benji holds back a laugh. ‘You can still get out now.’

‘I’m totally fine,’ I say, but that’s such a lie. I breath in deeply, before slowly breathing out, hoping to calm my breathing a bit. The cart moves and I let out I high pitched scream. Thankfully the cart is closed and no one can hear me, except everyone here. My two kids start to chuckle and I scrunch up my nose. ‘Is it too late to get out?’ I ask.

‘It is now,’ Henry laughs. ‘You two are being awfully mean to your mother, laughing at her like that.’

‘One time, coach— I mean, Henry, mom, dad, Benji and I went to California and we also sat in a rollercoaster that stops for a while at the top. Mom was crying.’

‘Don’t share those stories with him,’ I say. ‘That is not… Oh no, we’re so high! I don’t like this.’ I close my eyes, as my shoulder tense up and are near my ears.

I can feel Henry laughing silently next to me, before he wraps an arm around my shoulders.

‘Are we nearly down yet?’ I ask.

Benji laughs. ‘No, mom, we’re almost at the top.’ The cart shakes as we come to a halt and I nearly puke from the sudden movement. ‘We can see our house from here.’

‘Mom, open up your eyes,’ Isabella says. ‘Please, mom, just look. For us.’

For us. She knows exactly what buttons to push. I open one eye, wince at the sight of the entire town, before opening the other one too. ‘Maybe you should breath,’ Henry chuckles.

‘Shut up,’ I chuckle nervously. ‘Oh, we can indeed see our house.’

Isabella stands up and I nearly yell at her that she should sit down, but this cart can handle movement. Besides, I don’t want to come across as that kind of mother. ‘Henry, can we see your house?’

He nods. ‘Right there, with the orange garage.’

‘You live in Miss Bonny’s old house?’ Benji asks. ‘They say her spirit still lives there and she eats little kids.’

Henry smiles. ‘Well, I’m all alone with Kal there. No spirit of Miss Bonny. It’s still a bit bland though.’

‘You want me to make something for you?’ Isabella asks. ‘Or maybe we can help you decorate it. Mom is really good at decorating. When dad moved out, the three of us completely redid our living room. We can paint, we can hang up wallpaper and we can find decorations.’

‘I would love that,’ he says with a smile. ‘Besides, I could use some help. I’m utterly useless when it comes to decorating.’

Benji smiles. ‘Then we really should help.’

✰ ✰ ✰

Henry and I watch as Benji and Isabella are in the arcade, playing away after Henry gave them like a billion quarters. We sip on our tea, with some cookies in the middle of us, as we sit across from each other. ‘So, how do you like the Luna Meadows autumn market so far?’ I ask him.

‘I absolutely love it,’ he admits. ‘This is such a lovely town. I’m happy I moved here and I’d like to take you guys up on that offer, of the three of you helping me decorate my place. I have been postponing it since the moment I arrived.’

‘Of course, let that be our way of thanking you for today. I honestly did not expect you to buy all of us matching pajamas, including a pair for yourself,’ I laugh. ‘And you’re sure you don’t mind bringing that package? I mean, I can send it to them or ask someone else to drop it off…’

‘I can just place it on their doorstep, right?’

‘You can, but… Don’t you think that it’s weird? Considering that there is something going on between the two of us.’

He shakes his head. ‘I want what is best for the kids and you. Really, I honestly don’t care about what your ex husband might think of it, what Mindy might think of it or the entire town for that matter.’

‘Gosh, you have such thick skin, Cavill. It’s admirable, really.’

He shrugs. ‘Barely.’ Henry holds out his hand for me to take and I hesitantly place mine in his. His thumb gently caresses my fingers. It feels so familiar, as if we have done this forever. For a second I’m afraid that people might see, but on the other hand: I don’t care. I’m happy right now.

I look up. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Go for it.’

‘Why did you marry your ex in the first place?’

Even if he was taken by surprise, he doesn’t show it. This man has an incredible pokerface and maybe it’s a blessing that I can’t even play poker; my face is an open book and Henry seems to read it with ease. ‘My parents thought we were a good match,’ he says. ‘I mean, I’ve known her since high school and I liked her as a friend, but… The both of us, we were never a match. However, she started dating my best friend behind my back, we finally got our divorce and I never saw her again. That’s the short, less pathetic version.’

‘Oh my, Henry, I’m so sorry. Did you date after that?’

‘I did, but it never felt good,’ he confesses. Henry tilts his head and smiles. ‘It never felt like how I feel about you. The second I lifted up that tampon box and looked into your eyes, it just clicked.’

‘Shut your face about the tampon box. When someone asks us how we met, we’ll just stick with the ‘you’re Benji’s new coach’-story.’

Henry smiles, while I am at a loss for words, since I’m drowning in his beautiful eyes. I don’t really understand why some parents would force their kids to marry someone, they don’t feel comfortable with. I still feel like there is so much more to the story then what he has told me, but I’m not going to pry. The fact that I completely tell him my entire life story, doesn’t mean that he has to.

‘Mom, Henry, look!’ Isabella yells, as she rushes back to us. She sits next to Henry and holds up her lion stuffed animal. ‘Benji won it for me.’

Benji sits down next to me, as I pull my hand back from Henry’s. ‘I don’t have any quarters left.’

‘We gave you tons of quarters,’ I chuckle.

‘Yeah, it may have cost me all of the quarters to win two,’ he confesses.

‘Two?’ I ask him, since Isabella is only holding one.

He holds up a little bear, twice as little as Isabella’s lion. ‘For Mindy’s baby,’ he says, causing Henry to look up as well. ‘Make sure it’s in the package,’ he tells his coach.

‘You’re a good kid,’ Henry says, taking over the bear from Benji. ‘You’re really going places, mark my words.’

✰ ✰ ✰

Dean: Your new boyfriend brought over the gift.

Dean: I honestly don’t get what the big deal is.

Dean: That you don’t like this, whatever, but the kids should at least have the human decency to bring over the package themselves.

Dean: The kids are coming over next week again.

Amelia: If they want to.

Amelia: And by the way: you’re welcome.

Dean: For what?

Amelia: The gift the kids prepared for Mindy.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill x amelia jung #asian ofc #amelia jung #henry cavill fandom #Henry cavill fanfic #coach!henry cavill #Coach Cavill

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wangxiangiftexchange · 3 years

Text

Winter Solstice Gift for moonanstars124

The request was for fluff, found family, annoying the extended family, and AU coffee shop vibes (which I took extremely literally). I had a lot of fun writing this (my first actual coffee shop AU!) and I hope you enjoy it @moonanstars124!

Read on AO3

*****

The Burial Grounds

“Is there even a point in telling you what I want?” Jin Zixuan asks. “As you’ve never once made what I ordered.”

Wei Wuxian beams at him. “Of course! It gives me direction. A genre, if you will.”

“You do have a specific listing for a surprise drink.” Jin Zixuan resettles a-Ling on his hip. “If I wanted that, don’t you think I’d have ordered it?”

“Well, no,” Wei Wuxian explains reasonably. He reaches across the counter and pats the baby’s cheek. “If you wanted to get what you ordered, you’d have asked Wen Ning to make it.” Wen Ning turns from where he is setting up the soup tureen to shrug in apologetic agreement.

Jin Zixuan sighs deeply. “Someday I’m going to stop tipping you.”

“You can do that on the day that you don’t like what I make you,” Wei Wuxian informs him. “I mean, you won’t, because ajie would never stay married to someone who didn’t tip. But I would understand if you considered it.”

Lan Wangji half-listens to the exchange from his corner table. It is a familiar one, enough so to be pleasant background noise without distracting too much from his book. When the proper disruption comes, it is neither unexpected nor unwelcome, as it happens every morning around this time. He has already closed his book and moved his empty cup to make room for the small chalkboard that appears in front of him.

“Spicy vegetable for the soup,” Wei Wuxian announces, flinging himself down in the other chair. It is not yet nine in the morning, and he already looks happily tired. Lan Wangji nods and wipes the board clean—perhaps not strictly necessary, but if he redoes the borders, Wei Wuxian will sit with him for longer and take a proper break. “White chocolate and cranberry scones, because ajie loves us very much. And...hm. I’ll do a blueberry mint lemonade today, I think. Do we have blueberries?”

This last is for Wen Ning, who sets down Wei Wuxian’s coffee, Lan Wangji’s refill, and a plate with two of the aforementioned scones. “We do,” Wen Ning confirms. “But they’ll go moldy soon, so you should use them up.”

“Perfect.” Wen Ning smiles at both of them and returns to the counter. Wei Wuxian leans back in his chair, stretches his legs full-length, and looks around the coffee shop with satisfaction. One of his ankles comes to rest against Lan Wangji’s. Without looking up from the chalkboard, Lan Wangji puts his free hand on the table. Wei Wuxian laces their fingers together and dips a scone in his drink.

This is how mornings have gone nearly every day for a few years now. Wen Ning arrives early to open; Wei Wuxian staggers down from the apartment upstairs after being prodded awake by Lan Wangji, who claims his table and reads as the coffee shop comes to life around him. Jin Zixuan arrives at some point, bearing the day’s soup and pastries from Lotus Pier Cafe and often as not a dinner invitation for all of them from Jiang Yanli. Lan Wangji earns his coffee by writing out the day’s specials; Wei Wuxian seizes the opportunity to sit down for as long as it takes him to complete the task. Then Lan Wangji gives his table over to the morning rush and goes to work himself. Cloud Recesses Books is close enough to walk to in good weather, and he gets there in time to open. When the coffeeshop closes at three, Wei Wuxian wanders over and spends the rest of the afternoon doing his own reading or debating with Lan Qiren. It is a pleasant routine, and Lan Wangji sometimes has to stop and wonder at how happy he is.

There has been a coffee shop here for decades, under one owner or another, but the Jiangs bought it only three years ago. Lan Wangji remembers perfectly the first time he visited it after that. It was Lan Xichen’s idea to see what the new management had done with the place, and they went for lunch the first month after it reopened. “‘The Burial Grounds?’” Lan Xichen reads, pausing outside the door. “Interesting name choice.”

“After the Burial Mounds, presumably,” Lan Wangji points out. “The nature preserve outside the city.”

“Ah,” his brother says. “Naturally.”

Despite the name, the inside is entirely pleasant: walls repainted to brighten the space, spider plants hanging in the windows, a detailed menu in plain neat lettering on the chalkboard above the counter, specials in the same writing on a smaller one by the pastry case. “They must outsource their food,” Lan Xichen observes, nodding at the familiar lotus image. “The Jiangs own Lotus Pier too, so it makes sense.”

“Mm,” Lan Wangji says. He is listening. He is.

Lan Xichen follows his gaze to the mug on the counter, which holds pens for signing receipts and also a small rainbow flag. “Ah,” he agrees. “That is a pleasing development.”

The line is long enough that they can take their time reading the menu. This is good, because it contains none of the conventional titles. The Med Student, Lan Wangji reads. Four espresso shots in a cup. Below that is The Jiejie: soooooup! (See Specials board for today’s variety). And on and on: The Peacock (a white chocolate mocha with nutmeg), The Angry Brother (chamomile and hibiscus tea), The Adorable Nephew (warm milk with honey), The Headshaker (“Decisions are hard, so let us surprise you!”). Some have less of a story, Lan Wangji thinks: The First Timer is just a latte, and The Adventurer promises undisclosed amounts of cayenne. The result is a place that feels well-loved without being unwelcoming.

“It certainly has character,” Lan Xichen observes as they near the counter. The young man who takes their orders has a quiet earnest smile; he carefully lists the non-dairy milk options for Lan Wangji.

Despite the line, they find a window table easily enough—it is towards the end of the lunch hour—and they watch the street while they wait. It is only a few minutes before a different employee appears with their orders, mugs and bowls balanced precariously enough that Lan Wangji watches the soup in some alarm. But the dishes and their contents reach the table safely, which means that he can look up when the server says brightly, “Can I get you anything else?”

Lan Wangji thinks, Oh. He only barely prevents himself from saying it aloud, and the effort keeps him from speaking at all.

“Oh, wow,” the beautiful man says, staring back at him. Then he shakes himself. “Uh. Sorry. Is this your first time here?”

“We thought we’d see what the new ownership had done with it,” Lan Xichen explains. There is laughter in his voice, subtle enough that Lan Wangji hopes nobody else can hear it. “Our family owns Cloud Recesses, the—”

“The bookshop down the street!” The server’s face lights up—lights up more—and Lan Wangji gives up any hope of forming words himself. “I’ve been in there a few times. I thought you looked familiar.” This is to Lan Xichen; to Lan Wangji, he says, “I haven’t seen you before, though.” He does not say, I would remember, but the sentiment comes through clearly enough that Lan Wangji feels his ears go pink.

“My brother just finished university,” Lan Xichen explains. The amusement has become noticeably less subtle. “He will be working with us.”

“Oh wonderful!” the beautiful man says. “We’ll hope to see you again, then. Both of you, of course.” He sticks his hands into his apron pockets. “I’m Wei Wuxian, the manager. Which is, you know, terrifying. I’m probably not supposed to tell customers that part, though.”

Lan Xichen laughs aloud now, kindly, and Lan Wangji loves his brother for the way the beautiful man—Wei Wuxian—relaxes. “We understand,” Lan Xichen says. “Starting a business is a rather stressful experience at the best of times. I am Lan Xichen; this is Lan Wangji.”

“Welcome to the Burial Grounds, Lan Xichen and Lan Wangji,” Wei Wuxian says gravely, eyes dancing. “Please do let me know if you need anything. Or Wen Ning, he’s honestly much more capable than I am.” He jerks his head towards the counter, where the young man who took their orders is wiping down the espresso machine. “Anyway, I have to get back to work, but I hope you’ll come back.”

“I am certain we will,” Lan Xichen assures him. Wei Wuxian’s eyes linger on Lan Wangji’s face for a moment. When he manages to nod agreement, the smile widens. Wei Wuxian ducks his head at both of them and disappears into what is presumably the back room.

“Well,” Lan Xichen says, after a moment. “This is a delightful discovery.”

“Brother,” Lan Wangji says, deeply pained. He suspects that his ears have gone full scarlet by now.

“I mean the coffee shop, of course.” Lan Xichen takes a sip of his latte and hums with pleasure. “And as a small business ourselves, it’s only right to support others in the neighborhood. We shall have to become regulars.”

Lan Wangji sighs.

He returns alone the next day, just for a coffee in the morning. The one after that, Wei Wuxian sets his drink on the table with a hesitation that already seems out of character. When Lan Wangji tilts his head in question, he says, “I, uh, made you something special. If you want the one you actually ordered, I’ll do that instead, I just...sometimes I get the idea for new things, and I thought you’d like this one.”

Lan Wangji looks at the mug in front of him. It looks like the perfectly dull mocha that he had ordered, unsure what else to get, except that there are flower buds of some kind on top of the foam. He doesn’t know what to say, so he just nods and takes a cautious sip. “Lavender,” he says. He closes his eyes, which helps keep his brain from panicking when Wei Wuxian sits down in the empty chair. “Salt. Something sweet, apart from the chocolate?”

When he opens his eyes, Wei Wuxian’s smile is brilliant. “Birch syrup,” he confirms. “Good, I wasn’t sure how much that would come through; I haven’t used it before. But do you like it? You’re the first person to try that one.”

“Mm.” Lan Wangji looks down at the cup again: something made just for him, not for anyone else. “I like it.” He lifts his head again.

“Oh, wow,” Wei Wuxian murmurs, as he had the first day. “Sorry, I know I’m being weird. I just hadn’t seen you smile before.”

“Not weird,” Lan Wangji says, when he finds his voice. “At least, I don’t mind.” He clears his throat. “Thank you. For the drink. You should put it on the menu.”

“Yeah?” Wei Wuxian grins. “I can do that.”

There is indeed a new listing on the large chalkboard the following day: Dark chocolate mocha with lavender, sea salt, and birch syrup. Lan Wangji looks at the name of it and swallows. The Beautiful Stranger, it says, printed neatly in white chalk below The Headshaker.

When he has been coming to the Burial Grounds several times a week for a month, Lan Wangji arrives one morning to find Wei Wuxian darting frantically back and forth behind the counter. “Wen Ning called out sick,” he explains, when Lan Wangji gets to the front of the line. “This is definitely my reminder to hire more staff. I meant to, since we’ve been doing pretty well, but I just hadn’t gotten around to it. Anyway, sorry, what can I get you?”

Lan Wangji looks at the smear of cocoa powder on his cheek and says, “Is there anything I can do? I do not know how to use the machines, but I could help with other things.”

“You know,” Wei Wuxian says, “that would actually be amazing. Uh, let’s see. I need to get the Specials board up but my handwriting is atrocious. Would you mind? We’ve got chicken dumpling soup and vegan ginger snaps. No drink specials because I have too much else to worry about today.”

When that task is done (“Oh my god,” Wei Wuxian says, staring. “Well, I know I’m never ever showing you my writing”), Lan Wangji clears tables and wipes down the counter and takes orders. All the while, Wei Wuxian darts around the shop like a cheerful whirlwind. “Don’t you have to go to work?” he asks at one point, managing to pour a perfect latte and read the next ticket at once. “I’ll manage. I mean, I don’t know how, but—”

“I have texted my brother,” Lan Wangji says calmly. “He and uncle will cover the bookshop today.”

“...Right,” Wei Wuxian says. “I feel like I should fight you on that, but also I don’t have time. Thank you.”

At three o’clock, Wei Wuxian sets the Closed sign, draws the curtains, and collapses facedown onto the couch where the college students like to study. Lan Wangji regards him for a moment, then puts down the rag he was using to wipe down the last table. He still cannot use the espresso machine, but the kettle is a more familiar creature.

Wei Wuxian lifts his head blearily at the clink of saucer on table. He sits up enough to drink his tea without spilling it, and he devours two of the ginger snaps that Lan Wangji brought over in rapid succession. Lan Wangji sits down in the armchair across from the couch and sips his own tea.

The cookies seem to revive Wei Wuxian a little. “Thank you,” he says. “Again. For the tea and for, you know, everything. How can I repay you? Not a rhetorical question.”

Lan Wangji cradles his tea, glad to have something to do with his hands. “Well,” he says, “when I came in this morning, I meant to ask if you would have dinner with me.”

“Oh!” Wei Wuxian looks at him, wide-eyed. “I—hang on, past tense? Did you change your mind? I guess you did just get the total immersion experience, which I’m told is a lot—”

“I enjoyed the experience,” Lan Wangji says. “But I do not wish you to feel obligated. I will not ask you in a conversation about compensation for my labor.”

“...Right,” Wei Wuxian says. “Because you think about things like that, because you’re a ridiculously good person as well as gorgeous and in possession of unbelievably nice handwriting. Hold on.” He sets down his mug and goes to the counter, does something out of sight involving paper and a pen, and returns. “Here.” Lan Wangji puts down his own tea and inspects the offering: a gift certificate (filled out in a scrawl that is admittedly dreadful) for enough to keep him supplied with coffee for a month, more if he cuts down on his visits. “And I’ll get you all the tips from today, once they’re counted.”

Lan Wangji does not imagine that he will be cutting down on his visits.

“This will do,” he decides, and tucks the paper away in his wallet. “And half the tips. You worked very hard.”

When he looks up again, Wei Wuxian is fidgeting beside his chair. “Sure,” he says. “Great. So is the compensation conversation finished? Can we have the other one now?”

Lan Wangji smiles; he cannot do anything else. Deliberately, he stands up so they are facing each other. Wei Wuxian swallows, but his eyes are bright and he is smiling helplessly as well. Lan Wangji says, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“Yes,” Wei Wuxian replies immediately. Then, “You mean like a real date, right? I mean, I’d still say yes either way, but just so we’re clear.”

“A real date,” Lan Wangji confirms.

“Oh wonderful,” Wei Wuxian says. “I really hoped that was what you meant. Yes. Did I already say that?”

He is still in his apron, which has great smears on it from when a cup of coffee spilled on the counter earlier. His hair is coming loose from its tie for at least the fourth time that day; there is raspberry syrup on his forehead and powdered sugar on his nose. He is very, very beautiful.

Lan Wangji reaches up and tucks one loose strand of hair behind his ear. It does very little to help anything, but it means that he gets to feel the slight intake of breath as Wei Wuxian goes still. Lan Wangji does not drop his hand back to his side. Instead, he cups Wei Wuxian’s cheek very gently. He whispers, “May I—”

“Yeah,” Wei Wuxian says, a little hoarsely. “Yeah, yes, please—”

Lan Wangji kisses him. Wei Wuxian makes a soft sweet sound and puts both arms around his neck; Lan Wangji cradles his face a little more firmly and drops his other hand to the small of Wei Wuxian’s back, drawing him in.

And so now it has been three years, or near enough. Lan Wangji dutifully writes out the Specials board every morning; the main menu also bears his script. He has met Wen Qing, who is now a surgeon and no longer the Med Student of the four expresso shots but who remains alarmingly intense. He has also met the Adorable Nephew and the Headshaker as well as the Peacock, Jiejie, and the Angry Brother, all three of whom received him with some combination of suspicion and amusement. “So you’re the Beautiful Stranger,” Jiang Cheng says, having shown up at the Burial Grounds to demand an introduction all of two days after that first date. “Hmph. He’s been yammering about you for a month; you better have been worth it.”

Lan Wangji is trying to be worth it. He plans to ask Wei Wuxian to marry him soon, and he thinks that Wei Wuxian will probably accept. This doesn’t really make the prospect of proposing any less daunting; what does is the way Wei Wuxian pulls him back to bed for sleepy kisses in the mornings, trusting and sure of affection reciprocated. Lan Wangji rather expects that he will slip and ask the question at one of these times, rather than at the dinner date he has scheduled for their anniversary. He doesn’t really mind the idea.

#moonanstars124 #wangxiansolstice20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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rosesgonerogue · 4 years

Text

I didn’t so much fall in love - It kicked me in the face Chapter Six

Several days later, Marinette was making decent progress on the suits for the Wayne family - she had the bulk of the work finished, thanks to a night of insomnia, now she just had to do the final fittings and line them. It was a bit backwards, but the linings were intricate enough that she didn’t dare do it until she made sure the silhouette was perfect. She hadn’t spent hours hand-painting silk for it to sit wrong inside the suit-coats.

Bundling up her precious work, Marinette took Leo’s hand, leaving the hotel where a car was waiting for them.

“Did you bring the tie for Monsieur Alfred, Maman?” Leo asked, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Of course I did,” Marinette said, showing it to her son. “Do you think he’ll like it?”

Leo scrutinized the article of clothing before solemnly nodding. “It’s what he needs. He’s… sad.”

A chill ran down Marinette’s spine - Leo always seemed to know so much more than should be possible. But… “I’m glad that you like to make everyone happy, ma cher.”

“I want Maman to be happy most of all.”

Marinette blinked. “But I am happy, Leo. I have you, what more could I need?”

“You try to hide it, but you get sad sometimes. You want the same kind of happy that grandmere and grandpere have, the happy you get from a person you like a lot. I want Maman to be happy.”

“Leo,” Marinette murmured, her breath catching slightly. She hadn’t made any attempts at dating since… since Leo came along. In the beginning she’d been an emotional wreck, but she’d put the circumstances of his conception behind her years ago. With love, support, and therapy, she was… okay.

“We’re supposed to be in Gotham,” Leo affirmed. “It will help you be happy.”

“I’ll…” Marinette faltered, unsure how she was granted such a perfect child. “I trust you, Leo. I’ll look for opportunities. But no one can possibly make me more happy than you do.”

“Not more happy,” he assured her, patting her hand. “Different happy.”

That left Marinette blinking away tears when the driver announced their arrival at Wayne Manor. She took the time to thank him before clambering out of the car, Leo in tow.

None other than Alfred himself greeted them at the door, perfectly composed as always. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, you’re certainly welcome here, but I am currently the only other person home at the moment. The men won’t be available for their fittings for a while.”

“Thank you, Alfred. And it’s Marinette, please,” she said with a smile. “But this works out perfectly. I wanted to chat with you for a moment or two.”

“Please come in, then. May I offer you some tea?”

The three settled down comfortably, Leo gnawing on a cookie as Marinette tried to figure out how to broach the topic of… well, anything.

“Maman, give it to him,” Leo prompted.

“You’re absolutely right, Leo,” she said, retrieving a small gift bag. “For you, Alfred.”

“Miss Marinette, I couldn’t! You are a guest of the Wayne family, you shouldn’t feel obligated to make anything for me!”

“It was no obligation, I enjoyed it. Besides, it was partially at the request of a mutual friend.”

He hesitantly opened the bag, gingerly pulling out the tie, his hand shaking every so slightly. It was a beautiful piece of silk, carefully embroidered with intricate peacock feathers, the fabric a deep blue, exactly the same shade as -

“Duusu,” he breathed. “Is he well?”

“Would you like to ask him yourself?” Marinette nodded to Leo, who carefully placed a miraculous box on the coffee table.

“He told me of the other kwami,” Alfred said hesitantly, “and I felt something about you when we first met, but I thought it was just old age effecting me. If you don’t mind me asking, how-”

“Marinette is Ladybug!” Duusu chirped, startling both adults. “You two were taking too long, so Leo let me out.”

“Duusu, my old friend. It’s been decades.”

Marinette concentrated on stirring her tea intently, graciously giving the older man the emotional space that he needed and ignoring the tears that were building in his eyes.

“Alfie! I never thought I would get to see you again!” Duusu chirped, excitedly flying around the man’s head.

“We’ll give you some time alone,” Marinette said softly, leading Leo out of the room. When the door closed behind them, she patted his head. “You did an excellent thing. I think you just made Monsieur Pennyworth very happy.”

“We both did, Maman.”

“We did good, squirt.”

It wasn’t long before Alfred emerged, cupping the peacock broach in his hands with the utmost care.

“There is still some time before the family arrives for their fittings. I was preparing to make some desserts to serve with tea. This is not a demand or a request, but if you would like to help, I would not be opposed.”

“What do you think, Leo? We haven’t gotten to bake since we left Paris. Tikki would probably enjoy some fresh cookies.”

Before the child could respond, the kwami in question flew into sight. “I think that’s a great idea!”

********

For once in his life, Tim got home sooner than expected. A meeting had been cancelled, and his personal assistant seemed more worried about his lack of sleep than normal. Admittedly, he’d spent far too much time researching Ladybug. He couldn’t seem to wrap his head around everything he’d seen, not to mention the fact that the entire city of Paris had been able to keep their heroes a secret, especially as tourism had only increased since her debut.

There was one thing in particular that Tim couldn't stop thinking about. In all of the clips of Ladybug, (and he had watched all of them), there was one move she repeated not infrequently, a certain pivoting high kick that he had recently been introduced to. It was curious that Marinette was able to execute it so well, but it wouldn’t be the first time a civilian had imitated a vigilante’s moves. It was just… curious.

Also curious was the smells that greeted him upon opening the manor door. Alfred’s cooking always smelled good, but Tim was fairly certain that this was what heaven was supposed to smell like. He couldn’t help but follow the scent to the kitchen.

“Maman, the frosting needs more color,” a small voice said.

Leo was standing on a stool, stirring his bowl of frosting carefully enough that his apron wasn’t necessary in the least. Tim felt his heart skip a beat when Marinette turned around to help her son with a smile. Her eyes were soft, and unlike her son, her apron was covered in flour and flecks of batter. He swore his knees went weak when those eyes landed on him and she smiled like he was the sunshine in her life.

It was the way he remembered his mother smiling at his father.

“Leo, Monsieur Tim is home. Say bonjour!” she said, pointing. “Why don’t you explain what we’re making?”

“Bonjour, Monsieur Tim. Maman and I got here early, so we wanted to make treats for your family like my grandmere and grandpere make treats for me when I get home from school,” Leo said, his eyes the only indication of his excitement.

“So what are you teaching Alfred to make?”

“We’re making madeleines, a personal favorite of Leo’s. But no one does madeleine like a Dupain-Cheng.”

Tim glanced around smirking. “This looks like a lot more than just madeleines.”

“Well, Alfred wanted some tips on making macarons, and… I was raised by bakers, making small batches of anything has never been my strong suit. Luckily, I hear sweets don’t last long in the Wayne household.”

Neither Marinette nor Tim saw the look exchanged between the butler and the boy, but Alfred was soon clearing his throat. “Miss Marinette, I think Leo and I have things handled here if you would like to begin Master Tim’s fitting.”

“Are you sure? I can-”

“We’re fine, Maman,” Leo interrupted. “Someone needs to tell Monsieur Alfred when to take out the macarons.”

Marinette looked surprised. “Well, it seems my son has taken to Alfred. As long as he doesn’t mind, I guess it’s just you and me.”

“It’s a privilege, Miss Marinette,” Alfred promised. “Go on, you’ve got a job to do.”

Tim felt inexplicably nervous, and excited, and - did Alfred just wink at him?

Taglist:

@ii-fox-demon @queen-in-a-flower-crown @novaloptr @saphiraazure2708 @iamabrownfox @smolplantmum @redhoodedtoad @loysydark @slytheringinger300 @finallyaniguana @brokenwordsarehard2 @abrx2002 @mystery-5-5 @zalladane @moonlightstar64 @marinettepotterandplagg @black-streak @purplesundaze @maribat-is-lifeblood @the-fusionist @river9noble @chocolatecatstheron @darkthunder1589 @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @dast218 @k-poplunardreams @meanids @changelinggarden @ladybug-182 @pawsitivelymiraculous @zotinha456 @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @somebodyspersephone @spider-person95 @zestyzealot @toodaloo-kangaroo

Author’s Note:

This might be the last of the daily updates, but I don’t forsee the rest of the story taking much longer to write. We’re pretty much halfway in, so prepare yourselves. I’m also contemplating writing a sequel when Leo is a bit older, that could be a lot of fun. Let me know if you want to be tagged, or if I missed you!

#timinette #maribat #marinette x tim

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