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suugarbabe · 1 year

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Unexpected | m.r x reader

prompt: Hii! How are you? This is my first time sending an ask and I just wanted to say that I love your writings! May I ask for a enemies to lovers with Mattheo Riddle? The reader is from the golden trio and they get into an argument with a lot of chemistry and tension. Thank you and I'm sorry for my bad english.

maybe enemies to lovers, like they hate each other and then realize that they are soulmates and then have to figure out what to do. some angst but ends i fluff please

word count: ~3.8k

warnings: slight angst feeling, fluff, e2l, soulmate trope, some heavy petting

an: so there's no argument like the prompt asks (sorry) but when I started writing it just kind of flowed out this way so hopefully it's still okay.

“Go on, show us again,” Ron Weasley was shaking a turkey leg in your general direction, asking to see the words that appeared on your arm this morning. In the wizarding world, on the day you were going to properly meet your soulmate, the first sentence they speak to you, excluding their name, will appear on your forearm in their handwriting.

It was incredibly annoying to you that Ron and Hermione got this mess out of the way the first day on the bloody train. To your and Harry’s amusement, neither were originally excited about the match, but after the chaos that ensued for the four of you by the end of that year they were inseparable. Nothing brings two people closer than tragedy.

Things got even more frustrating for you when Harry and Ginny realized they were soulmates, leaving you the lone wolf in your foursome. Entering your sixth year this year you were hopeful that maybe you would finally be able to find out who your soulmate was, roughly three fourths of those leave Hogwarts knowing who they’re intended to be with, and you would rather Avada Kadavera yourself then leave your seventh year soulmateless.

You grabbed the sleeve of your jumper, tugging it up to your elbow, sticking your arm out in the middle of the table for your three friends to view. There on your arm read a singular sentence, do I intimidate you, love?

Hermione sat back on the bench, “His handwriting really is awful, whoever he is.” You scoffed at your friend, “Not exactly my biggest concern, Mione. More worried about why he thinks he would intimidate me? Who would even think that? By this point in our school life you’d think any of us were more intimidating than the majority of the student body.”

“Yeah, except Slytherin,” Harry snorted, Ron following with his own round of laughter. But you weren’t laughing, you were looking at Hermione who was sporting the same grimace and worried eyes that you were sure your face looked like.

Harry and Ron looked at each other, then looked at the two of you. “It was a joke, y/n/n,” Harry tried to ease the tension that was building. “Yeah, I mean, y’don't really think your soulmate might be…one of them,” Ron was anything but subtle with his tone of disgust, as well as his entire body turning around to face the Slytherin table.

Ron’s actions didn’t go unnoticed by a particular group of Slytherin boys. “Staring problem, Weasley? Got a crush?” Malfoy shouted across the dining hall, earning laughs and teasing hollars from his friends.

“Oi, Malfoy, got a present for you,” you stuck your hand in your school bag, pretending to roam around before pulling your hand back out and lifting it high in the air, giving Malfoy the middle finger. His face immediately turned into a scowl. The boy next to him, however, pretended to catch your gesture in the air and put it in his pocket, winking at you in the process.

You rolled your eyes, turning to Hermione who had a look of disgust on her face, “Riddle’s ego really is massive innit.” All three of your friends' heads began to nod. “I swear if he didn’t verbalize how much he bloody hated us I would think he was flirting with you y/n/n.”

“Shut it, Weasley, don’t you put that on me,” you pointed your finger at him, tone joking but words serious. He put his hands up in defense, laughing along with the rest of your friends as you all gathered your things and headed towards your first class.

Unbeknownst to you, a similar conversation was being had at the Slytherin table. “Glad to see meeting your soulmate hasn’t deterred you from trying to flirt with anything that breathes,” Pansy took a sip of her pumpkin juice, teasing the curly haired boy across from her.

“Dunno what you mean, Pans,” the dimples on Mattheo’s cheeks popping out as he smirked.

“Show us your arm again, cousin,” Draco’s words causing everyone to look at Mattheo now. The younger boy scowled, rolling up the sleeve of his dress shirt. There on his arm, in beautiful loopy script were the words you’ve got to be fucking joking.

Theo couldn’t help but laugh, “Don’t know if I’ve ever seen such a foul word in such pretty handwriting.”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, pulling his sleeve back down, “Yeah, well let’s just hope the bird is someone I can tolerate.”

You let out a long groan, hands rubbing up and down your face as you leaned your elbows on your knees . Hermione was sat next to you in the common room, rubbing up and down your back, “The day’s not over quite yet, y/n/n. It wouldn’t appear if you weren’t gonna meet them today.”

“Yeah,” Ron put on his best attempt at an encouraging smile, “maybe they’re another Gryffindor and you’ll meet them before we go to bed.” Harry nodded next to him in agreement.

You stood up, grabbing your jumper off the arm of the couch and throwing it on, “M’gonna go for a walk.”

Hermione’s lips downturned, “It’s nearly curfew.” You sighed, looking over at Harry. “I’ll go get my cloak,” he sighed, standing and walking quickly to his dorm room.

After Harry’s return you thanked him, spending an extra twenty minutes convincing Hermione that you would be the utmost cautious and affirmed to Ron that you would stash the cloak if you were to be caught.

Now you were quietly climbing the stairs to the astronomy tower. When you got to the top, you did a quick look over the railing. With no sign of Filch anywhere you dropped the cloak, laying it on the floor so you didn’t have to sit on the bare ground.

As you got comfortable you dug in your shirt, pulling out a spliff. Hermione would murder you if she found out you smoked, however the year you all had to study for your O.W.L’s, you were so stressed you ended up buying from Theo Nott.

He promised to keep it to himself and you promised it was a one time thing, but you found yourself buying from him every couple months. You weren't sure if she would be more disappointed in your smoking, or you interacting with someone in the forbidden Slytherin group.

You mumbled a short incendio before taking a long drag. You blew the smoke out slowly, watching it ripple through the air and up into the night sky. You looked up at the stars, knowing the day was likely to be over soon and wondering if you were the only witch that was destined to not run into their soulmate like everyone else.

You were lost in your thoughts and self pity. So much so you didn’t even hear someone come up the tower steps until they hit the top. You scrambled to your feet, ready to cover yourself with the cloak when you realized it wasn’t Filch, but a boy instead.

The dark of the night made it difficult for you to see exactly who it was at first, that and the fact that every time he took a step forward you seemed to take a step back until your back was against the stone wall. When he finally stepped into the light, your breath caught in your throat. Standing in front of you, signature smirk adoring his face was Mattheo Riddle.

You stayed rigid against the wall as he got closer to you. His fingers brushed yours as he took the spliff, bringing it up to his lips and inhaling. His eyes never left yours as he turned his head slightly, blowing the smoke into the night. His eyes traveled over you, taking in your black sleep shorts and house jumper. When he looked at your face again he locked eyes with you, almost like he was trying to read what was going on in your brain.

“Do I intimidate you, love?” The words seemed to leave his lips without a second thought and you felt like your chest was going to cave in. There was just no way, absolutely bloody not that he said those words, the words you had been anticipating someone to say all day. Him of all people that could’ve spoken them.

He raised his eyebrows at you, clearly looking for you to answer. Instead of some sputtering response of nervousness like Mattheo was expecting, your face just dropped.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking.” Mattheo’s face went white after you responded, and that was all the evidence you needed to confirm that Mattheo fucking Riddle was your soulmate. He hated you. You hated him. How could two people that despise each other be destined to be soulmates?

"What are you even doing up here?" You crossed your arms over your chest, sitting into your hip. His smirk only seemed to grow, "I think the better question is what are you doing up here, partaking in drugs no less? Little miss golden girl."

You rolled your eyes, "What's that supposed to mean, Riddle?" Mattheo's jaw clenched, "It's Mattheo. And you know what it means. Wonder what everyone would think if they knew little miss perfect liked to come up to the astronomy tower to get high."

"Why would anyone believe you over me?" You were acting a little cocky now, but Mattheo was right in the aspect that you and your friends were seen in an overall more positive light than he and his.

However the look on Mattheo's face made you think he knew something you didn't, "I guess I could just have your dealer tell everyone, or are you buying from someone besides Nott these days?"

He was irritating you on purpose now. You grabbed the spliff back from Mattheo, going to sit where you were before but now leaning your forehead against the railing, “This is got to be some kind of mistake.”

Mattheo could only snicker as he went to sit next to you, hanging his arms over the raining as he looked over the grounds, “S’destiny love, no mistake about it.”

“Thanks so much, you’re being really encouraging about this whole thing,” you rolled your eyes, holding your hand out to him. He took it from you, filling his lungs with smoke again, passing it back and forth throughout the conversation.

Mattheo shrugged his shoulders, “At least we’re both fit.” You snorted at this, “Who said I thought you were fit?” He scoffed, “Please, I’ve seen the way you ogle me.” You found yourself laughing, a true full belly head thrown back laugh before you looked at him and he thought the smile you were wearing was actually kind of cute, “How would you know that unless you were ogling me, hmm?”

Mattheo opened his mouth to respond, but found he couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse before you were speaking again. The sigh you let out let him know how stressed you really were, “Our friends are not going to like this.”

He nodded, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he spoke, “Merlin, no. They’re going to bloody hate it. But s’not like it was really our choice.” You knew he was right, and you knew he was trying to be comforting, but the tone in his voice let you know that he was just as worried to let his group of friends know as much as you were.

You opened your mouth to respond to him when you heard the all too familiar jingle of Mrs. Norris’ collar sounding like she was ascending the stairs. Your eyes grew wide as you and Mattheo both jumped to your feet. It looked like Mattheo is contemplating jumping over the tower railing when you grab his arm to push him flat against the stone wall.

He looked at you with utter confusion as you grabbed the cloak before turning around and pushing your back flush against his chest. “What are you-”

“Shut it,” you cut him off, indicating to him to wrap his arms around your waist as you threw the cloak over the pair of you. As the cat walked on to the tower landing you felt Mattheo’s arms tighten around you, doing his best to pull you impossibly closer.

He was decently taller than you, having to duck down slightly so the cloak covered you both properly. His face was tucked in close to your neck. His breath warm and tickling your skin as Filch followed after his beloved pet, glancing around for anything out of place.

When he was satisfied, Filch turned around to leave, letting his cat lead the way. You waited a few beats, making sure they were nearly to the bottom of the staircase before pulling the cloak off the two of you and pushing Mattheo’s hands off of your body.

“Thing comes in handy, that,” he pointed to the cloth in your hand. You chucked, “Yeah, m’sure your lot would get a lot less detentions if you had one.” Mattheo rolled his eyes, “Yeah, we can’t all be like the golden quartet.”

You scoffed slightly at this as you headed down the stairs, Mattheo close behind you, “We didn’t give ourselves that nickname, you know.” He couldn’t help but laugh, “Yeah but m’sure you all don’t mind it. Definitely gets you some favoritism.”

You stopped at the end of the corridor, Mattheo running into your back at the action and cursing. You turned to face him, “You know, my friends and I have endured a hell of a lot of shite over the last couple years, maybe we deserve a little break when we’re actually able to do normal bloody teenage things.”

As much as you were trying to be harsh with him, be the slightest bit intimidating, his height gave him all the advantage. Mattheo knew what you meant, what you were saying without saying the words themselves. “I’m not like him. Don’t clump me in your same category of hatred. He’s done things to me too,” his eyes reflected a bit of hurt as he spoke and you knew he was telling the truth.

Everyone in school assumed Mattheo was just like his father, held the same ideals and wanted the same things for the wizarding world. The look you were seeing on his face told you otherwise. Your frustration quickly fizzled, instead turning into something closer to pity, “M’sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he deadpanned, “Let’s just get back to our common rooms.” You walked together in silence until you had no choice but to split off. You agreed to meet each other in the courtyard during lunch the next day and you were racking your brain on how you were going to break this news to Harry, Hermione and Ron.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. When you broke the news to your friends about who your soulmate ended up being it wasn’t exactly well received. Hermione was worried, but understanding of the fact that you had no choice in the matter. Harry was upset, but again was trying his best to be mature and said he wouldn’t interfere with you spending some time with Mattheo to get to know him better. Ron took it the worst, which you wished surprised you but he did have a flair for the dramatics.

You were first waiting for Mattheo on a bench in the courtyard, but you couldn’t stop your legs from bouncing, therefore you found a place beneath a tree, attempting to read the same three lines of a book Hermione had loaned you the other day.

When Mattheo found you and finally sat down next to you, you shut your book immediately, letting out a sigh of relief, “Oh thank Godric, you’re here.” It didn’t go unnoticed by you the way a pair of dimples christened his cheeks, “Miss me already, pretty girl? S’barely been twelve hours.”

You shoved his shoulder lightly, trying to resist the pink that tinted your cheeks at the nickname he used, “Not at all, I’ve been sitting here for the better part of twenty minutes, mind you. Thought maybe you decided to ditch me.” Mattheo shrugged, “M’always late. You’re gonna have to get used to that. And I would never ditch you, we’re soulmates, love. You’re stuck with me for life.”

He had a childlike grin on his face when he said that latter part and you couldn’t help the slight notion of butterflies that seemed to flutter in your stomach or the smile that appeared on your face.

All last night you thought it was going to be difficult to fall for Mattheo, but maybe the universe knew something when it paired you two together.

“So how did your friends take the news?” You tried to keep voice neutral, but you really were worried about their responses. Mattheo leaned back against the tree, “They were shocked for sure, Draco took it the hardest. He was more worried about having to spend more time with Potter than me being with you though. Told him that would probably be more rare than he anticipated. W’bout yours?”

You nodded, “Not as bad as I thought, actually. Mione was understanding, as always. Harry was actually pretty good about it, but very skeptical. Ron actually took it the worst, but he’s just protective. Basically like me brother.”

“How d’ya mean?”

You leaned back against the tree yourself, shoulder to shoulder now with Mattheo. You could feel the heat radiating off of him and you wondered if his skin was always warm to the touch, “Both my parents are aurors so they travel a lot. They didn’t think it was safe for me to go with them, so Ron’s mum offered for me to stay at theirs whenever it was needed. Turns out it was needed more times than not growing up.”

Mattheo nodded, listening intently as you spoke. You both started asking surface questions about each other; favorite color (he said black), favorite hobby (quidditch), favorite class (free period).

When both your friend groups came looking for you after lunch period Mattheo asked if you would go to Hogsmead with him over the weekend. You agreed, finding yourself wanting to get to know more about him. Over the next two months you went to Hogsmead with Mattheo at least one day during each weekend.

You slowly learned that his favorite candy was fizzing whizbees, having to stop at Honeydukes every trip for him to grab some. You learned that he was actually very intelligent even though he tried to seem like he wasn't, as he was passing all of his classes even though he skipped half of them. You learned that even though Draco was older than him, he felt like an older brother to his cousin. And maybe your favorite thing that you learned, purely on accident, was that if you squeeze just above his hip that he was incredibly ticklish.

Throughout all of this you still hadn’t kissed. You kept telling yourself (and your friends) that you didn’t want to, but the more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself yearning for it. There were times of lingering touches; his hand on your lower back as he guided you into a building, his fingertips brushing yours as you walked, his leg pressing against yours while you sat next to each other in the courtyard or at the Three Broomsticks.

Hermione, the ever observant friend that she was, noticed your shift in attitude towards Mattheo even before you did. So when she cornered you in the common room, demanding you tell her your true feelings it was almost a relief to let it all out.

“I think I might actually like him, Mione. Like, I know that sounds like something an insane person would say, that they like Mattheo Riddle, like romantically, like someone who isn’t just some daft bimbo, but there's just so much more to him that he lets people see.”

Hermione can’t help but laugh, “I get what you mean. Harry and Ron are coming around, you know. They see how happy you look when you’re with him.”

You tilt your head slightly at this, “What do you mean how happy I look?”

Hermione just shakes her head with a smile, “Like you’re with your person.” You can’t escape the blush that creeps up your neck and covers your cheeks. Hermione’s giggling at you now, “Have you still not kissed him yet?”

You scoffed, “Godric, no.” She pushed your shoulder playfully, “Well why not, y/n/n? Don’t you want to?”

You looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers, “I mean…I think so? But he just hasn’t really…gone for it, you know?”

She nodded in solidarity, “Oh I know, trust me. I had to make the first move with Ronald. Maybe you have to do the same thing?”

You contemplated her words. They invaded a space in your brain for the rest of the night, then the rest of the next morning, and through dinner, and even now as you stood leaning against the railing in the astronomy tower waiting for Mattheo to meet you.

When you heard him coming up the steps you turned only to see him with the sweetest smile on his face. “Hey pretty girl,” he greeted as he enveloped you in a hug. “Hi, Teo,” you had donned the nickname on him your third or so time at Hogsmead. He gave you a good squeeze before letting go, his arms still lingering on your waist with yours around his neck, “What’d you wanna talk about?”

His question was innocent, no implications in his voice that he expected anything beyond you wanting to see him. With Hermione’s advice in the back of your head you knew you needed to just act, as any more talking might lead to you psyching yourself out.

You slid your hands down from his neck, grasping lightly to the lapel of his blazer. He raised his eyebrows slightly at the action, the smallest of smirks on his face.

Without giving yourself time to overthink you pull him into you, lips crashing against yours. He’s shocked at first, but just for a moment before he responds, walking you back until you’re pressed against the stone wall.

One of his hands slides up your body, ghosting over your stomach and the valley of your breasts before settling lightly on your neck. The implication of the hand gesture makes you whimper slightly and Mattheo takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Your hands find his hair, tugging lightly at the curls.

When he finally pulls away you find yourself chasing his lips and he smiled at the reaction. “I think I could kiss you forever,” his forehead is resting against yours, lips still so close you can feel his breath on your own. “Yeah?” you laugh a little, smile only increasing when he presses a kiss to your cheek, “Yeah, pretty girl. Forever.”

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle fic #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle x y/n #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #golden era #harry potter

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easy-there-leftovers · 3 months

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Magnum Opus (Ch. 1)

When an MIT prodigy on their gap year is contacted by the FBI regarding her potential involvement in a series of murders in Washington D.C., she must now cooperate to uncover how her paintings are mysteriously appearing at the crime scenes.

(Written with Season 1-4 Spencer in mind, but the timeline could be anywhere pre-season 12. No mentions of past cases)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Artist! reader|cw: Canon-typical violence|word count: 2k words

Also on Ao3!!

Series Masterlist

While Aaron Hotchner remained vigilant as he drove the black SUV, the constant flipping of Spencer’s case files seemed to be louder than the car’s air conditioning.

He had directed Morgan and JJ to touch base at the MPDC, and had Rossi and Prentiss survey the crime scene of Jonathan Edwards; the identity of the previously unknown man in the vacant apartment.

This left him with Reid in the passenger seat to conduct an investigation on their only lead so far.

From the update Garicia had given them, Y/n L/n was a prodigy a year younger than their very own. Having graduated from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology a year ago, she moved to Capitol Park Plaza and Twins Apartments in Washington D.C., and is currently unemployed. Occasionally selling her paintings out of her unit under an anagram of her name.

But something bothered him.

And it seems like Reid has picked up on it too.

“Do you think Dr. L/n is the unsub?” The unit chief asks.

Spencer hums before answering.

“While we can’t rule it out just yet, the possibility of her being the unsub is totally unlikely. The thing that’s throwing me off is that everything is too convenient. I mean, why would the unsub use something so publicly personal to them as part of their signature? It’s as if she’s overtly incriminating herself.”

Spencer checks back onto the pictures of the victims, then lifts his head up to look at Hotch to continue.

“Based on the way the victims are modeled, an immense amount of care was put into them. All for the purpose of making them look like the subjects in their paintings. Actually, the fixation on changing the bodies’ posture and keeping them clean is typically done out of remorse. But the added elements, like the placement of the paintings, creates an image of an unsub more on the narcissistic side. By creating two 'artworks,' they're prompting the viewer to decide which version of it they prefer. Mocking the original artist in the process.”

“So the paintings were done before the murder?”

“I have no reason to believe otherwise.”

His unit chief sighs and pulls over to the curb. “Well, we’re about to test that belief.” Spencer hurries to take off his seatbelt as Hotch closes the car door with a thud.

—------

Hotchner nods at Reid as they find themselves in front of the written address Garcia gave them. He lifts his hand to knock firmly on your door, and waits for a response.

A thud from the other side causes both of them to assess each other before Hotch tells Spencer to stay behind him. Gun in hand until something, or someone, comes running at them.

But instead a muffled, “sorry” is heard right after, which causes him to lower his gun.

The door finally opens a crack to reveal a very tired twenty-something woman, some dark pigment or makeup smudged on their lower eye lines as they rubbed at it. She immediately fixed her posture however at the sight of the unexpected visitors. Eyes wide with concern.

“Dr. L/n, I’m Aaron Hotchner with Dr. Spencer Reid of the FBI.” He highlights his statement by showing his badge. “We’d like to ask you some questions.”

“Oh, um,” The woman blinks rapidly and shakes their head before immediately saying, “Of course,” with a nod and opening the door wide to let them in.

A quirk that does not go unnoticed by Spencer, who observes how different she looks to her more formal ID photos.

—-----

You let the FBI agents into your apartment, but are now suddenly aware of the state of disarray you left it in last night. Not to mention the state you were in.

You had just woken up and your brain wasn’t quite all there yet. If you had known you’d have guests over, you would have at least put some of your books and papers back onto their shelves rather than on your floor.

“My, uh—” You start, “Apologies! For the room and the um,”

You inhale deeply and gesture to yourself as you try to find the words before settling on an exasperated, “me.”

“No worries, miss. We don’t really call in advance.” You nod at the older man’s explanation vacantly before coming up with a response.

“Would you like anything to drink ?” You move to your fridge to get water to wake you up, and decide that it would be rude not to offer. The two decline, with the younger more busy observing your living room bookcase than the older one that sat on your couch.

You notice that something must have interested him as he lingers on certain shelves. That section in particular had prints of dissertations you had been meaning to read, or have already read, in clear folders.

You wonder if he found his work there or something before returning with water for yourself.

“So what can I help you with?”

“Dr. L/n, are you aware of the current string of murders that have been happening as of this year?”

You blink rapidly again. The question catches you off guard, but you shake your head.

“I know it’s a bad habit, and that I should, but I don’t really listen to the news.” Feeling your eyebrows quirk, you rub your hands together slowly. Making direct eye contact with Hotch, before looking at the younger man as he takes out a few papers from the folder he was holding.

“Are you familiar with these paintings then?”

Now that piques your interest.

Dr. Spencer Reid, who sees a flicker of recognition in your eyes when it meets his own, presents various pictures of your artworks in what seems to be dimly lit areas. They’re a little dirty, but otherwise you would recognize them as your own.

The thought instantly made something in your stomach turn.

“I–” You start, but shake your head subtly again. Unsure of what to say and how to say it next as you stare at the images. “am.” You turn your head to look back up at Spencer who nods thoughtfully.

“Recently, your paintings have been showing up at crime scenes in the D.C. area. Specifically, victims of an organized unsub that seems to be targeting people who accurately resemble the subjects in your work.” If your eyes weren’t wide enough, that bit of information had certainly opened them wider than ever before as you stared up at him.

“That, combined with the concentrated traces of 5-durastalene found in the pigments of the paint used, have led us to suspect your involvement in these murders, Dr. L/n.” You heavily feel the blink of your eyelids and rest your fingers on them to keep them closed before looking back at the two of them.

“I’m sorry,” you smile incredulously. “So you’re telling me that not only has Lunacite been identified on the paintings you’ve found, but that people who look like the personas in my private works actually exist and have since been–” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Murdered?”

“Well that shouldn’t come as a surprise, they were your muses, weren’t they? You were commissioned?” Hotch is the one who asks and you shake your head with wide eyes.

“I didn’t even know these people existed. They were just– faces I came up with mentally with the visual library I’ve amassed over the years. I don’t really make it a habit to paint from reference. Like I said, they were private.”

“And the chemical?” You thought for a moment before your lips thinned into a line.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Agent Hotchner, but I haven’t touched anything regarding that compound in over a year. I’ve only ever worked on it in my lab on university grounds, and I don’t make a habit of bringing work home.” You scratch the hairs near the base of your hairline.

“More importantly, hundreds of students and lecturers have access to my work, my research, and my lab space. Not to mention the people who might have heard my work through academic conferences.”

You move away from your position near the living room coffee table Spencer placed the pictures on, but picked up one before you did and shook your head.

“Besides, these paintings? No one should know about them, let alone have them. I didn't sell these.” That made Spencer’s brows furrow as he looked at the other photos still on the table.

“Do you have proof?” You stay silent, but then motion for them to follow you to the door of your room.

“Well, for one, I’m sure you’d understand that most people don’t make copies of their artwork traditionally, right? Expenditure of time, work materials, effort, human error, and many other variables. It just isn’t practical nor convenient.” You ramble and look back at them to continue.

“I also don’t make the majority of my art known online. Only a good 30% makes its way to my portfolio, and the others are never to be seen by anyone else.”

“They're studies. They’re made with cheap paints, they’re subjectively not appropriate for commercial use and-–I just wouldn’t be comfortable charging anyone for them.”

They follow you across the room, and make themselves apparent behind you.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“So if my ‘commissioned paintings’ are currently on D.C. crime scenes, and possibly in MPDC evidence,” You open the door to reveal your studio to the two agents.

Various paint tubes, books, and brushes littered the floor, table, and boxes. A lone easel was situated near your apartment window, with an unfinished painting on it. And various canvasses, not displayed, but instead kept on tall shelves. Only the differently colored edges indicated that they were ever used.

What surprised them both however, were the same paintings in the pictures staring back at them.

Some on the walls, some on the floor, but what was most important was that they were in this room, they were clean, and there were more of them.

You turn to look back at them with shaky eyes. “So why are they still here?”

—----

Hotch and Reid stood outside of your apartment door as you cleaned yourself up. Hotch made the call to bring you to the precinct for further investigation and for your own safety, but allowed you to freshen up before leaving with them. Not that he told you about the safety part.

You were hard to read, given your erratic reactions. It unnerved him, but he supposes it comes with the territory of being gifted. You also offered to bring in your paintings and a few other materials for forensics to test, to which while he was suspicious of, was not ungrateful for.

He made a quick call to Garcia to check attendants of any academic conferences you’ve spoken at and if anyone had been more interested than the others. When he was finished, he looked to Reid who was crossing his arms and staring at the carpeted hallway before looking back at him.

“She’s uncomfortable.” He stated plainly.

“Reid, most people would be if they just found out their hobby had been getting people killed.” Hotch said as he kept looking at his phone for anything new from the others.

“There’s certainly that, but I meant her title. ‘Doctor.’” He said in quotes, and Hotch raises his eyebrow at that but allows him to continue anyway with a curt nod.

“I mean, every time we’ve addressed her with her title, she blinks faster. Did you know it’s a common attribute that’s directly related to an increase in heart rate, which is why they’re usually correlated with lying? Initially, you would think that she faked her experience to get those credentials, but given her educational background, she must have not been given an opportunity to be referred to as such for a long time. Also, the gap year she took could’ve only exacerbated any insecurities she might have about her intellectual achievements. Plus, the lack of organization in her own home, while not wildly uncommon amongst people her age, could suggest the sincerity of her belief about compartmentalizing her work and her private life.”

“And what does that tell you?”

As Spencer was supposed to answer, a thud much like the one they heard before they entered earlier was heard again, followed by a similarly muffled, ‘sorry.’

He turns to look back at Hotch again with a small, victorious smile.

“That she doesn’t fit the profile.”

——-

taglist: @littlewolfieposts

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid imagines #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfic #dr spencer reid

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runnning-outof-time · 4 months

Text

Up Until You | Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: yes by anonymous

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Summary: In which Tommy Shelby realizes that he might just have someone he wants to live for.

Warnings: smoking, slight season 2 spoilers

Word Count: 3698

A/N: boy does it feel good to post a story again! I hope there won’t be as big a gap between this and my next one … I promise I’m getting these requests written! Anon, I hope this is as angsty as you were hoping….the prompt you sent is bolded. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: I almost forgot! I wanted to give a shoutout to the lovely Mars @toms-cherry-trees for helping me so much in the planning process of this fic…I don’t think it would have gotten finished if it weren’t for you!

I’D LOVE TO KNOW WHAT YOU THINK! — COMMENTS & REBLOGS HELP ME WRITE!

Comment/Message Me if you’d like to be tagged!

(Y/N) sent Ada Shelby a look that asked 'where is he?' the second the latter opened the door. Ada answered with a head nod to the left, which conveyed the answer of 'he's in there'. A glance over the Shelby woman's shoulder confirmed it - Tommy was sitting at the table in the front room. His back was to the door, so he hadn't noticed that she arrived...yet.

She sent Ada an appreciative smile before she quietly walked into the room, hoping that Tommy wouldn't hear her footsteps. He seemed to be too engrossed in his writing for that to happen though. She stood there for a few moments, carefully peering over his shoulder as he finished the sentence he was writing.

He paused then, and it gave (Y/N) the ability to read the sentence he'd just written:

In the event of my own death, I want the following facts to be known...

Reading those words made her mind go blank. "You're actually going through with it?" she asked without thinking.

The sudden sound of someone's voice made Tommy quickly turn in his chair. He was already on edge with the day's events taking up his mind, so this unexpected visitor had caught him completely off guard. It took a few moments for it to register that (Y/N) was standing in front of him. When it did, he cursed under his breath before letting out a huff.

"When'd you get here, eh?" he asked, his eyebrows raised as he placed his hands on his thighs.

"Just now. I couldn't find you at home. The guys hadn't left for the derby though, so I figured you'd be here," she explained her reasoning. "You don't have to go through with this, Tommy," she then circled back, not letting him switch topics.

"I have to," his response cut right to the point. He didn't have time to get into a discussion about it.

"What about the other options you've shared with me? The options that don't include you having to come face to face with this man in order to get the job done," she reminded him of the talks they've had in the past, hoping that doing so would get him to change his mind.

"There's no time for those other options, (Y/N). The derby's today. The plan's been laid out," he wasn't biting.

Silence hung in the air as they stared at each other. (Y/N) was hoping that he'd change his mind. She waited on bated breath, waiting for him to announce that to her. But he stayed silent.

She couldn't wait any longer. "So that's it then?" she asked, incredulousness present in her voice. The fact that he wasn't even trying to entertain a conversation about this was breaking her heart. "You're just going to write your note and practically seal your death with it? And what'll that mean for me?" she was unable to stop herself from getting choked up as she uttered her final question. She didn't want to think about her life without him, but it was staring her dead in the face at the moment.

"The note's just precautionary, love," he attempted to assure her. Her expression didn't change, her brow was now furrowed and it was noticeable that she was biting on her bottom lip; most likely to stop her tears. Tommy finally stood then, coming face to face with her in hopes that his proximity would wash some of her worry away. "I'll be fine," he added in a low voice, blindly searching for her hands so that he could hold them.

"You can't promise that," she responded, her voice coming out as a shaky whisper. It was taking everything she had not to burst out into tears in this moment. She'd always associated his closeness with safety...whenever Tommy was close, (Y/N) knew she could never get hurt. But now his closeness was making her hurt even more.

"It'll be fine," he repeated, squeezing her hands.

"It's really been decided?" she still couldn't accept it.

"It has," he nodded.

(Y/N) sighed at his confirmation. Her gaze dropped to the floor as she pulled her hands from his grasp. She then wrapped her arms tightly around her frame as she turned and took a few steps towards the windows.

"(Y/N)." Her name left Tommy's lips as a breath. He knew he was fighting a losing battle here. "Come on, love. Look at me," he gently coaxed her. She stood still. "It'll be fine," he tried once more to assure her.

That set her off. She whipped around within a second of hearing his statement. There was now a fire burning in her watery eyes. "Do not say those three words again," she snapped at him, "do not continue to try and reassure me with things that you cannot guarantee will happen. You know how dangerous this plan is, Thomas. Please don't try and act like It isn't. You wouldn't be sat here writing a note for someone to find in the event of your death if you didn't think that there was a possibility of it happening," she spoke her mind, letting her emotions go free as all of the pent up worry flowed out.

"(Y/N)," he spoke her name again, in a different tone this time. He didn't need this lecture. Not right now. "This is what needs to be done," he continued in a low voice, staying stoic in hopes that it would alleviate the situation quicker.

But (Y/N) no longer cared about what he did or didn't need at that moment, and if anything, his statement just made her even more upset.

"It doesn't need to be done like this," she insisted, "you don't need to sign your life away for a contract...for a man who doesn't give a single care about the stakes that have been raised here so long as he isn't the one carrying out the deed. Any other person would be trying to find a way to take themselves out of the equation but you've decided to put yourself in the driver's seat."

(Y/N) felt like she was talking in circles. Hell, she probably was, but she was doing so in hopes that something would be set off inside of him. She wanted him to realize that there was still time to think up another plan; one that didn't include him being placed in harm's way.

"What is it that you want from all of this?" he asked her, his brows furrowed together.

"You, Tommy!" she exclaimed, her frustration shining clear through her words. "I want you to fight! I want you to realize that things don't need to play out this way; that you can still put another plan into play!" she paused, taking a deep breath as she swiped at the tears that had escaped her eyes. "I want you to come home when all of this is finished," her voice was level again as she spoke the final sentence. Her eyes were locked onto his, hoping that he'd realize how much this was affecting her.

Their eyes stayed locked and a few moments passed before Tommy looked down at the ground. He exhaled a sigh as he brought his hand up to the back of his neck. "It's already done," he said, his voice void of any tone.

"Then I guess I'm done," the words left (Y/N)'s mouth before she could stop them. She didn't take them back though. She was tired of fighting in a one-sided fight. It was so obvious that Tommy had his mind made up. Nothing was going to change it at this point. But yet she still held onto that sliver of hope. She hoped that her showing up today and speaking her piece would get him to change his mind.

"(Y/N)..." Tommy looked up again as her name fell from his lips, shock now present in his expression.

"I can't be here a moment longer. I can't stand in front of a man who is acting as if he's already dead. I need to leave."

Her words were spoken softly, but Tommy heard them loud and clear. He said nothing as she moved to the archway, expecting her to leave without another word. To his surprise, she turned around just before she was about to exit the room.

"I didn't believe that love existed until you came along, Tommy. But you showed me how wrong I was for thinking that way; for thinking that I'd never experience something like that. And now you've just decided not only your future, but mine as well. I can't stay here and watch it play out. I'm not sure if I'll be home when you return. I just..." (Y/N) stopped speaking as the words got caught in her throat. She let out a shaky breath, tears welling up in her eyes once more.

All words escaped her at that moment, and she shook her head instead, deciding that finishing her declaration would be a lost cause anyway. She couldn't even bear to look at him again, too afraid that she'd actually break down. So instead she turned and made her way to the door of the home, opening it and leaving without looking back.

The sun was now shining down on her. It was an absolutely lovely day in London, but yet she was having one of the worst in her life. She decided to go for a walk, revisiting the streets that still felt like home even though she'd made the move to Birmingham several months ago.

(Y/N) knew Ada Shelby before she knew Tommy. She'd met her when Ada had moved into the next door apartment with her adorable son, Karl. The two women quickly became friends, spending a lot of time together right up until the day Ada had been found and hurt for being a Shelby.

Contact stopped briefly as Ada had moved out of the apartment, but things continued like nothing had even happened when Ada sent (Y/N) a letter that contained her new address. The two frequently spent time together in the front room of the lovely new home, sipping tea and talking about the day's events in front of the fire.

Ada's house was where (Y/N) first met Tommy. Surprise riddled their first encounter. Ada had stepped away to tend to Karl when Tommy came knocking on the door. (Y/N), being the friend that she was, didn't hesitate in opening it. The sight she was greeted with took her breath away. Thankfully Ada had returned from Karl's room, or who knows how long the two would have been standing in the doorway, staring at each other. She even joked about the fact that they couldn't seem to keep their eyes off of each other. Of course it didn't help that Tommy had forgotten what it was he was even there for for the first few minutes of his visit.

That wasn't the last time (Y/N) saw Tommy. The two became very close very quickly. It was like they had known each other forever; like there was this pull present between them that neither could ignore. Things also got serious pretty quickly. So serious that (Y/N) was packing up her things and leaving her London apartment for Small Heath after only six months of knowing Tommy.

Some might think it was crazy; that things were moving much too fast. But (Y/N) had never felt so sure of doing something in her life.

Which made what was happening now hurt so much more. But she needed to keep walking. She'd done the right thing.

Tommy placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a match before taking a deep drag from it and exhaling slowly. The sealed letter sat on the table in front of him. He stared at it for a few moments before pressing the thumb and index fingers of his free hand against his eyelids, hoping it would alleviate some of the pressure he'd been feeling.

"I made you up some tea," Ada's voice broke through the silence, and the sound of glass being set on the table he was working at made Tommy lift his head again.

He nodded as a thank you before bringing the cigarette back up to his lips again. He then stamped it out in the ashtray while exhaling the smoke slowly.

"I heard everything that was said, you know," she said then, moving over to one of the chairs so that she could sit. "What were you thinking, Tommy?" she asked with raised eyebrows, her eyes zeroed in on her brother.

Tommy sighed, rolling his eyes as he looked off to the far wall. He didn't need anymore of this right now.

"She was my friend first. She was the only person who cared about me when I moved here. She helped me through a lot. I'm not going to let you ruin her for your stupid ambitions," Ada had no problem speaking her mind and letting him know how wrong he was for responding to (Y/N) the way he did.

Tommy pulled the timepiece from his pocket and checked it before letting out a sigh and returning it back to its place. "I need to leave," he told Ada before lifting the cup and downing the beverage in one go. In hindsight he was thankful that it wasn’t scorching hot. "Thanks for the tea," he said to her as he set the empty cup back down.

Nothing more was said as Tommy stood from the chair he was sitting on. He looked to Ada as he pulled the jacket he'd been wearing back on over his shoulders. She was glaring at him, hoping that he'd have something - anything - more to add to the conversation.

It became apparent that he didn't when he started for the archway. So Ada left him with one last statement: "please don't let her go, Tommy. We all need her." There was a quiet desperation now present in her eyes, one Tommy wasn't sure what to say in response to.

So he nodded and turned to exit the home, heading right to the car he parked a few streets down.

Truthfully what he wanted to do right now was head back to Birmingham and stop (Y/N) from leaving, to tell her that she was more important than any plan he could ever put into place. He knew she was justified in saying everything that she had.

But it was too late to do that now. Tommy knew that there'd be men searching for him by the end of the day if he stepped away from the plan this late into it. At least now he had some sort of control over the outcome of his life. And he was going to try like hell to stay alive...because now he had someone to stay alive for.

The house on Watery Lane was quiet when Tommy stepped into it later that evening. The fire in the main room was still lit, but he couldn't quite remember if they'd put enough wood on to keep it going prior to leaving that morning. So judging (Y/N)'s presence based on that could have surely given false hope.

He took his overcoat off and hung it on one of the hooks by the door. The suit jacket followed after, and he draped that over one of the chairs in the sitting room as he walked through it.

No one was downstairs, but he hadn't expected anyone to be at this time of night.

He quietly walked up the steps and down the hall to the bedroom that he and (Y/N) shared. He paused at the closed door, taking a moment both to steady himself; to regroup from the day's events, and to prepare himself for the possibility that he may be opening the door to an empty room.

After inhaling and exhaling deeply, he turned the knob and opened the door. The first thing he noticed was the lit candle on the bedside table. Seeing it made all of his worries dissipate. (Y/N) had a habit of lighting them and then falling asleep.

Looking slightly to the right, he found the woman that hadn't left his mind since she left him in Ada's sitting room. She was laying on her side, facing the wall, telling him that she was sleeping.

Slowly, quietly he began ridding himself of his outer layers. It wasn't until he moved over to the dresser that he noticed the bags sitting on the floor. They were packed. It was easy to see that, even in the candlelight. He looked back to (Y/N) then, putting the pieces together in his mind. She was going to leave...but something made her stay.

Now only wearing his undergarments, he made his way over to the bed. Hesitation overcame him again. Should he lay with her? Should he go back downstairs? She was in her spot, tucked up against the wall so that enough room was present for him on the small bed they shared.

A few moments passed before he made his decision, lifting the covers and slowly slipping underneath them. He laid on his back for a short time before turning onto his side so that he was facing her sleeping frame. Another bout of hesitation filled him, but he didn't let it stick for too long as he gently draped his arm over her midsection.

That was when (Y/N) let out the shaky breath she'd been holding in from the moment she heard the door open. She was awake the entire time.

"Are you still awake, love?" Tommy asked in a whisper.

"Yes," she breathed out, her voice wavering.

"You've been crying," he pointed out, able to read her like an open book.

"I didn't know if I'd see you again," she answered him, choking up as she spoke.

"I'm here," he assured her, his arm wrapping tighter around her body.

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response. Instead tears fell from her eyes as she held her breath, trying not to make it noticeable that she was crying. But Tommy was able to feel how her body was shaking.

"Turn and look at me," he said quietly, a soft demand that took her a few moments to comply with. Her tear-stained face became visible in the candlelight when she did, and seeing it broke Tommy's heart. "C'mere," he breathed, allowing her to move even closer to him so that he could engulf her in his embrace.

"No one knew where you were, Tommy," she whispered once she was finally able to get words out again. "I thought..." she paused, not even wanting to say what she was thinking, "I thought the worst."

"I'm sorry you had to think that way, darlin'," he murmured, stroking the back of her head slowly. He held her close until her body stopped shaking, giving her the time she needed. He didn't speak until she lifted her head from the crook of his neck. "Better?" he asked in a whisper, peering down to see that her eyes were still closed.

"Slightly," she breathed out a response. "I'm relieved that you're home. Is..." she paused, seeming like she was looking for the words to say next, "is it finished?"

"It's finished," he answered in a definitive tone, nodding his head as best he could.

(Y/N) let out a shaky breath upon hearing his response, feeling as if the rest of the weight had lifted from her chest. She slowly opened her eyes and looked right into his. "I was going to leave," she started, watching Tommy's brows furrow together in the candlelight, "but I realized that this is part of the life I chose with you. That this is the type of work you carry out, and that I can either fight you on it or support you the best that I could. I also realized that my desire to be with you is so much greater than the worry that your work creates." Her eyes didn't stray from his as she spoke. Watching his hardened blue irises soften as he took in her words was enough to fill her heart to the brim with love.

Tommy took a moment to soak in her words. He moved his hand from behind her head so that he could gently trace the line of her jaw with his thumb. Taking in a deep breath, he knew what he had to do. Searching her eyes for a few seconds longer, he thought of the words he wanted to say.

"I thought I could lose everything and be totally fine with it," he began, clearing his throat in hopes that she wouldn't notice the fact that his voice was breaking. She noticed. "But then you came along...and now I see how wrong I was."

"Tommy," she breathed, taken back by his admission.

"I had nothing to live for up until you, (Y/N)," he admitted, not holding anything back now, "and I promise you now that things will change... that there’ll be no more of these plans. I don't want to have the possibility of an outcome that doesn't include you in it."

(Y/N)'s mind was swirling. It had been a rollercoaster of a day, she still couldn't quite believe the change of events that had happened. But she was so very thankful that things had ended up with Tommy by her side again.

"I love you, Tommy," she whispered, a smile tugging the corners of her lips upwards.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he repeated the phrase, his expression mirroring hers as he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

Now that he had her again, he knew that he could never let her go. What he'd told Michael earlier in the evening would soon be true: he was going to ask (Y/N) to marry him.

MASTERLIST

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21

@mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @notyour-valentine @theshelbyslimited

@peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss

@alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl

@emotionalcadaver @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife

@anotherblinder @cillmequick @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @garrison-girl-08

@insanitybyanothername @depxiety @justrainandcoffee @dragons-are-my-favorite @forgottenpeakywriter

@cljordan-imperium @brummiereader @red-riding-wood @everythingelseisextra @little-diable

@thomashelbyswife @shaddixlife @ryecosse @padfootdaredmetoo

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fractualized · 5 months

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A while ago I got under someone's skin for referencing Joker's surprising delayed reaction to killing Jason Todd, and since then I've been thinking it's worth digging into as an interesting element of Joker's characterization.

Of course, first thing's first: Jason's murder in Batman (1940) #427, as originally presented in 1988.

Jason has just reconnected with his biological mother, Sheila Haywood, at a famine relief camp in Ethiopia— and he's discovered that Joker is blackmailing her with information about her criminal past. She gets him truckloads of medical supplies to sell on the black market, and Joker restocks the trucks with toxin. While Bruce races to stop a tampered truck, Jason decides to help his mother on his own. When he discloses he's Robin, however, Sheila betrays him to Joker, not only to stay on Joker's good side but because she's actually been embezzling money from the organization she works for this whole time. She's afraid an investigation prompted by Batman and Robin's appearance would expose this fact.

So Sheila stands by as Jason is felled by Joker and his goons, and then the crowbarring starts.

It's bad! When we return later, Jason is presumably dead.

While Joker isn't shocked that he's murdered a child, he does have an unexpected reaction to Sheila's point. He hadn't really been thinking about what he was doing, implying that he hadn't intended to kill Jason. He just got carried away, whoopsie! He didn't do this to get at Batman; he wasn't thinking about Batman at all. Now, however, he's concerned about how Batman will react.

Joker thinks Jason is already dead. The purpose of the bomb is to get rid of the evidence of his involvement, including Sheila. Joker is not broken up about what he did, but he does have a sense that he's gone a step too far and he doesn't want Batman to know about it. At least for now!

In the end, while Jason wakes and he and his mother try to save each other, they're trapped in the warehouse when the bomb goes off. Bruce makes it back only in time to find a dying Sheila, who tells him it was Joker. When Bruce finds Jason, Jason gets no last words. He's already dead, and Bruce is devastated.

A clue from Joker leads Bruce to the United Nations in New York, and there, infamously, Bruce learns that Joker has been made the ambassador from Iran. Joker is now protected from prosecution, and Batman going after him risks an international incident. Bruce still very much wants to, but Superman stops him.

Well, mostly Superman. I recommend reading Batman #429 to see Bruce's full thought process on this. He is furious and constantly thinking about finally ending Joker— but he also questions his mental state. He still wonders if he can hold Joker responsible if he believes Joker is insane. He uses phrases like "what happened to Jason" like it was a natural disaster, not murder. He even confronts Joker to give him one last chance to turn himself in to Arkham Asylum. Bruce is in a kind of denial, still grabbing at how things usually go.

But back to Joker. Evidently, he's no longer worried that Batman will find out he killed Robin. Joker admits to it immediately.

I assume Joker realized there was no point in denying it. Is Batman going to think it's a coincidence that Robin got blown up when Joker was around? Though Bruce does say it's Joker's taunts that 100% confirm for him that the clown was responsible, pointing again to Bruce still grasping for reasons to not break his rule in his grief.

By the end of the issue, Joker has naturally tried to kill the entire United Nations assembly, which instantly made him free game. So Bruce pursues him to a helicopter, and an in-air scuffle ensues in which Bruce explicitly prevents Joker from being killed by friendly fire, evidently so he can decide how Joker will die. Bruce jumps out of the helicopter, abandoning Joker to a fiery crash. However, despite Bruce's (supposed) intentions, Joker's body is nowhere to be found. The clown lives!

So that's it, right? Joker felt some unease about killing Jason initially, but in a short time, he was happy to gloat about it to Batman's face.

But when Joker reappears in Batman #450, in 1990, he is not triumphant. He's holed up in a dilapidated building, where he learns someone is impersonating him.

How often do we see Joker upset by murders? When the story returns to him, we learn more about his mental state.

With all of Joker's cackling glee at the things he's done, coming close to actual death in the helicopter crash has jarred him— and not just the crash, but the murder that led to it. He recoils from the memory of what he did to Jason. It's why he can't see the joke anymore. It's set apart from his previous crimes. It's too far.

Which is not at all to say that Joker is completely broken up about Jason. By the end of #450, he rallies and sets out to go after his copycat and restore his reputation to his liking.

In Batman #451, though, Joker is still plagued by doubts along the way.

Even when he overcomes those doubts, claiming the mantle as the one and only Joker when his copycat dies by falling into acid, Joker challenges Gordon to finally kill him. It's reminiscent of The Killing Joke, the first time Joker went too far. But like TKJ, Gordon and Batman decide to get Joker back to Arkham against their more vengeful instincts.

Joker's also decided Arkham is just what he needs. Outside, he's plagued by the reality of what he's done; in Arkham, he can settle back into his insanity and stop caring about it again.

So after that, Joker has no second thoughts about killing Jason, right? After all, he largely references the murder in callous terms. In-universe this makes sense as Joker revising history in his own head, particularly as more stories portray his effort to be more monster than man. Monsters don't have qualms about murder! But this is comics, so we can also presume that not all Joker writers know or remember #450/451, which I think is a shame. I find stories in which Joker expresses even just a degree of vulnerability to be more interesting than those where he's just mwahaha evil.

I have seen a few other bat stories bring some nuance into Joker's perception of Jason's death, though.

First up is the particularly nuanced "Fool's Errand" in Detective Comics (1937) #726, published in 1998. Bruce visits Joker in Arkham to get information on how to find a kidnapped girl who's running out of time. It just so happens Joker arranged this kidnapping for a particular day.

I strongly recommend this issue for batjokes fans, as it revolves around Joker talking the case through with Batman in his cell to help him figure out more clues to a crime Joker himself planned. Even with Bruce beating Joker up, the conversational tone feels almost friendly. They're just doing their usual thing.

Well, sort of. Bruce has already said he's not in the mood, and he interrupts their conversation to say so again.

Joker could insist that Batman stay and keep playing the game, and needle him for being unwilling to merely talk to Joker to rescue this child. Instead, Joker gives up her location.

And Bruce does come back as predicted.

So that was Joker's nefarious plan. He wanted to restore some hope to Bruce's cynical soul to be sure that his future failures would hurt even more. But it sure seems the middle didn't go the way Joker expected, when he recognized Batman just wasn't going to play the game as usual.

Joker doesn't jump into taunting. He doesn't answer Bruce at first. He's withdrawn and reflective. He's got something else on his mind on this anniversary of the second Robin's death, and he knows that Bruce does, too. Perhaps not forcing Batman to play was a small gesture, acknowledging the difficulty of the day, remembering how things changed. And what does that gesture cost Joker when he still gets the outcome he wants?

Second example is actually also called "Fool's Errand," this one from Robin (1993) #85, published in 2001. This is a fun one in which Joker discusses his interactions and frustrations with the Robins.

But while Joker indicates more than once that he wants to fight Batsy alone, after he talks about killing Jason, this is the next page:

Joker does not then say he was relieved when another Robin showed up, but still. He's acknowledged again that when he murdered Jason, things were not right. As angry as the birdies make him, they're a key component in the game.

Then we come back to "Once More, With Feeling!" in Harley Quinn (2000) #25, from 2002. Harley's been playing double-agent against Batman with Joker, and she and Joker have this exchange.

Joker typically makes light of murdering Robin, but it seems that when he's with just about his only confidante, he lets other feelings about it burst out.

There's also a flashback to DitF in Batman: Gotham Knights #44 in 2003. We get an exchange between Bruce and Joker before Bruce jumps out of the helicopter.

Joker laughs as the helicopter dives, ready to die, but before that, he seems resigned. He doesn't throw in a real dig about murdering Jason, and he doesn't gloat that he's finally gotten Batman to kill him. He acknowledges he crossed a line.

Lastly, there's a 2006 exchange between, well, Joker and Jason himself in "All They Do is Watch Us Kill, Part 2" as part of Under the Red Hood in Batman (1940) #649. Jason has kidnapped Joker as batbait, and when Joker needles him, Jason needles him back.

Joker regularly extolls his own crimes, but suddenly one of his victims mockingly accuses him of putting up a front, of not being as coldhearted and untouchable as he wants to seem. Maybe Joker does doubt what he's doing and retreats under the cover of madness so he doesn't have to think about it— just as he did in Batman #451.

I'm not sure if there are other examples of Joker expressing anything but mocking glee about Jason's death. I do know of times he's shown a sort of fondness for Jason (such as in The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4, Gotham War: Red Hood #2, Suicide Squad: Get Joker #3), but that's not really the same thing. Joker could've seen Red Hood as his and Batman's Frankenstein child without feeling any squeamishness about killing him in the first place.

But if anyone knows of any other moments where Joker does not act like killing Jason is absolutely his most favorite thing he ever did, do share!

#joker #jason todd #my jibber-jabber

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lancermylove · 5 months

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I Love You, And I Hate It! (HC)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Pairing: Leaders x gn!Reader

Warning: None

Prompt: You yell at him that you love him but hate it.

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Leona

Leona was lounging on his bed, staring at the ceiling, when you flung open the door to this room and stomped closer to him. Locking eyes with him, you spoke seriously, “I love you, and I hate it!”

Then, you spun on your heels and stomped out of the room, your footsteps echoing with a resolute thud against the stone floors.

A smirk tugged on the prince's lips as his gaze followed you storming out of his bedroom.

"They love me, huh?" He whispered to himself. Picking up his phone, he texted you, "You sure you hate me, herbivore? You just bared your heart to me. Meet me at the botanical gardens at sunset. Don’t bother protesting—you won’t want to miss what I have planned."

Even though he was calm on the outside, Leona's heart was racing out of control. He was glad that none of the other beastmen were in the room. If they were, they would have heard how fast his heart was beating.

Malleus

The prince stood in the dead woods near Ramshackle, his eyes locked on the ghastly orb in the night sky. There was an eerie calmness about him, but as soon as he heard your storming toward him, Malleus shifted his gaze to you.

Looking up into his glowing, emerald eyes, you broke the tranquility of the forest with your determined voice, "I love you, and I hate it!"

Before Malleus could respond, you turned around and stomped away into the shadows of the forest.

Though the prince was surprised, there was a warmth in his expression. Without a second thought, Malleus raised his hand and created a magical path to guide you back to him, stopping you from fleeing.

"You endeavor to flee after such a confession? No, not this night." His soft voice echoed through the forest, "Return to me, child of man. We shall speak of these matters that stir such turmoil in your heart."

As you slowly walked closer to him, you saw a light blush on his pale cheeks.

Vil

When you entered his room, Vil was doing his makeup. Though he noticed you in the reflection of his mirror, he didn't say anything and continued to apply lipstick.

Stepping closer to him, you met his gaze in the mirror and borderline yelled at him, "I love you, and I hate it!"

You weren't sure if it was the volume of your voice or your words, but Vil's hand slipped, causing his lipstick to swipe along his cheek. But before he could fully process your words, you turned around and walked out of his room.

With a sigh, he gently removed the lipstick streak on his cheek and quickly texted you. "Why date, my dear potato? Return to my room at once. We need to have a proper discussion regarding this matter, and I also wish to teach you how to use your indoor voice."

After sending the message, Vil looked at his reflection in the mirror and smiled warmly. The unexpected turn of events had added a pink shade to life's palette, and he was eager to see how everything would turn out.

Riddle

Riddle was sipping a piping hot cup of tea in Heartslabyul's garden when he saw you marching toward him. From your expression, he thought something might have happened to you, and you wanted to rant to him.

Just as he was about to invite you to sit down and ask if you wanted some tea, you drew in your breath and loudly proclaimed, "I love you, and I hate it!"

The last thing you saw before you walked away was Riddle nearly dropping his floral ceramic cup on his dorm uniform.

He was too fixated on the word "hate" to fully process what you had told him. For a while, he thought about why you hated him and went through all the interactions between the two of you to figure out if he said or did something to make you hate him.

Then, it suddenly hit him. Did you just say you loved him? His eyes widened, and his face turned the color of his hair. Covering his mouth, he tried his best to keep his emotions together.

Riddle's heart was beating so fast that he felt like he was going to faint at any moment.

Idia

Idia was too engrossed in his game to hear you entering his bedroom. As soon as you stepped closer to his chair, Idia turned around with widened eyes and nearly chucked his game controller at you but stopped mid-air when he saw it was you.

For a moment, the two of you had a stare-off before you decided to clear your throat and blurt out, "I love you, and I hate it!"

Turning on your heels, you walked out of his bedroom just as quickly as you had entered. Idia stared at you in horror, still fazed by you catching him off guard by entering his bedroom.

When his mind registered your words, piece by piece, Idia's jaw dropped, and his hair slowly changed from blue to pink.

"They...l-lo-lo-lo....ve me?" Idia felt his whole world spinning, but then he realized his game was unpaused and had a moment of panic.

Even though he lost that round and all his hard work went to waste, Idia secretly felt happy. For the rest of the day, he had a toothy grin.

Azul

Azul stood in the Monstro lounge with his back to you, and while you couldn't see what he was doing, you could tell he was busy. Despite that, you walked closer to him.

As soon as he greeted you without turning around, you loudly said, "I love you, and I hate it!"

Just as you turned around and walked away, you heard the sound of multiple glasses breaking. Azul had a tray of empty glasses in his hands, and your words caught him off guard.

Though you walked away without stopping, Jade and Floyd rushed out of the office to see what was going on. The twins were amused and surprised by Azul standing frozen in place.

The octopus's mouth was wide open, his eyes were the size of discs, and his hands were still in mid-air, holding the tray lopsided. He looked like he had seen a ghost.

But the most amusing feature of the eels was Azul's bright red cheeks. They exchanged a look, wondering what had transpired.

Kalim

Kalim was walking through the halls of Scarabia, bored out of his mind. When he saw you, he gave you the widest grin possible, but his smile quickly wiped away.

Your expression - was he in trouble? Did he do something he wasn't supposed to? Kalim was nervous.

Taking a deep breath, you met his gaze and somewhat angrily said, "I love you, and I hate it!"

Kalim's mind negated the 'I hate you' part and only focused on the first half of your statement. So, as soon as you turned around to walk away, he ran up to you and wrapped his arms tightly around your waist.

Before you could react, Kalim kissed your cheek and yelled, "I love you too!"

Though the moment was supposed to be a cute, happy one, Kalim's mouth was too close to your ears. So when he yelled, your ears vacuumed and started to ring, causing you to feel dizzy. However, he didn't notice and continued to hold you close to him.

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bloodiedrogue · 1 year

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I CARE FOR YOU (6)

SUMMARY: After an unexpected moment of intimacy, you admit your growing feelings for Astarion.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 2,768

WARNINGS: Fluff, cheesy gross rotten fluff filled with more realized feelings.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I can't tell whether or not I hate this chapter so uh, please be nice to me. I'm very tired and just :')

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

You’ve been drinking for a while now. Sharing a bottle of ale Astarion had nicked off a merchant outside the myconid colony. While speaking to her about the issue of her missing husband, he somehow managed to snag it unseen, along with a couple of potions and some coins that he shared with you.

At first, you were surprised. Sure, you and Astarion had become increasingly close over the last few days, spending practically all hours conversating or plotting —overall just enjoying each other’s company. But he’d always been firm about earning your keep. Typically for him, what you earned was solely yours alone and vice versa but when you asked him about the merchant theft he just smiled and pinched your cheek, thanking you for the distraction.

It made you blush —uncontrollably so. The feeling of his fingers taught against your skin before their disappearance. As you moved alongside him, making your way back to camp, you had to compose the need to squeal, feeling your stomach flip while your heart wreaked havoc against your chest.

Now that you were drunk such feelings had subdued. Lost to the clouded headspace of inebriation that has you lazily staring at the fire, a small grin plastered across your face as you continue to drink.

Against your tongue, it feels warm and bitter, forcing you to smack your lips in slight disgust every time you swallow it down. “Gods, this is rancid,” you say, and Astarion nods, reaching for the bottle.

He tips his head back to let it cascade down, cringing ever so slightly. “I swear I haven’t had a decent drink in months,” he complains, passing it back —letting the tips of his fingers brush against the base of your knuckles in the process.

You roll your eyes, feeling that nervous jump of nerves hit your stomach before shaking your head. “That tends to happen when you’re camping beneath the surface.”

“It was shit before then too, I’m afraid,” he sighs. “Even at that grove party they were basically serving up bottled piss.”

“At least it was free.”

He shrugs knowingly, agreeing as he watches you take another sip; scrunching up your face in disgust. It’s not good by any means but it’s the first drink you’ve had in days —and again it’s free— so you try not to complain too much.

“I miss wine.” Snatching the bottle back, he takes another sip and groans, immediately giving it back. “Good wine.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had good wine.”

Immediately, he looks at you like you’ve just slain his mother. His eyes are wide and full of pain before they narrow to a point, prompting him to lean in close, peeling the bottle from your hands. “I’m sorry, what do you mean you’ve never had good wine?”

You shrug, reaching for the bottle only to have him raise it into the air, gripping the neck tightly. “Hey!”

“You grew up in Baldur’s, did you not?”

Ignoring his question, you roll onto your knees, placing a hand on his shoulder as you reach for the drink, groaning when he raises it out of reach again.

“What’s the best wine you’ve had?”

You grumpily move in closer, maneuvering one of your knees to rest between his outstretched legs, feeling his arm snake around your waist when you inevitably stumble from the alcohol. Audibly you gasp and look down at him, watching his lips twitch into a smirk.

“Give the bottle back, you ass!”

His fingers fan across the fabric of your shirt, applying a bit of extra pressure that has you fighting. Resisting the urge to give in as he pouts at your words.

“Ass? And here I thought you and I were starting to become friends.”

That feeling from earlier returns. The one where your stomach tangles up and your chest begins to ache, longing for something you know you shouldn’t even think to entertain. “We are friends.”

His brow shoots up. “Are we?”

Despite the constant attention you’ve been offering one another, you realize then that you’ve never actually discussed what the two of you are. How he makes you feel happy and loved and, above all else, safe. On more than one occasion you’ve thought about letting it slip. During the night when you wake up from your nightmares only to find him already lying next to you, you’ve thought about opening up.

It’d be hard. Seeing as neither of you is the type to fully express how you feel, the idea of verbally admitting that you care for him far more than you should could be detrimental. The kind of conversation that could potentially ruin everything you have going, knowing that he’s…

Well, he’s him. He’s guarded and cautious and deceptive. A man so unwilling to trust that even the simplest of gestures have you questioning his intentions. Wondering whether or not the side of him you get to see is truly real or not.

You assume in some cases it is. Mostly because no one else has offered you that kind of courtesy. The others are nice. They care for you in their own little ways but something about Astarion’s kindness is different. More developed. It isn’t surface level in the way that Shadowheart heals you after a tough battle or how Lae’zel offers to help you cut vegetables at dinner. There’s something else that lingers. Something warm and tender that makes your ever-growing feelings fight through the ongoing suppression of your mind.

A suppression that dwindles the longer you look at him —the longer you kneel, half straddling his thigh while your hands sit awkwardly in the air, begging to be touched.

“I mean, acquaintances don’t do the things we do for each other.”

You see his throat bob as he swallows. “And what sort of things do we do for each other, hm?”

His voice, despite sounding as confident as it usually does, feels different. Instead of teasing, there’s a genuine curiosity that forms, hanging onto every breath that filters through your lungs.

“Nice things.”

He scoffs. “Care to provide some examples, my dear?”

Instead of responding, you let your hands fall to his shoulders, feeling the sudden tenseness underneath your fingertips as you slide them up toward his neck and move forward. After that, there are still no words that are spoken. Only breaths that catch in your respective throats as Astarion’s thigh shifts towards the innermost parts of yours, pushing against you gently.

Pressing your lips together, you ignore the feeling that presents itself when he does that, focusing on his face. On the way, his mouth opens up with bated breath —the way his eyes soften and his other hand drops the ale and moves throughout your vision to place an even softer touch against your cheek.

Without even thinking you return his gesture from the other night, letting your lips press against his thumb as you close your eyes, realizing you want this. Whatever it is that he’s willing to offer. Whether it’s strictly friendship or more or even something in between. At this point, he could offer you the dirt beneath his feet and you’d take it. Bottle it up as a reminder of all that he’s done for you. All the words he’s said to make you laugh. All the hands he’s held to calm you down during your most anxious moments.

He could take and take and give absolutely nothing in return and you’d accept it with open arms if it meant you could stay like this. If it meant you could feel the brush of his thumb gliding back to cup your head and pull you down.

“I know you’re not the most articulate friend I have but I’d still appreciate a bit more effort.”

The sudden presence of his breath makes you open your eyes. Your foreheads are practically touching and by now your arms have fully tightened around his neck, further supporting your hold.

“I don’t know. I, uh, I suppose you care.”

“Do I now?”

“I think so.”

He hums. “What makes you say that?”

You purse lips, trying to wrap your head around the closeness of it all. The intimate touches mixed with the potential confession rising up your throat. “You do things that the others don’t.”

The hand that rests against the back of your head runs through the roots of your hair, gripping them slightly as he laughs. “You really are bad at elaborating, aren’t you, darling?”

“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes, fighting back a grin; not surprised that even in moments like this he still manages to withstand his arrogance. “I just mean that it feels like you actually care about me as a person rather than just another helping sword in a war.”

When he doesn’t respond right away you’re worried you’ve lost him. That you’ve scared him off somehow. Sometimes that happens when you’re in the middle of a conversation. Everything will be normal and somehow you’ll manage to fuck it up by asking something too personal, causing his retreat.

It hasn’t happened in a while. Not since that night, he held you in your tent but you still assume it’s coming based on the way his gaze shifts, moving from place to place —completely avoiding your eyes. Usually, that’s the first step when he separates. Either he’ll look away or his eyes will go out of focus, leaving you by yourself to wonder how to fix it.

Reluctantly you slip from his grasp, releasing his neck with shaky hands, feeling the way he tightens up but makes no effort to stop you.

“Sorry, I, uh, I know you’ve got your own… stuff going on.” You clear your throat, relaxing your hips against his thigh before you remember that you’re trying to give him space, prompting you to sit back up again. “Wouldn’t want to complicate that or anything.”

After that, there’s a nervous laugh that escapes your lips when you attempt to crawl off of him. One that grows the second the hand he still has on your back moves to grip your hip, pulling you back down with a rough tug. It forces the breath right out of you. Ripping through your lungs, it feels like instead of blood, Astarion’s taking your air, forcing your mouth to open in such a desperate way you almost whine out loud.

“I do care —for what it’s worth. Despite the complications.”

He says it so quietly you barely hear it against the crackling of the ongoing fire and the echoes of the Underdark. As it hits your ears, it sounds like the faintest whisper ever uttered. A quiet secret so safely tucked away that even the mention of its mere existence has you reaching for his face, cupping his cheeks with careful hands that wish to make sure he’s okay.

“You make me feel…” He trails off, letting out a frustrated sigh while closing his eyes.

You can tell then that he’s fighting the barrier. Allowing its presence to overthrow his thoughts, fearing what might happen if he’s honest. There’s a part of you that wants to tell him it’s okay —that anything he says will be cherished not exploited. Appreciated to the highest degree possible. But then there’s the other part. The one that knows that what you say doesn’t matter. That in the grand scheme of things, words are merely facades we tell each other to hide the truth.

You want to tell him the truth. More than anything you want to utter every hidden admiration over and over again until he believes you. Until he’s forced to hear the cadence in your voice breaking at the realization he believes that he’s untouchable.

“I care for you, Astarion.”

The words come out more broken than you intend. As it exits your lips, it’s coarse against your ears, making you internally cringe and close your eyes, taking a moment to breathe because you finally did it. You finally said something.

All you receive from it is a hum of acknowledgement. One that fails to give you any sort of relief.

At first, it shakes you. Makes you regret even thinking you could earn anything other than a snide remark. But then you open your eyes. And you see him. The way he’s staring at you with confused eyes and open lips, begging you for more.

“I don’t know what it all means yet. I just —I just wanted you to know that your friendship means more to me than you know.” You glide both thumbs across his cheeks, feeling the coolness of his skin wrap around the warmth of your own. “I know I don’t know a lot about your past. I don’t know how or what level it’s affected how you perceive your self-worth but I know you now. And I know that regardless of the shit you went through whether it was of your will or otherwise, that you deserve to be cared for.”

That you deserve to be loved.

By the time you’re done, you’re weightless. A feather of freedom dancing in the wind as it awaits its downfall.

Glancing between Astarion and the space behind him, you find there’s no regret in what you’ve just said. No fear of rejection. No shame for admittance. All that’s left is the feeling of relief. One that grows once you hear him clear his throat and pull you close, moving his forehead to yours.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he says, but that doesn’t stop the smile that pulls at your cheeks.

“It’s okay. Neither do I.”

“I don’t know how to be what you want.”

You inhale heavily, looking down to see the worry grace his face. “Do you even know what I want?”

He opens his mouth but quickly stops, making you laugh.

“I want you, Astarion. That’s it. Whether it’s you at your best or you at your worst, I just want you.”

“Me.” He repeats it as a statement. As an affirmation that makes your stomach flip.

“I know you’re difficult to deal with. You’re stubborn and unforgiving and crass but I’m also incredibly patient.” You squeeze his cheeks, uttering patient through clenched teeth that make him snort.

“I’d argue that most of the time you’re not but—“

You shush him, earning yourself an eye roll. “I’ll wait for you. With you. If that’s what you want.”

And you do. Pressing yourself further into him, you breathe and wait, letting him piece together all the words you’ve just displayed. Letting him sit and process the weight of them all in the form of nervous fingers that tap your hips before they slowly begin to slide.

By the time they hit the centre of your back, he’s releasing his hold with one and snaking it beneath your outstretched arm to grab your face.

“Can I share something? With you?”

You nod your head and feel him pull you down, immediately slotting his lips over yours in a way you’ve never felt before.

Somehow it’s soft while still remaining hungry. Deep beneath the careful movements he inflicts, there’s a desperation that has both of you moving your arms to further wrap around the other, forcing your chests flush. Against your mouth, he breathes new life into your soul —ripping the old away as he nibbles the edge of your bottom lip, eliciting a moan that makes him grin.

“You taste better than I remember.”

Silencing him with another kiss, you move your hands to his hair, running your fingers along his scalp, feeling the way he shudders beneath your touch before pulling away.

Both of you are gasping for air then. Staring at one another with blown-out pupils that make you look away in embarrassment.

You’re not sure how to feel now. Before it was easy to pine —to think about the potentials and long for something more because it wasn’t real. It was merely a desire fuelled by curiosity so now that you have it, you have no idea what happens next.

“We should probably talk, right? About things?”

You can’t help but brush his curls from his face as he nods, giving you a knowing look that has you feeling worried he still might backtrack. “Things, as in?”

“The past. Both of ours. When you’re ready.”

Despite the reluctance you feel radiating off of him, there’s also a sliver of acceptance. An inkling of something new and warm that filters through as he nods his head, uttering a thank you before pulling you back in again.

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#i care for you #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

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kiwriteswords · 8 days

Note

hotchhotchhotch! it's like you write him extra hot - like sriracha hot - bc he's sososo perfect in your writing! can i request the "saying "i love you" for the first time" with shy!reader?

Hi!! Thank you so much!!! This one turned out to be a little longer than a drabble! Hope you like it!!

Drabble Prompts | Other Writing | Ao3

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Shy!Fem!Reader!

Summary: In the high-stakes world of the BAU, you and Aaron Hotchner have shared a quiet, unspoken connection that began as something casual, a way to find comfort amid the chaos. But when a routine case leaves you critically injured, Hotch is forced to confront the depth of his feelings. As he anxiously waits by your side, fearing the worst, Hotch realizes that losing you would break him in ways he never expected.

Word Count: 3.5k

Rating: Technically safe for work, but hints at an intimate relationship.

TW: Canon typical violence, hints at intimacy, angst

The Fear of Falling

You didn’t expect to get shot.

You were trained for it, prepared to face the worst every day, but no one really expects it. You were in the thick of it, chasing down a suspect with Hotch, when it all went wrong. One minute, you had your eyes on him, and the next, pain exploded through your side.

The world blurred around you as you hit the ground, blood seeping into your clothes, your hands, the dirt beneath you. Voices came through muffled, far-off. It wasn’t until Hotch’s voice cut through the haze that reality started to set back in.

The bullet tore through your side, the pain immediate and searing, but in the chaos of the moment, you didn’t have time to process it. Everything around you was a blur—Hotch’s voice barking orders into his radio, the flashing lights of the ambulance, the sound of footsteps pounding the ground around you.

But one thing was clear: Hotch never left your side.

That had always been his way—quiet, steady, dependable. From the beginning, when whatever this was between you had started, Hotch had been there. It hadn’t been some whirlwind romance, no grand gestures or confessions of love. Instead, it was late nights spent together after a long day in the field, where the lines between work and something more blurred. You’d sit close on the jet, your knees brushing under the table as you discussed case files, or spend hours in quiet conversation that had nothing to do with the cases you worked on but everything to do with understanding each other.

The "fling"—as you had quietly labeled it in your head—started as something small, something easy to dismiss. It had begun in the most unexpected way, during a night at a bar after a tough case. The team had gone home, but you and Hotch had stayed, finding some kind of strange comfort in the shared silence over a couple of drinks. It had been weeks of tension, the unspoken attraction between you simmering beneath the surface, and that night, it finally broke. A lingering glance. A brush of fingers. Then, without thinking, you had leaned in, and so had he.

It was never meant to be serious. Neither of you had said as much, but the understanding was there. Hotch had his demons, and you had yours. He was your superior. The weight of those unspoken boundaries hung between you, even as you’d find yourself alone together, the rest of the world falling away for brief moments. Kisses stolen in the shadows of hotel rooms when the team wasn’t looking. Conversations that lasted too long, with gazes that lingered just a bit more than they should have.

You had agreed to keep things casual. Nothing more than companionship in the midst of the chaos of your lives. Neither of you had the space for something deeper, something permanent. Or at least, that’s what you told yourselves. But as the months went on, the way Hotch looked at you began to shift. You noticed the way his eyes softened when he thought you weren’t paying attention, the way he checked on you after a particularly rough case, or how he lingered at your side just a little longer than necessary.

And somewhere along the way, you had begun to care about him more than you should have. You tried to push it down, to remind yourself that this wasn’t supposed to be anything. But the more time you spent with him, the harder it became to pretend--the more painful it became to pretend. The quiet moments, the subtle touches, the way he said your name—it all added up to something neither of you wanted to acknowledge.

“Stay with me.” He was beside you, his hands pressing against your wound, voice stern but shaking. His brows furrowed, eyes fixed on your injury, but his jaw clenched with something much deeper than concern. You could see it, even in your pain-addled state.

“I’m—” You tried to speak, but it was hard to get the words out. You were used to being quiet, used to keeping your thoughts to yourself. That never seemed to be a problem when you were with Hotch. Silence had become a part of the strange rhythm you had with him, this unspoken understanding between two people who couldn’t find the right words but always seemed to know.

Now, though, you felt the need to fill that silence, to say something, anything.

“It’s okay,” he muttered, “you’re going to be okay.”

The grip of his hands tightened, and in a rare moment, his walls seemed to crack. He wasn’t just your boss here. He wasn’t the stern, unflinching leader of the BAU. He was Aaron—someone who had been carrying something for a while, someone who hadn’t yet spoken all the things he needed to say. Someone you cared about more than you ever let on.

“I’m sorry,” you managed, wincing as a fresh wave of pain surged through you. You weren’t sure why you apologized—maybe for being hurt, maybe for all the times you’d kept quiet when you wanted to say more, or maybe for all the times you felt like you were asking too much of him, even when you hadn’t asked for anything at all.

“Why would you apologize?” His voice was tight, but there was a gentleness in it that you’d rarely heard. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You never do.”

Hotch rode with you in the ambulance, his hand gripping yours, his jaw clenched tight as he stared down at you, concern and fear etched into every hard line of his face. You could feel the tension radiating from him, the way he was barely keeping it together for your sake. Aaron Hotchner was always the one in control, always the one to keep a level head when everything else was falling apart. But right now, it felt like that control was slipping.

As the paramedics worked on you, you could hear the urgency in their voices. The blood loss, the need to stabilize you—it was all happening too fast for you to grasp. The only constant was Hotch’s presence, his voice grounding you, telling you to hold on.

By the time you reached the hospital, the world was fading in and out. The last thing you saw before you were wheeled into surgery was Hotch standing there, his eyes locked on yours, as if he was afraid to let you go.

Hours passed. Hotch didn’t move from the waiting room.

The sterile hospital air seemed suffocating, the hum of fluorescent lights above adding to the unbearable stillness. Time felt warped—minutes dragged into hours, each second stretching endlessly as he waited. His mind was stuck on one thing: you.

Reid was the first to arrive, his face pale as he walked into the waiting room. He wasn’t good with hospitals, and Hotch knew it. His hands fidgeted with the strap of his bag as he approached. “Hotch,” he said softly, “how is she?”

Hotch didn’t answer right away. He kept his eyes fixed on the swinging doors down the hall, the ones that led to the surgical ward. “She’s still in there.”

Reid sat down beside him, the silence between them heavy. Hotch could feel the younger man glancing at him occasionally, probably wanting to say more, but holding back. Reid wasn’t someone who pushed when others needed space. But even his quiet presence wasn’t enough to pierce the fog of worry clouding Hotch’s mind. After a few minutes, Reid left, muttering something about needing to call Garcia for an update.

Hotch barely registered it.

Morgan came next, his energy a stark contrast to the stillness that had settled over the room. He strode in, his expression serious but determined. “How’s she doing, man?”

Hotch shook his head, his fingers gripping the edge of the chair. “They haven’t told me anything yet.”

Morgan sat across from him, elbows resting on his knees as he leaned forward. “She’s tough. She’s gonna pull through.”

Hotch nodded, but the movement felt mechanical. Empty. His mind was spinning with worst-case scenarios, a constant replay of the moment you went down. The blood. The way your body crumpled. His heart clenched painfully in his chest at the memory. He could still feel the warmth of your blood on his hands as he tried to stop the bleeding.

“She’ll make it,” Morgan added quietly, his voice softer now. He was trying to comfort Hotch, trying to be there in the way he always was for the team. But Hotch didn’t have it in him to respond. He barely acknowledged the weight of Morgan’s words before he stood abruptly, pacing to the window.

He stared outside, seeing nothing but the reflection of the waiting room. His reflection. And behind it, Morgan, looking at him with quiet concern. But Morgan didn’t say anything else. After a few minutes, he got up, clapped Hotch on the shoulder, and left, probably to update the rest of the team.

Rossi arrived last. The older man walked in with the calm, steady air that he always carried, but even he couldn’t mask the worry etched into his features. He had been doing this job longer than any of them, and Hotch knew he had seen more than his share of teammates in the hospital. But that didn’t make this any easier.

“How’re you holding up?” Rossi asked, standing beside Hotch by the window.

Hotch didn’t answer right away. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, fingers clenched into tight fists. He stared out at the city below, his jaw working as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I’m fine,” he finally muttered, his voice tight.

Rossi didn’t buy it, of course. “You’re not fine, Aaron. None of us are when someone we care about is lying on an operating table.”

Hotch flinched at that. Care. The word hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning. He knew what Rossi was implying—what everyone had probably suspected for a while now. But this wasn’t the time to talk about it. Not now.

“I should’ve been faster,” Hotch muttered, his voice barely audible. “I should’ve seen it coming.”

Rossi shook his head. “You can’t think like that. We all know the risks. So does she.”

Hotch clenched his fists tighter, the anger and frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. “She’s in there because of me. If I’d been quicker, more careful...”

“She’s in there because it’s the job. You did everything you could.” Rossi’s voice was firm, but it didn’t soothe the guilt gnawing at Hotch’s insides.

The silence stretched between them, and Rossi eventually gave him a small nod before heading out. He knew better than to push Hotch when he was like this. And Hotch knew that, deep down, Rossi was right. But that didn’t change the fact that you were in surgery, and he was standing here, helpless.

The minutes dragged on. He glanced at the clock. Then at the doors. His mind was racing—picturing every possible outcome, every scenario, from best to worst. He had never felt more useless in his life. Out in the field, he knew what to do. There was always a plan, always a course of action. But here? Here, he was just waiting.

And Hotch wasn’t someone who did well with waiting.

He leaned against the window, his hand rubbing his face as exhaustion tugged at him. The pressure in his chest was unbearable. He couldn’t lose you. Not like this. Not after everything you’d been through together—every quiet moment, every glance that spoke louder than words. He had never said it, never admitted how deeply he cared for you. Not to you, not to himself. But now... now he didn’t have a choice.

He loved you.

And if he lost you, he wasn’t sure how he would put himself back together again.

He paced the waiting room some more, his hands running through his hair in frustration. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He wasn’t supposed to lose it. But the image of you lying there, bleeding, the sound of your voice barely above a whisper, haunted him. He could still feel your hand slipping from his grasp as they took you into the operating room.

“Hotch,” Emily said softly, placing a hand on his arm to stop him mid-pace. “She’s strong. She’s going to make it.”

He nodded but didn’t trust himself to speak. What could he say? That he wasn’t strong enough for this? That, for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was falling apart?

When he finally sat down, it was with a heavy sigh. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this unhinged, this terrified of losing someone.--Not since Haley.

But you weren’t Haley. You were different.

Haley had been the love of his life—the mother of his child, the person who had seen him through some of his darkest moments. But his love for her had been rooted in something that had bloomed long before the BAU took over his life, before the job hardened him, before the tragedies that followed had changed him. Haley had seen him as a younger man, unburdened by the weight of the world. And even after everything, she had always held a place in his heart.

But you... you were different.

You had become a part of his life without him even realizing it, quietly slipping into the spaces Haley had left behind. At first, he had resisted it. After Haley, he had sworn that he wouldn’t let himself feel that deeply for someone again. The loss had been too great, too painful. He had told himself that he didn’t have time for it, that he didn’t deserve it. His job demanded too much, and he had already paid the price once.

But then there had been you.

Your presence had been subtle, almost imperceptible at first. There were the late-night debriefs after a long case, the quiet conversations in the jet, the moments of silence that somehow felt more comfortable than words. You never pushed, never demanded more than he was willing to give. You didn’t need to. You just were—steady, present, a constant in his life that had become more and more important without him even realizing it.

And now, sitting here, waiting for news on whether you’d pull through, he knew there was no going back. He couldn’t pretend anymore. Couldn’t push away what had been building between you.

Because somewhere along the way, you had become more than just another colleague, more than just another person he cared about. He wasn’t sure when it had happened—maybe it was during a quiet evening when you had shared a rare laugh, or maybe it was when you had listened to him without judgment after a particularly brutal case. Or maybe it had been a thousand little moments that had piled up until he couldn’t ignore them anymore.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t deny it now.

He was in love with you.

It wasn’t something he had planned, or something he had even wanted at first. But it had crept up on him, slowly and surely, until the thought of losing you terrified him more than he had ever been willing to admit.

He had tried to keep his distance, to keep things professional. After all, what business did a man like him have getting involved with someone like you? He was too old, too broken. You deserved someone who wasn’t carrying the kind of baggage he did. But every time he was near you, every time you smiled or laughed, or even just sat quietly with him in comfortable silence, it chipped away at the walls he had so carefully built.

And if something happened to you—if he lost you now—he wasn’t sure he could survive it.

It had been so easy to fall for you. Too easy.

Now, he was terrified that he’d never get the chance to tell you.

When you finally woke up, groggy from the anesthesia, the first thing you noticed was the stiffness in your side. The second was the sound of steady breathing beside you.

Turning your head slowly, you saw him. Hotch was sitting in the chair next to your bed, looking far more disheveled than you’d ever seen him. His tie was loose, his shirt wrinkled, and the exhaustion in his eyes was unmistakable. He hadn’t left.

“Hotch?” you murmured, your voice weak, but the relief of seeing him made your heart ache.

His head snapped up, and the relief that washed over his face was palpable. He stood immediately, leaning over you, his hand resting gently on your arm. “You’re awake,” he said softly, and you could hear the unspoken worry in his voice. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you admitted, trying to give him a small smile, though the heaviness in your chest made it hard. You had been lucky, but the fact that it had come to this—lying in a hospital bed after being shot—felt like a wake-up call.

The bubbling of feelings in your chest out-ached the pain from the bullet. You couldn’t do this anymore. You couldn’t pretend that your feelings for him didn’t run deeper than you ever intended. And you couldn’t ask him to risk his heart again, not after everything he had been through.

“I think...” you started, your throat dry, “I think we should stop whatever this is.”

Hotch blinked, the words seeming to hit him like a physical blow. “What?” he asked, his voice low, like he hadn’t quite heard you correctly.

“I just—” You paused, unsure of how to explain the storm of emotions inside you. “I’ve caught feelings, Hotch. And I don’t think that’s fair. Not to you, not to me. It’s... too much.”

His face hardened, but not in anger. It was the mask he wore when he was trying to keep himself in check, to not let his emotions spill out.

“I don’t want to make things harder for you,” you continued, your heart aching with each word. “I don’t want to ask for more than you can give. I know you’ve already been through enough.”

“You think you’re asking too much of me?” His voice was quiet but firm, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made your chest tighten. “You’re the one who just got shot, and you think you’re the problem here?”

You tried to sit up, but the pain made you wince, and he was immediately by your side, his hand on your shoulder, gently pushing you back down. “You don’t understand,” you whispered, the tears threatening to spill over now. “I’m in love with you, and I didn’t mean for it to happen. But it did, and now I don’t know what to do because I can’t keep pretending that I don’t care.”

The silence that followed felt heavy, suffocating. You expected him to walk away, to tell you that this was why he had always kept his distance, why he hadn’t let things get too deep. But instead, he surprised you.

“I love you too.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at him, his words hanging in the air between you. You weren’t sure you had heard him right.

“I’ve been in love with you for a while,” he continued, his voice rough, as if it hurt him to admit it. “I just... I didn’t think I could ask that of you. I’m not... I’m not the man I used to be, and I thought you deserved more than someone like me. Someone who’s been through what I have.”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. “You’re everything to me, Hotch. I don’t care about the rest.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His hand reached for yours, his grip firm but gentle, and the weight of everything unsaid between you seemed to settle.

“You scared the hell out of me today,” he said quietly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “And I realized I can’t lose you. Not like this. Not ever.”

The tears came then, and you didn’t try to stop them. You had been holding back for so long, afraid of what it would mean to let yourself feel this way, to let yourself fall for him. But now, it didn’t matter. He was here. You were both here.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you whispered, squeezing his hand. “And neither are you.”

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos

#aaron hotchner #criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x female!reader #aaronhotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #kiwriteswords

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03jyh23 · 3 months

Text

🌃⌇night, interrupted┆jung wooyoung

neighbor!non-idol!wooyoung x reader ft. non-idol!yeosang

│synopsis: you owe a favor to your annoying neighbor

│genre: enemies to lovers

│trigger warnings: wooyoung and yeosang are bisexual, party-themed, alcohol consumption, mature language, excessive use of ''princess''

│words: 10.4 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

│requested prompts are bold

!minors do not interact!

— hi there! i'm ashamed to confess that this request has been sitting in my inbox since april :( i'm so sorry it took me so long to get to it, but i had so many different ideas about where this story should go. i'm thinking about re-opening my requests soon. as always i hope you will enjoy it!

love, monika ♡

i’d be so grateful for a little love – a like, reblog or comment would truly make my day!

"What are you even doing here?" you asked, your voice laced with surprise and a hint of annoyance. You had opened the door expecting to see anyone but him. But there he was, Wooyoung, the last person on earth you wanted to see on a Saturday night, or whenever to be honest. He stood there, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned casually against the door frame. His eyes held a playful glint that contrasted with the seriousness of your tone.

"It’s nice to see you too, Y/N" he greeted, his voice light and cheerful. He smiled brightly at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners, completely unfazed by your cold tone and unamused expression. His nonchalance in the face of your clear displeasure made the situation all the more irritating for you.

"What on earth are you doing here, Wooyoung?" You demanded, your voice was stern and serious. You crossed your arms over your chest, your gaze never leaving his face.

"Oh, as lovely as ever, aren't you?" Wooyoung quipped, rolling his eyes theatrically. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned against the door frame with a nonchalant air. His gaze, however, held an undeniable intensity. "Get ready, we've got places to be," he added, his tone light but laced with an underlying seriousness.

"Wait, what?" You spluttered, taken aback by his unexpected command. "Wooyoung, you can't just barge in here and..." He pushed past you slightly to enter your apartment, his confident demeanor not wavering in the slightest.

"Oh, but I can, and I just did," he replied, brushing past you with a smirk. His audacity left you momentarily speechless as you watched him stroll into your apartment as if he owned the place.

"Excuse me?" you managed to stutter out, turning around to face him. Wooyoung had already made himself comfortable on your couch, his long legs on your coffee table.

"Hey, don't look at me like that," he finally said, "I just thought it'd be nice to spend some time together." You were left speechless once again, your mind trying to process his words. Spend time together? You weren't sure if he was being serious or just messing with you. Wooyoung looked at you from head to toe, judging your old leggings and oversized hoodie, not to mention your messy hair. You had planned to stay in, enjoy some wine, and watch a cringe-worthy romance movie, but he had interrupted your plans. "Are you planning to get ready or are you intending to leave looking like that?" he asked, his voice ringing with a clear note of dislike for your current attire.

"Don’t you have like, you know… friends?" you blurted out, your voice barely masking the irritation that had been simmering within you. As the words escaped your lips, you could feel a rush of heat flooding your body. You were certain your ears were all red by now, the heat of your annoyance manifesting physically. "Actually, I was enjoying my solitude until you showed up." You snapped, your hands on your hips as you glared at him.

Wooyoung simply responded, "Well, you'll have to put that on hold, we have plans."

"Why in the world, among all the people I could possibly have plans with, would you think that I have any intention to spend my time with you?" You retorted, your voice thick with frustration and disbelief. The absurdity of the situation was growing by the minute and the disbelief in your voice reflected your incredulity.

Wooyoung simply shrugged his shoulders, his eyes twinkling with amusement at your evident irritation. A smirk played on his lips as he casually replied, "Because you owe me one." His nonchalant response left you momentarily speechless.

Your mind momentarily went back to the night two weeks ago. Your classes had ended late in the evening, and the rain was pouring heavily. You couldn't believe how, in the span of a few hours, a lovely summer day had transformed into a raging rainstorm. You were wearing light, summer-appropriate clothing, and, of course, you hadn't brought an umbrella. In fact, you didn't even own one. As you stood at the entrance of the university building, the rain came down in torrents, drenching everything in sight. The prospect of walking home in such weather was daunting, and you sighed in frustration, knowing you'd be soaked to the skin by the time you reached your apartment. Just then, you heard a familiar voice calling your name. Turning around, you saw Wooyoung, holding a large umbrella that provided a stark contrast to the stormy night. He approached you with a smirk, his usual playful glint in his eyes.

"Need a ride home?" he asked, raising his voice above the sound of the rain. You wanted to reject his offer, wanted to tell him to go away and leave you alone. But as he turned to leave, a teasing grin on his face, you found yourself chasing after him.

"Wait!" you called out, your voice barely heard over the sound of the rain. He stopped and turned back to look at you, an amused smile on his face. You hesitated for a moment before stepping under the umbrella, your body instinctively moving closer to his for warmth.

Wooyoung chuckled softly as you stepped under the umbrella, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "I knew you couldn't resist," he teased, holding the umbrella a little higher to shield both of you from the downpour.

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "You're lucky it's raining," you muttered, though your tone lacked any real annoyance. As you walked to his car, the rain continued to fall relentlessly, the streets quickly becoming rivers of water. Wooyoung's presence, however, provided a surprising comfort, the proximity of his body heat a welcome relief from the chill in the air. Once you reached the car, Wooyoung quickly unlocked it and held the umbrella for you as you climbed into the passenger seat. He folded the umbrella and slid into the driver's seat, shaking the water from his hair before starting the engine. The warmth of the car's interior enveloped you, and you sighed in contentment, grateful for the reprieve from the storm outside.

Wooyoung glanced at you as he pulled out of the parking lot. "You look like a drowned rat," he remarked with a grin, his tone lighthearted.

You shot him a mock glare. "Thanks for the compliment," you replied sarcastically, but the corners of your mouth twitched upwards.

The drive home was mostly quiet, save for the sound of rain pattering against the windows. When Wooyoung finally pulled up in front of your apartment building, you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

"Thanks for the ride," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As you stepped out of the car and into the rain, you heard Wooyoung call after you. "You owe me one now!" His voice was playful, but there was an underlying note of sincerity.

"Right, I owe you a favor," you muttered, your annoyance momentarily replaced by resignation. Despite your irritation, you couldn't deny that he was correct. "You could at least have the decency to call ahead."

Wooyoung laughed at that, a genuine, hearty laugh that echoed throughout your apartment. "Where's the fun in that, Y/N?" he retorted, his smile never faltering as he met your gaze.

You sighed, realizing that arguing with Wooyoung was akin to talking to a brick wall. "Fine," you said, throwing your hands up in surrender. "But if we're going out, I need to change. And you," you pointed at him, "need to get your feet off my coffee table."

Wooyoung chuckled but complied, swinging his legs off the table with a dramatic flourish. "Take your time, princess," he said, smirking at your annoyed expression. You rolled your eyes at his comment but nonetheless retreated to your bedroom to change into something more suitable for a night out.

Just as you were closing the door behind you, Wooyoung called after you, "And no leggings!" You groaned, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. As you moved towards the mirror, you took a moment to look at your reflection. Your hair was a mess from the day, and you knew it would take some time to style it into something presentable. You sighed, looking at the makeup products scattered across your dressing table. Getting ready for a party that you knew nothing about was indeed a challenge.

"How much time do I have?" you shouted from your bedroom.

Wooyoung glanced at his watch, a smirk playing on his lips. "Let's say twenty minutes. Can you manage that?" he called out, his voice filled with amusement.

"How the fuck am I supposed to get ready for a party in twenty minutes?" you shouted back, a hint of panic creeping into your voice.

"Well, I can make it fifteen just for you, princess," Wooyoung laughed, his amusement clear in his voice. Even though he couldn't see you, you rolled your eyes at his comment. The audacity of this man. Despite the irritation bubbling within you, you knew you had to hurry. You started rummaging through your wardrobe for a suitable outfit, cursing under your breath. Meanwhile, Wooyoung lounged comfortably on your couch, scrolling through his phone while occasionally glancing towards your bedroom door.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally emerged from your bedroom. You had managed to throw together a decent outfit, and even though you had rushed your makeup, it didn't look half bad. Wooyoung looked up from his phone as you entered the room, his eyes raking over your figure. He let out a low whistle, a grin spreading across his face. "Not bad, Y/N. Didn't know you could clean up so well."

You rolled your eyes at his comment but couldn't help the blush that crept up your cheeks. "Whatever, Wooyoung. Let's just get this over with." With a chuckle, Wooyoung rose from the couch, offering you his arm. You looked at him, disbelief and irritation evident in your gaze. His casual demeanor and the playful smirk on his face only added to the absurdity of the situation. You found yourself stuck between wanting to laugh it off and wanting to kick him out. But, swallowing down the lump of frustration in your throat, you pushed his extended arm back. You then reached for the door handle yourself, pulling it open with more force than was necessary. Without a backward glance, you stepped out into the hallway, leaving a rather surprised Wooyoung behind in your apartment.

Wooyoung finally caught up with you, a surprised yet amused expression on his face. "Well, aren't we eager?" he said, chuckling at your obvious irritation. Despite your annoyance, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at him, a small smile playing on your lips. With a huff, you began to march towards the parking lot, your steps quick and purposeful with Wooyoung following close behind. The glimmer of satisfaction you felt when you heard him struggling to keep up with your pace was short-lived as he effortlessly caught up, a grin playing on his lips.

"Slow down, Y/N. It's not a race," he called out, his voice filled with amusement. You ignored him, continuing your steady pace towards his car. The parking lot was dimly lit, the only source of light being the faint glow from the streetlights. Wooyoung's car stood out against the mostly empty lot. You stopped abruptly in front of it, crossing your arms over your chest as you waited for him to unlock the doors. Wooyoung, still wearing that annoying smirk, took his time in reaching the driver's side. He pulled out his keys, twirling them around his finger in a show of nonchalance before finally pressing the unlock button. The car beeped in response, the headlights flashing briefly.

"Your chariot awaits, princess," Wooyoung said, his voice filled with laughter as he gestured for you to enter. Despite your annoyance, you couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at his behavior, shaking your head in disbelief as you got into the car. Wooyoung followed suit, sliding into the driver's seat. His smirk still in place, Wooyoung started the car, the engine purring to life.

"We have places to be!" you mocked him, the sound of your high heel echoing in the car as you tapped your foot impatiently. Wooyoung simply laughed, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he drove off into the night. As he drove, the soft glow from the dashboard illuminated his face, casting a warm light on his features. Your eyes drifted to his hands on the steering wheel, fingers deftly maneuvering the vehicle through the night. The veins on the back of his hands were prominent, adding a sense of raw masculinity that you found yourself inexplicably drawn to. Your gaze then moved up to his chiseled jawline, the faint stubble that lined it giving him a rugged charm. You watched as the muscles in his jaw clenched and unclenched, a subtle sign of his concentration on the road ahead. His eyes, though, were what captivated you the most. Looking at them through the rearview mirror, you noticed how they were intensely focused on the road, reflecting the faint glimmer of the streetlights. The seriousness on his face was a stark contrast to his usual playful demeanor. Despite yourself, you felt a pang of appreciation for this side of him. It was a silent moment of admiration that you allowed yourself. You quickly averted your gaze when he caught your reflection in the rearview mirror, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Wooyoung couldn't resist asking, "Like what you see, princess?"

His comment snapped you out of your reverie. "Keep your eyes on the road, Wooyoung," you retorted, your cheeks heating up at his insinuation. His soft chuckle filled the car, but he didn't push it any further.

After a few minutes of a silent ride, you finally broke the silence. "Can you tell me now where we are going?" you asked, your voice filled with curiosity and a hint of annoyance. You could see him smirking from the corner of your eye, clearly finding amusement in your impatience.

Wooyoung glanced at you, his smirk widening. "You'll see when we get there," he replied cryptically. His evasive answer only fueled your curiosity and irritation.

"Wooyoung, I swear if you're taking me to some shady place..." you threatened, but he simply laughed, cutting you off.

"Relax, Y/N. It's nothing like that," he reassured, his tone light but his gaze serious when he looked at you.

After a short ride, Wooyoung finally pulled up at your destination, you were even more confused than before.

"Whose house is this?" you asked, taking a glance around the unfamiliar neighborhood. Wooyoung let out a soft chuckle before unbuckling his seatbelt. He turned to look at you, his usual smirk replaced with a gentle smile.

"Do you remember Mingi?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he watched your reaction closely. "He shared a class with us last year. He's quite tall, with short-cropped blonde hair." He let the words hang in the air, watching as you tried to recall this Mingi he was referring to.

You blinked, trying to recall someone fitting the description Wooyoung gave. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but you struggled to place him among the many faces you encountered during your classes last year. "Um, Mingi?" you repeated uncertainly, furrowing your brows as you searched your memory. "I think I remember someone like that, but I didn't really know him well."

"Then it's high time you get to know him. It's his birthday party," Wooyoung stated with a broad smile as he stepped out of the car. He left you momentarily, walked around to open your door, and offered his hand.

You looked at his outstretched hand and then up at his expectant face. A sigh escaped your lips before you finally gave in, placing your hand in his. "Alright, let's get this over with," you muttered, allowing Wooyoung to lead the way.

As you entered the house, you were immediately hit with the loud music and chatter of what seemed like a hundred people. Wooyoung instinctively wrapped his arm around your waist, presumably to prevent you from getting lost in the crowd. However, you weren't in the mood for his overbearing actions, so you pushed him away with your elbow, giving him a stern look.

"I can handle myself, Wooyoung," you said, pulling away from him. His smirk remained unfazed as he raised his hands in a sign of surrender.

"As you wish, princess," he replied, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes at his nickname for you but didn't comment on it. The party was in full swing, with people dancing and chatting. The atmosphere was electric, the house filled with laughter and the sound of clinking glasses. Wooyoung guided you through the crowd, introducing you to a few people along the way. You greeted them politely, but your mind was elsewhere. "There's Mingi," Wooyoung pointed out, nodding towards a tall guy who was surrounded by a group of people. He had short blonde hair, just like Wooyoung described. When he saw you both, his face lit up and he excused himself from the group to come greet you.

"Wooyoung, Y/N, glad you guys could make it," Mingi greeted, his voice loud over the music. He had a warm smile, and his eyes were bright with excitement. You exchanged pleasantries with Mingi and wished him a happy birthday. Despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself gradually warming up to the atmosphere. "I'll get you guys some drinks." Before you could protest, he was already up and heading towards the makeshift bar at the far end of the room. This left you with Wooyoung and a bunch of Mingi's friends, all of whom seemed to know each other well. You took a deep breath and introduced yourself, trying your best to engage in the conversation. Despite your initial hesitation, they were all friendly and welcoming, which eased your mind slightly.

Before you knew it, Mingi returned with a tray of drinks. He handed you a glass filled with a brightly colored cocktail, the ice clinking against the glass. "Try this," he suggested, his eyes twinkling with excitement. You took a cautious sip, the taste of the alcohol strong but not unpleasant. The cocktail was fruity and sweet, the alcohol nicely masked by the flavors. It warmed your throat and seemed to seep into your veins, easing your tension and allowing you to relax slightly. You smiled and thanked Mingi, who returned the gesture with a broad grin.

As the night continued, you found yourself engrossed in conversation, drinking more colorful cocktails, laughing, and exchanging stories with Mingi and other of his friends. Mingi was particularly charming, his pleasant demeanor making it easy for you to feel at ease around him. Yet, occasionally, your gaze would shift to Wooyoung, and you couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he navigated through the conversation. His laughter, rich and contagious, echoed through the room, drawing people towards him like a magnet. The way he mingled and engaged with everyone, his energy infectious and his charisma undeniable, was truly a sight to behold. Whether it was his quick wit that left people laughing or his intriguing stories that captivated everyone's attention, Wooyoung was undeniably the life of the party. You found yourself watching him, your heart begrudgingly admitting the undeniable truth - Wooyoung was not only charming but also incredibly hard to resist.

At one point, Mingi turned to you with a genuine smile on his face, saying, "You know, I really wish I had gotten to know you better during our class. You're quite interesting." His compliment caught you off guard, but you managed to smile back, just as you were about to respond, you felt a sudden warmth around you. Startled, you turned to find Wooyoung, his arm comfortably resting on your waist. The unexpected contact surprised you, and you found yourself looking at him, an eyebrow raised in question. His eyes met yours, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

"What are you doing, Wooyoung?" you asked, trying to keep your voice casual despite the surprise coursing through you. Wooyoung simply shrugged, the smirk on his face not wavering in the slightest. He seemed to be enjoying your reaction, his eyes twinkling with an unspoken amusement. Deciding to ignore him, you turned back to the rest of the group, engaging in conversation about plans for the upcoming summer. Mingi eagerly shared his excitement about an upcoming trip, and you found yourself genuinely interested in hearing more. As you chatted, Wooyoung's grip around your waist tightened slightly, his body language conveying a subtle sense of protectiveness. Despite your initial irritation, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through you at his touch. Mingi was still talking, his voice pleasant against the backdrop of the party music. Just as you were about to chime in with a comment, you felt Wooyoung lean in closer. His breath fanned across your ear as he whispered, "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

His words hit you like a sudden gust of wind, leaving you momentarily speechless. You turned to look at him, your eyes wide with shock. Wooyoung simply looked back at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His bold statement left you feeling flustered. But despite your surprise, you couldn't help the small smile that tugged at the corners of your lips.

"Wooyoung, are you drunk?" you asked, your voice laced with concern and a hint of annoyance. His behavior tonight had been erratic at best, and you couldn't quite put a finger on what was causing it. Was it the party, the alcohol, or something else entirely? You weren't sure, and it was beginning to frustrate you. Wooyoung simply chuckled at your question, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Not at all, Y/N," he replied, his voice steady and his gaze unwavering. "But you can't deny that you do look beautiful tonight." His words, though unexpected, were sincere and you found yourself blushing under his intense gaze. You stared at him, trying to gauge his sincerity. His usual playful demeanor was still there, but there was something different in his eyes tonight. A depth that you hadn't noticed before.

"Is this another one of your tricks?" you asked, though your tone was more playful than accusatory.

"No tricks, Y/N. Just the truth," Wooyoung said, his eyes meeting yours with a sincerity that took you by surprise. His confident demeanor and the intensity of his gaze left you speechless.

"You're acting weird," you muttered, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity. "What's gotten into you?"

Wooyoung shrugged, the smile never leaving his face. "Maybe I'm just tired of pretending," he said cryptically, his eyes holding yours with an intensity that made your heart race.

"Pretending what?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. You weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer, but you couldn't stop yourself from asking.

"That I don't care," he replied simply, his gaze unwavering. "That I don't think about you all the damn time. That I don't want to be more than just your annoying neighbor."

"Oh, shut up, won't you?" you found yourself saying, a mix of emotions flooding through you. His words had caught you off guard, causing your heart to race. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and you had to fight the urge to look away from his intense gaze.

In response, Wooyoung simply smirked. "Make me," he retorted, his voice low and taunting. He held your gaze, his eyes sparkling with an unreadable emotion. Then, slowly, his gaze drifted down from your eyes to your lips. For a moment, all you could do was stare back at him, your breath hitching as you realized what he was insinuating. The unexpected intensity of the moment left you breathless, your mind racing as you tried to process what was happening. His confession left you stunned. You had always thought Wooyoung's teasing was just part of his playful nature, never imagining that there might be something more behind it. The realization made your heart flutter and your mind race with questions.

"Wooyoung, I..." you started, but your words trailed off as you struggled to find the right thing to say. "I'm going to get myself a drink," you said, excusing yourself before Wooyoung could respond. You needed a moment to process everything he had just said. You quickly moved away, weaving through the crowd. As you navigated through the sea of people, you accidentally bumped into someone. As you prepared to apologize, you looked up. Your heart skipped a beat when you found yourself staring into familiar eyes – Yeosang's eyes. You caught your breath, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. It had been months since you last saw him.

From the moment you first saw Yeosang in your university class, something clicked inside you. He had an effortless grace about him, a quiet confidence that drew you in immediately. His smile was warm, his mannerisms gentle yet assured. You found yourself stealing glances at him during lectures, captivated by the way he listened intently, his eyes occasionally flickering up to meet yours. As the weeks passed, your admiration for Yeosang deepened. You began to look forward to seeing him, cherishing every opportunity to exchange a few words or share a laugh. However, your feelings remained unspoken. You didn't dare to confess your feelings to Yeosang, fearing that it might jeopardize the friendship you had cultivated or worse, make things awkward between you.

And then came Wooyoung, who joined one of your classes midway through the semester. He was charismatic, confident, and effortlessly charming. You didn't pay much attention to him beyond acknowledging his presence in class. But as weeks passed, you noticed a change in Yeosang. He seemed more distracted, often engaging in conversations with Wooyoung during breaks or after class. At first, you tried to brush it off but as weeks turned into months, it became increasingly clear that Yeosang was falling for Wooyoung. You watched from the sidelines as their friendship blossomed into something deeper, and it stung to realize that the person you liked was now enamored with someone else. You couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy whenever you saw them together. It was the way Yeosang's eyes lit up when Wooyoung walked into the room, the way he laughed a little harder at Wooyoung's jokes, the way he seemed to gravitate towards him. It was these little things that made you realize just how much Yeosang liked Wooyoung. And it's not like you could blame him. Wooyoung was outgoing, charismatic, and undeniably attractive. But for you, it was difficult to see past the fact that he was the one who had swept your crush off his feet. And so, your dislike for Wooyoung was born more out of a sense of hurt and jealousy than anything else. You couldn't help but see him as the one who had taken away your chance with Yeosang. To make matters worse, Wooyoung seemed oblivious to the impact his presence had on your dynamics with Yeosang. Once Wooyoung and Yeosang made their relationship official, your friendship with Yeosang dwindled to non-existence. You were left alone to deal with your heartbreak, the sting of rejection, and the loss of friendship compounding your sorrow.

The sight of Wooyoung and Yeosang together became a bitter pill to swallow, a cruel reminder of your unfulfilled feelings for Yeosang. You missed the comforting presence of Yeosang. But more than anything, you missed the hope, the hope of maybe being something more than just friends with him. After your first year, you decided to switch groups to avoid seeing the boys together, and since then you haven’t seen Yeosang at all.

But as much as you wanted to avoid Wooyoung as well, it was harder than you imagined since he was your neighbor. Living so close to him meant that you often crossed paths, whether in the apartment lobby, the parking lot, or the local grocery store. Despite your best efforts to keep your distance, Wooyoung always seemed to find a way back into your life, you couldn't seem to escape him.

"Y/N?" Yeosang asked, his eyes wide as he scanned your face. "I haven't seen you in forever!" With one swift motion, he pulled you into a hug, leaving you utterly surprised. ''What are you doing here?'' Your mind raced with a mix of emotions – surprise, nostalgia, and a tinge of unresolved feelings. His warm embrace felt both familiar and foreign after months of absence, stirring memories of the friendship you had once shared before Wooyoung came into the picture.

"I could ask you the same thing," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, pulling away from the hug, your heart pounding at the close contact.

Yeosang's smile was warm and genuine as he offered, "Would you mind grabbing a drink with me?" he extended his arm towards you and despite all the confusion swirling in your mind, you found yourself unable to resist the offer.

"Yeah, sure!" you agreed, smiling weakly at him. "But I think you need to know that Wooyoung is here as well." A few months ago, a mutual friend informed you that Yeosang and Wooyoung had broken up that’s why you said the last part with hesitation, watching for Yeosang’s reaction, unsure how he might feel given their history.

He blinked in surprise at your words, his face going slightly pale. "Wooyoung is here?" he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. You nodded, biting your lip nervously. Yeosang took a deep breath, his gaze dropping to the floor. After what felt like an eternity, he finally looked up at you, a small smile on his face. "It's okay, Y/N," he said, his voice steady. "We ended things on good terms. It won't be awkward, I promise." Despite his reassurances, you could see the flash of pain in his eyes, a hint of the heartbreak he must have gone through.

You felt a pang of sympathy for him but didn't know what to say. Instead, you gave him a small smile, "Let's get that drink," you suggested, offering him a comforting smile. He nodded, his smile returning as he led you towards the makeshift bar.

As you navigated through the crowd, your mind was a whirlwind of emotions. Seeing Yeosang again stirred up old feelings, and Wooyoung's confession left you in a state of shock. Wooyoung's sudden confession surprised you. The two of you hardly spent time together after your feelings of jealousy took over, leading you to switch classes in an attempt to distance yourself. You lived in the same building so you'd sometimes meet him in the lobby, the parking lot, or the grocery store, but that was all. Any talks you had were short and you were often annoyed with him. It was clear you didn't like being around Wooyoung.

As you reached the makeshift bar, Yeosang took two glasses in his hands. "What do you feel like drinking?" he asked, his gaze turning to the drinks lined up on the counter.

"To be honest, a strong cocktail would be nice." you amended, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

"Alright, one strong cocktail coming right up." He said, his voice filled with amusement as he began to mix your drink. You watched him work, feeling a mix of nostalgia and nervousness. It was surreal being here with him after everything that had happened. Yeosang prepared two cocktails, handing one to you with a warm smile. You took a sip, the fruity tang of the drink temporarily distracting you from your thoughts.

"So, how's life treating you?" Yeosang asked, his tone was casual, but there was a genuine interest in his eyes.

"Busy," you replied with a small smile. "Classes are demanding, but I'm managing. How about you? How's everything been?"

"Pretty much the same. Classes, projects, the usual. I've been keeping myself occupied." There was a comfortable silence as you both took a moment to enjoy your drinks. The strong cocktail did wonders to calm your nerves, and you found yourself relaxing into the familiar rhythm of conversation with Yeosang.

"You know," Yeosang began, his voice softer, "I really missed our talks. It's been too long."

You looked at him, surprised by the honesty in his words. "I missed them too," you admitted, feeling a pang of regret for the time lost. "When I first heard that you and Wooyoung had broken up, I was secretly hoping you would reach out," you confessed, your gaze meeting his. There was a moment of silence as your words hung in the air. Yeosang blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by your confession. He opened his mouth to say something but seemed to struggle to find the right words. You watched as a range of emotions flitted across his face - surprise, confusion, and then, slowly, understanding.

"I...I had no idea," he finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze dropped to his drink, his fingers absently tracing the rim of the glass. "I was so absorbed in my relationship with Wooyoung, that I didn't notice I was neglecting our friendship," Yeosang confessed, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't see you the whole summer, and then I found out you switched classes. I should have reached out, I know. But I was too caught up in my own feelings. I'm sorry, Y/N," Yeosang said, looking up at you with a sincere expression, his eyes filled with regret.

You were taken aback by his sudden apology, your heart aching at the sincerity in his voice. "It's okay, Yeosang," you reassured him, reaching out to gently squeeze his hand. "We were both dealing with our own stuff. But I'm glad we're talking now."

He looked up at you, his gaze soft. "I missed you, Y/N," he admitted, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze. "I'm sorry I didn't reach out sooner." Yeosang smiled, and for a moment, it felt like old times. "I'm glad we ran into each other tonight," he said sincerely.

You returned his smile, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "Me too, Sangie. Me too," you replied.

Little did you both know, a pair of eyes were watching your interaction from across the room.

As you continued to engage in conversation with Yeosang, you finally felt the alcohol hit. Your senses began to blur slightly, the room spinning a little. Yeosang's cheeks and ears had turned a shade of red, the alcohol clearly taking effect on him too. You couldn't help but admire his handsome face, his brown, styled hair adding to his charm. He looked like an angel under the soft glow of the lights, and you found yourself staring at him, losing focus on what he was saying. Your head was getting dizzy from the alcohol, and you found your body swaying slightly. Without thinking, you rested your head on Yeosang's shoulder, your arms linked as you continued talking. The warmth from his body was comforting, easing the spinning sensation in your head. As he spoke, you found yourself staring at his lips. They moved with each word, captivating you completely. You could see the faint stubble on his upper lip, the slight curve of his lower lip, the way they moved when he pronounced certain words. His voice was a soothing hum in your ears, the words gradually losing meaning as you got lost in your thoughts. You couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to close the distance, to taste the sweet alcohol on his lips. Your gaze flickered up to meet his, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade into the background. Yeosang noticed the direction of your gaze and a faint blush colored his cheeks. He paused mid-sentence, his eyes meeting yours. His eyes held a softness that you hadn't seen in a long time, stirring a familiar warmth within you. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the alcohol loosening the tight grip of restraint. Slowly, you leaned in closer, your eyes fluttering shut, the anticipation built up, a sweet tension hanging in the air. But just as your lips were about to meet, you were pulled up by your arm.

Startled, you opened your eyes to find Wooyoung standing beside you, his gaze burning into yours. "I think you've had enough to drink, Y/N," he said, his voice stern. His grip on your arm was firm yet gentle, pulling you away from Yeosang and towards him.

"What the hell, Wooyoung?" you slurred, struggling to maintain your balance. His sudden intrusion left you disoriented, your head spinning from the abrupt movement. His eyes held a strange intensity, an emotion you couldn't quite decipher.

Yeosang looked at the two of you, his expression mixed with confusion and a hint of disappointment. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but seemed to think better of it. Wooyoung couldn't help but gaze at Yeosang as well. His eyes held a strange mix of emotions that were hard to decipher. He watched as Yeosang looked back at him, a hint of confusion and disappointment in his gaze. This interaction was one Wooyoung had not anticipated, but he couldn't deny the protective instinct that had surged within him.

Wooyoung’s voice softened as he turned to Yeosang, "Are you alright?" he asked with concern. Yeosang simply nodded, his eyes still locked on Wooyoung and you, a lingering sadness evident in his gaze. Wooyoung tightened his hold around you, his voice barely above a whisper as he scolded Yeosang gently, "You shouldn't drink so much, you know you can't handle your alcohol well."

Yeosang ran a hand through his hair, a nervous gesture that you recognized instantly. "Yeah, I know" he replied, his voice low and slightly shaky, "But I don't think it's your place to remind me, Wooyoung." His words carried a hint of bitterness that you hadn't heard from him before. Wooyoung flinched slightly, clear surprise flashing across his face. He nodded, falling silent as he tightened his hold on you once more.

"Can't I worry about you anymore?" Wooyoung asked, his voice clearly annoyed with the way this conversation was going.

Yeosang looked away, his expression hard to read. "You stopped having that right when we broke up, Wooyoung," he replied, his voice steady but filled with unspoken emotions. Wooyoung was taken aback, his grip on your arm loosening slightly.

His words carried a sting that caused Wooyoung to recoil slightly. "So, I loved you once and now I have to pretend we are strangers?" Wooyoung retorted, his voice tight with frustration. The tension between them was palpable, a stark reminder of the complex web of emotions and history that tied them together.

"No, Wooyoung. We're not strangers, but we're not lovers either. We're just two people who used to know each other very well," Yeosang replied, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. His gaze was steady, his words cutting through the tension like a knife. Wooyoung fell silent, his grip on your arm slackening as he digested Yeosang's words. "I better get going," Yeosang said, getting up from the couch. He tripped on his feet, momentarily losing his balance. He quickly steadied himself, giving you and Wooyoung one last glance before disappearing into the crowd.

After a while of uncomfortable silence, Wooyoung asked you, "Are you alright?" his voice filled with concern.

You turned to him, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I should be asking you this question," you replied, your gaze meeting his.

Wooyoung seemed taken aback by your response, but he quickly regained his composure. "I'm fine Y/N," he said, avoiding your gaze. "But are you?"

"I'm okay," you managed to say, the words coming out as a slur. You swayed slightly, your vision blurring as you tried to focus on Wooyoung's face. He sighed, his grip tightening around your waist.

"Let's get you some water," he suggested, his voice steady despite the concern on his face. He began to lead you away from the crowd, his hold on you firm yet gentle. You didn't protest, too dazed to argue.

Wooyoung led you outside, the cool night air hitting your face. It was a welcome relief from the heat of the party, the sounds of music and chatter fading into the background. He guided you to a nearby bench, helping you sit down before he sat beside you. You leaned back, closing your eyes as you tried to clear your head. The world was spinning around you, the effects of the alcohol more potent than you had anticipated. A moment of silence passed, the only sound being the distant hum of the party and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

"You shouldn't have drunk so much," Wooyoung finally broke the silence, his tone soft. You opened your eyes, turning to look at him. He was staring at you, his gaze filled with concern.

"Well, you shouldn't have dragged me to this party," you retorted, your voice coming out stronger than you intended.

"You're right, I shouldn't have," he agreed, his tone suddenly angry. He reached for the water bottle he had brought with him, handing it to you. You took it gratefully, taking small sips as you tried to sober up.

"What was that supposed to mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggled to comprehend his sudden change in tone. There was a distinct edge to his voice that you had never heard before - a hint of anger, perhaps even frustration.

His words hung in the air, their implications slowly sinking in as you tried to make sense of the situation. "I mean, I pour my heart out, confessing my fucking feelings to you, and then you just disappear. And when I find you, you're kissing my ex?" Wooyoung ruffled his hair in frustration, his words laced with a potent mix of anger and hurt.

"I did not kiss your ex," you managed to slur out, pausing to take a gulp of water in an attempt to clear your head.

Wooyoung's sudden shout startled you, causing you to nearly choke on your drink. "Fuck! Is that really the only thing you caught from everything I just said?" He was clearly frustrated, he took you by your arms, making you face him to make sure you were paying attention. "I'm confessing to you here, for fuck's sake. Do you understand?"

"Confessing?" you echoed, your mind struggling to process his words. "Wait, are you saying..." you trailed off, the realization hitting you like a ton of bricks. "You...you like me?" His confession left you reeling, a mix of shock and disbelief coursing through you.

Wooyoung simply stared at you for a moment, as if he was trying to read your thoughts. "Yes, Y/N," he finally replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I like you. I have for a while now." His words hung in the air, a confession that left you stunned "But here you are, chasing after my ex," Wooyoung's words had a bitter edge to them, his frustration evident in his voice. His confession was still ringing in your ears, adding to the surrealness of the situation. You stared at him, your mind racing to process his words. His confession was unexpected, but it started to make sense, explaining his unusual behavior throughout the night. Your heart pounded in your chest as you attempted to articulate a response. "It's funny," he said, a dry smile playing on his lips. "I always thought you hated me, and I could never figure out why." Wooyoung sighed, a soft chuckle escaping his lips despite the sadness clouding his eyes. "Now I know why," he admitted, his voice carrying a weight that was impossible to ignore. The words hung in the air, heavy with regret and understanding. His eyes held yours, a silent plea for understanding shimmering within their depths. "A fucking love triangle, for fuck's sake," Wooyoung chuckled, biting his lower lip in a mix of amusement and frustration. His heart pounded in his chest as the gravity of the situation sank in. Here he was, caught in a twisted love triangle with his ex and the girl he was falling for. The irony was not lost on him.

"Wooyoung, it's not what you think," you finally managed to say, your voice shaky. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I didn't plan on... with Yeosang... I was just... I don't know." You trailed off, your words failing to accurately convey the whirlwind of emotions within you. "I'm sorry, Wooyoung," you added, your voice barely above a whisper. The apology hung heavy in the air, a sincere admittance of your conflicted feelings. This was not how you imagined the night unfolding. The realization that you had been blind to his feelings all this time left you feeling more disoriented than the alcohol ever could. "Wooyoung," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know." The look in his eyes softened a fraction, but the hurt was still there, raw and unfiltered.

He let out a heavy sigh, releasing his grip on your arms and stepping back. "How could you have known?" he muttered, more to himself than to you. "I never had the guts to tell you until now. And when I finally do, it's at the worst possible moment." His words were filled with a raw honesty that took you by surprise, leaving you speechless. There was a heavy silence as you both sat there, his confession still lingering in the air. The cool night breeze rustled through the trees, the only sound in the otherwise quiet night. You looked at Wooyoung, his profile illuminated by the soft glow of the nearby streetlights. His eyes were downcast, a stark contrast to his usual lively demeanor. "Let's get us home," Wooyoung finally said, breaking the silence. He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. The contact was unexpected, but it felt comforting He guided you up from the bench, his hand securely wrapped around yours. The world swayed slightly as you stood, the alcohol still coursing through your veins.

"What about the car?" you suddenly asked, remembering you had driven to the party.

"Mingi's going to drive it back tomorrow," after he said that, you walked in silence, the quiet night air a stark contrast to the loud music and chatter you left behind. The soft glow of the streetlights guided your path, casting long shadows on the empty sidewalk. The only sounds were the distant hum of the city and the soft rustle of leaves under your feet. Wooyoung's grip on your hand was firm yet gentle, a silent reassurance that he was there for you.

"Wooyoung, my feet hurt," you finally voiced out, glancing down at your feet which were now visibly swollen from the uncomfortable heels you had been wearing all night. A pained expression crossed your face as you tried to flex your aching feet.

"Your feet hurt?" Wooyoung stopped in his tracks, his gaze dropping to the heels you had been wearing all night. He could see the discomfort on your face and he felt a pang of sympathy.

"Mhm," you whispered softly, your pout deepening. Wooyoung stopped, looking down at your feet in the high heels that had been giving you trouble all evening. His eyes softened upon seeing your discomfort.

"Alright, take them off, princess," Wooyoung said, his voice gentle yet firm. He let go of your hand and crouched down, reaching for the straps of your heels. You watched in surprise as he helped you out of the torturous shoes. His actions were so unexpected, yet they felt so natural, causing a smile to tug at your lips. The nickname he had just used hung in the air between you, igniting a familiar warmth in your chest. You felt a small chuckle escape your lips, the tension from earlier starting to dissipate a bit. This was a side of Wooyoung you hadn't seen before, a softer, caring side that warmed your heart.

Once he had helped you out of your shoes, Wooyoung started to untie his own shoes, "What are you doing?" you chuckled, watching as he removed his own shoes. He looked up at you with a grin, his eyes sparkling in the dim lighting.

"I'm giving you my shoes so you don't have to walk barefoot," he simply replied, handing you his shoes with a gentle smile. You took them from him, a soft laugh escaping your lips at his unexpected gesture.

"Seriously?" you asked, your voice filled with amusement. Wooyoung simply shrugged, a playful grin on his lips. You hesitated for a moment before slipping your feet into his shoes. They were slightly big for you, but significantly more comfortable than your heels.

With a satisfied nod, Wooyoung stood up and offered his arm. "Shall we continue?" he asked, his tone light. You nodded, taking his arm as you both continued walking.

The rest of the walk home was quiet, punctuated only by the occasional sound of passing cars and the soft rustling of leaves under your feet. Despite the awkwardness of the situation, you found comfort in Wooyoung's steady presence beside you. His silence was not oppressive, rather it was comforting, allowing you the space to process the night's events. Your senses gradually began to clear as you walked, the cool night breeze helping to dissipate the effects of the alcohol. The world slowly stopped spinning, and your thoughts were no longer a jumbled mess. The reality of the night's events began to sink in, causing a pang of regret to shoot through your heart. You took a deep breath, resolving to deal with the consequences of your actions once you were completely sober. For now, you were just grateful for Wooyoung's silent support and the comforting familiarity of the route back home.

You barely noticed when you reached your apartment complex, the towering building standing tall against the night sky. Wooyoung guided you to your door, his hand still securely wrapped around yours.

"Thank you, Wooyoung," you said softly, your heart pounding as you turned to face him. His gaze met yours, his eyes holding a gentleness that made your heart flutter. His silence was comforting, a stark contrast to the chaos of your thoughts.

"You're welcome, Y/N," Wooyoung replied, his voice soft. His gaze lingered on your face, drinking in your features. He squeezed your hand gently, offering you a small smile.

"I...I need to go," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. You nodded, releasing his hand. He turned to leave, his figure slowly disappearing. You watched him go, a mix of emotions washing over you. You sighed, turning to unlock your door. Once inside, you kicked off Wooyoung's shoes and collapsed onto your bed. The events of the night replayed in your mind, each detail more confusing than the last. You closed your eyes, the image of Wooyoung's hurt expression etched into your memory. A wave of guilt washed over you. Wooyoung's confession had been unexpected, but your reaction had been even more so. You pulled your blanket over your head, the guilt gnawing at your conscience. You took a deep breath, forcing your mind to clear. You needed to sort out your feelings, to figure out what you truly wanted. You decided to take a shower. The warm water cascading down your body provided a momentary relief, but it didn't really help to calm your thoughts. You kept thinking about Wooyoung, his confession kept echoing in your mind. Yeosang, who had been at the forefront of your mind earlier, now seemed like a distant memory. Each time you closed your eyes, you saw Wooyoung's face, his gaze filled with a mix of hurt and hope, his words echoing in your mind. You mindlessly brushed your teeth and changed into a pair of comfortable shorts and a T-shirt. Getting into bed, you couldn't fall asleep. You were feeling too many things, each stronger than the last. You moved around in bed, with the quiet night making your thoughts louder. Suddenly, you felt a strong need to act. You couldn't stand your confusing thoughts anymore, so you decided to face them. You jumped from the bed and ran to your apartment door, your heart beating fast. Forgetting to lock the door, you quickly climbed the stairs to the next floor, your heart beating loudly. You stopped at Wooyoung's door, worried he might be asleep and your late visit would be pointless. But you decided to go ahead. You took a deep breath to calm down and knocked on Wooyoung's door.

After a few moments, the door creaked open. Wooyoung stood there, looking surprised to see you. "Y/N? What are you doing here at this hour?" he asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

His surprised expression made your heart race even more, "Can I come in?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Wooyoung blinked in surprise before stepping aside to let you in. "Of course, come in." He led you to his living room, the space dimly lit by a single standing lamp. You walked in, your heart pounding in your chest. Wooyoung closed the door behind you and turned to face you, his expression one of concern. "Is everything alright, Y/N?"

But instead of answering, you slowly reached out, placing your hand on his. He looked at you, surprise flickering across his eyes. "Wooyoung...," you started, unsure of what to say. You squeezed his hand gently, ''Kiss me," you whispered, your voice barely audible. Wooyoung's eyes widened at your words, a mix of surprise and disbelief flashing across his face. For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if trying to determine if he had heard you correctly. "I just need to check something, so kiss me, please?" you pleaded, your voice barely above a whisper. The request hung heavy in the air, a question that held the potential to change everything. Wooyoung's eyes widened in shock, and he searched your face for any hint of hesitation or insincerity. His gaze softened as he saw the earnest plea in your eyes. "I brushed my teeth," you told him, a small smile playing on your lips. This caused him to chuckle, his laugh broke the tension, a small ray of light in an otherwise heavy situation.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," Wooyoung responded, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Wouldn't want to kiss a mouth full of party snacks and alcohol, now would we?" At that, your smile widened a bit, the humor in his comment easing some of your nervousness. Then, slowly, he leaned in, his eyes locked on yours. His gaze was intense, filled with a mix of emotions that set your heart racing. It was as if he was silently pleading for you to understand, to accept his feelings. In that moment, you felt a connection, a spark that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Are you going to just keep looking at me like that, or are you actually going to kiss me?" you teased, an amused quirk of his lips was his initial response, the corners of his mouth curling into a small, but warm, smile. Your playful tone seemed to have done the trick, Wooyoung’s gaze softened, his gaze flickering momentarily to your lips before returning to meet your eyes. The playful challenge in your words hung in the air, a silent invitation awaiting his response. For a moment, all you could hear was your own heart pounding in anticipation. You found yourself holding your breath, eagerly waiting for his next move. "What are you afraid of?" you whispered, his eyes reflecting a hint of surprise at your question.

"Afraid?" he echoed, a playful spark in his eyes as he leaned in closer. "Not even a bit." Without another word, he closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a soft, gentle kiss. The world seemed to pause as his lips met yours, the soft pressure sending a jolt of surprise through you. It was a gentle kiss, yet filled with a raw intensity that took your breath away. His lips moved against yours in a slow, deliberate rhythm, the intoxicating taste of him making your head spin even more. His hand found its way to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and deepening the kiss. You responded instinctively, your hands tangling in his hair as you kissed him back. The world around you seemed to fade into insignificance, the only thing that mattered was the feel of his lips against yours, the warmth of his body against yours. It was a while before you both pulled away, the need for air becoming too great. You looked at him, his eyes were bright, his cheeks flushed. His lips were slightly swollen from the kiss and for a moment, you wondered if yours looked the same.

"Well..." he started, his voice slightly hoarse. "Did you...check what you needed to check?" His words were light, but his eyes held a seriousness that suggested he was waiting for your answer with bated breath.

You nodded, your mind still reeling from the kiss. "Yeah..." you said, your voice barely a whisper. "I did." You weren't quite sure what you had expected to feel but whatever it was, it felt right. His confession, his kiss, it was unexpected, but it felt...right. Your heart raced as you looked into Wooyoung's eyes, feeling the warmth of his hand still on the back of your neck. You took a moment to gather your thoughts, still reeling from the intensity of the kiss. Slowly, a smile spread across your face, mirroring his own playful demeanor. "I think I got my answer," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "But just to be sure..." You leaned in again, closing the distance between you, capturing his lips with yours in another kiss. This time, the kiss was deeper, more passionate, as if confirming what both of you had been silently longing for. His response was immediate, his lips moving with a renewed fervor against yours. The gentle pressure, the taste of him, the way his fingers lightly traced your jawline sent shivers down your spine. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, staring into each other's eyes with a mixture of disbelief and desire.

Wooyoung chuckled softly, his forehead resting on yours, as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face. "So, did that clear things up for you?" he asked, his voice husky with emotion.

You nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Yeah," you murmured, "It definitely did."

"Good," he said, his eyes lighting up at your smile. "Because I...I really like you, Y/N," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I hope that...maybe...you might feel the same way."

Your heart fluttered at his words, a warmth spreading through you. You looked at him, your eyes meeting his in a silent understanding. "I...I think I might," you admitted, your voice barely a whisper.

His eyes widened in surprise, a hopeful smile spreading across his face. "Really?" he asked, his voice filled with a mixture of surprise and hope.

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Really," you confirmed, your heart pounding in your chest. His smile widened, his eyes lighting up with a joy that made your heart flutter. You felt a warmth spread through you, a sense of rightness that you hadn't felt in a long time. You felt a surge of embarrassment rush through you as Wooyoung’s gaze continued to rake over your attire. A flush crept up your neck and you instinctively brought a hand up to hide your reddening face. Wooyoung let out a hearty laugh at your reaction, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Go away, Wooyoung," you muttered from behind your hand, your voice muffled yet audibly flustered.

Wooyoung, however, seemed to find your blush endearing. He raised an eyebrow at your retort, a smirk playing on his lips. "Go away? Where am I supposed to go, princess?" he replied, his tone teasing. His words only served to deepen your blush, but you couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped your lips at his ridiculousness. Without a word, you pushed him playfully, trying to hide the smile that tugged at your lips. Wooyoung only laughed, his eyes twinkling as he caught your hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

You rolled your eyes, yet the warmth in your chest didn’t dissipate. "You're insufferable, Wooyoung," you said, but your fond tone contradicted your words.

He simply grinned in response, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "And you wouldn't have it any other way," he retorted, his voice full of affection.

"Maybe I wouldn't," you admitted, a soft smile on your lips.

#ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #ateez x female reader #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez oneshot #wooyoung x y/n #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung x you #wooyoung fluff #wooyoung oneshot

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redroomreflections · 5 months

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II HANDS II HEAVEN 5

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Summary: Natasha Romanoff and Reader reluctantly team up for a couples retreat mission. Despite initial resistance, they find themselves drawn together by unexpected circumstances and shared experiences.

W/c: 3.2k.

Masterlist | General Masterlist

“Red or Blue?” You asked Natasha as you sifted through one of your many suitcases. Clothes were strewn about on the floor around you as you debated what to wear. It wasn’t exactly a tough choice but first impressions mattered. Even if the first impressions you were banking on weren’t the other hotel guests.

“What?” She glanced up from her phone, confusion evident in her furrowed brow. “Why are you asking me?”

She was busy debriefing Steve and the team on a few minor details. Small things she picked up about the resort from your time in the lobby. So far, as expected, everything seemed normal.

You glanced over, noticing her distraction, and rolled your eyes. "Just trying to involve you in the decision-making process. You know, team effort. Don’t you have girlfriends that you discuss outfit choices with?”

"Not really my style," She replied dryly, before resuming her conversation with Steve and the team, seamlessly slipping back into her professional demeanor.

“I can see,” You muttered as you slipped into the bathroom. You took your time changing into the black suit, tying it as best you could behind your neck before you snapped the straps of the bottoms on your waistline. You walk back over to your suitcase, squatting to find your favorite lotion-sunscreen combo that always has your skin looking lovely and sparkly. “I guess it’s not okay to ask you if I should wear my hair up or down?” You tilted your head, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you applied generous amounts of lotion to your legs. With one knee bent, you glanced over to Natasha, waiting for her response.

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement as she glanced up from her phone. "I suppose you can ask," she replied. "But don't expect any expert advice from me."

You shook your head. What a shame. "Fair enough," you conceded, finishing up with the lotion before returning to your suitcase. "Looks like it's just me and my questionable fashion sense then."

It’s then Natasha truly looked at you. This bikini was wow. In every sense of the word. It was very little, borderline inappropriate, but also somehow still tasteful. Natasha's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary as she took in the sight, a subtle appreciation glinting in her eyes.

"Um, Natasha?" You prompted, noticing her prolonged scrutiny.

Natasha blinked, snapping out of her reverie. "Oh, uh, sorry," she replied, clearing her throat. "Wear your hair down. It suits the look."

You didn't catch her response at first, too engrossed in adjusting the straps of your bikini top. "What was that?" you asked, looking up to meet her gaze.

Natasha repeated herself, her tone more decisive this time. "I said, wear it down. It looks good."

You grinned in response, nodding in agreement before turning your attention back to your reflection in the mirror. Natasha's subtle compliment brought warmth to your cheeks and a little more pep in your step.

“Are you wearing that?” You gestured to her as you made eye contact in the mirror across from the bed. It's an interesting choice on the resort’s part. Natasha’s outfit was homely but not in an insulting kind of way. A comfy set since the both of you had spent hours in the car. With this blonde hair, she resembled the everyday girl next door.

“Of course not,” Natasha shook her head. She grabbed her bikini from the luggage she’d unpacked already at this point. “Don’t turn around.” She warned you.

You turned your gaze toward the mirror, only to witness a blur of motion behind you. Clothes flew through the air as Natasha swiftly shed her sweatpants and t-shirt and stepped into her one-piece swimsuit with practiced efficiency.

The speed and fluidity of her movements left you momentarily speechless, your mouth suddenly feeling dry as you watched in awe. You attempted to distract yourself with the jewelry in front of you. Diamond hoop earrings and a small heart-shaped necklace.

Natasha looked up from fastening her sandals. "Are you ready?"

You raised an eyebrow in mock indignation. "You just got dressed and you’re already rushing me?"

Natasha chuckled, her smirk widening as she shook her head. "I like to stay ahead of schedule," she replied, her tone teasing.

You rolled your eyes with a grin. "Alright, alright," you conceded, reaching for your sandals. "I'm ready when you are."

“You’re wearing jewelry to the pool?” She questioned, pushing the Fendi sunglasses over her hair.

Natasha's question caught you off guard as you adjusted your jewelry, a puzzled expression on your face.

You glanced down at your accessories, contemplating her observation for a moment before shrugging nonchalantly. "Why not?" you replied, your fingers deftly arranging the delicate pieces. "A little extra never hurt anyone."

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “ If you say so," she conceded."Just don't come crying to me if you lose something in the water."

“Don’t worry I’ll find some hot pool boy to find it for me,” You shrugged.

Natasha arched an eyebrow, a smirk playing on her lips as she shot back with equal snarkiness, "Just make sure he's qualified for the job."

***********

The pool area stirred with activity, a lively mix of people young and old enjoying the serene surroundings. The crystal-clear water sparkled under the sun's gentle rays, creating a picturesque scene that called to you.

Finding a few empty seats nearby, you and Natasha made your way over, the soft chatter of voices and the occasional splash of water filling the air. There was some reggae mix on the stereo as the bartender called out names for drinks. Dropping your bags and book onto the nearest chair, you settled down with a contented sigh, sinking into the welcoming embrace of the cushioned seat.

“Joan, sweetie,” You said with a mischievous grin, turning to Natasha. “I left my towel back in the room. Won’t you be a dear and grab me one?”

Natasha narrowed her eyes at your request, having just settled into her seat. She tilted her head slightly, a hint of annoyance in her gaze as she considered your cheeky demeanor. With a low growl, Natasha stood and walked over to the shelf where the spare towels were. She grabbed a few, walking back over to you with a frown.

“Here,” She gently passed a towel to you. “Anything else?”

“Hmm,” You thought long and hard. “I’d love a strawberry-lemon mojito.”

Natasha's eyes narrowed further at your response."Keep dreaming," she wanted to say, but for the sake of appearances, she sighed and walked over to the bartender.

You watched her walk away, your eyes lingering on certain assets longer than necessary. You could admit that Natasha had an amazing physique. Something you had always admired from a distance.

A subtle flush crept up your cheeks as you realized the direction of your thoughts. Despite your professionalism, you couldn't deny the admiration you held for Natasha's physical prowess. It was a quality you had always respected, even if you had never openly acknowledged it before.

She’d probably kill you if you did it anyway.

Turning your attention back to the pool, you made a conscious effort to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside any lingering distractions. Beside you, you noticed an older woman with graying hair casting a curious glance in your direction. Her eyes flashed with interest as she leaned closer, a warm smile gracing her lips.

“Newlyweds?” she ventured, her voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.

"Yeah, how'd you know?" you replied, feigning innocence as you awaited her response.

The older lady chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with amusement at your response. "Oh, it's just something about the way you two carry yourselves," she explained with a knowing smile. "There's a certain glow of happiness and togetherness that newlyweds often have. It's unmistakable."

“Wow, you got all that in the five minutes you saw us together?” You questioned. “Are you a psychic or something?”

"Only in a past life," She laughed lightly. "I'm Leslie. And this is my husband Frank. “She referred to the sleeping man with a slight sunburn next to her. You are?" she introduced herself, extending her hand in a gesture of greeting.

"Alexis," you replied with a warm smile, accepting her handshake. "Nice to meet you, Leslie. My lovely wife over there is Joan."

"Oh, I love this newer generation of out and proud love," Leslie smiled wistfully. "It’s so beautiful to see. Such a beautiful couple too. Is this your first time at the resort?"

"Thank you, Leslie," you replied sincerely, touched by her kindness. "Yes, it's our first time here. We heard wonderful things about the resort and couldn't resist experiencing it for ourselves."

“And how do you like it?” Her eyes sparkled with interest.

"It's been quite lovely so far," You added. “It’s been a while since we’ve taken a proper vacation together. I’m so excited for the week we’re here.”

Leslie's excitement was contagious as she spoke about the upcoming events at the resort. "You’re going to be blown away by all of the events this week," she grinned. "There’s a special bonfire tomorrow night that’s simply fabulous. It’s intimate and cozy. Allows you to make friends on vacation."

Your interest was piqued at the mention of the bonfire, as it hadn’t been mentioned in any of the research you’d done. Maybe it was a new development."That sounds wonderful," you replied with genuine enthusiasm, masking any hint of suspicion behind your smile. "We'll definitely have to check it out."

“You absolutely should,” Leslie began to stand. “It would be wonderful for a lovely couple like you to grace us with your presence.” Leslie’s aching bones limited her mobility as she shuffled around the chairs. “I’m going to the bathroom. If Frank wakes up, which I doubt he will, be a dear and tell him I’ll be back.”

“Will do, Leslie,” You nodded, offering a warm smile. She seemed nice enough. You returned your gaze to Natasha to see that she was engaged in a conversation of her own. Seems that people naturally gravitated to both of you.

*******************

For the first time in days, Natasha found a moment of peace at the bar. She settled onto one of the stools, swaying gently to the rhythm of the music as she signaled to the bartender. As he approached Natasha did a quick once over of his body. Something someone of his attractiveness would be used to. His dark, mahogany skin glowed with a natural warmth, complemented by a smile that seemed to light up the entire bar.

His hair, a messy of glossy curls, framed his face in a wild and untamed mane, adding to his charm.

He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black pants that appeared to be the uniform for all of the staff.

"Hello," Natasha greeted him with a warm smile, her tone playful yet composed. "I'll take a strawberry and lemon mojito, and hmm," she paused, pressing a finger to her chin in contemplation. She was completely in character at the moment. "Surprise me. Something fruity."

"Coming right up," he replied with a nod, before stepping over to his work area.

Natasha watched him for a few moments longer before her eyes trailed over the pool area, she couldn't help but notice the diverse display of people and their lively parties. Briefly, her gaze flickered in your direction, a silent acknowledgment of your presence. You managed to look so relaxed already. Though she could see the subtle ways your eyes would flick over the pool area whenever you laughed or spoke to the older woman sitting beside you.

“Hey, Henry, that couple’s here again.” A short woman with bone-straight brunette hair and botox lips informed him as she stepped behind the counter. She did quick work of washing her hands and gathering abandoned dishes on the bar. Natasha squinted to see her name tag. Blanca. A fitting name.

“Which one?” Henry, the bartender Natasha had spoken to moments earlier, briefly glanced over to her.

“The one with the dog,” Blanca sighed. “Don’t know why Jorge keeps allowing them to bring it. He’s anxious and it’s too hot out here for him anyway.”

Henry furrowed his brow in concern, glancing briefly in the direction of the couple with the dog approaching. "That doesn't sound good," he remarked."Have they caused any trouble?"

Blanca shook her head, her lips pursed in disapproval. "Not yet, but it's only a matter of time. You know how Jorge is, always bending the rules for certain guests."

Natasha's mind raced with possibilities as she listened to their conversation. The mention of Jorge and his leniency towards certain guests hinted at a potential breach in security or protocol.

“Here you are ma’am,” Henry passed Natasha both drinks before she stood to walk back to her seat.

As she passed the couple, the dog in question moved over to sniff Natasha in greeting.

“Oh, hello there,” Natasha smiled warmly, reaching out a hand to give the dog a gentle pat on the head. This certainly wasn’t a service dog based on his relaxed demeanor.

“Oh, Ozzy is so friendly, I’m so sorry,” The woman with platinum blonde hair and several tattoos attached to the leash apologized to Natasha, a hint of concern in her voice.

Natasha waved off the apology with a gracious smile. "No need to apologize, he's quite adorable," she reassured the woman, her tone friendly and welcoming.

As Natasha continued interacting with the dog, she noted the couple's appearance and demeanor. Something about them didn't quite fit the typical resort guest profile of this caliber, and Natasha's instincts told her there might be more to their presence than meets the eye. They both seemed so uptight and frazzled.

Natasha gave them another smile and walked back over to you.

“Took you long enough my drink is probably watered-down liquor,” You pouted. “Eh, this is wow.” You coughed. It wasn’t nasty. It was strong and certainly had more alcohol than fruit somehow.

Natasha arched an eyebrow at your remark.

"Well, perhaps next time you can come behind the bar and make it yourself," she quipped, her tone laced with playful sarcasm. "Then you can ensure it meets your exacting standards."

“My existing standards led me to you,” You said through your teeth.

Natasha's lips curved into a smirk as she settled into the seat beside you, her gaze locking with yours in a silent exchange of understanding.

"Well, lucky me," she retorted. "I'll make sure to keep living up to those standards then."

"Does it ever end?" You fake whispered, turning your head towards Leslie, attempting to convey your thoughts discreetly.

Leslie caught your gaze and smiled kindly, her eyes reflecting understanding. At least she had the decency to pretend she wasn’t listening. "Oh, dear," she replied with a chuckle. "Sometimes it feels like it never does, but there's always a light at the end of the tunnel."

"J, this is Leslie," You introduced Natasha smoothly, seamlessly slipping into your cover story. "She’s my new best friend."

"It's lovely to meet you, Leslie," Natasha added with a friendly smile, her tone warm and genuine.

“Well, aren't you two just the sweetest pair," she remarked, her voice tinged with affection. "I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, Joan. I was telling your wife here about the bonfire tomorrow. It’s something special. You have to see it."

You nodded in agreement, your smile genuine as you responded. "We wouldn't miss it for the world, Leslie. Thank you for the recommendation. It sounds like a wonderful way to spend the evening."

As the conversation dwindled, eventually Leslie drifted over to the poolside and began to make conversation with a few older women. Natasha began to go through the bag she’d brought to the pool and found a small bottle of sunscreen.

"Here, rub this on me," She instructed you, handing you a bottle of sunscreen.

"Why?" you asked, a hint of confusion in your voice as you eyed her pale skin. "Didn’t you already put some on before?"

Natasha gave you a pointed look, her expression conveying a mixture of exasperation and amusement. "Don’t question the logic, just do it," she replied firmly, holding out her arm expectantly.

As you began applying sunscreen to Natasha's exposed skin, you couldn't help but feel a sense of resignation wash over you. Silently, you wondered why you had taken on this job in the first place. It wasn't that you were truly angry; in fact, you were the complete opposite.

This part of the mission had never been difficult before. Playing the part of a fake doting wife had practically become second nature to you. But being here with Natasha felt different. There was something about her presence that stirred emotions within you, emotions you hadn't expected to surface during the mission.

Natasha turned her back to you, dropping the straps of her swimsuit lower on her arms so you could reach her shoulders. The intimacy of the moment caught you off guard, and for a brief moment, you found yourself lost in the sensation of her warm skin beneath your fingertips.

As you rubbed the warm cream into Natasha's skin, the muscles of her back flexed slightly beneath your touch. You couldn't help but notice the way her body responded to your ministrations, and a rush of thoughts flooded your mind. They weren't entirely pure thoughts, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt at the direction your mind was wandering.

But then, a small comfort washed over you - at least Natasha couldn't read minds. You silently thanked whatever higher power existed for that small mercy, grateful that your innermost thoughts remained your own.

"I think we could hang out by the pool for a few hours and then call it a night," Natasha suggested, her voice breaking the comfortable silence between you. "Maybe go over some things."

"Sounds like a plan," you replied, masking any hint of hesitation with a casual tone. "A bit of relaxation by the pool is exactly what I’m here for.”

“Only that?” Natasha looked over her shoulder to you. “And the beautiful women,” You muttered under your breath.

Natasha's expression shifted slightly, a flicker of annoyance crossing her features as she turned to face you fully. "Really?" she questioned, her voice carrying a note of exasperation.

You chuckled, recognizing her annoyance but unable to resist pushing her buttons just a little. "Hey, just stating the obvious," You replied with a shrug.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Well, try to keep your eyes open okay?" she retorted, a touch of teasing in her tone despite her annoyance. “Don’t sleep with anyone behind my back.”

“I wouldn’t dare,” You pressed a hand to your chest, faking scandilization. “How dare you insinuate I would ever cheat on my beautiful, intelligent, and hot wife.”

“That drink was stronger than you’re letting on,” Natasha smirked knowingly.

“Maybe,” You shrugged. “I guess we’ll never know.” You sighed as you lounged in the chair, your head pointed towards the sun. Natasha turned in her chair to watch you for a few seconds longer before she laid back in her chair.

So far, there was nothing out of the ordinary about this place. It seemed like a typical resort, with sun-drenched pool areas, lush tropical foliage, and guests lounging lazily in the warm afternoon sun.

Everything appeared to be just as it should be, with no signs of the covert operations or clandestine activities that you had been tasked with uncovering.

Despite the lack of immediate danger or suspicious behavior, you remained vigilant, knowing that appearances could be deceiving.

next part

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #black reader #black widow x female reader #black widow x reader #natasha romanov #natasha x you

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madamsnape921 · 2 months

Text

Phone Help

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x female reader

WC: 2557

Warning: f/f smut; I really went out of my comfort zone for this one but I think it turned out okay; my husband deserves a shout out for his help of writing this one: Thank you, Nick!

Tags: @alwaysachorusgirl @beccabarba @storiesofsvu

You had just started your first month at Quantico, not exactly your dream job but it provided a steady income and federal benefits. It was a relief to be able to afford a two-bedroom apartment in the city after your recent relationship ended. However, the agents were a challenge. They were arrogant, thinking they were the ultimate saviors, and their actions reflected that attitude.

“YN?”

As you snap out of your self-absorbed tirade, you notice one of the top members from the Behavioral Analysis Unit standing in front of you, looking just as perplexed as you feel. Why is she here? You wonder to yourself.

“Yes, Agent…?” you look for a nametag.

“Prentiss. Emily Prentiss. I am with the BAU. So, hey. Our normal tech person is not keen on doing our personal phones. She mentioned I should come to the new girl, which I am assuming is you, to help me?”

You despised phone work. Actually, you loathed it. But you knew that earning some brownie points with a senior agent could be beneficial in the future. So, you forced yourself to answer the call and politely responded, "Of course, Agent Prentiss. What can I assist you with?"

“The phone is acting slow and I can’t seem to find any of my files,” she hands you a card. “YN, here is my work number. Call me when you figure it out?”

“Sure. I’ll look at it here and then I’ll see what I can…,” you started.

I'd rather not use agency time or equipment for this task. The data on my device is personal and I don't want anyone else to have access to it. One of my close friends happens to be a top-notch hacker, so she probably has something lurking around in there.”

Prentiss gave a nod and then exited your office. She walked away with ease, her sensible pantsuit moving smoothly with each step.

After a grueling day at work, you finally reach your apartment. Your fingers are still warm from typing on the keyboards as you touch the doorknob. You step inside and are greeted by your faithful feline companions. "Sorry guys, Mom has to fix a friend's phone."

A friend's phone? That was unexpected, you thought.

You pour yourself a glass of wine and sit down at your computer, confident that this task will not take too much time. All I need to do is scan the phone for any harmful files and reinstall everything. It should be a piece of cake, you think to yourself. After completing the scan and finding everything to be in order, you give Agent Prentiss a call, relieved by the ease of the process.

“Hey, Agent Prentiss, it’s YN. Your phone is finishing up now. If you want to head down I can text you my address.”

“YN, that would be fantastic! Thank you for being so efficient,” Prentiss exclaimed. “I'll be at your residence in 15 minutes.”

“How do you know that?” you asked.

“I’m with the government. I know everything,” Prentiss joked.

After completing the scan, you realize that there is an issue. The program alerts you to the presence of a malicious app on the phone, Calculator PlusPlus. You launch the app and it prompts for a password. Using your own knowledge, you successfully crack the password and let out a triumphant laugh, "Take that, Penelope."

The next thing you see are numerous pictures of nude women, all with the same hair color and style as you. This must be what's taking up all the storage space on the phone, along with all of the data. You panic when you hear a knock at the door.

“YN, it’s Emily. I’m here about my phone,” Prentiss called from the hall.

DOUBLE SHIT. MINIMIZE MINIMIZE MINIMIZE! SHIT it’s frozen. SHITSHITSHIT.

“YN, I thought it was ready,” Prentiss knocked again.

After hearing a knock at your door, you call out "Coming!" and get up to answer it. You open the door to see Agent Prentiss standing there.

"Hey there, Agent Prentiss. Please come in," you say with a smile, dressed in your comfortable lounge pants and cat mom tank top.

“Please call me Emily, we’re not at work.” You close the door behind her, her in the same suit from work.

“Please sit. Do you want something to drink?” you offer.

“I’ll have a beer. It’s been hell with the BAU.” She sits on your couch and begins to pet one of your cats. “Beautiful cats, YN!”

“Thanks, they’re my babies,” you smile.

You grab the beer from the fridge and pop it open, handing it to Prentiss. As you both relax and chat about work and other small talk, an hour and a half quickly passes by. Suddenly, you remember something and say, "Oh, your phone! It's in my room. I'll go get it for you."

Upon entering your room, you find the computer still frozen on a picture of a nude woman. The figure resembles you, but not entirely. It's almost like a lower-quality version of yourself. You are immediately jolted by the realization that these intimate images are displayed prominently on your oversized screen.

“Oh, I see you found the Calculator PlusPlus App…,” Prentiss whispered.

“OH MY GOD! I AM SO SORRY. I was trying to find any malicious apps and I cracked this one’s code and…. I wasn’t snooping. I promise,” you apologised.

“I believe you, but you know what this means, right” Prentiss scowled.

“No…,” you said in response.

Prentiss puts her hand on her gun holster, “I’ll have to kill you to keep my secret safe.”

The room fell silent, and Prentiss let out a chuckle. "Just kidding," she said with a smirk. "Just put them back and don't tell anyone. I have a type...smart, dark-haired girls like yourself."

The phone was too easy to fix. Would she… she wouldn’t.

Prentiss gently brushed your hair and whispered, "We can keep another secret just between us, if you'd like." Your face paled as she tenderly kissed your lips. You had never been with a woman before, let alone one as stunning as her. Feeling unsure of yourself, you tentatively kissed her back, unsure of what to do next.

“Do you want to do this, YN?”

You nod your head.

Prentiss continued to kiss you softly. Mostly on the center of your mouth, but then switching to the left and the right sides, keeping you guessing. You felt yourself become weak in the knees.

“Let’s sit on the bed, YN.”

“Yes, Agent Prentiss.”

You both sat on the bed and continued to kiss. Prentiss’ hands exploring your body. Your mind and your arms begin to open up.

“Good girl, YN. Take off my jacket.”

You obey the orders given to you, carefully removing her jacket and placing it on the chair next to the bedside table. She sits there, still wearing a sleeveless blouse and her gun holster.

“Now take off your top, YN.”

You cautiously remove your top, wondering how she has such control over you. Your breasts are now exposed to the cool air, and the intense energy in the room causes your nipples to harden. Suddenly, a soft yet firm suction envelops your left nipple, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You've had boyfriends do this before, but never a woman. Prentiss continues to knead and suck on your breast while gently stroking your hair, creating an overwhelming sense of bliss.

Prentiss stopped and moved to the other breast. It was just as amazing. However, you where brought out of bliss with a sharp bite. “Ow,” you moaned.

“Pay attention,” Prentiss stated.

“Yes, Agent Prentiss,” you moaned again.

Prentiss finished with that breast and stood up and removed her shirt, bra, and gun holster. “Now you do me,” she smiled.

You attempted to replicate Prentiss’ actions on her, but your efforts fell short. Prentiss chuckled and giggled as you struggled, until you accidentally bit down too hard. She stopped and got up. You panicked.

“Pants off. Now!” Prentiss ordered.

“Yes, Agent Prentiss,” you jumped to your feet and stripped. She stood there and watched you sit back on the bed.

“Lay back.” You did as you were told. “Now don’t cum until I say or I will have to leave. Understand?”

“Yes, Agent Prentiss,” you sigh.

Prentiss flashed a sly smile before sinking to her knees. From this new vantage point, she spotted a drawer slightly open and couldn't help but peek inside. She found a small vibrating wand tucked away and placed it beside her feet. Starting at your thighs, she lavished kisses leading up to your glistening womanhood. You let out a soft moan as she got closer to your sensitive areas. With deft fingers, she parted your lips and exposed you fully to the world. "I bet your ex never did this," she said with a hint of smugness. "And I guarantee it won't be this good with anyone else."

Prentiss pressed her tongue against the sensitive spot above your clit, applying a constant and firm pressure. At the same time, she used her thumbs to press into your lips, causing a rush of sensation to flood through your body. It was a new experience for you, and you couldn't help but gasp in response. With a smile, Prentiss continued her oral exploration, slowly moving down from the flat spot towards your hood. She flicked her tongue gently against your hood, alternating between soft and medium pressure while also pulsing on your opening and lips. Your moans of pleasure grew louder with each movement she made.

“Don’t cum, YN. Don’t be a bad cadet!”

“Yes, Agent Prentiss, I will be a good cadet.” Cadet, where did that come from?!

Prentiss started licking your clit. This licking was a continued game of alternate pressures and circular licking. You hear a vibrator turn on.

SHIT! SHE FOUND MY STASH!

Prentiss moaned.

“You naked girl, spread out for me, huh?” She did two licks around your clit. “Mmm, who’s wearing the pants, cadet?”

“You are, Agent Prentiss.”

“And who is the naked slut, cadet?”

“I am the naked slut, Agent Prentiss.”

“Who’s in command of this pussy, cadet?”

“Agent Prentiss is the commander of this pussy.”

Prentiss then takes the vibrator and places it firmly on your clit. You start to buck. You are so close. You don’t want her to leave. Prentiss then takes two fingers and slides them into you, putting sudden and strong pressure on you G-Spot.”

“What do you want, cadet?”

“To cum, Agent Prentiss.”

“You may cum, as long as you ask nicely.”

“May I cum, Agent Prentiss?”

“Nicer.”

“May I please cum, Agent Prentiss?”

With that she presses hard against your clit with the vibrator and your g-spot with her fingers. You quake as a hard, loud, and wet orgasm rolled through you. You feel shaking and the last thing you see before passing out is a smiling Prentiss.

You came to and found Prentiss taking her phone from your computer. She is now fully dressed.

“How long was I out?”

“Thirty seconds or so. I got you a glass of water. It’s on your table. I’m going to leave, wheels up in the morning.”

“If you need any more phone help, let me know.”

“Oh, next time I need phone help I’ll make sure you do all the work.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You can feel every thrust deep inside you. Each one makes a distinctive thud and shlick sound. Your orgasm is building, getting closer with every movement. You tightly grip onto the strapon as it fills you up. Nothing has ever felt as unyielding and solid as this before. The plug in your backside grinds against the bright red toy, adding to the intense pleasure of being penetrated.

“Come for me, Cadet.” Prentiss demanded.

You feel the grip of orgasm squeeze you tightly and pleasure erupts from within your core. Your body trembles and shivers as a powerful orgasm overcomes you. As it subsides, you take a moment to catch your breath.

"That was incredible," you exclaimed with gratitude.

"Rocking a holster isn't the only thing I'm good at," Prentiss replied with a sly grin on her face.

She gently pulls out your plug and carefully cleans you up with a towel from the bedside table. You thank her with a smile as she helps you stand up and put on a robe. Prentiss starts to get dressed, putting on her panties first before reaching for her pants.

“Why don’t we spend the day together? We can watch a movie?” You suggested.

“YN, we just finished fucking… you don’t need to ask me for a “movie” to watch,” she laughed.

“No really, Emily, stay with me.”

You two have been fucking feverishly and often in a kinky mist of desire and need for a few weeks at this point. Emily was not an odd name to call her, but it was new. You didn’t know if you should call her that or Prentiss.

“Why? We both finished and I’m sure you’re busy today. As am I.” Prentiss declared.

“Actually, it’s Saturday… at 11 am. I’m off today. Aren’t you? Or am I a lunchtime snack?” you smiled.

“You’re definitely satisfying my appetite,” she replied with a coy smile.

I stood up from the bed and handed her a shirt.

“So, we have underwear and shirts covered… I’ll grab some drinks. You can choose the movie.” You suggested.

Prentiss strolled into the living room and switched on Netflix while you headed towards the kitchen. You grabbed her favorite European beer from the fridge, excited for the chance to surprise her. Balancing both beverages in your hands, you made your way back to the couch where Prentiss had already pulled up "Une vie de chat," a French cartoon about a cat.

You sit down and offer her the beer.

“Thank you! This is my favorite beer! It’s only at that one German store downtown. How’d you know?”

“You mentioned it once. I thought it’d be a nice treat,” you smiled.

As the cat's misadventures unfold, you realize that you and Prentiss have gravitated towards each other on the spacious couch. You rest your head on her shoulder as you continue to watch the show together.

As she begins to say, "This is my favorite..." you rest your head on her shoulder. Emily grins and gently kisses the top of your forehead. It's a new experience for both of you, but it feels natural and perfect in that moment. Your stomach flutters with excitement, but it's a pleasant sensation that matches the rhythm of your heart. It's a mix of thrilling and serene feelings all at once.

"Emily, this is really nice," you say with a smile.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it, YN. It's been a while since I've felt this relaxed. I could definitely get used to this," she replies, returning the smile.

"I have a proposition for you. In here, I have my Emily and in there..." you start, but she interrupts with a knowing smile.

"...you have Agent," she finished your sentence. You try to hide in her embrace, but she finds you anyway.

"Yes, YN, you can have your Emily out here and your Agent in there," she confirmed, snuggling into you as you both fall asleep watching TV together.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #emily prentiss fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction

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starwrighter · 2 years

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The first out of three prompts I'm throwing out this month

Featuring my favorite trope of de aging the ghost boy for trauma and angst purposes :D

Okay! So Danny gets captured by the G.I.W or the Fenton's he's experimented on until his body can no longer take it and he retreats back into his core. Since he is still in the G.I.W's/ the Fenton's lab this doesn't exactly help him escape. With Sadistic Joy the G.I.W/ Fenton's start experimenting with Danny's core. They don't manage to break his core fortunately (whether it be because halfa cores are hard to break or the sheer powerhouse that is Danny you decide!)

Danny reforms before they could figure out how to use his core as a weapon and this causes some side effects. Both halves of him were balanced with each other, instincts clicked into place. New organs and features of his body worked perfectly with his newly enhanced human ones. Only problem with this was that he was now a baby. A literal baby like a little under a year old! And worse news he was still in the lab, his memorys blurry and his thinking process babyfied. He didn't know much about the people keeping him captive right now but he knew they hurt him and he wanted out.

The G.I.W/ Fenton's are furious that Danny reformed before they could create the perfect weapon and are now trying to make him retreat back into his core yet again. They do their worst but do to Danny's new balanced forms He. Does. Not. Give. Danny doesn't retreat back into his core he's unable to; his body healing the damage faster than they could deal it. Eventually they decided they'd kill Danny again the same way he died the first time.

They put the now officially 1yo halfa into the portal chamber. He's cuffed and muzzled to keep him from escaping or making any of those ghostly chirps, clicks, and warbles at them. (They think Danny is threatening them but he's just showing distress and calling for an adult to help him)

They quickly turn the portal off and on again with Danny inside but when they look into the chamber there's no Phantom or ghost core.

The portal didn't kill him though. No, it blasted the infant through the infinite realms so fast he clips into a different universe and crashes directly into Bruce Wayne's living room.

The batfam are very startled because they were just having a movie night, they even got Jason to show up! Now they're trying to coax a terrified baby out from under a piece of furniture so they can get the cuffs and muzzle off him.

Everyone's gone from laughing and cringing from embarrassment from the stupid movie made about their vigilante persona's to being concerned, sad, and angry on behalf of their unexpected guest.

Damian leaves the room for a second and returns with a stuffed animal from his room, offering it to the baby. The baby doesn't have the free hands to grab it but crawls out to reach for it. Damian takes the opportunity to scoop the little boy up and removing muzzle and cuffs.

Danny immediately let's out an avalanche of repressed chirps and trills, excited to be free from his chains and happy with the toy he was given. Danny decides the angry child is okay, he didn't know about the bigger people though.

The entire fam has already decided he's theirs now and they're going to destroy whoever had the balls to do something like this to a child.

(Damian would make a great older brother and you can fight me on this! >:(

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom crossover #dcxdp #Amity park after the batfam finds Danny: Why do I hear boss music?#Damian after Danny accepted the stuffed animal: I am the favorite sibling; Fear my title! All of you are inferior.#Sorry if this was bad I'm writing this with a minor concussion #I'm fine though. on bed rest for a bit

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thedensworld · 8 months

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Ten Years| J.Ww

Pairing: Wonwoo x Reader

Genre: angst, established relationship, My Demon references

Words count: 2k

Summary: In hospital Wonwoo is a doctor, and back to house he is your husband. However, your sudden conditions make him choose.

Wonwoo had just finished attending to one of the recent patients who arrived at the emergency room with a fractured left leg. The chaotic atmosphere was a constant in the emergency room, with patients flooding in throughout the day. It had only been four hours into his shift, and Wonwoo had already cared for more than twenty individuals, each presenting a unique set of medical challenges.

Amidst the persistent hustle, another emergency call suddenly disrupted the relative calm around Wonwoo. As he stood near the phone, his attention was torn from the medical charts to the urgent message. It wasn't unusual to receive information in advance, but the unusual silence from the nurse prompted him to lift his head in curiosity. The nurse, her eyes widened, stared at him, seemingly struggling to find words. Wonwoo, sensing something amiss, mouthed a quiet "why?" before the distant sound of sirens slowly crept closer to the emergency room.

Before he could take another step toward the entrance, Kim Mingyu, his best friend and fellow doctor, halted him breathlessly. Wonwoo stood in shock, witnessing Mingyu's horrified gaze fixed upon him.

"Wonwoo, don't," Mingyu pleaded urgently, diverting his attention to the ambulance that had just arrived. Wonwoo, unable to discern the situation, brushed him aside; the patient's well-being demanded his immediate focus. He approached the ambulance determinedly, with Mingyu desperately chasing after him, attempting to impede his progress.

As the ambulance doors swung open, nurses swiftly mobilized to transfer the patient to the bed. Mingyu gripped Wonwoo, his voice strained. "Don't go closer, Wonwoo."

Ignoring Mingyu's plea, Wonwoo pressed forward. The harsh reality unfolded before him as he witnessed your bloodied form being moved onto the cart. Frozen in place, he struggled to comprehend the gravity of the situation, his best efforts to maintain composure slipping away.

"Ji Y/n, on her thirties, three stab wounds," a nurse reported clinically. Wonwoo's gaze remained fixed on you, lying lifelessly on the bed, the weight of the moment sinking in. The air was thick with tension and fear as the medical team rushed to address the critical condition before them.

Wonwoo struggled to process the unfolding nightmare. His wife, now in the hospital with three stab wounds, left him grappling with the unknown origin of the attack.

Mingyu, though visibly shaken himself, offered a grim explanation – you had fallen victim to random acts of violence occurring in South Korea. In the midst of the chaotic emergency room, Mingyu assured Wonwoo that he would personally oversee your critical situation.

As Wonwoo, his hands trembling, tried to catch a glimpse of you amidst the medical flurry, Mingyu stepped up to provide much-needed support. "I'll make sure she receives the best care, Wonwoo. Stay strong."

With a nod, Wonwoo expressed a plea to the nurse team, his voice quivering, "She's pregnant; please be careful." His eyes remained fixed on you as they moved you towards the operating room, each step an agonizing moment for Wonwoo, who felt a profound sense of helplessness in the face of the unexpected tragedy.

In the tense confines of the hospital waiting room, the atmosphere was thick with worry as doctors assessed the severity of the stab wounds. Mingyu, amidst the chaos, approached Wonwoo with a grave expression.

"The stab wounds were serious, but we caught it in time. There's a chance of survival, but it will be a tough road ahead," Mingyu conveyed, his eyes reflecting the gravity of the situation. Wonwoo's heart sank, his concern for you intensifying.

Meanwhile, Wonwoo couldn't shake the deep worry for both you and the life growing within you. The impending uncertainty surrounding the baby's well-being added an extra layer of anxiety to an already distressing situation. Each passing moment felt like an eternity, and Wonwoo found himself grappling with the fear of the unknown, desperately hoping for positive news.

In the midst of the turmoil, your parents arrived at the hospital, their faces etched with concern. The president of Jis University Hospital and his spouse, usually figures of authority and composure, now revealed the vulnerability of worried parents. They approached Wonwoo, their shared concern uniting them in a moment of shared anxiety.

As the hospital corridors echoed with the hushed conversations of doctors and the beeping of machines, your fate and that of the precious life you carried hung in the balance, leaving Wonwoo and your parents anxiously awaiting any sign of hope from the operating room.

Despite the stark contrast in your chosen paths, fate wove an unexpected connection between you and Wonwoo. You, the daughter of Jis University Hospital's president, embarked on a journey in law, deviating from the medical legacy of your family. Wonwoo, on the other hand, had been one of your father's standout students, carving his niche in the medical field.

The intertwining of your lives unfolded when both of you decided to volunteer at a Cancer Foundation. The shared commitment to a cause greater than yourselves became the bridge that brought you together. Wonwoo's dedication and compassion in treating patients mirrored your own passion for justice and advocacy as a lawyer.

Three years ago, just two weeks after your first encounter, a horrifying incident unfolded. A client, disgruntled by a legal outcome, attacked you, resulting in a fractured shoulder. Fate intervened, leading you to the very hospital where Wonwoo worked. He became your attending doctor, tending not only to your physical wounds but unknowingly laying the foundation for a deeper connection.

In those challenging days of recovery, Wonwoo's empathy and care became a source of solace. The hospital visits evolved into shared laughter, and a bond blossomed between patient and doctor. It was a turning point, marking the beginning of a relationship neither of you could have anticipated.

Fast forward to the hospital's 15th-anniversary celebration, where the spark between you and Wonwoo reignited. Amidst the festive atmosphere, you found yourselves engaged in conversation, exchanging subtle flirtations that hinted at the unspoken connection between you two. However, the celebration took an unexpected turn when Wonwoo was urgently summoned for an emergency surgery.

As he excused himself, he locked eyes with you, a promise lingering in the air. "I'll meet you again after the surgery," he assured, his words carrying a commitment that surpassed the casual banter of the evening.

At midnight, a series of urgent knocks jolted you awake, only to discover a weary Wonwoo at your doorstep. "I asked Mingyu about your place," he mumbled, weariness evident in his eyes. The mention of your cousin, Kim Mingyu, left an air of mystery lingering in the room.

In a vulnerable moment, Wonwoo found himself torn when asked to sign a paper for your surgery. He wished to choose both you and the unborn child, but the harsh reality of the world intervened. The doctor overseeing your surgery delivered a grim verdict – a choice had to be made, and it was impossible for all two of you to survive. Your first trimester, still on a precarious edge, made the situation even more dire.

As you lay on the brink, losing precious blood that jeopardized both your life and the pregnancy, the doctor's solemn words hung in the air. "We need to sacrifice the baby, Dr. Jeon," he asserted, thrusting Wonwoo into a heart-wrenching dilemma.

For nearly two years, you and Wonwoo had fervently tried to conceive. Months before finally succeeding, you took a temporary leave from work, both of you eager and serious about embracing parenthood. That morning, you shared breakfast with Wonwoo, a newfound routine since leaving your job, radiating vibrancy. Little did you know, it would be the last carefree morning for a while.

During breakfast, plans for your day unfolded, with a lunch visit to a friend's bakery and a proposal for a cozy dinner at your favorite Italian restaurant. Wonwoo enthusiastically agreed, nodding his head in anticipation.

However, as the night unfolded, the joyous prospect of dinner turned into an unimaginable ordeal. Wonwoo found himself unable to fathom the idea of a simple dinner, haunted by the agonizing decision that awaited him at the hospital. Dinner plans shattered, replaced by the weight of an impending choice that would alter your lives forever.

Your condition deteriorated rapidly in the days following the surgery, prompting a transfer to the ICU. Wonwoo, seasoned in facing numerous medical challenges, found his usually steady hands clenched in despair. The grim reality unfolded – it seemed nearly impossible for you to survive in your critical state.

Mingyu, having discussed the delicate matter of abortion with Wonwoo, acknowledged the weight of the decision. He empathetically stated, "There has never been an easy decision from the first place," a reminder of the gravity of your precarious condition. Wonwoo, however, shook his head, unable to bring himself to make the agonizing choice.

"I just can't, Mingyu. I just can't," Wonwoo uttered, his internal struggle palpable.

"But you have to choose, Wonwoo. Do you want to put her in a more critical condition?" Mingyu pressed, emphasizing the urgency of the decision.

Three critical stabs had wounded your vital organs, and although the surgery was deemed successful, the unexpected internal bleeding cast a shadow over your recovery. The doctor who attended to you recommended aborting the baby, foreseeing the challenges it posed to your healing process. Yet, Wonwoo hesitated, unwilling to sign the abortion papers. He knew all too well that your instincts would align with his – a fierce desire to protect the unborn child, despite the grim reality that surrounded both you and your baby.

Lost in his thoughts, Wonwoo was startled when a stranger quietly took a seat beside him. Turning to face the unexpected company, he found the mysterious figure closely observing you through the window. "I can fulfill your wish," the stranger declared calmly, his presence sending a shiver down Wonwoo's spine.

Brows furrowed, Wonwoo questioned, "Who are you?" The stranger, with an eerie calmness, revealed, "I'm a demon. I can turn human wishes into reality." Wonwoo dismissed it, urging the mysterious figure to leave, suspecting a cruel game.

To Wonwoo's astonishment, the man produced a roll of paper, seemingly conjured from thin air with a spark of fire. As it unfolded, he offered a tempting proposition, "I can make the baby survive, and also your wife." The roll revealed contractual terms, symbolizing the gravity of the offer.

A smile played on the demon's lips as he proudly presented the conditions, "However, you could only live for ten years. You could only see them in ten years." Wonwoo, torn and desperate, shifted his gaze to you. In a hushed whisper, he asked, "Are they not gonna make it?"

The demon, seemingly unperturbed, conjured another roll, claiming, "Wait. Lemme check." As he read the ethereal text, he revealed an unsettling truth, "Your wife is going to have a heart attack in fifteen minutes. You won't be able to see her until tomorrow; she'll collapse." Wonwoo's lips tightened, wrestling with the weight of impending tragedy.

Seeking assurance, Wonwoo questioned the demon, "Can you really make them survive?" The man nodded, presenting the contractual sign. Floating in the air, it became a tangible representation of the choices before Wonwoo. Determination filled his voice as he uttered, "Please. Grant my wishes.

The demon, with a sinister smile, accepted, "Alright..." The unfolding events carried an air of impending consequence, as Wonwoo made a pact that would alter the course of his life and those he held dear.

Ten years ago, you made deal with the demon.

You have counting your life.

And the day is about to come.

To Wonwoo,

If you read this letter, I might not be here anymore. I just want to tell you that I love you, and I'm really grateful that I met you. It might be weird to you, but I did expect that I'm gonna leave first. So don't be too sad. Please continue your life peacefully.

I love you xx

02/11/2023

As the ink on the heartfelt message dried, the letter was consumed by flames.

The letter was burnt.

***

February 14th, 2013, marked a miraculous event at JIS University Hospital. The president, who had been in a coma following a massive car accident, astonishingly awoke. The hospital corridors buzzed with whispers of the inexplicable recovery, a twist of fate that left both staff and patients in awe. The air was charged with a sense of wonder and disbelief, as if a force beyond comprehension had intervened in the natural course of events.

#densworld🌼#seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen scenarios #seventeen series #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen imagine #seventeen fic #seventeen drabbles #seventeen fluff #wonwoo fic #wonwoo oneshot #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo series #wonwoo ff #wonwoo scenarios

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romanoffsbish · 10 months

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On The Edge

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt Request | Natasha’s patience for your lack of time management boils over, and you pay the price | WC: 2,210

No pronouns used, but “pretty” and equally as soft terms are used to label / describe R.

Warnings: Non-Con (unintentional / momentarily) | Possessive Natasha

Smut: Dom!Nat | Prior Solo Play (R) | Oral / Fingering / Strap (R) | Teasing / Overstimulation | KO

18+ | Minors DNI

Natasha groaned, punching the bag in frustration as the secondary hand on the clock landed on the three. You were late, like usual, but you knew better than to leave her waiting in the training room for this long. So, the redhead tossed her gloves beneath the swaying bag and made her way to the elevator to collect you.

It wasn't like she didn't know where you were, seeing as how every time you are late it's because of sleep. It was honestly adorable to watch you stumble in, with the occasional patch of dried up drool on your chin, but usually that's only a few minutes after the time to train. Natasha never let you off the hook for it, but she also went far easier on you than she ever had anyone else, and that was simply because she adored you.

——

You were the light of the compounds, and her life... She's just never told you that before for the sake of professionalism as she was in charge of making you Avenger ready. Feelings, no matter how real, would not keep you safe in the field, so for the sake of a future relationship she dreamed of, she focused on training.

It worked, for the most part anyways, but there were times she nearly lost her cool. Like every time she'd pin you to the mat, your eyes would roll back at the impact and her mind would picture it in a different light. Or, the post training glow you usually sported that made you look twice as delectable. Natasha needed you in a way that challenged her every known process, she was not regarded as soft and sweet, but with your head on her shoulder after a long day, she knows she can be...

You were undeniably perfect, beautiful in both looks and spirit and as pure as the light of the halo that she imagined hovers atop your head... In a moments time though, her entire view of you would be changed, all because she was too frustrated to remember the proper etiquette, and the one of many reasons, for a knock.

Or to respect the barriers you'd put in place, as her trusty bobby pin clicked into place Natasha flung your previously locked door wide open and gasped. Her eyes laser focused in onto your exposed skin, and her hands were quick to shut and re-lock your door lest anyone else see what she now deemed—soon to be, hers.

The redhead wasn't the type to crumble, and if anyone else had been before her she'd remain an unmoved fortress, but if you begged she might just fall to the ground. Might a loose word really, because the longer she stared at you, the more she felt her knees shake.

Which would only be fair as you've blessed her with such beauty, lying there spread open for her. It was as if you were posed for her by a deity, in her worn down death metal hoodie that went missing after a mission.

You in her clothes was an undreamed fantasy, you truly looked ready to be ate, the fabric had ridden up significantly, leaving your naked lower half exposed to her predatory gaze. Natasha was gnawing on her lip when her eyes locked in on the strap beside your leg.

You were going to make such a pretty slut for her...

The smell that surrounded her was enough for her to know this was a recent endeavor of yours, fresh slick still shining on the skin of your thighs a clear mark too. An unexpected groan fell from her lips at the sight, leading to your body shuffling as your eyes snapped open. "Natasha?" Your adorable, groggy voice made her feel like smiling, but she kept her neutral face. "Y/L/N, why weren't you at our morning training?"

"Clint told me it was cancelled," you loudly yawned, but for some reason you didn't move to cover yourself up and the redhead smirked. "Y-you have a mission?"

Natasha now knew exactly what had happened, her best friend decided to meddle and now she was met with a glorious opportunity. Clint likely didn't expect that it would work out this way; she didn't mind, nor did she have the urge to ask him, she’d won regardless.

Natasha ignored your question and began to stalk her way over to you, her eyes roamed over your frame without even a hint of shame. This time you attempted to pull the hem of fabric down, but her hands latched around your wrists to stop you. "Is that my hoodie?"

The way you gulped in fear amused her tremendously, then you nodded and her lips upturned devilishly. "We are going to have so much fun together krasivaya," her tone dropped an octave, causing your body to shimmy as a pathetic little whimper left your chapped lips.

Natasha was two sounds away from ripping you apart, but she needed to be sure she wasn't taking advantage of your vulnerability. "Do you want to have fun Y/N?"

"Please," you cried instantly, hips desperately canting off the bed in emphasis as she swiftly straddled them. The way your slick spread against the skin of her toned abs and settled into the defined lines was what truly drove the woman into action. With determination and precision on her side Natasha helped you out of her hoodie, one hand fell to your bare chest to fondle your sensitive breasts while the other held your hands down above your head, her eyes were blown out in a way you had only ever dreamed of before this surreal reality.

"Fuck detka," she moaned, so deep and raspy that it was nearly a growl, "Your perfect tits are pierced?" The question was rhetorical, but her eyes were full of a lusty wonder, her fingertips pressed into the metal balls and her hand twisted, tweaking your nipple and ripping a deep moan of your own from within you.

Natasha moaned too and felt as her walls pulsed, she had you pegged as an angel, but here you were, a deviant and for some reason the subtlety was much hotter. In public you'd be her precious little peach, but behind closed doors you would be her pretty little slut.

"Do you have a safe word honey?" You nodded, then whispered a soft, "widow," when you saw that her eyes were waiting for more. "I can't wait to hear you use it." The redhead winked, then chuckled softly as she saw the way your eyes widened and your mouth fell open. "Don't worry now darling, I'll be gentle enough," her teeth grazed over your racing pulse. "Rough is fi-fine," you practically shrieked, hands flying up to grip and claw at her shoulder blades to drive home the need.

Natasha nodded with a smirk, not only hearing your message loud and clear, but finding it appealing too.

However, she believed in more of the long game, she slowly, painstakingly so, began to kiss all over your body, purposefully missing both sets of your slick lips. Open mouthed and fervent the more she got into it, leaving behind dribbles of spit along the various spots of injured skin as she'd claimed you without asking.

There was no need to ask to claim what's already yours, with you sleeping in her hoodie the ties were sowed, so all she was doing was making sure the world knew too.

Once she felt satisfied with the way your body looked, and more so how easily she'd gotten you to squirm, she devoured you wholly, her tongue slid in and out of your oozing hole until she could feel you growing restless. She’d crawled back up your body and pressed a kiss to your parted lips just as soon as she was released by your quivering thighs. A smile stretched her face as she saw the clear effect she had, you harshly panted as she'd worked you up so well, and she wasn’t even done.

You blinked a few times, clearing your vision only to be met with her blackened eyes. Part of you was terrified, but the other part was more so antsy for what was going to come next. Her eyes spoke to you, whispering promises of something you couldn’t quite decipher. Your heart was hopeful for love, but your heated body prayed for the opposite, it craved the widows carnality.

After only a second of time to think you got an answer, as did she as you couldn't stop a moan, but she did as her tongue seductively slid over yours while her middle and pointer fingers abruptly divorced inside of you. It wasn’t like the stretch of your strap had been, that was nothing but a filling up, her fingers were slender, but it was somehow better just because it was her doing it.

Natasha wasn’t the only one dreaming of this moment. Every training session ended the same, with you in the shower fucking yourself senseless to thoughts of her.

The redhead could feel that honesty with every thrust of your jittery hips that met her fingers, she truly felt liberated from the confines of your former student-teacher roles. It couldn’t be wrong when it felt this good; having you beneath her felt prophetic, and if today hadn’t been your last day together before you were tested by Fury she would have had to resign.

There was no going back to the grey area between the roles now, the blurred lines were finally washed away, that much was clear as you arched off the bed with a sultry cry of her name; Natasha officially had a new job, and that was to have you trembling and desperate for her, which you were, it was borderline humiliating.

Every move she made was intimately sloppy, the way her fingers prodded at your sensitive walls had you mewling around her tongue that played chicken with yours, intermixed with sharp inhales that wordlessly spoke to the woman above you of a job well done.

"You're so desperate," she acknowledged in a purr against your swollen, parted lips. Your inability to keep up broke the kiss apart, and allowed her a chance to take her teasing up a level. "This pussy is crying..."

"Natasha..."

"Do you remember what I say to you when we train?" Natasha knew it was cruel to ask you such a thing as your mind was blanked, with her fingers doing their best work inside of your velvety, clenched warmth.

"You can't keep being late and expect not to be punished Y/N," she taunted, a rough chuckle felt against your cheek as she removed her fingers. You whined, "I-I, Natasha please, I need you," just as she expected you to, and she brought the wet pads of her fingers up to your pulsing clit. "I always remind you too, that I call the shots detka, you’re far too precious to know what’s best Y/N, so hush yourself and relax."

The redhead rolled her eyes when she found your glossy ones already boring into hers, then without anymore hesitation she filled you up with a thick strap you'd left out, once again making her think this was what you wanted to happen from the start. Strong, eager hands held your hips down as she picked up a quick pace, her breath was hardly even different aside from the deeper rasp as she rutted her hips into you and whispered her filthiest dreams. Meanwhile you came with a loud whine and tears that pleaded with her to stop, but Natasha only rolled her hips faster.

"I'm not letting you go until you've either drenched the sheets, or passed out," she growled against the welted skin of your throat, her teeth nipped at the fresh sores, a display of her brutal carnality.

You were a panting mess at the mere threat of more, you were already sensitive from your private session. "I-I can't take anymore, please," you managed to stutter, but your resistance was as weak as your cunts grip. Natasha was ruthless, and since you didn't utter your chosen safe word she happily continued, "You can take it, and you'll do it graciously, one more complaint and I'll edge you all month."

"M-month?" Natasha rolled her eyes, she was strap deep inside of you, lips marking up your skin and still you questioned her attachment. Though that frustrated her, there was a rare softness to her tone that held a much deeper meaning. "If you thought this was a one time thing you were mistaken lyubov'." Natasha's lips pressed to yours right after her half baked confession, intent on devouring your soul as it left your body with the next deep thrust of her thick strap. "You're as good as mine now Y/N," she sighed against you as she felt the waves of pleasure ripple off your convulsing body.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered in amusement only moments later as your body relaxed and her eyes caught sight of your peaceful sleeping face. Natasha settled in beside you, strong arms wrapped around you to pull you closer, a sigh of relief followed, "My girl."

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