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kirislovelygf · 5 months ago

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make us proud (sevika x reader)

warning!! season ii act iii spoilers ahead!! read at ur own risk :)

contents: you and sevika are dating. takes place post piltover-noxian war (act 3) jinx is gone :( but isha is alive!! you, sevika, and isha are a little family. nicknames, fluff, arguments, sevika's stubborn but she loves you a lot so

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the war between piltover and the noxians was brutal. zaunites bled in a fight that wasn’t theirs. but piltover and zaun become united as they once were and defeat the enemies now there’s a bright future for zaunites.

when caitlyn invited sevika to the kiramann house, she was scared. her first thought was she was about to be arrested.

she held the letter in her hand and i asked to read it. it sounded much better on paper than how she reacted.

“maybe she wants to settle some treaty.” i said to her. she walked behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of whiskey only god knows how old.

“don’t make me laugh.” she grumbled. she pulled out a glass and then struggled to pull the cork off the bottle.

i sighed and took the bottle from her, pulling the cork off with ease. “let’s just go and hear her out. she thanked you after the battle, remember?” i said, pouring the heavy whiskey into the glass.

“i could've done that..” she muttered. “please, let’s go. i’ll come with-”

“no.” she said.

i scoffed. “just like that?”

“what if she gets you arrested too? i’m not gonna break you out, i’m telling you now.” she said, raising the glass to her lips.

i sighed out. “what if she wants to help us? she wouldn't be asking us to go to her house if she wanted to arrest us, she would have sent enforcers down here by now.” i said.

she scrunched her face slightly from the drink before putting it down. she stared at the ground, ideas and thoughts and possibilities conflicting.

“it says she wants to talk to you about something new and.. innovative. says you have the sense of leadersh- did you even read this whole thing?” i snapped before looking at the paper again.

she rolled her eyes. “i might have skimmed it..” she mumbled. i looked at her again.

“vika, this could be life-changing. we have to go.” i said. she let out a heavy sigh.

“this is the opportunity you’ve been fighting your whole life for.” i said to her. she looks up at me slightly.

she sighs out heavily before downing the rest of the whiskey and nodding. “okay, i'll go.”

i smield. “yes!” i clapped my hands together, to which she rolled her eyes to.

“i don’t know how you survived that battle.”

“and killed more noxians than you. alright, let’s go!” i jumped off the bar stool and ran out the bar.

we went to the kiramann house together and caitlyn and vi greeted us at the front steps.

i wnet and hugged vi quickly before going back to stand by sevika again. sevika glared them both down while caitlyn rubbed her hands together nervously.

“thank you so much for coming.” she smiled. i smiled back and looked up at sevika. she just simply nodded.

“come inside, please.” caitlyn sputtered. vi took her hand and they walk in together. i look at sevika and n judge her to follow. she looked up at the castle-like mansion with awe.

i don't remember that last time she willingly came up here.

we followed caitlyn to some lounge area with a fireplace. there was a desk in front of a giant bookshelf. in fact, most of the walls were just tall bookshelves. sunlight poured in from the fancy gold-lined windows.

“the reason i sent you the letter was first, to thank you for your help. piltover would have fallen if you hadn’t led the zaunites into battle to help us.” she started.

sevika nods. “it’s our city too” she muttered. “and of course, we have jinx and ekko to thank…” i added.

vi’s face softens when i mention jinx. but caitlyn quickly diverts the conversation. “yes, of course, well.. the other reason i invited you is because i have a proposition for you.” she said.

she looks at vi. “vi helped me realize i need to use my position to give zaunites a voice. to give you a voice, sevika and y/n.” she said, lookign at us.

sevika and i glance at each other.

“there’s space on the council for one more councilperson. vi suggested you take the spot, sevika." she said.

“what.” sevika and i gasped. "are you serious?" i asked, lookign at vi. she gives a slight nod.

“you are a symbol of hope and loyalty. you know exactly what zaunites need and how to get rid of shimmer so your people can thrive again.” she said.

“the council needs someone who has seen the pain firsthand.” she continued. “but it’s.. it’s up to you if you would like to take up the responsibility.. and of course, every councilperson needs an assistant...” she gestures to me.

“so i don't get a seat on the council?”

her eyes go wide and she glances at vi. “oh.. um-" vi chuckled softly.

“nah, i’m just fuckin wit ya.” i smiled. she laughed nervously while vi rolled her eyes.

“well? sevika?” i smiled, looking up at her. she was still in shock from the offer.

“i think.. i um..” she stuttered. caitlyn nodded. “why don't you take a moment to disuss this? and let me know what you decide." she starts to step out of the room.

"the choice is yours, but i truly do hope you join the council, sevika. you’d help a lot of lives.” she said softly.

she nods at her and caitlyn left the room, vi walking slowly behind her. i look up at sevika and stand in front of her. i waited for the door to close to talkto sevika.

“vika, you have to say yes!” i whisper-yelled.

“i can-t.. i don’t- ugh, it's just-” i noticed vi didn’t leave the room and she went and stood by me.

“did she ask you?” she looks at vi. “i’m not old enough. you gotta be like a hundred.” she joked.

sevika rolled her eyes and started walking out the door to leave. “vika, she was just kidding!” i said.

“i'm serious. you think i’m about to become a pawn in piltover’s game? what would our people think if they saw me sitting at that table?”

i laughed in disbelief. “vika, this is.. so amazingly huge. how can you not see this as a good thing? let me remind you that there has never ever once been a zaunite councilperson. you have the rare chance to make real change.” i continued.

she keeps her back to me, staring a the door. i look at vi. “say something.”

she sputtered. “uh-sevika, you..” she takes a second to think. “i seriously can’t think of anyone better fit for the job than you. that’s why i suggested to caitlyn it be you.” she said. i nodded and looked to sevika.

she looks back angrily. “you told her to do this. i bet even a topsider like her would rather die than have someone like me sitting next to her.”

vi sighs. “vika, come on.” i begged.

“i’ll see you at home.” she muttered. she slams the door behind her and the stomping of her boots fades to silence. vi and i look at each other.

“i’m sorry.. i thought she’d jump at a chance like this.” i told her.

“me too.” vi nodded. caitlyn comes back into the room and her face scrunches when she sees that sevika left.

vi and i look at her carrying a tray of a teapot and four cute teacups “oh!” aw, she’s so cute.

“uh.. what did she say?” she asked, putting the tray down on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. we walked over to her.

“she needs a little time to think it over, caitlyn.” i said to her. “oh.. of course. please let her know to take her time.” she nodded

"i will.." i smiled and couldn't help myself. i jumped into a hug, wrapping my arm tightly around ber. “but thank you, thank you so much!” i said. “you have no idea how much this means for us.”

she laughs awkwardly but returns the hug. i pull away from her and she holds my hands. “piltover has done enough damage in the lanes. it’s time we pick up the mess one step at a time. and that step is you and sevika.” she said.

i smiled at her and thanked her again before going to take my leave. i assumed vi was gonna come with but when i looked to see if she was following, her and caitlyn had their foreheads pressed together and then they kissed.

“aw..” i mumbled before quickly taking my exit. i strode through the messed up streets of piltover and then zaun where the sunlight gradually grew less and less.

i found sevika at this tent some enforcers set up in the square. people came to get fixed up, get some medicine, to get some rest.

while i maneuvered my way through e crowds of people in bandages and walking on crushed, i found sevika.

weirdly enough, physically helping people. she was crouched down in front of a gurney where a little girl was with blue hair was sat. sevika had just finished wrapped a bandage around isha's ankle.

“isha!” i called out. her gorgeous light brown eyes lit up and she jumped off the make-shift gurney to run to me. “aw, my baby!” i laughed out as she jumped into my arms. i held her head gently before pulling back to look atv her.

i picked her up and saw sevika walking over. “i thought i told you not to run.” she said to isha. she looks down at her ankle.

“what happened here?” i asked.

“twisted it running away. thankfully, some of these crazies were sane enough to take her here, where she's been resting the past couple days.” she said.

i look up at isha’s scratched face. “you’re a brave little one, damn.” i said, shaking her, making her bounce. she laughs and i put her down. she walks back to her gurney and sist where sevika nd i follow her.

i hung around until sundown and a medic said isha was good to go home.

sevika and i walked home to my palace while she carried a sleepy isha in her arm.

“vika, about today..” i started.

she sighed out. “i know you have no reason to trust caitlyn. or anyone in piltover. none of us do.” i said.

she stares ahead. “but you can make so much more change while sitting at that table than you have in the last twenty years.”

“you make me sound way older than i actually am, i just turned 34 like a month ago.”

i glared at her and sped up so i could stand in front of her. “i’m serious. you’re worried about how people would look at you if you were on the council but why is that a bad thing? i bet zaunites would be ecstatic to see someone just like them get to represent them up there.”

she blinks and looks down. then her gaze shifts to a sleeping isha. i smiled softly before inching closer to her.

“you’ll help little girls like her. people like us. don’t you think she deserves more than this?” she looks at our surroundings.

the dirty alleys, the lanes she grew up in, where we looked death in the eye multiple times.

hints of shimmer laced on the walls, on the ground, in the air, in the food and water. anyone who was born in the lanes inhaled shimmer at least once, whether on purpose or not.

sevika looks down at me and nods. “fine. i’ll do it.”

i smiled. “really?”

“for her.” she looks at isha as she stirs in her sleep. i cupped her face in my hands, my arms extended since she was so much taller than me. "and for you.. i guess."

she leaned her forehead against mine before i hugged her. she didn't have her mechanical arm anymore, so she just let her head rest on mine.

the next day, the two of us were standing behind the doors that led to the council room. i’ve never seen sevika so nervous before.

i step in front of her and move strands of her hair out of the way of her eyes. “you could’ve cleaned up a bit before your first day, vika.” i pat off the lint from her maroon cape, covering her missing arm.

"gotta look your best for these topsiders." i fix her hair a bit again.

she chuckled softly. my hands fell down and held her face. “thank you for convicing me this is a good idea.”

she hums, leaning into the touch of my palm. i pulled her face down slightly to kiss her, even then having to get on my toes. her hand slips around my waist to pull me closer.

i pulled away to rest my forehead against hers. i pull away from her and step beside her.

“i’m not worthy enough to open the doors, a councilwoman has to do it..” i smirked.

“tch.. come one.” she shakes her head and follows her. she slams open the giant doors. i winced at the sudden sunlight from the giant windows but kept walking behind her.

i pulled her seat out for her and she nodded as a thank you before taking her seat at the end of a half-circle table. i stood beside her as she took her seat.

i look around at the other council people, giving us dirty looks. a moment later, caitlyn comes in.

“everyone, i’d like you to meet our newest member of the council. councilwoman sevika, representing the lanes.” she said, her heeled boots clicking on the polished granite floors.

“i expect everyone to give her and her assistant a warm welcome.” she said. she comes up to me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

the council people didn’t look at sevika any differently than before caitlyn walked in.

“she’ll be taking my place from now on.” she continued.

sevika and i look at each other, neither of us knowing she would do that.

change for the lanes, change for isha, was not about to come easily or quickly.

i wondered what jinx would think of sevika sitting here if she were alive now. and how isha was going to grow up as i watched an airship fly past the council building into the blue sky.

a/n: OMGGGG i am so proud sevika got a seat at teh council as her ending, i was so proud of her!!!! <33

#arcane #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika fic #sevika is so sexc #arcane season 2 #arcane s2 spoilers #wlw writing #wlw #wuh luh wuw #vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman arcane #jinx arcane #isha's alive in this one #i love isha #i miss isha #isha arcane #arcane act 3

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mixolya · 23 days ago

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ᓚᘏᗢ — golden hours, golden hearts : epilogue !

(can be read without reading this smau ; appreciated if you read it though <3)

wc: 7k

#001. the letter in the attic

you found the box on a quiet sunday. dust clung to the cardboard like it had been waiting for decades, tucked away behind forgotten photo albums and unused blankets. it wasn't labeled, not really, just a small handwritten note on top, yellowing at the edges.

"to the one i wait for."

you sat on the attic floor, sunlight streaming through the single round window, and called for sae.

he climbed the creaky stairs barefoot, glasses low on his nose from reading downstairs. when he saw you with the box in your lap, legs folded like a child, his brow lifted, curiosity soft in his expression.

"what is it?"

you shrugged, careful as you peeled the top open.

inside were dozens of letters, all carefully folded, some still tied with old ribbons. the paper had browned at the edges, but the words were still legible. the ink was smudged in places, perhaps tears, perhaps rain. you picked up the first one.

May 4th, 1942

My beloved,

The moon hangs low tonight. I wish you could see it. It looks like it has been carved by longing itself, suspended just barely above the trees. There's a stillness in the air that reminds me of the mornings we spent on the porch, your head on my shoulder, the world soft and slow around us.

I write to you from a place where nothing grows. The land here feels old, exhausted by the weight of war. The birds don't sing like they used to back home. I miss the way you had hum to yourself while folding laundry, or how you had always forget where you left your book and blame me. Even your bad habits have become sacred to me.

My hands are shaking as I write. Not from fear - I am used to that now - but from this ache that settles in my chest each time I think of you. I have learned that longing is not just a feeling. It is a place, a house built inside the ribs where your name is carved into every wall. You are everywhere inside me.

I do not know when I will return, or if I will be allowed to return at all. But if time forgets me, promise you will not. Carry me in your laughter, in the way you butter your toast, in the music you play when it rains. Carry me in the way you stare out the window when you think no one is watching.

You were never just my home. You were the road, the stars, the whole damn map.

If this letter finds you, know that I loved you in every way a man can. In this life and the next. In every breath I take here and every silence that follows.

Yours until the stars fall,

you didn't speak for a long time. neither did sae.

there was something sacred about it. like you'd been entrusted with a secret. each letter in the box told a story, of longing, separation, and heartbreak. some were part of full conversations, written across decades. others were never sent. one letter even had a pressed wildflower between its pages.

you and sae read them on the rooftop that night, wrapped in a blanket, wine glasses untouched beside you. the sky war clear. endless. and for some reason, it felt like the universe was trying to say something, about how love finds a way to linger, even when the world changes shape a thousand times over.

you looked over at him, his profile against the moonlight, the man you had loved in a million different ways. and he was already watching you, one hand drifting toward yours without needing to ask.

"would you write me letters like that?" you asked, voice quiet.

he didn't even hesitate.

"i already do."

#002. letter, never sent

it had rained earlier that day.

not the kind of storm that ruins things, but the soft kind, warm and light, the air thick with petrichor and the scent of wet earth. the two of you had wandered into the small balinese town with no real purpose, just hand in hand, sleeves rolled up and hair damp from the drizzle. you'd stopped for fruit on the side of the road, laughed at how sae tried, and failed, to bargain in bahasa indonesia and ducked into a nearby café where the tea tasted like flowers and nostalgia.

the museum hadn't been planned. it was barely more than an old house, its walls sun-faded and cracked, a weather-worn sign hanging above the door with letters half-chipped away. sejarah kota kita - our town's history.

inside, it was quiet, dust hung in sunbeams. the rooms smelled like old wood, cloves and memory.

sae let go of your hand for a moment to study a black-and-white photograph of a rice harvest. you drifted toward the back, eyes skimming old textiles, faded postcards, a broken typewriter displayed like it had changed the world. and then, tucked between forgotten war relics and family photos, there was a letter.

just one.

tucked behind warped glass, sealed in a faded, unmarked envelope. you almost didn't notice it. but something about it pulled you in. like it was humming beneath the surface.

October 19th, 1956

To the one who will never read this,

I dreamed of you last night. Again.

You were standing at the edge of the sea, waves curling around your ankles, the wind tangling your hair just like it always used to. I called your name, and you turned, but only just. You didn’t smile. You never do in these dreams.

I woke up with your name on my lips and salt in my throat. It has been eight years since you left, and I still set an extra cup at the table out of habit. You used to complain that tea never tasted as sweet unless I stirred in the sugar for you. Funny, I still do it the same way.

Do you remember the rain that summer in Venice? The whole city smelled like stone and sky. You said it was romantic, the way the world seemed to cry just for us. I wanted to tell you that I had never loved anyone the way I loved you then. I wish I had. I wish I had said a lot of things.

I carry your scarf in my coat pocket. The blue one you knitted poorly, one thread looser than the rest. It is falling apart now, just like the memory of your voice. Sometimes I speak to the scarf, pretending it hears me. Pretending you do.

I have learned that grief is not a wave. It is not something that crashes and fades. It is a slow burn, like the quiet glow of a candle you do not know how to blow out. I live in the flickering.

If there is another life after this one, meet me at the train station. Wear that ridiculous yellow coat. You said it made you look like a duck. I said it made you look like sunshine.

Until then, I will keep writing these letters. I will keep pretending the words might find you.

Yours, always,

"that's love," he murmured. "isn't it?"

you nodded. "yeah."

and then he turned to you with that quiet intensity he always carried but rarely showed. "promise me," he said, "if you ever have words you're too afraid to say... you'll write them. even if you never send them. write them anyway."

your chest ached.

"i will," you whispered. "only if you promise me too."

#003. to love you in the quiet.

the sun was just beginning to dip when he spoke.

golden light filtered through the trees like melted honey, spilling across your dress, catching in your lashes, setting fire to the warmth in your cheeks. sae stood in front of you, hair still tousled from where your fingers had been earlier. you'd picked a cliffside chapel with no walls, just wind and sky and the ocean breathing far below.

he hadn't cried all day. not once.

but when he looked at you, his voice broke a little at the start.

"i don't know how to be poetic," he began, eyes never leaving yours, "but you deserve something better than poetry anyway."

his hands were steady but his breath wavered as he continued.

"i used to think i'd never belong to anything. not a place, not a dream, not even a person. the world always felt too loud. people always wanted too much from me. and then you came into my life like you didn't need to fix it. you just sat in the quiet with me and somehow... that made all the noise disappear."

the guests were silent. even the ocean hushed itself for him.

"i love you in ways i'll probably never be able to explain. but i promise i'll spend my whole life trying. i promise to meet you in the quiet when the world is too loud. i promise to hold you when the lights go out, when the days get heavy, when we forget how to be anything but tired. i promise to be yours, not just when it's easy, or when you're ethereal and the world is clapping for us, but when it's hard, when you're afraid, when you think you're too much or not enough."

his eyes glistened, but the tears didn't fall.

"i promise to love you even when i don't understand you. especially then. because i know what it feels like to be misunderstood and i never want you to feel that way when i'm standing beside you."

then he smiled. soft. the one he reserved only for you.

"i don't need forever," he said, "but i want it if you're in it."

and then, after a beat, he added more quietly: "i choose you. every time. in every life."

and the wind blew around you, like it was trying to carry the words up to the sky.

#004. until i'm home again

author: sae itoshi written in a hotel in tokyo, folded neatly between clean shirts.

mi amor,

you'd laugh if you saw the room i'm in. too many lamps. strange pillows. not enough of your perfume in the air. i can't sleep, not really. i thought the sound of rain against the window might help, but even that reminds me of madrid, of you.

you know, i never cared much for travelling. i did it because i had to. because the world expected something of me. but ever since we moved to that quiet neighborhood near the harbor, i find myself missing home more and more. not because of the view. not even the food. it's because of you.

you in the mornings, humming songs you don't remember the words to. you in the kitchen, stealing bites of whatever i'm cooking before it's done. you in our bed, where your cold feet somehow always find mine.

and i know i'm not gone long. just a week, two at most. but even a night without your voice feels like too much. i can't call, i know you're sleeping by now, so i'm writing you a letter like i promised. i know you had that shoot today and you'll be exhausted, probably curled up in my clothes like you always are when i leave.

i wanted you to know that no matter how many stadiums i stand in, no matter how many fans chant my name, the only person i still look for in a crowd is you. always you.

you were the only thing in my life i ever chose freely. no coach, no manager, no pressure. just you.

do you remember our first night in the house? we slept on the floor because the movers were late. you kept apologizing, even though you had nothing to be sorry for and i told you "i could live with nothing as long as i had you".

that hasn't changed. it never will.

i'll be home soon. i'll bring you that silly mug you wanted from the airport shop. i'll make you tea and pretend not to judge how you drink everything in one go. i'll kiss your forehead and act like it doesn't still make me nervous after all these years. i'll fall asleep beside you and hope the bed never feels too big again.

i love you, y/n. more than i say. more than i even know how to say.

sincerely yours,

sae

#005. you never left me

author: y/n itoshi written on a paper, tucked between pages of his favorite book.

my beloved sae,

you always had a way with timing. i found your letter while you were asleep beside me, your hair still damp from the shower, your arm draped over my waist like it had always belonged there. it was early. the sky was barely blue. i should've gone back to sleep but i stayed up reading your words again and again until the sun kissed your face.

you always made it hard to believe you were real.

even after all this time.

do you remember the first time you left for a game after we moved here? i tried not to let it show but i cried after you closed the door. the house felt too big, the walls echoed. i lit a candle in every room just to feel less alone. that night, i slept in one of your old jerseys, clutching your pillow like a fool in love.

but maybe i was. maybe i still am.

there's a kind of peace in loving you now. it's quieter. maybe softer. like the tide pulling back. but it's still deep. still endless.

you've become a rhythm in my life, familiar and constant. like how i always wait for the kettle to click before pouring your tea. or how i leave your side of the bed cold until you come home to warm it again. even when you're gone, i know your love stays behind.

i think that's the thing about us. we never really leave each other.

you, with your quiet hands and steady presence. me, with my messy hair and louder heart.

some days i watch you from the balcony, your profile softened by golden light, your eyes somewhere far away. i wonder if you know how much i've loved watching you live. watching you try. watching you grow. i've been lucky enough to love you through every version of you, and i would choose you again in every version of me.

thank you for your letter.

thank you for your absence, too. but only because it makes your presence that much more beautiful.

come find this letter when you miss me again. i'm right here.

forever yours,

y/n <3

#006. the quiet after

author: y/n itoshi written late at night, left on sae's pillow under the soft lamp glow.

my beloved,

the house is finally quiet. the kids are asleep, our daughter tucked against her stuffed fox, our son somehow sideways across his bed with his foot still dangling off the edge (he's lowkey like you when he sleeps). there are crumbs on the counter from the cookies we made tonight and your jacket is still thrown over the kitchen chair. you told me you'd hang it up later. you didn't.

i'm writing this because i'm full. not of anything dramatic or poetic, really. just... full in the way you are after a warm meal and a long laugh. full in the way you feel when everything in your life has finally slowed down enough for you to look around and realize "this is it". this is the dream we didn't dare speak out loud when we were 21 and too in love and too scared and too young to think we'd get here.

and yet, here we are.

do you ever wake up and look around, wondering how we got so lucky? not just with the house or the garden or the sleepy mornings and movie nights, but with each other. because God, some days i look at you and still feel like i'm back in my early twenties, heart skipping, unsure whether to kiss you or cry from how much i want to hold your face in my hands.

you are the calm in this house, the steady, the anchor. the one who kneels to tie shoelaces and carries sleepy bodies upstairs and makes quiet breakfasts without ever needing thanks. you still don't talk too much. still raise your brow when i cry during disney movies. still steal bites of my food when you think i'm not watching (i am.).

and i know i'm loud sometimes. and perhaps messy. and sometimes i forget the laundry in the machine for too long. but i hope you know that no matter how much time passes, i will always be soft for you.

i will always kiss your hands when they're tired. i will always trace the lines near your eyes that laughter and love gave you. i will always watch you with the same wonder i did when i first realized you were mine.

we built this life together. from the bottom up. and even on the hard days, even when the baby cried and the dishes piled and our tempers snapped, especially on those days, i chose you. again and again.

there is no other version of this life i want to live. not without you. not even for a second.

come to bed soon. i'll keep your side warm.

love always,

y/n <3

#007. a promise across distance

author: sae itoshi written late one evening, found buried in the back pocket of his jeans where the day's exhaustion seemed to linger

mi amor,

i see your sneaky ways, hiding a letter in my underwear drawer, really? you thought you could get away with it but i'll have you know it took me quite a bit longer than expected to find it. guess i'm not as sharp as i used to be. but when i did find it, well... it hit me in a way i didn't expect. the truth is, there were a hundred things i could've done before coming to this, a thousand other moments that didn't need to be written, didn't need to be said aloud. but you still found a way to get through to me. you always do.

i was planning on responding right away but you know how i am. sometimes, i take my time to figure things out. i wanted to think about what you said. you have a way of making me feel everything all at once. i guess it's not just about what you've built for us. it's about everything that's come before it, too.

i've been thinking about the past a lot lately. you asked if i ever wake up and wonder how we got so lucky. and yeah, sometimes i do. but not for the reasons you think. you know that part of me, the part i never let anyone to see? it's always wondering whether i've done enough to deserve it. it thinks about the time we fought, a long time ago, over things that now seem so small.

that fight... it was stupid. i don't know what got into me. maybe it was the pressure of everything, having too many people's expectations on me, pushing me towards something that didn't feel right. i was so caught up in being the good son, the one who did everything he was supposed to. i'd tried to make everyone happy, except myself. and that led to mistakes. big ones. things i can't take back. and i should've told you about it from the start. long before they almost ruined everything God gave us both. but you forgave me. and i can't even begin to tell you how much that means to me.

there's something about how you always stay so grounded, always so sure, even when things feel like they might crumble. you're the constant in this life of mine that seems to spin so quickly. even with all the uncertainty, even with the ghosts of the past trying to creep back in, you were the one who pulled me back. and i'll never be able to repay you for that.

but i think you already know that.

i don't talk about it much but i've been thinking about rin a lot lately. i don't think i ever properly told you this. i don't know if i made the right choice when i left him when he was just a teenager. he was everything to me. we wanted to be the best strikers, us both, next to each other. but i destroyed those dreams. do you know why? it's because i wanted him to be the best striker of the world with me being the best midfielder. it seems like my dream came true. but does it really matter if i achieved mine by destroying someone else's dream? at the end of the day, he still achieved his dream, just without me. i understand why he still resents me. but i have to live with it. at least his wife is your friend.

so yes, mi amor, i wake up some mornings still unsure, still wondering how we ended up here. but then i remember, we chose each other, again and again. we've been through things that others would have never survived. but here we are, with our family, with our future. with you beside me, still the same, still as radiant as ever.

and in the end, maybe that's all that matters.

you say you keep my side warm while i'm away. just so you know, my side isn't quite as warm without you.

come back to me soon. i'll be waiting, as always.

with all my love,

sae.

#008. the letter never sent

author: y/n itoshi written late at night, tucked away in a small box, never meant to be read.

my beloved sae,

i don’t know why i’m writing this now. but tonight, as i sit here, i’m thinking about everything. about the life we’ve built, the way things have unfolded, the quiet moments where everything felt perfectly, beautifully aligned. there’s something about this age, about these years, that make me feel like i'm finally seeing things clearly. it’s almost as if i’ve lived enough to understand the beauty in the small things: the way our son still tries to sneak cookies before dinner, how our daughter insists on sitting next to me when we watch movies, or the way you always know exactly when i need to be pulled out of my head and just… live in the moment.

i’m so full, sae. full of memories. full of gratitude. full of love for you.

i don’t think i've ever told you enough how thankful i am. i used to tell myself that if i said it too often, it would lose meaning. but i don’t think that’s true. i think i just didn’t know how to say it in the right way. i guess this is me trying to get it right.

the truth is, i’m still the same girl who fell in love with you when i was too young to understand how much love i could have for someone. but i understand it now. i understand how much it hurts to love someone and how much it heals, how much it changes you. i understand that love doesn’t mean perfection. it means making mistakes and learning, it means patience and growth, and above all, it means choice. i’ve chosen you every day, sae, and i’ll keep choosing you for as long as i live.

sometimes, i look at you, just like I did back then, and i still feel the same flutter in my heart. i still feel like i’m falling in love with you all over again, even after all these years, even with everything we’ve been through. and i wonder, do you ever feel the same way? do you ever look at me and think about all the moments we’ve shared, the love we’ve fought for?

but the truth is, i’ve been thinking about the fights we’ve had too. we’re not perfect, and there have been times when our hearts were heavy, when words were spoken that shouldn’t have been. the time we argued because of the tension between us, the misunderstandings that nearly pulled us apart… i regret those moments. i regret the hurt, the silence that followed. i wish i could take back the things i said during those fights. but even then, in the hardest moments, i still chose you. i still knew that our love was bigger than those arguments.

do you ever think back to those days? the day we fought over things we should’ve just said out loud? the way i let my anger get in the way of my love for you? i hope you know that i never meant to hurt you. i just couldn’t see past my own fear, my own insecurities.

but now, looking back, i realize that even in those moments of doubt, we were still writing our story. every argument, every moment of hurt, every moment of joy, it all brought us to where we are now. and that’s a life i'm so proud of. i never imagined we’d have this, my love. i never imagined our little family, our home, this life that we’ve created together.

i think about rio, and how he’s growing into such a kind, thoughtful man. and rei, who has this fierce love for the world, so much like you, it almost makes my heart ache. i know they’ll carry what we’ve given them, the lessons we’ve taught them, even when we’re no longer here to remind them. i can see them growing into people who will make the world a better place.

but tonight, my love, as i sit here, i wish i could slow time. i wish i could hold on to this moment, this peaceful, contented moment, forever. i know time moves so fast, sometimes too fast. and in the quiet of the night, with the weight of everything on my heart, i wonder if we ever really get enough of it.

maybe that’s why I’m writing this, even though i don’t know how to put it all together. i just want you to know, sae, that i love you. i love you more than i can express. i've loved you in ways i never thought possible. and no matter how much time passes, no matter how much changes, that will never change.

and if there ever comes a time when i’m no longer here, i want you to know: i’ve never regretted a moment of this life we’ve built. i've never regretted loving you, even through all the highs and the lows.

i will always love you, sae. always.

forever yours,

y/n <3

#009. the silence that echoes

author: sae itoshi written on a quiet evening with only the hum of the clock for company.

mi amor,

i can’t say i was prepared for this quiet. the kind of silence that stretches out so long it becomes a presence of its own. it’s not the peace i thought i'd welcome. not the stillness that comes with calm. instead, it’s the kind of quiet that fills every corner of the house and reminds me of the noise i miss.

i’ve always said that i'd cherish the moments of solitude, the breaks, the time when things slow down. but now that it’s here, i realize that everything i've ever wanted, the success, the peace, the quiet nights, isn’t enough without you beside me.

i found myself standing in the kitchen today, just… standing. staring at the counter. i didn’t even notice how much time had passed, how the world outside moved on, how everything continued without us. it was strange, in a way, to be in this house without the usual hum of life around us. our grandchildren are growing fast. aiko's voice is already changing, and akira's practically outgrowing the house.

it’s funny, isn’t it? how we don’t realize how much we take for granted until it’s quiet. until the house feels empty. i always thought i’d be ready to handle this, to see the kids growing up, to move into a new phase of our lives. but i wasn’t ready for this.

i found your jacket today, thrown over the chair, the way you always leave it. it’s funny how such little things, things you never even think twice about, are the ones that remind me you’re still here. even when the kids are gone, even when the noise has died down, i feel you in those small details. i see you in the way the couch cushions are still shaped like they always are when you get up in the middle of the night for water.

i know i’ve spent too many years running after everything, making sure things are in their place, trying to keep the pace. i guess it’s true what they say, you don’t realize how fast time flies until it’s almost gone. and, honestly, sometimes i wish i’d taken more time to appreciate the simple things. to hold on to those quiet mornings when we’d share a cup of tea and just exist in the same space without saying a word. to remember how i felt when i first realized you were mine. how could i have missed that? how did we let it slip by?

but now, here i am, sitting in the quiet of this house, trying to figure out what comes next. i guess i never thought i’d need more than what we built, but there’s a part of me that’s afraid of what comes after this. i know things can’t stay the same. time moves forward, and we have to change with it. but I’m not ready to let go. not yet.

i still think about the fights, the ones we had, when we were younger, when everything felt like it was falling apart. those days when it seemed like we were so different, too many things between us. but even in those moments, when we were at our worst, i knew deep down that we were meant for something more. and look at us now. together. here. after everything. it’s a miracle, really.

maybe that’s what i'm trying to say. you’re my miracle, amor. the one thing i never thought i could have. and even though things are quieter now, even though i’m sitting here alone more than i care to admit, i’m not afraid. not of the future. not of the change. because i know i’ll never have to face it without you. and for that, i’ll always be grateful.

so, i’ll wait. i’ll wait for the noise to return, for the kids to come home, for the world to keep spinning. but more than that, i’ll wait for you. because, no matter how many quiet nights there are, no matter how much time passes, i’ll always be here. always waiting. always loving you.

you’ll find this letter where you always find them, tucked between the pages of our life, hidden in a place you wouldn’t think to look. but i know you’ll find it, because i’ll always leave something for you to hold on to.

until then,

sae.

#010. the time that passed

author: sae itoshi written in the dim light of the setting sun, the paper creased with age, ink blotting at the edges.

mi amor,

the years, i find, stretch on like the slow sinking of the sun beneath the horizon, reluctant, heavy with the weight of time, yet inevitable in its descent. i feel as though i am growing more like the evening sky, each day tinged with the colors of the past, the moments we shared, the dreams we once spoke of in hushed tones. but no matter how many years fall away, no matter how deep the shadows grow, it all circles back to you. always to you.

you know, y/n, there are mornings when i wake up and feel the soft press of your presence against me as though you were still here, as though i can hear your laugh echo through the house, the sound of your footsteps echoing on the stairs. i close my eyes, and there you are, standing in the kitchen, your back to me, humming a song, your hands moving as though you were never really gone. but when i open my eyes, i find only the silence. the space where you used to be.

and yet, i find solace in that silence. i hold on to it the way one clings to a memory that refuses to fade. it is not enough to fill the emptiness, but it is all i have left.

i never thought it would hurt this much to live without you. they warned me, in the years leading up to this, that death is a part of life. but no one ever told me how to live without you, how to breathe without the rhythm of your laughter, without the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled, the way you held my hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

do you remember how we used to talk about what we would do when we got older? how we imagined sitting in rocking chairs, laughing at the things we used to argue about, telling our grandkids stories about the “good old days”? i always thought we would have more time, more time to hold each other close, more time to finish our plans, more time to be in the small, quiet moments where everything made sense.

but that time, as it always does, slipped through our fingers. the days turned into years, and the years turned into memories. and now… i find myself alone, counting the moments as they pass, wishing for one more second, one more hour with you.

God, how i wish i could have given you more. more love. more time. more of me. i wish i had slowed down, been present, been with you in every moment. i wish i had held your hand a little longer when we sat together at the kitchen table, wished i had kissed you a little deeper when we said goodbye in the mornings.

but the past is a cruel thing, amor. it leaves me with nothing but this ache in my chest and the regret of things unsaid, things undone. you were my heaven on earth. when you walked into a room, the light seemed to follow you. i could not wait to get home, to hear your voice, to feel your warmth. you were the peace i never thought i could have. the love i never thought i deserved. and now, without you, i find myself lost.

i want to believe that you are out there somewhere, watching over me. maybe you’re sitting on a cloud, laughing at how i still can’t seem to get anything right without you by my side. but more than that, i want to believe that i will see you again. that, one day, we will be reunited in a place far beyond the stars, where time will no longer tear us apart.

and so i wait, mi amor. i wait for the day when my time has come. when i can leave this world behind and find my way to you. because if i’m being honest, i've had enough of this quiet life, this world without your laughter, your warmth, your presence. i am ready to return to you, to find you once again. i am ready for the end of this long, aching wait.

please know that, though i am not yet with you, my heart still beats only for you. it always will. even in the fading of my days, even when my body is no longer strong enough to keep going, i carry you with me. you are the reason i breathe. you are the reason i live. and when my time comes, i will not hesitate. i will find you. i will hold you again.

until then, i will keep writing these letters. i will keep living in the memories we created, because they are all i have left. and when i close my eyes, i will pretend, just for a moment, that you are still here, that you are still beside me.

te amo. para siempre. incluso más allá de los límites del tiempo. (i love you. forever. even beyond the bounds of time.)

always,

sae.

the evening was still, with the hum of the world outside muted by the thick glass of the living room windows. aiko sat on the couch, the old letters spread out before her, each yellowed page a fragment of the past, fragments of a love story that, despite the passing years, had never stopped breathing. her husband, victor, sat beside her, his hand resting on hers, their children sprawled at their feet, their heads tucked into pillows as they listened intently. aiko’s voice was soft but steady as she began to read aloud, her gaze drifting over the faded ink, each word a memory that had been passed down through generations.

“once upon a time,” she started, her eyes lifting to victor's for a moment, and he gave her that familiar, tender smile, the one that always made her heart flutter, just like her grandmother’s smile had done for her grandfather all those years ago.

“…there was a love that transcended time, a love that lived through the chaos, through the tears, through the quiet moments of everyday life. it was a love so deep, so unwavering, that even in death, it found its way back.”

the children, now wide-eyed, looked up at her. aiko could see the curiosity in their gazes, the unspoken questions filling the air like a palpable force. but aiko’s voice remained calm, steady, her heart wrapped in the warmth of the story that had shaped her own life.

“this letter,” she continued, “was written by my grandmother on a quiet evening just like this one, though… i never knew how it would feel to read it, not until now.”

she paused for a moment, taking in the memory of her grandmother’s handwriting, the delicate script that, despite its frailty, carried the strength of a love that had weathered every storm. she glanced at victor again, her heart squeezing just slightly. his eyes, those eyes that always understood her in a way no one else did, never left her face.

“her words,” aiko whispered softly, her voice dipping lower now, as though she were sharing a secret with the world, “are more than just love letters. they are promises, echoes of a love that never fades. even after all these years, their love lives on in us, in every moment we share. just like this.”

victor smiled, squeezing her hand gently, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. their children sat quietly, listening to their mother’s words, captivated not just by the story, but by the way the story seemed to wrap itself around their own hearts, linking them to something larger, something eternal.

“grandma and grandpa,” their daughter, yumi, spoke up with a soft curiosity, “they loved each other so much? even when they got old, they never stopped loving?”

aiko chuckled softly, the tears in her eyes sparkling as she nodded. “yes, my dear. even when they were old, even when time seemed to slip away from them, their love never faded. they didn’t need grand gestures. they showed their love in every small thing. in the way they took care of each other, in the way they made each other laugh. in the way they held on to each other, even when life wasn’t perfect.”

victor leaned in, placing a kiss on her forehead, his voice low as he whispered, “just like us, huh?”

aiko smiled softly, feeling the weight of the years fall away, replaced by the gentle presence of love, the kind that transcends every boundary. she had lived this love, this unshakable, unwavering love. and now, she passed it down.

“yes,” aiko replied, her voice thick with emotion. “just like us.”

as she finished reading the last letter, the room seemed to hold its breath for a moment. the world outside was still, the only sound the soft rustle of the papers in her hands. she closed her eyes for a brief second, imagining her grandparents together again, wherever they were, side by side, in some quiet, peaceful place, forever entwined in the love they had built.

she opened her eyes to find her children looking at her with wide, expectant eyes. “now,” aiko said, her voice filled with warmth, “this love doesn’t end here. it lives in you, in me, in all of us.”

her son, luis, who had been quiet throughout the reading, suddenly looked up, his voice soft. “mom, do you think when we’re old, we’ll still love each other like grandma and grandpa did?”

aiko’s heart swelled at the question, and she met victor's gaze once more, feeling the silent answer pass between them.

“yes,” she said, her voice steady with certainty. “yes, i think we will.”

the evening passed quietly, with the sun finally dipping below the horizon, casting the room in a soft golden hue. the letters, tucked away once more in their box, were safe, just like the love they carried. in their hearts, the love of their grandparents would live on forever. and, in time, their own children, and their children’s children, would tell their stories too.

after all, love never truly dies. it just finds new ways to be remembered.

"by the way, did you know my grandpa was the best footballer in the world?"

"of course i know."

chapter 044 > here > ...

taglist is closed ! <3

back to golden hours, golden hearts

note: thank you so much for being on this long long journey with me. i can't believe i finished this smau !! i couldn't decide if i should talk shit about lanlan and rensuke in this cute epilogue so i decided not to. but maybe in the bonus chapters!! (if u want) the ending was maybe a bit rushed and i'm sorry for that. but here's a gift for you!! this took me so long LMAO also, thank you so so much for 500 followers. i have so much love for every single one of you and i hope you enjoyed this series!! let me know if you have any wishes regarding bonus chapter(s) <3 thank you so much. - lya

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generalsmemories · 2 years ago

Text

To raise a child

✧ jing yuan x gn!reader ft. yanqing (platonic)

✧ based on the asks: 3 requests asking for a family fic with jing yuan and yanqing

✧ synopsis: raising a child is always hard, even when you're a long life species with a lot of experiences.

✧ contents: established relationship, fluff, found family trope (a.k.a my one weakness with every media), yanqing & reader have a slight rocky start, mentions of other characters, sentences in italics are readers thoughts.

✧ a/n: i'm not gonna chuck angst into a found family trope unless i feel particulary miserable, they just gonna have a good ole time being parents to a yanqing from when he was a wee babie to the lieutenant he is today - also a lot of this is my own interpretation SINCE I DON'T GET A CRUMB ON HOW THE HELL THIS MAN FOUND MY BABY. not beta-ed like usual i'm sorry.

The first time you were told about Yanqing's existence was when you were not onboard Luofu, which honestly made the first meeting between the two of you a lot worse.

"... Pardon, he found what now while I'm away?" you stare bewildreded at the messenger before you while clutching the letter Jing Yuan had written to you - you can practically hear his easy-going voice resound in your head through the words before you.

"What do you mean he suddenly picked up a whole child?!"

Safe to say that the Luofu were turned upside down by the time you came back to the ship. Rumours spread amongst the citizens, gossip between the storytellers and the newsboard retelling the latest news and constantly updating on any new "information" they had gotten.

To say you got stopped at every corner before you even stepped foot back in land was an understatement. You practically had a crowd waiting for you - it was only by the assistance of Yukong that you had managed to worm yourself out of the crowd and hightail home.

Maybe it's because Jing Yuan knew you would come home first, or maybe it's because he was aware that you had a lot of questions for him. Which was why you had gotten a text prior to landing with the single message of:

"Decided to take the day off today <3"

Safe to say he was left on read.

"Jing Yuan, what has gotten into you-" are the first words that leaves your mouth when you slam your entrance doors open, only for your eyes to widen when Jing Yuan is already waiting for you at the foyer. Hands behind his back and sporting his signature smile, but your gaze isn't at your lover before you.

Rather it was on the smaller child that was hiding behind his legs, he was by no means scared of your sudden appearance you noticed. Rather, he was sizing you up and down with a fierce gaze, almost like a lion cub who had just found its first prey.

The glare made your previous anger and confusion fade into a more surprised shock, rendering you speechless on how to proceed further. Jing Yuan steps in after seeing your anger dissipate upon seeing the fierce boy, raising a hand to ruffle Yanqing's hair before he directs his gaze back to you who is still staring at Yanqing in mild surprise.

"He's a feisty one isn't he?" is what he utters softly, and it's the slight exhaustion in his voice that causes you to let your guard down and put aside your confusion and need for answers aside.

Right now there's a young child before you, a child that you don't know the lineage of - but a child that Jing Yuan himself had picked up and stood his ground against public opinion for.

And Jing Yuan didn't do things without reason.

But you're well aware that he's also the kind to not tell you much as to why he had done a few decisions. As futile as you know it is, you would still try to get something out of him later. But for now, you would have to try to give a better impression of yourself to this kid who you're pretty sure sees you as anything, but a person with good intentions.

... What do you say to a child that is currently holding animosity towards you?

Seeing your distraught face makes Jing Yuan let out a chuckle, glancing down at Yanqing who is still staring fiercly at you, "They're not someone you should be on guard with. That's my spouse, they're just surprised by your sudden arrival is all, Yanqing."

So his name is Yanqing.

The reassurance from Jing Yuan makes the young boy relax a bit, but you can still tell he's very much on guard against you, "... I'm Yanqing," he mutters quietly.

The two of you seem to have a long way to go from the first encounter.

"... What were you thinking?" you question the moment Jing Yuan slides the door to your bedroom shut, you had spent the majority of the afternoon cleaning up a spare room for Yanqing to sleep in after the meeting while the two had headed out to prepare the paperwork for Yanqing to be offcially be recgonized as a Cloud Knight.

"... I saw potential?" he tries, but with one glance at your direction and being faced with your quirked eyebrow makes him let out a sigh instead, reaching a hand behind his head to pull the red ribbon tying his hair back.

He doesn't say anything as he makes his way over to you. Neither does he utter a word when he lets his entire weight fall on top of your own, the noise of surprise you let out making him chuckle, rubbing his face onto neck, "W-Wait, hold on. There's a literal child in this house now, what are you-"

"Dear, what are you thinking?" Jing Yuan snorts before you finish your sentence, wrapping his arms around your waist before flipping himself over so that you're laying on top of him, "Our schedule clashed together too much that it's been 2 years since I last saw you? And when I meet you again you looked like you were going to pull my head off of my own body, this is quite frankly the first instance where I get you all to myself," he explains, raising an eyebrow at your gradually reddening face, "Whatever you were imagining is beyond me, darling."

"... Shut up and tell me the truth already," you murmur before burying your face in his chest, lifting a closed fist to lightly hit his arm when you feel his chest rumble with his constrained laughter.

"I didn't lie when I said I saw potential. Despite his young age, Yanqing is quite gifted with the sword," he starts after a brief silence, fingers drumming along the spine of your back, "But it would be more accurate to say I'm preparing the future generation?" he muses out loud, sounding unsure himself which makes let out a chuckle, "Wow, I'm sure lady Fu Xuan would be delighted by the news of your possible retirement."

"I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint our Master Diviner for another few decades unfortunately. She's still far too young to take up the mantle of the general."

You hum, raising your head up from his chest to make eye contact, Jing Yuan directing his gaze from staring up at the ceiling to instead stare at you as well, "Next time you're thinking of picking up a kid, give me a heads up? Or else you're going to end up on the news again like today with the headlines of you committing infidelity."

He laughs, hoisting you further up his body to peck your lips, "Please, I won't be picking up another child anytime soon. But maybe I need to show the citizens that I only have eyes for one person if they were swayed this easily by the apperance of one child."

"... Please don't say something that embarassing in front of Yanqing."

"See, you're already being a great parental figure."

Great parental figure my ass.

Is what's currently running through your mind as you're once again, left alone with Jing Yuan's prodigal apprentince. it's been a few months after Yanqing's first arrival, and the relationship between the two of you seem to still be threading on thin ice.

Your relationship with the young prodigy hasn't gotten worse, but it has in no way improved either. Whenever Jing Yuan is not present amongst the three of you, Yanqing becomes extra reserved and takes extra caution to not bother you - which makes any attempt to even talk to him 10 times harder than it has to be.

Yanqing is out in the garden, brushing the fallen leaves into a neat pile while you're sitting by the living room table doing paperwork. And yet, ever since Jing Yuan had stepped out for some urgent business, the two of you haven't even spoken a single word to each other.

Yanqing was at an age where you didn't need to give him constant attention, but with the way you two had started on the wrong foot it felt a lot harder trying to get closer to him - mostly because the boy himself tries to not be a burden on you, which in a way has become a burden.

Not to mention, Jing Yuan spends the most time with him training him personally - so the time you spend with Yanqing is close to nothing compared to your lover.

The odds are truly against you at the moment.

At this point, the new paper scroll that you had rolled out were becoming useless with how long you had pressed the ink filled brush on it's surface, the gradual circle of ink stained paper growing with each passing minute.

Topics you can talk about.. Jing Yuan mentioned he was great with a sword, but it's been ages since I've held a sword myself till the point he's probably better than me...

Were you always this awkward with children?

Glancing at the clock, you notice it's almost time for your meetup with master Gongshu over at the Artisanship Commission. So with a reluctant sigh, you glance down at the paper scroll before you - that has long been ruined before you put the brush away and roll the scroll back up.

"... Yanqing I'm about to head to out to the Artisanship Commission, can you..." your voice dies down when you see the boy whip his head around the moment you mention the Commission. And although he tries to hide it, you would be a fool to not notice the sparkle in his eyes at the mention of where you are going.

"... Do you want to join?" you end up asking instead.

You've never seen his facial expression change so much in just a few seconds. First you could tell he wanted to agree, but then you're pretty sure he managed to figure out why you were going and didn't want to be a burden, but still wanted to go. You soon saw hope come back to his eyes, presumably remembering that you personally asked, but you saw the same hope dwindle down when he probably thought that you asked just to include him.

The sight made you laugh, "... A child is a child after all, no matter where they are," you whisper quietly to yourself, "You won't be a bother, Yanqing. And wouldn't it be better for you to look around the Luofu a bit? I'm pretty sure Jing Yuan has only brought you to the Cloud Knights training area after all, we can even stop by Cloudbreath Sleeves to take your measurements so that you can get some tailor-made clothes and not Jing Yuan's old clothes."

That seemed to be the only reassurance he needed.

You're pretty sure Yanqing hasn't noticed that your meeting with master Gongshu ended 15 minutes ago. Neither has he seemed to realize that the two of you have spent the next 15 minutes just observing his every reaction to the swords on display.

His eyes seemed particulary glued to an iridescent blue sword with a black handle, master Gongzhu giving a low whistle beside you, "He's got a good eye."

You roll your eyes, "Send me the invoice later," you reply back before stepping towards the awestruck boy, "Why not bring it home with us?" you ask, Yanqing jumping slightly in surprise, his head turning around with widened eyes, "I can't possibly ask that of you, I can just save up-"

"You're staring at it like it's your first love, Yanqing," you chuckle, reaching out to grab the handle, twirling it around before reaching for the scabbard right underneath where it was displayed - sliding the sword inside.

"Consider it a gift, for future endeavours."

He blinks, taking the scabbard from your hands, staring at the intricate design weaved into the metal - and you notice the faint tears forming at the corners of his eyes before the boy leaps into your arms to give you a hug, "I swear I'll treasure it, thank you!"

Perhaps too shocked by the sudden hug, you fail to realize that master Gongshu had quickly snapped a picture of the scene and sending it to a certain general.

Qingzu had to stop the very same general from storming away from the Divine of Foresight to head to the Artisanship Commission the very next minute.

"... Well the two of you seem to have gotten a lot closer these past few months," Jing Yuan comments the moment he noticed the position you were currently in. You merely glared halfheartedly at him, but Jing Yuan made no effort to help you - instead walking over to bend down to peck your forehead, careful to not wake the child asleep on top of you.

"I told him to head home before me since I still had affairs to tend to, didn't think he would immediately collapse on top of you and doze off," Jing Yuan remarks with a laugh.

You had one hand supporting Yanqing weight on top of you so that he doesn't topple over, so you decide to use your other hand to reach over and flick Jing Yuan on the forhead - a flick he moved away from with a smirk, "He just dozed off mid-talk too. He was talking about your recent spar match before he just fell asleep," you say, "And to think he vehemently denied not needing a nap after a training session because he's not a child."

Jing Yuan lets out another laugh at that, effortlessly wrangling Yanqing away from your hold and hoisting him up in his arms without manaing to wake him up, "Well if you treat him like an adult, he'll show the temperament of a child as well."

"You should try to get some rest as well, dear. We can just order something from Aurum Alley later," Jing Yuan suggests, to which you merely nod to, standing up to stretch your limbs, "Join me then, I'm sure our dozing general is quite tired too."

"My, what an alluring offer. Can I assume that there's something more-"

"Don't push your luck."

here's the 3 requests that wanted a family fic - i actually struggled a bit with how to do this, but alas - i just know future me will conjure something up again so have this as a teaser HAHA

#honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail imagines #hsr x reader #hsr x you #star rail x reader #star rail imagines #jing yuan x reader #jing yuan x you #x reader #reader insert

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gyeomsweetgyeom · 23 days ago

Note

i had this silly idea that i was gonna write but i trust you with the idea more so i’m pitching this tent here in your inbox for no particular reason (as i will never tell you what to write!!!)

but like.. pretending you got fratboy!jaehyun’s name tattooed and he goes the whole day stressing thinking you permanently inked yourself with his name… until you wash it off at the end of the day 😭 i just thought it was funny :3

oh Sweets stressing Jaehyun out, you will always be famous to me

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

⋆⭒˚.⋆ tell me that's not permanent ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Fratboy!Jaehyun never thought that anything good ever came of you and your roommates going out and drinking. Sure, the drunken calls where you poured your heart out were sweet but damn, the stress that came from these nights was unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

Going into college he never thought he'd have to convince a police officer to not take his girlfriend's roommate to jail. He didn't think there would be a handful of nights where he had to chase you down the street while you left a trail of clothes behind you. He didn't think he'd have to worry about permanent body modifications on someone other than himself, but here he was.

Last night he'd gotten a picture sent to him from Kira. A picture of you sitting in a reclined chair with your arm extended to a heavily tattooed man who held a needle over your arm. When Jaehyun zoomed in, his heart dropped to the pit of his stomach. Fuck, that couldn't be his name he was reading on your wrist right?! But who else could 'Jaehy' be?! A very sloppy 'Jaehy' that looked like a 6 year old with a marker scrawled it out.

He'd called you earlier this morning but the call went unanswered. Later in the afternoon he called you again and all he could see was your face surrounded by your blankets while you groaned and croaked about never drinking again. Unfortunately for Jaehyun, he didn't see much more than your face. This would be perfectly fine of course, if he wasn't a nervous mess about you potentially having his name tattooed on your skin.

He'd heard it was kind of like a curse to get your partner's name tattooed on yourself. He didn't want the two of you to break up, he wanted to be with you forever! What if you regretted it? Tattoos were permanent! Didn't anyone try to tell you that last night?!

By the time evening rolled around, Jaehyun had been anxiously awaiting your arrival after the chapter meeting. You waltzed right in, looking far too cute and cozy in one of his hoodies as you greeted the guys on your way to your boyfriend.

Instead of hugging you like he usually did, he grabbed your outstretched arm and rolled your sleeve down. He let out a high pitched yelp, the color from his face draining immediately upon seeing the plastic wrapped letters of his name on your skin.

"No, no, no, no, no," Jaehyun chanted, pacing around the room with his head buried in his hands.

"What? Don't you like it? Now everyone knows I'm yours!" You call out with far too much happiness for the dread he feels.

"Are you still drunk? You do know that tattoos are permanent, right?" Jaehyun asks exasperatedly.

You nod fervently, "yeah, duh. That was the whole point of a tattoo."

"Sweetheart, tell me that's not permanent. I'm begging," he drops to his knees dramatically, "please tell me it's not real. I've been so stressed since Kira texted me last night."

You roll your eyes, helping him to his feet to lead him to the sink in the kitchen. There you take the plastic off your wrist and hold the tattoo under the water. He watches as you drag your finger over the tattoo and the tattoo... smudges?

"It's not- It wasn't real?" He asks, relief evident in his voice.

"Fuck no, Jaehyun. I'm not an idiot. It was liquid eyeliner," you reply with a roll of your eyes as you wash the rest of your 'tattoo' off.

"But the picture?" He asks with furrowed brows.

You laugh, a sound still far too sweet for the stress draining from Jaehyun at the moment, "I asked the guy to pretend to tattoo me."

"What the hell were you doing in a tattoo shop anyway?"

"Ari wanted to get pierced," you shrug casually.

"Pierced?" he asks, "pierced where?"

You freeze, turning your gaze away from him as you stare blankly at the kitchen towel in your hands, "you don't want to know..."

"I think you and your friends are going to be the reason I go bald by 30. Do you want that? Do you want a bald husband?" He asks while cupping your face in his hands.

"Husband?! Let's finish school first at the very least!"

Jaehyun groans, "stress! Woman, you stress me out!"

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azullumi · 11 months ago

Text

LAST NIGHT I DREAMT OF THE STARS AND YOU, PT. 1

premise — because that’s just how they are; alternatively, “the type to” trend with hsr characters. characters — ruan mei, veritas ratio, aventurine, and robin content tags — gender-neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, slight angst, not proofread, word vomit in some parts, 1.6k words ; headcanons

note from me — seasickness took me out and the fact that i have a 9 hr road trip tomorrow is already making me dizzy. i hope i’m asleep for the 3/4 of it,, also this has a pt. 2 which i’ll upload later on !! anyways i wrote this in between my vacation and trip and in between the long-ass separate fics with sunday and aven so sorry if it seems rusty or out of my style 🙏

RUAN MEI, (lies in between the line of a good lover and a bad lover) the type to be unable to express her affections for you through words and settles with small and simple gestures that she has observed and seen from everyone around her; having never understood “love” and never knowing how to correspond with such, she’s left silent and confused like a lost child in the wake of it. She’ll find herself staring you quietly, memorizing the lines of your face and how it creases and contorts into different expressions, studying each crevices and edges of the parts that makes up your being to bury you in her memory, and there’s a smile that tugs on her lips every time her gaze falls on you. Oh, she wishes she understood what it all meant (she simply and devastatingly adores you).

RUAN MEI, the type to subconsciously write your name on paper whenever she’s distracted. it’s a small habit she does, one that makes her smile whenever she notices the letters spelling out your name. She has ruined, tainted several of her papers, even important ones, with just a single word, a set of letters that composes of what makes warmth seep into her chest when her mind drifts into the thought of someone—you.

RUAN MEI, the type not understand the underlying reason behind her actions—why she spends the time and makes the effort in between her busy schedule and pile of papers to make sweets for you, why she lets you do her hair despite how messy it often turns out when you braid it and how she can never find the strength in herself to “fix” or disturb the state of your work, why she always seek for the warmth of your hands whenever she’s feeling uneasy or stressed, why she always lean to your shoulder or to your touch when you caress her cheek, and everything. It’s a puzzle board of missing and scattered pieces, unable to comprehend the full image of the mystery—and yet, she still delves into the enigma of her feelings that is intertwined with your existence. Maybe one day she’ll come to know it all and maybe it will be the time when she can finally be honest to herself.

VERITAS RATIO, the type to want to know every single thing you and remember all of it. Perhaps it’s the bare minimum, perhaps it’s something that he just does. “They don’t like that,” He would say when an arrogant fool would even try to give you (or do) something, and he’s there, witnessing it all, knowing the things that you prefer and like. He knows what flowers that you like, knows your favorite color, knows the way you prefer to sleep, knows the small habits that you do when you’re nervous or scared or happy, knows every little detail that paints the whole of your existence. Isn’t it simply just lovely when someone desires to know you from the inside and out? Even if it’s just a little bit, he feels more closer to you in this way.

VERITAS RATIO, the type to be sweet and reassuring towards you (through words and actions), even though he may come off as mean, blunt, or rude towards others. Sure, he may call you an idiot sometimes but he’ll never go past that nor reach the line of degrading and distasteful remarks because he never wishes to hurt your feelings; if ever he did, he’ll apologize and tell you it’s not his intention. “Fool,” But the affection that edges into the tone of his voice cuts the thread of disdain that sews into the word. Oftentimes when texting and it’s easy to misunderstand the tone of one’s message, especially his tone, he’ll reassure you that he didn’t send it in a way that he’s angry or scornful: “The ‘Ok’ that I sent is not a mad ‘Ok’, I am in a rush and could only type that out. I’m not angry.”

VERITAS RATIO, the type to entertain your questions no matter how stupid it can be; he’d give you the answers every single time. He doesn’t mind being treated like a walking encyclopedia or dictionary if it’s you—he’d hate it if you were going to ask someone else instead of him (although he probably never told you that discomfort). I mean, you have a well-known member of the Intelligentsia Guild, someone who parallels a genius, just right at the tip of your fingertips, why bother asking someone else?

AVENTURINE, the type to like listening to the sound of your breathing, the sound of your heartbeat (to listen to the sound of you blinking, to listen to your hands soothe). It’s comforting, in an odd way, and he never tells you but it helps him fall asleep—watching the rising and falling of your chest, seeing your calm face wrinkle ever so often while you sleep. He keeps the sound of your heartbeat close to the pocket on his chest, weaving the rhythm of it to his pulse, and before he knew it, the dawn will come in quiet solitude.

AVENTURINE, the type to be always on fight-or-flight mode. Perhaps it’s the way that he grew up, perhaps it was the harsh and cruel environment that he’s in, but he’s always on guard, seemingly on defensive mode as if danger lurks at every dark corner. His shoulders are always tense, his hand either hidden or playing with the ring on his finger, it’s like he never can’t seem to relax himself even when he’s in the comfort of your arms. It follows him everywhere, trailing behind his feet, and forces him awake at night—he doesn’t even know where the fear, the anxiety, is coming from, he just knows it’s there. One wrong step and his thoughts will come crashing down like cold downpour, one wrong move and you’ll come to leave him. Sometimes a little reassurance comes a long way and it’s all he needs when his mind is being tormented. (He will learn to live with it, even if he can never seem to understand or know it. He will come to know peace as if it’s all he had in his hands when the sun first held him).

AVENTURINE, the type to immediately smile after a kiss. It’s utterly affectionate; parting, staring deeply into one’s eyes with his cheeks dusted with a certain color and he’s grinning—warmth beams from his expression and there’s a certain feeling that intertwines into his gaze and he knows it’s love because it’s all he feels whenever he looks at you. He’s the type to laugh into a kiss, feeling ticklish all over his bones as if your hands are ghosting the sensitive parts of his skin, and you’ll ask him, “What?” but he’ll only answer with, “Nothing.” He’s not drunk, the ache of wanting simply swells up in his chest and all he can think of is how much he adores you.

ROBIN, the type to try and make time for you. Her schedule is always packed, filled with all kinds of events and tasks that she needs to do. It’s overwhelming, everything feels overwhelming for her and it’s hard to know which one she should prioritize first not when she has a lot of things on her hands. Sometimes she feels lost, feels the weight too heavy on her shoulders, feels like her feet are tied to the ragged earth, feels the cage closing on her. She tries so hard to be the perfect lover for you, to become someone that will reach beyond your expectations; she cradles that perfect image, broken in all of its edges, that were constructed for herself close to her chest even if it feels like a knife to her heart. But really, all you need is for her to be herself (not the star that everyone admires and wishes to reach) and sometimes, that’s all she needs to hear from you—that she doesn’t have to hold on to the shattered chains when the coldness of the metal reminds her of what she has to carry.

ROBIN, the type to go on all kinds of dates with you, silly or not, and even matches clothes with you. She’s usually the one to make the invite to match, thinking that it’s cute and the both of you rarely ever has time like this so why not make the most out of it; who are you to even say no when she’s beaming at you so warmly? She has all of her options laid on the bed, displayed on clothing hangers, asking you what you’re going to wear or what color do you want. It’s lovely, sweet, seeing her like this and you could only pray to whoever aeon is listening that nobody comes to ruin the day the both of you rarely have for each other.

ROBIN, the type to bring you all kinds of souvenirs and gifts from her (universal) tours, sometimes having bought too much that you don’t know what to with some of them; the type to send you letters every time she’s away so that you won’t worry for he, especially knowing what happened last time, the type to always try to keep in touch and keep you close no matter the stars between you and her. She’ll ask for one thing that you own that she can carry with her person, making a promise that she’ll come back and return it—the item a testament to her vow—, but for the meantime, she’ll keep it so she has a little piece of you everywhere she goes and she can say that you’re always there by her side.

DRUM ROLLS PLS *dundundundundun* special mention to the one and only beloved feli @dr-felitas !! i think i owe you a lot of end notes so here i am :3 also i’m sorry if i publish this and i still haven’t responded to your messages (if you have sent me cause im on dnd to avoid my dumbass from checking and looking at the phone during car rides knowing that i get motion sick) ANYWAYS i would like to begin this with i love you mwamwa, you’re one of the sweetest and most wonderful souls i have ever met and anyone who tells u otherwise will get a boulder thrown to their head 🫵 im glad to have met you, that my anti-social ass went ahead and messaged you despite the fact that we only talked once or twice AND IT WAS OVER ASKS OR COMMENTS BUT YEAH !! idk what or where i’ll be if i hadn’t done that; maybe not replying to my friends idk (again im sorry if i take business days to answer i sometimes get busy or i sometimes dont have the energy :3 i hope u still love me hahahaha… *slides down the wall*) again, i really appreciate and adore you for everything. you are a brave and kind person and i only hope for the good things for you. don’t be too mean or harsh to yourself 🫂 know that i’m always here to listen to you no matter what you’re saying. you’re never a burden to me and i hope you’ll come to see just how you shine and radiate with so much warmth and kindness, it’s like love itself is found in you. ily lottss mwaa <33

sunday, himeko, welt, gallagher, and jing yuan next !!

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eightball-chronicles · 5 months ago

Text

Cheering Up Daisuke!

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inspired by some absolutely delicious art by @al1en-invasi0n !!! check em out theyre so yummy :3

this MIGHT be my first time writing a tk fic (it is) so please don't bully me gangalang ,,, criticism is accepted just be nice to me [cry] also was writen on laptop so if the formats weird i apologize oops ...

lee!daisuke, ler!curly (NON SHIP !!!!!)

tw / cw : tks, starts off a wee bit sad, mention of jeopardy (j*mmy)

word count : 3151 under the cut

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"Get it through your goddamn skull! That vent is strictly off limits! Fully fuckin' collapsed inside!"

It was safe to say that Swansea was pissed. Daisuke, just released from the emergency foam he'd accidentally triggered, was awkwardly shuffling in place as he received yet another earful from his mentor. He messed up, sure, but really? His legs hurt already from being trapped not too long ago, he didn't want his head to follow suit.

"You looking to get impaled, electrocuted, and cooked?!" Swansea's usual scowl was far more intense than usual; it was obvious to Curly, at least. As captain, he knew he'd have to intervene soon. Before he could, however, Daisuke spoke out:

"Yeah, but like, you can't fit in there to fix it, right? So I can totally handle it."

An uncomfortable silence filled the utility room. the three men stood in as the younger's words marinated. Swansea's eye twitched, clearly agitated. Curly really needed to say something - if he doesn't, who knows what Swansea would-

"Captain."

He stiffened slightly, worried what the older man was planning. Swansea extended his hand out to the captain, demanding the axe. Curly saw Daisuke twiddling his fingers from the corner of his eye. Both their heads moved in unison with Swansea's arm. "Swansea," Curly started, handing the mechanic the axe, "this could've damaged the pods. You can't let something like this happen again."

"Yeah, yeah...I got it." Swansea took the axe and swung it to rest on his shoulder. "Loud and clear." Slightly less tense than before, Curly placed his hand on his hip. "Keep the axe until you've cleaned this all up, yeah?" Swansea nodded with a huff, shifting his attention to his intern. Who was still fidgeting his hands. He looked up shyly as he spoke: "It's ok to be big, boss! "My gramps was super huge! And he lived until, like, 60!"

Oh shit.

Curly nervously looked to Swansea, who had an unreadable expression on his face. Daisuke, unaware of the weight of his words, smiled softly. Curly's attention shifted when he noticed Jimmy standing by the utility room door. He saw it as a reason to excuse himself from the heavy tension between the two men before him. Taking advantage of the opportunity, Curly swiftly made his way towards his co-pilot. Daisuke, finally noticing Swansea's mood, silently cursed at his captain for abandoning him. And as soon as he did...

Swansea went off. Yelling all sorts of nonsense about safety and protocol that Daisuke didn't care to hear for the thirteenth time that week. Instead, trying to focus his attention on the conversation taking place behind his mentor. Unfortunately, he found it to be quite difficult. Something about being sane, psych evals, Anya - what was that about cartoon horses?

Just as the two men started to walk off, Swansea yelled louder, noticing his intern not listening. This brought a new wave of lecturing, and Daisuke was *not* having it. He didn't even care if Swansea said the winning lottery numbers, he just wanted him to shut up. Much to his dismay, that wouldn't be happening anytime soon...

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Curly just sent Jimmy away after receiving a letter from the higherups. He reread its contents again, confirming what it said as if he had somehow misread the whole thing. Pony Express is shutting down? How could this happen? How will he tell the crew? Although instructed to not break the news until later, Curly was unsure if he could do that. Sighing heavily, the captain decided to get some fresh air. Well, not exactly - just whatever was breathable outside the weighty air of the cockpit.

Ready to open the door at the end of the hallway, Curly was stopped by Swansea's presence behind it. He noticed something off immediately; his familiar frown replaced with a more concerned expression. Curly questioned it without a second thought, to which Swansea replied: "It's about Daisuke. After you left, I kind of went off. I...I think I went too hard on him. I've lectured him a bunch of times before, but he seemed more down this time."

"Oh? How so?" Curly asked, putting a hand to his chin. Swansea shifted his weight before continuing: "After I run my mouth to him, he usually puts on this dramatic act and pouts when I dismiss him to go somewhere else. This time seemed different. I don't know how to explain it, but I think I hurt the kid."

Swansea ended his explanation with a deep sigh as he lowered his head; he clearly felt guilty, and Curly understood as much. "Have you tried talking to him?"

"I'm not too sure how thrilled he'd be to see me right now. I don't wanna scare the poor thing any more than I already have. Plus, I don't know where he's at."

Curly nodded before Swansea spoke up again. "Do you think you can talk to him?" The captain thought for a brief moment before reaching out to the worried man, patting his shoulder. "Of course I can. I'll go look for him and cheer him up, promise! You can go rest if you'd like, just make sure the foam in utility gets cleared up later, yeah?"

To this, Swansea relaxed, wearing an uncommon smile. He nodded as he thanked Curly and walked off. The now determined captain headed off with a mission in mind; he was going to get Daisuke to smile, no matter the cost.

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If you disregard the sobs, the cargo room was quiet. The vast space left a slight echo on Daisuke's cries. He sat on the stairs, head between his knees and arms around his shins. His mind ran as fast as the ship he resided on. Why was Swansea so much angrier than usual? He was just trying to help; he was his intern after all. Then again, he practically called him fat and kinda sorta maybe implied he would die at 60...

Damn, why would he say that?

At this point, Daisuke's thoughts were racing a million miles a minute. The grip on his pants tightened as he cried. God, he's a screwup. No wonder his parents sent him away on this internship. He was annoying at home, and he's annoying in space. Will he ever learn to keep his mouth shut? He was so lost in his head that he didn't hear the door open behind him, or the footsteps that followed it.

"Daisuke?"

Said boy jumped a foot as he frantically wiped his eyes. He turned to face the source of the voice, trying to put on an act and forced a smile. But that smile shook, and Curly noticed. "Hey, captain! What's up?"

"I should be asking you that. Are you ok?"

Daisuke flinched slightly, his fake smile faltered as his shoulders began to tremble again. "I...I-I just...Swansea..." He didn't get anything else out after that, nothing that was intelligible, at least. He broke down again, turning around and placed his head back on his knees. Curly frowned as he made his way to Daisuke. He sat to his left on the stairs, rubbing the boy's back as he tried to soothe him. He let him cry it out until he was left only sniffling. Only then did he decide to speak out. "C'mon Daisuke, talk to me. Swansea found me earlier and said you were down. What's wrong?"

He let out a small whimper upon hearing his mentor's name. Shakily, he started: "I-I don't know, I should've just listened to him. I just wanted to help! B-but I screwed up...I-I could've gotten myself seriously hurt, o-or killed, or broken the pods! Those are like, s-super important! Even I know that, yet still acted c-carelessly. N-not only that, I totally offended S-Swansea! H-he probably hates m-me, I c-can't believe I said that...I'm a t-total f-failure, I-" He was getting more panicked as he spoke, voice as shaky as ever. Curly cut him off as he stopped rubbing his back and pulled the boy to him by his waist. Daisuke yelped slightly at the sudden change of contact, yet melted into the side hug.

"Kid," Curly started, "do you know why Swansea talked to me?" He felt a slight head shake on his shoulder. "Because he was worried for you, Daisuke. He told me he went too hard on you; that he feels bad he might have hurt you. I've never seen a more guilty face on him. And trust me when I say that means a lot. I've worked with him for I don't even know how long. He didn't mean to - Daisuke?"

His speech was cut when he heard small chortles from the boy in his arm. Curly glanced down, seeing his shoulders tremble once more, differently this time. "Did I...say something funny?" he asked, a confused smile on his face. Daisuke shook his head again, a hand over his mouth. "Nohoho, it's just - your hahand-" Curly's gaze shifted to where his hand resided on the intern's side; it had started subconsciously rubbing him there as it was on Daisuke's back. "What about my hand? Are you hurt here? Oh no, I'm so sor-"

"No! No, it's not that. I'm not hurt."

"Oh? Then what is it?"

Daisuke felt his face heat up. Thank god Curly couldn't see his face. He shifted slightly, unsure how to answer. "I just - it's not - you didn't - uh..." He peeked up to the captain as he trailed off, where he was met with a genuinely concerned face. "I'm afraid I don't follow, you know you can tell me anything, ri-"

"It just tickled is all..." He mumbled.

"Come again?"

With a whine, Daisuke buried his face further into his hand, leaning more onto Curly's shoulder. No matter how many times asked, he didn't say more. Curly, in attempt to get his attention, pinched the boy where his hand still laid; on his waist. What he didn't expect, however, was for Daisuke to chirp at the touch. Now it was Cury's turn to get his mind thinking. Which didn't last long, however, as Daisuke's squeaky voice spoke up:

"IT TICKLED ALRIGHT?!"

If he wasn't blushing before, he sure was now. Curly saw the back of Daisuke's neck turn bright pink. Realization struck him shortly after, where a mischievous grin appeared. To confirm the suspicion, Curly pinched his side again, earning another bird-like sound. Oh, he struck gold.

"Daisuke...are you-"

"Shut up!"

Daisuke's neck was now a deep red, his face buried deep in his palms while his fingers grabbed at his hair. His captain walked in on him crying, then he continued to cry *on* his captain, and now this?! Could this be any more embarrassing?! Well, yes, it could. Curly pinched his side for a fourth time. Daisuke whipped his head towards him only to be met with a grin covering half of the blonde's face. "Oh, Daisuke...that isn't a very nice way to speak to your captain now, is it?"

Fuck. He's cooked.

"W-w-wait, I-I didn't me-EEHEHEAA!"

Daisuke was interrupted by his own squeal as Curly opted for pinching at his waist repeatedly rather than in intervals. He instinctively curled in on himself; arms wrapped around his torso while he brought his knees to his chest. While trying to twist away from the offending hand, Daisuke unintentionally leaned into Curly, who went in with his other hand to pinch at the giggling boy's other side.

He squealed again from the tickly assault suddenly appearing elsewhere. Daisuke started jumping left and right, trying to escape from one hand only to be attacked by the other. Curly switched to poking before long, as this made the younger let out soft snorts as he weakly kicked his legs. The captain chuckled under Daisuke's evergrowing laughter, finding his reactions amusing. "I just cannot believe you told me to shut up. I'm wounded, Daisuke, and your words are the blade. How could you say such a thing?!"

Said boy could only whine in response, "I dihihidn't mehehean toooooo! C'mohohon cahaptahahahain!"

"Oh really? And how can I be sure of that, hm?"

"Plehehehease! I prohohomise! I'm sohohorry, I'm sorryyyyy!"

"Hmmmm...let me think." Curly pondered dramatically *way* longer than needed as he continued to poke at the intern's torso. Daisuke continued to squeak and giggle as he 'spaced out thinking.' Suddenly, the blonde perked up, "Alright, I've thought about it! I'm not stopping~" He then proceeded to move both his hands to Daisuke's hips, massaging the bone tenderly.

The reaction was instant. The brunette shot his arms down, body spasming on impact. Grabbing Curly's wrists, Daisuke cackled loudly, unable to control the volume of his voice. His legs now fully kicking out as he spoke, "AAAAAHAHAHA! SHIHIHIT! GOHOD DAMN IT CUHUHURLY STAHAHAHAP!" To this, he gasped loudly; he would've acted out clutching his pearls had his hands not been occupied. "And just who do you think you are?! Talking to me like this...you're awfully ballsy for someone in your position."

Daisuke could only answer in giggly babbles, unable to get any coherent words out as his hip bones got circles drilled into them. Curly only clicked his tongue in mock annoyance and grabbed Daisuke's left arm with his right, lifting it up. In once swift motion, he left the boy more vulnerable than ever. He gave him a break during this - he didn't want to kill the kid. Taking in big gulps of air, Daisuke had yet to notice the position of his arm. Only when he tried to rub his eyes did he glance up. He knew what was coming.

Panicked, he locked eyes with his captor, smile wide and bright as his face matched his complimentary floral shirt. "C'mohohon captain! Y-you knohow I didn't mean ihit right? Rihight! S-so let's juhuhust forget this ever happehened!" Daisuke tried to reason with him, but Curly was having none of it. On the contrary, he was having too much fun. "Nuh uh, kid. You've gotta learn how to speak to your superiors. Tsk, young ones these days thinking they're all that. Even though you crumble the second I do...*this*."

As he finished, his free hand quickly snaked behind Daisuke, going straight to his ribs. He pinched, squeezed, poked; anything to get the brunette to squeal. And squeal he did; his bubbly laughter echoed in the ample space of the cargo room. He tried to grab Curly's hand with his free one, but the captain kept dodging, scratching a new rib in the process. He chuckled as he felt weak tugging on the arm he held up. "

"Plehehehease, I'm sohorry! I sweahahahar! I-I mehehean it!"

"Oh, are you now? And how can I believe that?"

Daisuke groaned between giggles before he spoke, "I prohohomise! I promihihise I'm sohorry!"

Curly lifted an eyebrow at the intern, his bright smile showing off the gap between his front teeth. The sight brought his own smile to grow in size. "Okay, let's say I believe you then. You're forgiven, bud."

"Thehen why aren't yohohou stohohohoping?!"

He chuckled at the naivety shown before him, shifting so he faced the boy before he answered, "Did you forget why I came here in the first place?" Daisuke whined in response, brain short circuiting as he felt fingers drilling into his torso, letting out a scream at his uppermost rib was attacked. "Oh c'mohohohohOHAHAH - CURLY! Quit ihihit! That tickles!"

Curly shook his head slightly, seeing the intern's blush deepen upon saying the word. "Sorry, Daisuke. Swansea said you were being gloomy earlier. We can't have that now, can we?" Said boy threw his head back as Curly formed a vibrating claw against the space between his highest rib and armpit. He snorted loudly from the sensation, barely able to form coherent words. "OKAHAY, OKAY! I'LL CHEHEHEHER UHUP! PROMISE! I PROHOMIHIHISE!" Daisuke ended his plea with a wheeze, laughter getting more strained. Curly saw this as a sign to wrap things up, slowing his fingers until the tickling came to a full stop. He let go of the boy's hand, where it fell to his side as he curled into himself next to his captain.

Curly once again rubbed the younger's back, hoping he didn't go too far as he giggled between gasps of air. Daisuke held his sides, still feeling the tingly sensation on his body. Once his breathing calmed down a bit, Curly decided to speak up, "Are you alright? I didn't do too much, right?" He received a head shake in return; the redness on the boy's neck showed he was too flustered to speak.

"You really shouldn't be too hard on yourself, you know? Swansea cares for you. He doesn't show it much, but he really does. Sure, he gets mad sometimes, but that's just who he is. Like I said earlier, he's the one who came to me about you; he was worried sick!" Daisuke glanced up at Curly's speech, eyes widened slightly with curiosity. "To tell you the truth," the blonde continued, "his own kids moved out a while ago. I think he misses them; not like he'd ever admit that, though. I have a suspicion that you remind him of them. Gets his dad-gears turning. His fatherly instincts probably kicked in earlier when you set off the foam. Do you get what I'm trying to say?"

Daisuke nodded his head, a tiny nervous smile on his face as he took in the confession. Did Swansea really feel that way? "Do you really think that's true?" Curly's gaze met his, flashing him a proud grin; "I know it's true! Don't tell him I said anything, though. He'd deny it to the moon and back." To this Daisuke breathed a sigh of relief, letting a small chuckle slip. He sat up from his ball-like position to fully face Curly, returning the smile. "Thanks, captain!"

The captain felt his heart slightly melt at the sight of the joyous boy. Wrapping his arm around him for another side hug, rustling his hair with his other hand. "No worries! I'll always be here. As long as you keep that attitude at bay. Don't think I won't put you in check, young man." Curly poked his side as he finished, earning one last squeak from the previously giggly intern. Daisuke jumped out of the captain's arms before he could try anything again, dramatically taking a defensive stance. He winked in his silly pose. "No promises~" he sang as he walked backwards to the door. It automatically opened, causing him to turn around and jump slightly. Curly stifled a laugh as Daisuke turned around, face slightly dusted pink. He stormed off, grumbling as he left the cargo room for good. Curly giggled to himself, still sat on the stairs, reflecting on his crew and each of their colorful personalities.

Yup, he was glad to be captain.

~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~

hai guys ^-^ i hope yall enjoyed !!! i love daisuke sm hes my gf i love my gf ♡

~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~°☆°~~

#august writes #august fics #mouthwashing #mouthwashing tickle #mouthwashing tickles #lee!daisuke #ler!curly #tickle fic

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okay-j-hannah · 2 months ago

Text

Part 1: Sugared Coffee

Criminal Minds : Multishot

Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 7554

Warnings: set around season 3 {aka 2007}, slow burn, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, pining on Reid’s part, phobia of needles, PTSD, usual criminal minds level of violence and creepy unsubs, mentions of serial killers and the sick things they do, panic attacks, statistics and quotes I can provide references for

Request: This just came from my own head 😊

A/N: While taking a break from writing my Teen Wolf series, I stumbled onto this little idea 😅 I've been in love with Spencer Reid since 15 years old - and I still haven't written a series with him... WHICH IS A CRIME

Part 1: Sugared Coffee {You Are Here}

Part 2: Needles

~~~

The Quantico buildings stood out pale and dim within the autumn trees. The dead, fall colors of red and orange encased the sidewalks and scented the air with a farmstead crispness. It was a smell you knew you wouldn’t forget as you stood before the main building.

Dressed in a blue button down and a black blazer, you thumbed the plastic sleeve of your new badge. FBI, it said in blue block letters, Behavioral Analysis Unit. This was a step closer to your new life.

Maybe this will be your chance to catch the son of a bitch. Maybe this will be your chance to stop others in the meantime. Maybe this is your chance to stay safe with a new team and a new badge, stifling the feeling of fear that always rested in your diaphragm.

For now you know you will always remember that your first day at the BAU smelled like fall leaves.

~~~

The office felt slower than usual, which could be seen as a reprieve, but it made the team restless. Most of them were catching up on paperwork, or at least taking their time with details. Reid had flown through a list of research papers and true crime novels by the time lunch rolled around.

“I thought we all had paperwork to do.” Prentiss called over, rubbing an ink smudge on her finger, “How come you’re reading crime fiction?”

Reid’s finger stopped running midway through a page in his book. “It’s not fiction, this is a true crime biography written by O.J. Simpson about if he hypothetically committed the murders of Nicole Brown and Ron Goldman.”

Prentiss raised her eyebrows, tossing her pen onto her desk, “If I was found not guilty for a murder, I would try to put the whole thing behind me. Not write a book detailing what I would do if I actually did it.”

“You finished your paperwork?” Morgan asked, entering the bullpen with a yellow pad of paper. He tore off the top page and sat across from Reid. “I thought you were a speed reader, not a speed writer.”

“I have a lot of free time at home,” Reid said, looking down at his book again.

Morgan laughed, balling up the yellow piece of paper and tossing it at Reid’s head. “Pretty boy needs a pretty girl in his life.”

Reid swatted at where the paper ball bounced off his face. “Stop finding reasons to avoid your work.”

“Woah,” Morgan grinned, “Someone’s a little feisty today.”

“You would be too if someone kept interrupting you while you’re trying to read.”

“Hey, have you heard if that new recruit is coming in today?” Prentiss asked, laying back in her chair and massaging her writing hand.

Morgan shrugged, twisting around in his own chair, “Hotch said interviews ended over a week ago.”

“They’re being pretty secret about the whole thing,” Prentiss went on, “Makes you wonder who they are.”

“I heard Rossi had something to do with it,” Morgan said, “Persuaded Hotch to make the unpopular choice.”

Reid closed his book, unable to concentrate, “That would mean the new guy has a personal connection with Rossi.”

“New girl, it seems,” Morgan said, eyes moving to the office doors to find Hotch escorting a professionally dressed woman.

Reid looked over as well, noticing a few things immediately, profiler that he was. This new recruit held herself tall, speaking of her confidence entering the room. Although her eyes were open wide as if she were trying to see everything all at once. It gave her expression the look of being frightened.

But the hesitant smile on her face spoke of kindness.

She was a walking contradiction. Her handshake was firm, shoulders squared, voice steady and confident. But her breath was shallow, and her eyes gave the appearance of a deer stuck in the headlights.

The conclusion was that this new recruit was confident in her abilities and wanted to be there. But she felt like she had to prove herself, terrified that something would cause her to be kicked off the team.

“This is SSA Derek Morgan,” Hotch introduced, “And SSA Emily Prentiss.”

“Hello,” the new recruit said, shaking each hand.

“And Dr. Spencer Reid,” Hotch gestured towards him, “We’ve found you some competition.”

The girl looked at Reid with a wide smile and it struck him how pretty she was. He blinked dumbly a few times, face blank when he replied, “Competition?” His throat felt incredibly dry.

“This is SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” Hotch continued, “I was just telling her how we had an early graduate already on our team.”

Reid cleared his throat to combat the dryness, “You graduated school early?”

She nodded slowly, “Highschool and college.” She was quiet – shy in stating her accomplishments.

Hotch continued for her, “Had her bachelor’s degree by eighteen.”

(Y/N) sucked in a breath, rushing out, “And my master’s degree by twenty-two.”

“Our genius beats you by a few years,” Morgan grins.

“The eidetic memory helps,” Prentiss scoffs.

(Y/N) smiled again, “It’d be nice to bounce ideas off another brainiac.” She regards Reid with a warmer expression.

He was suddenly overcome with a sense of familiarity, as if he had seen her face somewhere before. He ran her name through his mind, trying to remember if he had read it or just heard it before.

“Speechless, Reid?” Morgan asked, grinning like he knew something everyone else didn’t. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.”

Everyone laughed as Reid tried to clear his mind. (Y/N) was looking at him with such fondness, he hoped it wasn’t pity for his strange and endearing behavior. He surprised himself by realizing he wanted her to like him. Like him a lot.

~~~

You leaned into the cushions of the jet seats, fingers running along your ribcage, at the little scar you knew was there. You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that you could.

“Alright, so families are being targeted in their homes with variations of the anthrax bacteria,” Hotch said, leading the team in the next case. “What do we notice about these cases?”

“These don’t seem like full scale terrorist attacks that are usually associated with anthrax,” Morgan said, flipping through the files, “But these could just be test subjects before some biological warfare.”

“Being isolated to just families within their homes gives the appearance of a simple virus passing through,” Prentiss said, “Usually when one family member gets sick they assume everyone will eventually.”

Rossi sighed, “Which kept families from reporting to the hospital until it was too late.”

“It’s also interesting that the unsub is using different anthrax forms,” J.J. continued, looking at the case photos with disgust, “Maybe they’re testing the effectiveness of each.”

Reid had a few knuckles resting against his chin, “We’ve seen inhalation anthrax in previous attacks, which affects the lungs of the infected and presents as flu-like symptoms.”

“There’s also intestinal anthrax, which comes from ingesting the bacteria,” you say quickly, “As well as cutaneous anthrax, which only affects the skin.”

“But we all know that inhalation anthrax is the deadliest,” Hotch said, “It’s been reported as the most fatal.”

“So why is the unsub using these different forms?” Morgan asked.

You thumb through the victim photos, “Maybe the unsub isn’t testing anything. Maybe they just enjoy infecting the family and watching the chaos ensue.”

“What makes you say that?” Hotch asked.

You sigh, feeling the attention being placed on you. A few of your fingers search for the little scar against your ribcage, tracing the slightly raised skin beneath your shirt. “If the goal of infecting the victims is to kill them, then using cutaneous or intestinal anthrax isn’t optimal. As soon as a cutaneous rash or ulcer appears, then you treat it with topical antibiotics and survival is very likely. And the only way intestinal anthrax will kill is if it somehow enters the bloodstream.”

“They could be enjoying the panic of sick families,” Rossi muttered to himself.

“The unsub might be using those forms in addition to inhalation because they want to see ultimate suffering,” you continue.

Morgan leaned forward, “Start with inhalation to incapacitate the victims. Then infect them with the other forms later.”

Hotch nodded in agreement, “Good work, (Y/N). I don’t think we are afraid of a terrorist attack. This is an unsub that enjoys isolating and infecting whole families.”

You swallow hard, proud of yourself for having an idea that might be plausible. This only being your third case with the team meant still trying to find your place among them.

Morgan was relaxed across from you, watching you for a few seconds, “You okay?”

You snap your eyes to him, “Yeah, why?”

He shrugged, looking down to your hand, “You have a nervous tick.”

Your hand instantly left the little scar you often traced, “Don’t we all?” you try to smile, “This is a time sensitive case.”

“Most of them are,” Morgan said, observing you, “There’s something you especially don’t like about this one.”

“What gives you that impression?” you ask, monitoring your own actions to try not to give yourself away.

“I don’t know you all that well…” he said.

You shake your head quickly, “No, you don’t.”

“… but I’ve seen you in some high stress situations the last couple of weeks. And I’ve noticed when you’re a little shaken.”

You close the case file, staring down at it with some apprehension. “Another form of anthrax is injection.”

Morgan looked at you with confusion, “Like with a needle?”

“That’s enough,” Rossi said from a few seats away, “Isn’t there a rule about profiling each other?”

“Papa Rossi to the rescue,” Morgan said with a small smile. “I was just concerned, that’s all.”

You give him a little nod, “I get it.” You give Rossi a stern, knowing look and he waved away your glare.

“We should grab a drink sometime,” Morgan continued, flashing his eyes in Reid’s direction. “It’d be nice to get to know you more.”

You laugh, “The most exciting thing about me, Derek, is this job.”

“Still,” Morgan stretched, “Where you from?”

A little huff escaped your lips as the jet began its descent, “Arizona.”

“What part?”

“Flagstaff,” you say slowly, “Why does this sound like an interrogation?” You were smiling, almost encouraging Morgan’s teasing tone.

“Family? Boyfriend? Girlfriend?”

You shake your head, “Parents back home. And no.” You notice how Reid suddenly put down the book he was reading to give his undivided attention.

“Alright.”

A laugh escapes you, “That’s all you wanted to know?”

“For now, sweetheart,” he said, giving a wink to Reid when you looked away. “Prentiss and I can scope out the first victim’s house.”

Hotch nodded, watching the jet get closer to the ground, “Good. Rossi, you and J.J. can look at the second victim’s house. Reid and (Y/N) – you two can go to the hospital to get more information on the symptoms and treatment of the victims. I’ll set up base at the local police station.”

Morgan seemed pleased about something as he got ready for the landing. Reid gave a little wave to you but seemed embarrassed by the action as he looked away immediately.

~~~

You sit behind the wheel of the SUV, Reid in the passenger seat twiddling his thumbs in his lap. You could tell he wanted to talk but didn’t know what to say. If you had it your way, you’d prefer to keep your silence while he rambled on about whatever was on his mind.

That way you wouldn’t have to talk. The less you talk the less likely you’ll share something you would regret.

“I found out recently that there’s a stage theatre in Virginia that puts on Shakespeare plays,” you say quietly.

Reid turns to you with raised eyebrows, “The Blackfriars Playhouse?”

You nod, “I hear it’s the world’s only re-creation of Shakespeare’s indoor theatre.”

“Yes, it started out as a traveling troupe that performed in countries around the world. They were taken in by the International Shakespeare Globe Centre and featured in England. In 1999 they changed their name to Shenandoah Shakespeare and moved to Staunton, Virginia. It took two years for the Blackfriars Playhouse to be built, and since then they’ve rebranded as the American Shakespeare Center that educates aspiring actors and performs using Renaissance rehearsal practices to showcase Shakespeare’s greatest works on their Globe Theatre stage.”

You start to relax against the wheel, “I saw somewhere that they’re having a year long conference.”

Reid was getting all excited, sitting on the edge of his seat and smiling with his words, “They are! The ASC is partnering with Shakespeare’s Globe in London. You’re a fan of Shakespeare?”

You give a polite nod, “As long as it’s on the stage. Shakespeare was meant to be watched, not just read.”

“Exactly!” he was thrilled to find something in common with you. “What is your favorite play?”

“Probably Much Ado About Nothing.”

“A comedy,” Reid said, “It’s one of my favorites too. Did you know that Much Ado About Nothing is considered one of Shakespeare’s greatest comedies? Although a similar trope of a happy ending, united lovers, and a villain receiving justice is seen in both The Merchant of Venice and A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Much Ado About Nothing also features more prose than just about any other Shakespearean play.”

You smile, confused, “Prose?”

“Prose is the written or spoken language in its ordinary form, meaning without the use of a metrical structure. It follows the natural flow of speech and differs from most traditional poetry. Much Ado About Nothing is about 75% prose and only 25% actual poetry verse. Verse is used to express more emotional statements, so that essentially proves how much of a comedy the play is because 75% of the material is used to express whimsical thoughts.”

You kept smiling, turning to enter the hospital parking lot. “I had no idea.”

It was quiet for a second before Reid cleared his throat, “I was rambling, wasn’t I?”

“Don’t worry,” you say, “I like it.”

Reid squirmed in his seat, warmth blooming in his chest, “I’m sorry, I should give you more of a chance to talk. Did you bring up the Blackfriars Playhouse because you wanted to see a show?”

You open the car door, “Maybe. Let’s get this over with.”

He scrambles out of the car, readjusting his side bag. “Okay.” You could tell he wanted to continue your conversation, but you brushed it off as you both enter the building to talk to the chief of the hospital.

You held back a shiver as you meet with staff in the urgent care ward. They told you of the severity of the anthrax murders, the horrific symptoms presented in the victims. They confirmed how quickly the bacteria affects a person and travels to everyone within a household.

“It would be easily transmitted between family members,” the doctor expressed.

“We believe the man we’re looking for is entering the home and tainting their food, infecting their air conditioning units, and injecting them in their sleep,” Reid says.

The doctor nods, “I can say the inhalation infection was there the longest, meaning it was the first form used. Cutaneous infection through injections hasn’t been present as long.”

“Meaning the unsub is entering the house a second time to infect them with a different form,” you say, “This guy likes to stick around and watch.” You trace the little scar against your ribcage, fingers lowering to another pinprick scar against your abdomen.

“Thank you for your time,” Reid said, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“Of course,” the doctor said, “And before I forget, your unit chief wanted your team treated to prevent an anthrax infection.”

Reid nodded in understanding, but you start to seize, “How?”

A nurse leaves to grab some supplies as the doctor states calmly, “Antibiotics and the anthrax vaccine. We usually only recommend it for individuals that are at risk.”

“And that comes in a pill form?” you ask quickly. Reid looks at you suddenly from your tone of voice.

“The antibiotics do,” the doctor says, pulling out some paperwork, “But the vaccine comes in an injection.”

Pain enters your side. You know it’s most likely a phantom pain, but you can’t escape the feeling of terror bubbling in your diaphragm. It popped and sizzled into your lungs, bringing you back to the familiar sensation of your lungs being punctured.

You attempted to mask the reaction – hold back the sweat wetting your palms and creeping up your neck. You cooled your tone as you cleared your throat. You didn’t even want to see the vaccine.

Reid was being directed to sit down and roll up his sleeve, which he did while keeping his eyes trained on you. You didn’t want to see the confusion and worry in his face.

You run your fingers through your hair, holding back the shakiness of your hands, “I uh… I need to run to the bathroom real quick.”

You didn’t hear any response as you sped to the nearest bathroom. White noise was buzzing in your ears, dots of pain appearing across your front, like little beestings. You knew it was just a memory, and you clenched either side of the porcelain sink telling yourself that.

Of course you knew a spiral was going to happen. It was one of the main reasons Hotchner didn’t want to hire you in the first place. But you had hoped you’d be a few more cases in before it happened.

You breathed through the terror, splashed your face with cold water, and flexed your fingers. You grounded yourself with your surroundings: Tiled floors, white walls, soap scum on the sink, faint bleach smell, water dripping down the drain.

Straightening out, you took a deep breath, no sharp stabbing pain – the fear trickling back into its containment in your diaphragm.

You straighten the hairs framing your face, wiping the speckle of water against your chin. Your phone started ringing.

“Hello?”

“Hi, gorgeous,” came a bright sing-song voice, “How’s my new bestie?”

A smile finally breaks the grimness of your face, “Garcia.”

“Yeah, hi – Hotch is asking that everyone meets back at the station. We just found a connection between the families. They’re both customers of the same plumbing company.”

“Which would give someone access to their drinking water and air conditioning.”

“Oh, I didn’t even think about infecting the water supply,” Garcia said, a smile clear in her voice, “I knew boy genius was going to have some competition with you.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” you say, sliding the phone back in your pocket. You exit the bathroom and find Reid waiting by the front doors. His face was placid, but his brow furrowed upon seeing you.

His throat bobbed before he spoke. “You okay?”

“Yeah, Hotch wants us back at the police station.” You walked right past him and out to the parking lot.

Reid had to jog to catch up to you, pointing back at the hospital, “Did you get the vaccine?”

“I’m fine,” you say, getting in the car, “The team made a connection between the victims.”

It was obvious that he didn’t believe you, but he was too intimidated by your evasion that he kept his mouth shut. The warmth that bloomed in his chest at sharing a car ride with you was still there. He wanted it to stay – he didn’t want to jeopardize the possible friendship growing between you.

Looking at you drive, more tense than he’s seen you before, he was struck again with how familiar you were. Whether your name or your face, he didn’t know but he could’ve sworn he’d heard of you before.

It had only been a few weeks, but he knew he already had it bad. He was becoming infatuated with you.

~~~

The team had dispersed again, taking part in investigating new suspects at the plumbing company. (Y/N) and Hotch were in the next room interrogating a lead while Reid updated the geographical profile in their office.

Rossi was confirming their suspicions that another family might be targeted in the next 24 hours.

Reid capped a marker and cleared his throat, “You knew (Y/N) before she joined the BAU.”

“Yeah,” Rossi said, immediately suspicious, “What of it?”

“It’s just…” Reid continued, sitting down at the table, “I feel like I know her from somewhere, but I can’t quite place it.”

“I thought you remembered everything.”

“I remember what I read, but I think her name is something I’ve heard before.”

Rossi put his files down, giving his full attention, “Why don’t you just ask her?”

“Because I have a feeling she’ll deflect.”

“So you’re trying to go behind her back?”

Reid sighed, “No, I just… she worried me a little at the hospital. I know something is wrong.”

That sparked some interest in Rossi. He leaned forward, “What happened?”

“She basically ran away when the doctor said we needed to get a shot. She says she got one, but I think she was lying.”

Rossi was quick to answer, “A lot of people don’t like getting shots.”

“No, it was the way she reacted,” he said quietly, “It was more than just a phobia. And I know she doesn’t want to talk about it.”

“Then there’s only one thing you can do.”

Reid looked up hopefully, “What?”

“Be a good friend and respect her wishes.”

“You’re not going to tell me how you know her, are you?” Reid said, disappointed.

“It’s not my story to tell,” Rossi shrugged, “But if she’s lying about getting the vaccine, then I might talk to her. We don’t want her contracting anthrax because of a fear.”

Reid twiddled his thumbs, giving his best puppy-dog stare, “Not even a hint?”

It pulled a chuckle out of Rossi, “You like this girl.”

“Did Morgan tell you that?”

“It’s not so hard to figure out,” the old man smiled, “I’ll give you some advice. (Y/N) is a driven and stubborn woman. She’s never liked being told what she can and can’t do. But that’s only what’s on the surface. (Y/N) is one of the kindest, quirkiest, most considerate people I know. You just need to get past the hard outer shell.”

Reid nodded to himself, “We talked about Shakespeare in the car today.”

“You did?” Rossi seemed surprised, “That was quick.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’ve already found a nerdy part of her. I thought she’d guard that for a while longer.” He was amused by the giddy happiness that entered Reid’s face, “There might be hope for you yet, kid.”

It wasn’t much later that Hotch figured out that you hadn’t taken any preventative measures against the anthrax. He ordered you back to the hospital or else stay off the case until they caught the unsub. He wasn’t going to take any chances when working with such a serious bacteria.

You, being the stubborn newbie that you are, bit your tongue and quieted the fear beginning to brew below your ribcage.

Taking advantage of the situation, Reid stepped up to escort you to the hospital. It was a quiet and tense ride to the urgent care, Reid attempting to find a way to express his concern.

“Not a fan of needles?” he asked with a lighter inflection.

You hold back a scoff, “Not really.” Your fingers are knotted and pressed tightly against your stomach.

Reid tried to keep his eyes on the road, “I don’t like them much either.”

“It’s silly, really,” you say, closing your eyes.

“No, it’s not. Everyone is afraid of something,” he rushed out, stopping you from diminishing your feelings. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

You swallow hard, “Really?”

“Some would say that’s ridiculous now that we’re adults. But you never know what’s lurking in the dark.”

It was silent for another minute before you took a shaky breath, “I have a pretty severe phobia.”

“Of what?”

You lick your lips, “Any kind of needle. Sewing needles, knitting needles, safety pins, thumbtacks, you name it. I can’t… they remind me…” You clamp your mouth shut.

Reid was hesitant but wanted to encourage you to continue, “You know you’re part of a team now. Whatever we share with each other is in confidence. We all have your back.”

I have your back, he wanted to say, You can trust me.

You tighten your hands, “They remind me of a dark place. I don’t like going there.”

Reid flexed his fingers against the steering wheel. He blinked hard before muttering, “I’ll be there with you.”

You both entered the hospital with Reid having a hand hovering against your back. He didn’t touch you, but he wanted to. He walked beside you, guiding you to sit in a chair. As soon as the nurse appeared with a sterile metal tray, you turned your head away.

Reid sat beside you, addressing the nurse.

“Afraid of needles?” she asked.

You didn’t respond so Reid said, “A little.”

“Don’t worry, honey, this will be over in a second. Just a little pinch.” She noticed how shallow your breathing had gotten, “Remember to breathe, sweetie.”

You nod, jumping when the cold wet of the alcohol wipe touched your exposed shoulder. Reid watched you tense up, gripping the armrests of the chair. He wasn’t sure what was overstepping boundaries, but he felt compelled by the concern eating him up to grab your hand.

His fingers wrapped around yours and he was relieved to find you clutching back at him. As soon as the injection touched your arm, a gasp escaped you. You were shaking in his hand and your face was screwed up against the sharp pain.

Reid never took his eyes off your face, worried at how severe your reaction was. He realized you were holding your breath as the nurse put a band-aid on your arm.

“Breathe, (Y/N),” he said quietly, “Remember to breathe.”

You inhale sharply, “Is it over?”

“Yes,” Reid said in his same calming tone, “And you’re okay. We’re all done.”

You open your eyes, finding Reid looking at you with a deep level of concern. He hadn’t let go of your hand yet and you found that grounding yourself was easier this time. No white noise filled your ears, no phantom pinpricks of pain stabbed your abdomen.

You focused on your surroundings: Reid’s warm hand holding yours, the smell of sugared coffee and mahogany on his collar, the slow breaths filling his chest, and the heat of him nearly pressed against your arm.

“Thank you,” you say softly, “That wasn’t so bad with you here.”

His heart soared out of his chest, a smile wide on his face, “Anytime.”

~~~

A month later you were settling into the team more and more. You had found little blossoms of friendship among your coworkers, except for Rossi who was determined to remain your second father.

You felt more at ease the longer time passed without suspicion about your hiring process. Though that could mean a higher chance of a slip up.

“You. Up. Drinks. Now,” Morgan had pointed a finger at you and gestured to the elevators where some of the team stood.

“Derek,” you sighed, leaning in your chair, “You know the club isn’t my kind of scene.”

He shook his head, smiling, “Not today, angel face. You’ve had an excuse the last four weekends and I know for a fact you were planning on spending your evening alone, reading and drinking your tea.”

You pursed your lips, eyes flickering to where Reid was talking to Prentiss. You had told him earlier that day of your excitement to have a free weekend to read.

“Is nothing sacred anymore?”

“Come on, pretty boy will only go if you go,” Morgan said.

And now you sat at a dimly lit table, waiting for your drink as Morgan was having a dance off with Prentiss out on the floor. She shoved him over and right into the nearest beautiful woman. Derek raised his eyebrows and sent Emily a little ‘thank you’ as he began dancing sensually with his new partner.

Emily rolled her eyes and went to find her own dance partner.

Over at the bar was J.J. and Garcia, no doubt discussing the latest Quantico gossip. Garcia, with a thin black straw between her teeth, slack jawed at the whisperings of J.J.’s news. It made you smile knowing that the analyst would corner you later to tell you what she had learned.

The low lights included a mixture of purple and blue, setting a cool tone around the people sitting at tables. You run your fingers along the table surface, noticing Reid making his way to you with two drinks.

“You look bored,” he said with a close lipped smile.

You accept the drink gratefully, “I told Derek I’m not a fan of drinks.”

“Then why did you agree to come?”

Because I knew you wouldn’t have a good time if I didn’t. You swallow, stirring your drink around with the straw, “My parents tell me I should go out every once in a while or I’ll never make any friends.”

He huffed a laugh, “You talk to your parents a lot?”

“I would every day if I let them have their way.”

“Are you close?”

You shrug your shoulders, “They worry about me.”

“Are you an only child?”

“Don’t start the profiling questions,” you say with a smirk, “But yes, I am an only child.”

Reid nods, his face heating up at being chastised. “There are a lot of studies on the effects of only children.”

“You going to say I’m a stereotypical only child that experiences overprotectiveness and spoiling from my two loving parents?”

“No,” Reid said calmly, “There are actually many studies that disprove that stereotype. Professor Toni Falbo from the University of Texas found that ‘across all developmental outcomes, only children were indistinguishable from firstborns and people from small families.’ And clinical psychologist Linda Blair wrote about how ‘parents can focus all their time and energy on an only child,’ which means they get valuable relationship time where ‘they just feel valued’, not just a sense of being overprotected. I think your parents might worry about you because of a different reason.”

You try to contain your smile, “No, they’re definitely just overprotective of me.”

“But then something must’ve happened to have them be overprotective of you. It couldn’t just be because you’re an only child.”

You take a sip of your drink, slowly nodding your head. Be careful. Don’t slip up. “A little bit of both.” You cleared your throat, “You know what show I just started?”

Reid took note of the change of subject, “What?”

“Doctor Who.”

His face split open into the biggest smile, “Really? The series from 1963 or the revamped series from 2005?”

“I just started the Tenth Doctor,” you say, matching his smile, “I think I like David Tennant more.”

Reid looked about ready to burst with the amount of information he knew about the topic. He started stuttering over his words, twiddling his fingers in the air as the words tumbled out of his mouth.

“My favorite is by far the Fourth Doctor played by Tom Baker. He’s the longest running Doctor on the series, having starred in seven seasons between 1974 and 1981. He is the most recognizable Doctor internationally with his famous multicolored scarf. I think his most popular companions are K-9 and…”

“… Sarah Jane!” you say enthusiastically, “Yeah, they were both in the last season with the Tenth Doctor.”

“Yes, yes!” he said happily, “That’s one of the greatest things about Doctor Who – they bring back timeless characters and stories through the years. It’s why you have to watch the originals!”

You laugh at his endearing blabber, “Go back to black and white television?”

“It’s classic,” he retorts, “Sure the BBC didn’t give them much of a budget at first, but the black and white helps hide the poor quality of the sets and costumes. And television back then wasn’t designed to be binged like today, so many of the stories aren’t cohesive, but that’s the beauty of it. It’s history in the making – you can see the progress of a single character and their life over almost fifty years! It’s fascinating.”

You nod slowly, tickled by Reid’s eagerness, “Alright. Maybe I’ll try to watch them.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to talk to you about the Master and the evolution of the Daleks and the effects of the Time War.”

Another laugh escapes you as you continue to stir your drink with the straw, staring at the ice cubes tink against the glass.

It got quiet as Reid stewed in the slight embarrassment that itched his stomach as his excitement wore off. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I rambled.”

“I told you I like it,” you say, finally looking at him in that dimly lit bar, “I like seeing you get all excited about stuff. It makes me want to get excited about it too.”

“Yeah, but you shouldn’t do things just because I like them.”

“Why not?” you say firmly, “What if I want us to share something?”

He was caught off guard by that, blinking hard a few times. “You want us to share something?”

You take another sip of your drink. It was getting watered down now by the melting ice. “I told you I need more friends,” you smile at him, “My parents are worried, remember?”

Reid’s throat bobbed, thoughts of spending long nights cuddled on the couch and watching old shows on a black and white television disappear in an instant. His hopes of taking her on a date to the Blackfriars Playhouse to see her favorite play were being diminished, the tickets of said show burning in his back pocket. The want to brew her a cup of tea and share an evening reading books together, maybe even holding hands across their reading chairs, ached in his chest.

“Friends,” he said quietly, “Right.”

~~~

Not long after the bar trip, you invited Reid over to your apartment for one of your reading sessions.

When you opened the door to find him with nearly ten books piled in his arms, you laughed. “You’re gonna out read me 10 to 1.”

He gave a close lipped smile, fighting back the embarrassment of his quirks. “It’s a blessing and a curse.”

You sat on one end of the couch, thumbing the edge of your fiction book. “I put a kettle on,” you said gesturing to the stove, “If you want to have a cup of tea with me.”

Reid took off his satchel, setting his books on a side table, “I’m more of a coffee guy.”

“Yeah,” you say smiling, “More like a sugar guy with some coffee beans on the side.”

You’re suddenly struck with another memory. Just like how you remember that your first day at the BAU smelled like fall leaves.

You remember that the first time you were able to easily ground yourself from PTSD, it smelled like sugared coffee.

As the kettle started screaming with steam, you went to stand until Reid started waving you down, “No, no – you’re already sitting. I’ll get the tea.”

And as he passed you by, it smelled like sugared coffee again, “But you don’t even want any.”

He didn’t respond, smiling to himself as he filled a waiting teacup with boiling water. A little cannister of teabags sat beside the stove. “Did you know that tea is the second most popular drink in the world? The first being water.”

“So my preferred drink is more popular than yours?” you say teasingly as he came around the couch with the steaming cup.

“That’s because the Asia Pacific is a dominant region for tea, and that accounts for over 4 billion people, which is around 60% of the world’s population. Not to mention that around 68% of people in the United Kingdom drink at least one tea per day, and that’s about 61 million people. That puts the tea industry slightly above the coffee.” He handed you the teacup, his fingertips burning where they brushed up against yours, and not because the drink was hot.

“You could just say tea is better than coffee, it’s okay,” you say, blowing before taking a sip.

Reid held back a smile, sitting on the other side of the couch, “Maybe not better… but more popular.”

You bickered with smiles on your faces for a couple more minutes before cracking open your books. You’re giggling as you toss your bookmark at him, “Just shut up and read your books.”

He laughed at you, trying to get comfortable on his side, crossing his spindly legs.

The pair of you sat in a comfortable silence as the sun dipped lower behind the blinds. Reid had blown throw two psychology textbooks and another true crime book written by a favorite author. You had gotten through maybe seventy pages of your adult fantasy novel.

Reid thought he would’ve gotten through six books by then, but he kept getting distracted by you. The thought of reaching over and holding your hand as you read was overwhelming. He wanted to sit closer, rub shoulders with you, peer over and read the same page as you, wait for you to finish before he turned the page for you.

He wanted to catch your eyes drooping with sleep and then offer to read aloud to you as you drift off against him. He wanted to drape a blanket around you both and help you sip tea so you wouldn’t have to take your arms out from under the warmth. He wanted to hear you read your favorite lines to him. He wanted to see you shift into a more comfortable reading position, grumbling about aching wrists. He wanted to read your book just so he could talk to you about it.

He wanted you.

It was getting painful how much he wanted you.

The bookmark he was using was the two tickets to the Blackfriars Playhouse. They blared at him like a beacon sitting on the side table.

But then something remarkable happened. From your scrunched up position on the opposite side of the couch, you crept your feet across the seat cushions until they reached Reid. You then tucked your cold toes under his thigh.

He abruptly looked at you with raised eyebrows.

You shrugged your shoulders, attempting to look innocent. “My feet are cold.”

He fought a huge smile, “And you don’t have a blanket?”

“Why would I need a blanket when you’re here?” You said it so casually there was no way you noticed how that made Reid’s heart leap.

“Fair enough,” he responded. He cleared his throat, flickering his eyes between you and his own book. “Hey, (Y/N)?”

You look up at him over the top of your book, “Yeah, Spence?”

Spence. He started smiling despite the nerves, “I couldn’t help but notice that the Blackfriars Playhouse is showing Much Ado About Nothing, and um…” he swallowed hard, unable to look at you. “… I just so happen to have two tickets to see it next Saturday.”

Your feet wiggled under his leg, and he squirmed, tickled. “Is that so?”

“Would you want to go with me… maybe?”

You could barely contain the excitement starting to course through your veins, “Are you kidding? Spence! I would love to go.” Your book fell from your fingers, “Oh my god, I’m so excited.”

The pride that swelled Reid’s chest could’ve made him float to the moon.

~~~

You could’ve blamed it on the case. On the method of killing. On the type of victim. But it was the fact that you didn’t have a handle on your emotions.

Girls around your age were being taken and tortured by having nails hammered into them. Sharp, pointed nails – stabbed into them. It was too similar.

You counted your breaths and stared at your desk. Everyone exited the bullpen before you, packing briefcases and emergency bags for the incoming jet flight to Missouri. You staggered on your way out, nearly collapsing into your desk chair.

You considered running to the bathroom like you usually did, dousing yourself in cold water and snapping out of it. Instead you closed your eyes and traced the little scars you could find against your ribcage and abdomen.

The smell of coffee wafted over you.

“Hey,” came a small voice, kneeling beside you. “Is it the nails?��

You try to swallow, but it’s thick and sticks to the back of your throat. You just subtly nod instead, slowly opening your eyes.

Reid is there, leaning against your desk and itching to touch you – to comfort you.

“(Y/N),” he said cautiously, “Is this more than a phobia?”

You attempt a deep breath, but it’s shallow in your chest, “I’ll be fine.”

“Maybe we should…”

“Reid,” you say more sternly, “I’m going to be fine. I’m not going to let this hold me back.” You brush him off, standing and straightening your blazer. “I’m gonna go pack.”

Reid let you pass but kept his gaze on you as you left the offices. It must’ve been too full of the longing and worry he felt for you because Morgan and Prentiss were quick to comment on it.

“Hey there, pretty boy,” Morgan said, setting his duffel bag down, “What’s got your attention?”

Prentiss gave a breathy laugh, zipping up her own bag, “Only the object of all his desires.”

“Give it a rest,” he responded, running his fingers through his hair. “You’re not helping.”

“Helping what?” Morgan folded his arms, “You getting out of the friend zone?”

“If she could see the way you just looked at her,” Prentiss sucked in a breath of air that sounded like a hiss, “Maybe she’d see how in love you are.”

“Those big old puppy-dog eyes,” Morgan smiled, “You’re irresistible.”

Reid grumbled, “Something’s wrong.”

“Yeah, the fact you’re wasting time pining when you could be getting some weekend sugar,” Morgan laughed.

“No,” Reid looked away, “There’s something familiar about (Y/N) and I don’t know what it is. Rossi refuses to say anything because he’s protecting her, but I know they have a past. That has to mean she’s been involved in Rossi’s career somehow, whether that’s from a case, or one of his lectures, or as one of his interns. But the fact he doesn’t speak about it means that it’s personal.”

“Okay,” Morgan said, the smile leaving his face, “What do you want to do?”

The corner of Reid’s lip twitched – it usually happened when he was thinking about something difficult, “I don’t know. I guess I hoped she would tell me eventually.”

“But now you’re impatient?” Prentiss asked, brow scrunched, “You want Garcia to look (Y/N) up?”

“No!” Reid said quickly, “I just… I want to help her, but I can’t do that if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“I thought she just got a little squeamish around needles,” Morgan said, “She needs a second, but then she’s good.”

Reid shoved his hands in his pockets, “I think it’s a trauma response.”

“Well, don’t phobias come from past incidents or traumas?” Prentiss asked, “Couldn’t she have had a bad experience at the doctors as a child getting her flu shot?”

They clearly weren’t as concerned as he was, and Reid sat at his desk, knuckles covering his mouth as he thought.

Morgan shared a look with Prentiss before saying, “Look kid, we worry about (Y/N) too. We’re here for her if she needs it. But we’re not going to go snooping around in her personal business that she would rather keep private.”

“She’s not going to ask for help,” Reid said to himself.

Prentiss pursed her lips, “Then we’ll be here to catch her when she falls.” She gestured to Morgan and the pair of them took their bags to meet by the SUVs, all the while muttering to themselves.

Reid drummed his knuckles against his lips, staring at his computer screen and debating. He could do a simple google search himself, no need to bother Rossi or Garcia with it. With Rossi being involved in some way, there might be a news article somewhere that mentions you.

Hesitantly, looking around for any prying eyes, Reid logged onto his computer and typed in the search engine. He searched for your name. Your name plus FBI. Your name plus David Rossi.

And a string of articles popped up. Newspapers from Arizona, Nevada, and Utah.

Young girls kidnapped, held, tortured, and murdered in the desert. The murderer being coined ‘The Pincushion Killer’ based on his methods. Each victim was repeatedly stabbed with varying sized needles. Starting with acupuncture needles and growing to icepicks. He purposely stabbed his victims in nonthreatening spots of the body, avoiding large blood vessels and major organs. The purpose to draw out their suffering.

Until the day of the murder. He would then puncture an organ of his choice: lungs, stomach, liver, sometimes an artery.

He was never caught. But all nine of his victims were identified. Eight killed. And the ninth survived.

And pasted on the front of every news article said: Pincushion Killer – Victim #9 Survives; Killer Disappears.

Below was a picture of (Y/N).

The ninth victim.

~~~

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