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irisinluv · 6 months ago

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Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Series discontinued- sorry my loves. Ik y’all wanted more but the good news is that I’ve seen several really talented authors picking up this idea and executing it wayyyy better than my sporadic mood writing ever could.

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valiantbouquetpersona · 1 year ago

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xxblairexxss · 2 years ago

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Cherry tomato?

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Fluff

In which you did a Tiktok prank on your boyfriend and he nearly fainted.

You were sprawling on the couch, giggling and chuckling at your phone. You had been watching Tiktok and there was this trend going on where you told your dad or significant other about a $100 for a premium air so you wanted to try it on Charles.

Charles didn’t reply and you didn’t expect him to. He had a meeting with a brand so he had told you earlier that he won’t be able to reply to you immediately but you told him it won’t be a problem as you wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Hi, baby.” Charles came home and placed his watch on the dining table before giving you a peck on your cheek.

“Oh, hi!”

“Where did you go today? I thought you said you had no plan?”

“Ah, I went to get these!” You popped a slice of cherry tomato into your mouth and offered one to him. Charles then went to your side and leaned over so you could feed him. “It was crazy expensive, wasn’t it?”

He was already walking to the fridge to get himself a drink while still chewing on the cherry tomato. “Sorry?”

“I can’t believe it was that expensive!” You threw in another cherry tomato into your mouth.

“The cherry tomatoes?”

“No, the air!”

Charles frowned before closing the fridge and ambled his way back to where he was by your side. He was clearly confused, it looked like he had question marks all over his head and you had to control your laughter. “What air are you talking about, baby?”

“The tire pressure! I never knew they charge you £50 per tire!”

“What? Who told you that?” Charles tilted his head to catch on your gaze.

“The guy at the tire shop! He was like ‘you have to pay £50 for this’.” You mimicked the way the guy supposedly talk.

“Was he trying to tell you a joke?”

“No, he wasn’t! I was supposed to pay £200 for all four tires because he told me all of them were under-inflated but he gave me a discount so I only had to pay £100 which was a good deal because that meant I paid what…like £25 per tires.”

“Wait, wait. Slow down. I’m confused.” Charles shook his head as if he was trying to shake off those question marks and pushed the bowl of cherry tomatoes away so you could stop munching on them and pay attention to him. “So, you are saying that you paid £100 for the air?”

“I paid £100 instead of £200, yeah.” You shrugged and pulled the bowl closer to take another cherry tomato.

“Baby, stop.” He held your wrist before you could touch them.

“Why?”

“You paid £100 for air?”

“Yes, mon beau. It was a good discount I know. He probably gave the discount because I looked pretty today.” You retracted you arm away from his grip to go back to the cherry tomatoes.

“Stop, stop.”

“Charles!” You scowled at him and crossed your arms.

“They didn’t give you a discount, they scammed you!”

“What? Why?” You could get an Oscar for the facial expression alone.

“You were supposed to pay 50 cents for it. No one paid that much! Are you crazy?” He gasped in horror and looked like he could faint any moment.

“It wasn’t me! It was the guy!”

“I’m gonna give them a call.” He heaved a sigh and was about to walk away to get his phone before you casually replied, giving him another heart attack.

“He said it was a premium air.” You tried making it sound like a mumble but it was clear, clear enough to make his ears red as he turned back to look at his girlfriend who looked so nonchalant that he wished he could knock some sense into her head.

“What did you say?”

“It was premium air. He said it was more crisp than the normal one.”

“Baby, my blood pressure has reached my head and I’m getting goosebumps. Please tell me this is a joke.”

“I’m not joking! I paid them cash.”

“You paid them cash? Why would you pay them cash? Now we can’t even file a complain because we have no proof.”

“They said they only accept cash. Do you want another cherry tomato?”

“Oh my god, baby.” Charles had no other words to continue this conversation so he just heaved a sigh again and leaned his forehead against your shoulder.

“I’m just kidding! It was a prank.” You giggled and stroked on his back.

“What?”

“It was a prank!”

He stood up straight and pinched on the middle of his brows. “Please don’t do that again. You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“You should have seen your face! It was so cute!” You chuckled and pinched on his nose.

“No more cherry tomatoes for you. Give me that.”

“Wait, no!”

#f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader

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classyfurniture24 · 3 days ago

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aringofsalt · 1 month ago

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@bucktommyfluffebruary DAY 1 - NON-SEXUAL INTIMACY BUCKTOMMY | G | 466 WORDS

"Nooo, you're disgusting! Don't touch me!"

The yelp came from the back of the house, where the kitchen was, and Hen frowned as she headed toward it. Buck and Tommy had invited everyone over for a barbecue, their first big shindig since moving in together the month before, and she and Karen had gotten there early to help out. Buck had tasked them with setting up a couple folding tables in the dining room—space was at a premium at 118 gatherings, these days—and they'd made a couple private bets as to how eventful the day would be. But Buck calling Tommy disgusting definitely hadn't been on her bingo card for the day, so sue her, she was curious.

What she saw when she peeked around the doorway tugged at her heartstrings a little bit.

Even though he had a mud-covered—and, yes, kind of disgusting—Tommy cornered up against the back door, even though he was still bitching a little about getting mud on his sweater, Buck was carefully wiping at Tommy's upturned face with a damp cloth. Hen watched, smiling softly, as he gently turned Tommy's head this way and that to make sure he hadn't missed a spot.

"Seriously, how did you manage to get mud everywhere, up to and including on your eyebrows?"

"I tripped over the damn spade," Tommy grumbled in response, holding out a hand for Buck to take when he gestured for it.

"The damn spade that you—"

"Never bother to stand upright when I'm working, yeah, that one."

Buck rolled his eyes, and it sounded for all the world like the beginning of an actual argument, but Hen knew them both pretty damn well by now. It might be bickering, sure, well-practiced like they'd had the same discussion many times already, but the love was shining out of both of them in a way Hen had never seen from either of them before. Buck's hands were gentle as they worked over Tommy's exposed skin, getting every last piece of mud, and Tommy's eyes were crinkled up in a smile as he watched his boyfriend work.

Finally satisfied, Buck threw the cloth into the sink, a dorky little fist pump included when he hit the target, then he was reaching for the buttons on Tommy's shirt.

"Let's get you out of those clothes and into the shower before anyone else shows up."

And there was Hen's cue to leave. She'd heard enough about Tommy's assets from Buck since they started dating, she had no desire to see them in the flesh.

The last thing she heard as she made her way quietly back out to the dining room was a low wolf whistle from Buck as fabric hit the floor, and Tommy's answering murmur, too soft for Hen to hear.

Dorks.

She was so happy for them.

#911 #bucktommy #911 fic #bucktommy fic #bucktommyfluffebruary #evan buckley #tommy kinard #hen wilson #sarah does fluffebruary #my fic

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damon25 · 2 months ago

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avis-writeshq · 1 year ago

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03 — labyrinth

summary: “uh oh, i’m falling in love”/“thought the plane was going down, how’d you turn it right around?” pairing: spencer reid x bau!fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining warnings: drug usage & addiction, talks about relapsing, therapy, tobias hankel, talks about weight (not reader’s), panic attack/night terrors wc: 3.8k a/n: as always, special mention to @astrophileous for beta-reading SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

“Are you okay?” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you gently lay a hand on Spencer’s forearm. You offer a soft squeeze of reassurance, your gaze meeting his.

He nods dismissively, averting his eyes but not shrugging your hand away. His tone is cold as he responds, “I’m fine.”

You know better than to believe him. Ever since his kidnapping a few short weeks ago, he’s been acting strangely. His eyes are sunken, bloodshot most of the time, with dark bags beneath them. He’s lost weight, not that he wasn’t already skinny to begin with, but he’s thinner than usual. He gets distracted more easily, he doesn’t spout out about random facts or statistics, and he’s now almost always irritated about something.

He’s been spending more and more time at your apartment, not that you don’t blame him. The two of you would spend your mornings at the dining table, eating half-stale cereal and sipping coffee from the premium machine you splurged on a couple years ago. The closeness is nice, and at times it feels a little too domestic to be platonic, but you’ve learned to control yourself around him.

You open your mouth to say something else (you’re mainly hoping to call him out on his behaviour), but he moves his other hand on top of yours, lightly pressing your fingers. Your mouth goes dry and your cheeks flush at the contact, effectively making you go quiet. He glances at you, his face softening and for a moment you could have sworn you saw the ‘old Reid’ resurface.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into your ear, his voice wavering with each syllable. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Even before you were a profiler, you prided in being able to read people well. Spencer is no exception to this; he’s always been easy to read, and his tells are only obvious to the trained eye. In other words, in your long five years of knowing him, you could smell his lies from a mile away. You don’t comment on it, just allowing yourself to bask in the comfort of his touch and the warmth he exudes.

The two of you head off to work minutes later, climbing into your car with you in the driver’s seat. He holds your hand the entire time.

***

Spencer thinks he’s going to throw up. The moment he gets onto the plane, he thinks he’s going to hurl. He locks himself into the bathroom, fumbling with the little vials of clear liquid in his satchel. He doesn’t know how long he can keep this a secret for– he’s always been a bad liar– especially from a team of profilers. He gathers that they probably already know.

His vision blurs and his head grows foggy as soon as he feels the liquid enter his bloodstream. He squeezes his eyes tightly, relishing in the artificial feel of serenity when there’s a knock on the door.

“Uh… Spencer?”

Fuck, he wants to scream as he scrambles to put everything back in his bag. Not you. Anybody but you.

“In– in a minute,” he responds hurriedly, flushed and woozy from his high. He feels nauseous again and he wonders if he should actually just throw up to make the story more believable.

“Um, okay? I was a little worried; you’ve been in there for a while. Did you need anything?” You ask again through the door as quietly as possible, glancing at where the team were sitting. “Water? Tea?”

He swings the door open, and his voice is a lot harsher than he expected it to be. “I’m fine.”

He almost misses the way you step back uncertainly, and the way your fingers twitch at your side. Almost. He knows you don’t believe him. He knows that you know him better than anyone and at times it scares him. He feels like Pandora’s Box and it’s only a matter of time before you release the demons within him. His heart lurches as he watches the way your face falls into confusion and hurt– hurt that he is responsible for.

“I’m fine,” he repeats, softer now. “Just– just tired.”

He watches as you pause and give him a once over. His breath hitches in his throat as he feels your eyes over every inch of him, and for a second he feels incredibly exposed.

“You know you can talk to me, right?” You say slowly, cautiously, and you reach a hand out to gently graze against his forearm. “I’m here for you.”

The contact is enough to get him to calm down, and his shoulders visibly relax and his eyes close for a moment. He nods, looking at you with a softness he didn’t even know he could muster.

“I know,” he responds, touching his fingers to yours. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” you respond with a smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You pause for a moment before nodding towards the seats of the plane.

Spencer follows you there, sitting beside you and as he relishes in your warmth and, in your company, he doesn’t feel quite as lost. The nausea begins to dissipate and he suddenly feels a lot lighter– and it’s not because of the drugs. This is different, a better different. A different he could get used to. The pressure from the plane doesn’t seem to affect him as much anymore, and his ears are no longer ringing.

He leans into your touch, his head pressed against your shoulder and his eyes begin to close. He feels your fingers gingerly hold his own, squeezing lightly in an effort to help him relax. It works. It always works. He feels the way your thumb grazes against the back of his hand and he feels both full of air and breathless at the same time.

“You okay?” You ask into his hair, continuing to rub your thumb back and forth against his hand.

He nods, not being able to bring himself to speak. He’s tired, so unbelievably tired, and he thinks that if he speaks he’ll begin to cry. He doesn’t realise that his grip on your hand has tightened.

“I’m not going to leave you.” He hears you whisper, squeezing his hand back.

He only brings himself to nod again, trying desperately to ignore the way his heart flutters in his chest. Uh oh. He’s falling in love.

***

Spencer knocks on your door at half past two in the morning, eyes bloodshot and feeling as if he was suffocating. He doesn’t want to be alone. At least, he doesn’t right now. He would usually enjoy the feeling of solace, considering that it was unlikely he would be able to experience those moments, but lately it feels as though he is lost inside of his own mind. He misses the moments where his head would swirl with unnecessary statistics, or random animal facts that he knows you adore. Now, the only thing stuck in his mind is the rush of the high– and the plummeting feeling of the low.

He holds a breath as he watches your feet come to a stop at the door before the doorknob jiggles and opens. His eyes hesitantly meet yours and he swallows thickly.

“Can I come in?” He asks, the words barely a whisper.

“Yeah,” comes your response, and you open the door a little wider. “Yeah, Spence, of course.”

He watches as you boil water and prepare two cups of tea– one chamomile and the other peppermint. He sits on the couch, fiddling with his fingers and his eyes darting around nervously.

“Spencer.”

Your voice echoes through the room, and suddenly he feels very grounded. He forces his eyes to meet yours and he feels himself stop breathing. Have you always been this beautiful?

“You haven’t been yourself lately,” you say, setting down the cup of peppermint tea in front of him. “Talk to me.”

He laughs humourlessly, sipping at the scalding tea and he grimaces at the burning sensation. “You sound like a therapist.”

“I studied as one,” you counter, dipping your teabag up and down in the cup. “The others… they can’t say anything. But I’m leaving the BAU soon, so I’m technically allowed to ask you this without any federal obligations.”

“I don’t know–” he begins to deny, but stops short at the way you give him a warning look.

“You’re high right now, aren’t you? And you were on the plane.” Your tone isn’t accusatory, but he expects it from the words that leave your lips. Your gaze softens as you continue. “It’s because of him, isn’t it?”

He flinches and he knows there’s no way out of it. “I tried.”

“I know.”

“I just– I can’t and I want to and I wish that I was… that I was stronger.”

“You are strong.”

He shakes his head. “I should be able to get over this. Get over everything he did to me.”

“Spencer, you were kidnapped and drugged and then you came back to the BAU like nothing even happened.” You pause and lick your bottom lip. “No one is expecting you to get over it, especially not this quickly.”

He doesn’t respond, a strange sense of deja vu filling him at your words and he sits rigid on the couch with his hands in his lap. His eyes don’t leave your face, his gaze shifting from your eyes to the curvature of your nose and then to your lips. For a split second, he wonders how they would feel against his, or how they’d feel against his neck. His head goes heavy at the thought and he pushes them away.

You don’t seem to notice where his eyes have settled, or you’re very good at acting as if he isn’t staring at your face because you continue to speak. “Well,” you say slowly, putting the cup of tea onto the table, “it’s a good thing I’m leaving the BAU then, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know if I can do this job without you,” he confesses, shifting his eyes downcast as he stares into his tea.

You laugh a little, and he thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. “You act as if I’m dying or something.”

“I’m serious,” he presses, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I want to be happy for you. And I am! But at the same time I feel– I feel so selfish for wanting you to stay.”

He feels you sit beside him and he instinctively leans into your touch, burying his face into the space between your neck and shoulder.

“It’s not your fault, Spence,” you whisper, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “And I’m always going to be there for you. Promise me you’ll remember that?”

He nods deftly into your neck, breathing in the smell of your perfume.

“Spencer.”

“Promise,” he mumbles, an arm wrapped around your waist. “I know. I promise.”

You hum in acknowledgement. “Good.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, but for once it’s no longer the uncomfortable silence you were tormented with back home. You could feel everything from his hot breath on your neck to the way his fingers squeeze your sides as if you’d disappear if he held you any looser.

“We still need to talk about this whole issue at some point though. You know that, right?” You murmur into his hair.

“I know.”

“We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to stay over?”

“… please.”

***

It has been two weeks since you finished up at the BAU and started work at a clinic, working as a children’s therapist. It’s been a good change of pace for you; a lot slower and much more routinely. The hours are a million times better, and you find that you’re able to get home before seven on most days. The amount of free time that’s been handed to you is something to get used to, now that it’s no longer filled with completing paperwork or getting onto a plane.

Despite all the positives, it feels strange not seeing your former team everyday. It feels strange not being able to see Penelope’s brightly coloured outfits, or Derek’s dumb jokes. You missed Emily’s sarcasm and JJ’s stories about Henry, and you missed seeing Hotch’s rare smiles whenever he sees someone in his team succeeding. A lot of the time you find yourself craving Rossi’s famous pastas accompanied with special wine. But most of all, you miss seeing Spencer in his element every single day.

He’s been doing better, or so he says. He’s been going to self-help groups and you’ve been sending him summaries of help books written by former addicts. It seems to have helped because he’s been acting more and more like Spencer Reid than a weird limbo version of him. He still spends a lot of time at your place, sleeping on your couch despite your constant protests. He ends up taking turns with you after you bribed him with multiple chocolate donuts.

Although he insists that he’s been doing better, his constant night terrors say otherwise and more often than not you find him sweating and sobbing in his sleep. Today is no different.

“Spencer,” You whisper, shaking his shoulder firmly. “Spence!”

He jolts awake, sitting up so quickly he almost knocks his forehead with yours. He groans, his fingers flying to his eyes as he rubs them. Fresh tears slip past his closed eyes, spilling down his cheeks and you pull him into your arms.

“You’re okay, I got you,” you murmur, rubbing soothing circles against his shoulder blade as he sobs.

He keeps repeating the words “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t want it” as he sobs against your shoulder, clutching your shirt in the palms of his hands.

“Breathe in,” you guide gently, running your free hand through his hair, “breathe deep… breathe out…”

He takes in a shaky breath before exhaling through sobs but he continues to follow your guide. He wraps around you tightly, taking deep breaths in before releasing them. After a few minutes of steady breathing, he finally speaks.

“I relapsed yesterday.”

He expects you to push him off and start screaming. He expects you to start yelling at him for not being able to control himself and for wasting all his progress. He reckons he deserves it. But you don’t do any of those things.

“That’s okay,” you respond, squeezing his hand. “Have you talked to Meredith about it?”

Meredith Gray is a therapist you introduced Spencer to. She’s a good friend of yours and specialises in addictions as well as post traumatic stress disorder, and she even wrote her final thesis about it. Even though you work in different fields, the jobs cross over a lot when there’s speculation that a parent could be sick. After explaining the situation to her, Meredith was more than willing to take Spencer as a client.

Spencer shakes his head, the guilt creeping into his chest and lacing his words. “No… I have an appointment with her tomorrow though.”

“Okay, good,” you nod, continuing to rub soothing circles on his back. “Relapsing is normal. It’s just another step to healing.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.”

“But–”

“It’s normal,” you repeat firmly. “You acknowledged it, and you told me. That’s good, Spence, better than most people.”

He’s quiet, his nose brushing against the soft skin of your neck before he speaks again. “Did you know I’m scared of elevators?”

You can’t help but laugh at the change of conversation and you squeeze his hand. “No, I didn’t.”

“Morgan and I got caught in one the other day. On a case,” he muses. “On average, elevators are inspected once or twice a year, but some could go up to three years without inspection. There are approximately ten thousand elevator related injuries per year, and twenty seven deaths.”

“Now I’m never going into an elevator again,” you respond with jest, poking his cheek. “It’s late. Take the bed, Walter.”

He huffs. “It’s your turn.”

“You need it more than me.”

“I’m not fragile.”

“I never said that you are.”

“(Y/N).”

You give him a pointed look. “Spencer.”

He stares at you for a moment, holding your gaze before he swallows and looks away. You watch the way his Adam Apple bobs in his throat and you suddenly feel faint.

“Take the bed, Walter,” you repeat, brushing a strand of hair away from his face. “Please?”

He says your name again, and he reaches up to rest his fingers against the collar of your pyjamas. Your breath hitches and you can’t help the way your cheeks grow warm and your head starts to spin. His touch is gentle, his fingers brushing against the skin of your shoulder. You resist the urge to shudder as you relish his skin against yours.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, pleading, and his eyes glance from your collar to your eyes.

“You hate sharing beds,” you remind him.

His thumb grazes against your jaw and his face is so close to yours you could count his eyelashes. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that he was going to kiss you. But you do know better, so you avert your gaze and push the thoughts out of your mind. An indescribable look flickers on his face but it is gone as quickly as it had appeared.

“It’s okay if it’s you,” he says earnestly, and you find yourself agreeing because how could you say ‘no’ to that?

You climb into bed, one leg outside of the covers because everything felt so warm, especially with his arm wrapped around your middle and his breath against your shoulder. The thin line between platonic and romantic love has blurred indefinitely now, and at times like these you feel as if it has disappeared entirely. Guilt creeps into your veins as you feel him bring you closer to him, his nose buried into your shoulder. Is this considered coercing? He’s in the middle of healing, working towards sobriety, and here you are taking advantage of his vulnerability. Well, technically you’re not ‘taking advantage’ of him if he seeks you out first but it still feels inherently wrong. Morally wrong, maybe.

It takes you another thirty minutes to fall asleep, your head rushing with thoughts and questions as you do. He’s gone when you wake up in the morning.

***

“Someone is looking happy,” Derek comments with a teasing grin, slinking an arm around Spencer’s neck.

It has been about a week since the ‘sleep in the same bed’ incident and he was promptly whisked away to a case in Nevada. He felt guilty about the whole ordeal, considering he wasn’t in his right state of mind at the time. It still made him feel like a sleazy college student who had a one night stand with some random person and then bolted (even though there was no contact of that sort that night). Despite his initial guilt, his head is spinning with the sheer peace and comfort that he experienced when he was sleeping in the same bed as someone. And that someone was you! He could barely even believe it. It all felt so right and perfect… and the way you would shuffle closer at times… it was enough to get his heart racing (he thinks that it’s terribly cliche and horribly cringe-worthy, but therapy has told him that he needs to ‘embrace’ his gross sappy feelings).

“What? No– I mean yes but–” Spencer coughs in response to Derek’s teasing, clutching the strap of his shoulder bag.

Derek cackles at his fumbling, grinning ear to ear. “Alright, so… is it a girl?”

“What?!” He shrieks, his voice raising by two octaves as he does. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Oh so there is a girl,” Emily joins in with a smirk.

“There is– there is no girl,” he responds briskly, his cheeks burning in embarrassment.

Derek hums in thought, a mischievous look in his eye. “Did you catch up with Lila again?”

“No!” Spencer bristles at the thought. Ever since he almost destroyed his friendship with you over her, he hasn’t even bothered to give her a call. “I haven’t seen her since her since– since her case.”

“What about that girl you picked up at a bar?” Emily offers with a sly laugh. “What’s her name again?”

“Austin,” Spencer recalls instantly, his cheeks flaring up again as soon as she says her name. “B-but I haven’t spoken to her either!”

JJ rounds the corner, all too happy to join in the fun (much to Spencer’s chagrin). “I bet it’s (Y/N),” she says with a knowing smirk.

Spencer considers his brain to be a well oiled machine of facts and logic. It’s one of the only things he could rely on– and the only thing people seem to respect him for. As of late, his ‘well oiled machine’ hasn’t been functioning as well as he would have liked, but that doesn’t mean it’s not functioning at almost full capacity. But JJ’s comment, no matter how well functioning his brain was, rendered him speechless.

“Looks like you hit the nail on the head, JJ,” Derek cackles, clapping Spencer’s shoulder.

He lets out a small grunt at the contact, almost stumbling over his feet before he catches himself. “There is nothing going on between (Y/N) and I. We’re just friends.” The words taste bitter on his tongue and he resists the urge to cringe.

“Sure,” Emily says with a short laugh. “Totally believe you. How long did it take for you to realise you’re in love with her?”

JJ snickers along. “Yeah, before or after you had that make out session with Lila?”

Spencer groans at their relentless teasing, covering his face with his hands as they walk along to the bullpen. They’re definitely a lot calmer once they enter their official place of work, but it still doesn’t stop the way they poke fun at him through sly smiles and tasteful words.

“There’s nothing going on between us,” Spencer reiterates with a frown. “She knows just how difficult this job is; she doesn’t deserve to have to deal with it again.”

“Isn’t she the one who’s supposed to decide that?” Emily asks gently, no more teasing in her tone. She’s always been good at giving advice.

He pauses at that, a frown etched upon his features. His mind rushes with memories; the constant leaving, the torture, the trauma, the drugs… his fingers run through his hair.

“It’s not a good time right now,” he explains softly.

“When will it ever?”

He doesn’t meet her gaze.“I don’t know.”

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jinnie-ret · 1 year ago

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Don't know if you're taking prompts atm but...

Can't believe I'm asking this but could you do a ninth member fic but they're Nuna to Bangchan as well instead of younger? Just wanna see all the boys taken care of, maybe like made casual dinner with their favorite foods or soft comfort after a hard concert or something. Just the boys and OC being good family.

let noona handle it

stray kids x ninth member!reader (platonic)

genre: fluff, slight angst

content warnings: flirty minho? (haha)

word count: 1k

summary: after a difficult, chaotic concert, you prepare a feast to take care of your beloved dongsaengs

Thank you for this request! Hope you enjoy! :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The concert you had just returned from was hell, and you hated to say that it was because of the fans. You nearly had a bit of deja vu, as the events that took place reflected those which happened at a past Indonesia concert. This time, you were in Seoul.

Fans had been constantly pushing each other back and forth, those who were standing scrambling amongst each other to get closer and closer to you and the boys. It was chaos.

"Guys, please! We want to do this concert but you have to move back!" Chan said into the mic, desperately hoping that the frantic Stays would listen.

"Move back, please," Han tried to help, using his hands to gesture them to do as he said.

"We don't want anyone to get hurt, please move back and we can carry on performing for you," Chan signed, and you saw how he was getting more and more frustrated.

You felt awful, that you didn't say anything to help. As their noona, you always wanted to look after your members, and you kicked yourself for not taking some of the weight off of your dongsaeng's shoulders, instead of standing there quietly. It wasn't your fault you felt overwhelmed though.

At least you weren't the only ones. As soon as you all returned to the dorms, wordless wishes of a good night's sleep was wished and you all fell asleep easily, the exhaustion hitting all 9 of you.

But you had other plans. Setting an alarm for 10am the next morning, you prepared yourself to get up early enough where the guys would still be asleep, but that you could go out, get fresh food, and prepare them with a feast for lunch time.

Yes, the shopping was very heavy, but it was worth it for the premium dining experience you had brought to the dorm. You were surprised they hadn't woken up yet from all of your clattering around and the smells of food, but it only made it far more worth it in anticipation of them seeing all of their favourite foods: sashimi, jokbal, yubochobap, kimchi jjigae, fried chicken, ramen with fried eggs, pizza. And of course for dessert you had some cheesecakes defrosting.

"Boys!!! Come in here!" you yelled at the top of your lungs, giggling to yourself when you heard the thumping of footsteps and mutterings of 'shit'.

"Noona?! Are you okay?" Changbin was the first to rush in, eyes zeroed in on you as he went to check if you were hurt or not.

"Wow..." Felix gasped, looking across at all of the food spread out on the dining table.

"I'm fine, Changbin, why don't you take a seat?" you soothed his worries, gently stroking his hands that rested upon your shoulders and diverting his attention to where you wanted it to be.

"Noona, did you-?" Hyunjin cut himself off as he entered the kitchen, feeling rather moved that you had done this all for them.

"It was a hard concert yesterday... I thought this would help cheer us up?" you awkwardly stood there, hands clasped behind your back. You felt your cheeks flush from their reactions, but they all stared on in amazement.

"You're the best," Jisung whispered as he engulfed you into a big hug. His arms wrapped around your waist and he buried his face into your neck.

"You all deserve it," you smiled bashfully, ruffling his hair as he pulled away, going to take a seat.

"You deserve it too, noona," Jeongin said earnestly, giving you a quick side hug before he went and sat down too.

"I just... I know yesterday was difficult, wasn't it?" you asked them all as you began talking once more. As you did so, Seungmin silently patted your back as he walked around you, his own way of letting you know he took was thankful. "So I thought what could be more healing then our favourite foods?"

"I think a kiss from noona would be healing as well," Minho bluntly said, wiggling his eyebrows at you as you facepalmed.

"Yah, Minho-ah! Don't tease her, she already can't handle all of the compliments," Chan scolded Minho before taking a seat too, gesturing you to sit next to him in the empty one.

"Noona is so good to us," Hyunjin said, almost as if you wasn't there and he was confessing his thoughts on you.

"I think noona should take the first bite," Changbin folded his arms, leant back in his chair with a proud smirk on his face as he looked at you approvingly. You could tell his mind was going 'jutdwae, jutdwae, jutdwae'. He was very proud of sticking to his principles.

"No, no, you guys eat first, I just want to see you be happy," you waved them off, arms resting in your lap. And it was true, you just wanted to see them eating happily.

"Come on, noona, we just wish to see you eat first," Jeongin pouted, and normally you'd cave straight away, your dongsaeng knew that, but you had a few principles of your own.

"Nope, I refuse. I wish to see all my precious members eat first. I want to see you happy because that's all that really matters to me, ok? We had a rough time of it yesterday and this is my way of showing you how I'm supporting you all. Yes I'm a member of this group just like any other one of us, but I'm also your noona, let me take care of things. Let noona handle it, ok?" you preached, rambling off all the thoughts in your head as looking them all directly in the eyes as you wore your heart on your sleeve.

"I'm going to eat before I cry," Felix took a mouthful of ramen, looking away from you, feeling warm from not only the food but from your sweet words too.

"There, we've all taken a bite now, noona should eat," Seungmin firmly said.

"Or do you need me to feed you?" Minho winked daringly.

"You're so flirty today," you take a bite of fried chicken, not giving him the opportunity to tease you more.

"He wouldn't be Minho if he wasn't flirty," Chan laughed.

"And noona wouldn't be noona if she wasn't so caring," Jisung heartwarmingly said.

"Well, speaking of, there's cheesecake for dessert," you smile as you take a bite of some sashimi.

"Noona you're the best!!!"

tagged: @skz-streamer @kiraisastay @hannahhbahng @backintomykpopphaseagain @sakufilms @hanjiquokkaaa @arloo00 @dunno-wut-to-do @splat00z @cheesemonky

#skz #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids #skz fluff #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fic #skz ninth imagines #skz ninth #skz ninth member imagines #skz ninth member #stray kids 9th member #skz 9th member reader #skz 9th member #stray kids ninth #stray kids ninth member

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