#unreadable. so which is it 🤨

[lesbianboyfriend]

guys i kind of have this sneaking suspicion that gnaponrz-.-.-15997@beawig.com might not actually be a USPS employee….

[jiminomenon]

money talks

pairing: jang wonyoung x female reader

tag(s): ceo! wonyoung, sugar mommy! wonyoung, sugar baby! reader, power dynamics, wonielle makes an appearance

word count: 4.4k

summary: y/n sneaks into an exclusive gala, where she unexpectedly saves wonyoung, a powerful ceo, from a heated confrontation. this chance encounter leads to a life-changing sugar baby arrangement that pulls y/n into a world of luxury and complexity. as their relationship deepens, the lines between business and emotion blur, with wonyoung’s charm and generosity making it harder for y/n to see their arrangement as purely transactional, and both women find themselves drawn to each other in ways they never expected.

a/n: there’s 200 of you now which is insane 🤯 i’m honestly quite overwhelmed bc where on earth did you guys come from? 🤨 i didn’t even have time to write smth for my 100 followers special so take sugar mommy! wonyoung as a treat. lowkey kinda gave up in the end tho but hope you guys enjoy lmfao, happy reading ��✨

the grand ballroom of the city’s most exclusive hotel sparkled under the glow of crystal chandeliers. the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the sound of clinking champagne glasses. the room was filled with the city’s elite—celebrities, business moguls, and socialites mingling effortlessly, their laughter echoing off the marble floors. it was the kind of event y/n could only dream of attending, and yet, here she was, standing awkwardly in the corner, clutching a glass of champagne she didn’t dare drink.

“this was a terrible idea,” y/n muttered under her breath, glancing around nervously. her friends, hanni and yunjin, had convinced her to sneak into the gala, promising it would be a night to remember. they’d borrowed dresses from a thrift store, done their makeup in the back of an uber, and somehow managed to slip past security by blending in with a group of influencers. but now, as y/n scanned the crowd, she realized she’d lost sight of her friends entirely.

“great,” she sighed, setting her untouched champagne on a passing waiter’s tray. “just great.”

she wandered through the crowd, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. the opulence of the event was overwhelming—gold-trimmed tables, towering floral arrangements, and waiters circulating with trays of caviar and truffles. y/n felt like a fraud, her thrift store dress suddenly feeling cheap and out of place. she was about to turn around and head for the exit when a commotion caught her attention.

near the edge of the room, partially hidden by a towering potted plant, stood a woman y/n recognized immediately. it was jang wonyoung, the ceo of starship industries and one of the most powerful women in the city. she was dressed in a sleek, tailored suit, her sharp features illuminated by the soft glow of the chandeliers. but what caught y/n’s attention was the tension in the air. wonyoung was speaking to a younger man, her expression cold and unreadable.

“you’re boring,” wonyoung said, her voice low but cutting. “i don’t have time for boring.”

the man’s face twisted in anger, his hands clenching into fists. “you think you can just toss me aside like that? after everything i’ve done for you?”

wonyoung raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “done for me? please. you’ve done nothing but drain my bank account and waste my time.”

the man’s anger boiled over, and he lunged at her, grabbing her arm roughly. y/n’s heart leapt into her throat. without thinking, she rushed forward, grabbing the man’s shoulder and pulling him away.

“hey!” y/n snapped, her voice shaking but firm. “let her go!”

the man turned to glare at her, his grip on wonyoung loosening. “who the hell are you?”

“someone who doesn’t think it’s okay to put your hands on someone else,” y/n shot back, stepping between him and wonyoung. her heart was pounding, but she stood her ground, her fists clenched at her sides.

the man hesitated, his eyes darting between y/n and wonyoung. for a moment, it looked like he might argue, but then he scoffed, releasing wonyoung’s arm with a rough shove. “whatever. she’s not worth it anyway.”

the man stormed off, leaving y/n and wonyoung alone. y/n turned to wonyoung, her breath coming in short gasps. “are you okay?”

wonyoung studied her with an unreadable expression, her sharp eyes scanning y/n’s face. “i’m fine,” she said finally, her voice calm and measured. “but you… you’re not supposed to be here, are you?”

y/n’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “i—uh—”

before she could stammer out an explanation, a security guard appeared, his walkie-talkie crackling as he spoke into it. “we found her,” he said, his voice gruff and authoritative. he turned to y/n, his expression stern. “you’re coming with me.”

y/n’s stomach dropped. this was it. she was going to be thrown out, humiliated in front of everyone. the guard grabbed her arm, his grip firm and unyielding. “let’s go.”

“wait—” y/n started, but the guard cut her off.

“no excuses. you’re trespassing, and you’re coming with me.”

y/n’s heart raced as the guard began to drag her away, the eyes of the crowd starting to turn toward the commotion. she felt a wave of panic wash over her, her mind scrambling for a way out. but before the guard could take more than a few steps, a voice cut through the noise like a blade.

“let her go.”

the guard froze, turning to see wonyoung standing there, her arms crossed and her expression icy. “m-ms. jang, this woman is trespassing. i’m just doing my job.”

“and your job,” wonyoung said, her voice low and dangerous, “is to listen to me when i tell you to let her go.”

the guard hesitated, his grip on y/n loosening slightly. “with all due respect, ms. jang, she’s not on the guest list. i have to remove her.”

wonyoung stepped closer, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. she tilted her head, a sly smile playing on her lips. “are you really going to argue with me about this? in front of all these people?” the guard glanced around, noticing the curious stares of the guests. he shifted uncomfortably, his confidence wavering. “i… i’m just following protocol.”

“protocol?” wonyoung repeated, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “let me make this simple for you. she’s with me. she’s my plus one. and if you don’t let her go right now, i’ll make sure you’re looking for a new job tomorrow. understood?”

the guard’s face paled, and he immediately released y/n’s arm, stepping back. “of course, ms. jang. my apologies.”

wonyoung’s smile widened, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “good. now, if you’ll excuse us.”

the guard nodded quickly, muttering another apology before retreating into the crowd. y/n stared at wonyoung, her mind reeling. “why did you do that?”

wonyoung turned to her, her expression softening. “because you just saved me from a very unpleasant situation. consider it a thank you.”

y/n blinked, still trying to process what had just happened. “i… you’re welcome?”

wonyoung chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down y/n’s spine. “you’re interesting. most people wouldn’t have stepped in like that.”

“i couldn’t just stand there and do nothing,” y/n said, her voice firm despite the nervous flutter in her chest.

wonyoung tilted her head, studying y/n with a curious expression. “what’s your name?”

“y/n.”

“y/n,” wonyoung repeated, as if testing the sound of it. she stepped closer, her gaze intense. “tell me, y/n… how would you like to be my new sugar baby?”

y/n’s eyes widened, her mouth falling open in shock. “i—what?”

wonyoung’s smirk widened, her confidence unwavering. “you heard me. i’m in need of someone… interesting. and you’ve just proven yourself to be exactly that.” she reached out, brushing a strand of hair from y/n’s face, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through y/n’s body. “so, what do you say?”

y/n’s mind raced, her heart pounding in her chest. this was insane. completely, utterly insane. but as she looked into wonyoung’s sharp, calculating eyes, she realized she didn’t have it in her to say no.

“okay,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “i’ll do it.”

wonyoung’s smile was triumphant, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “good. you won’t regret it.”

the morning after the gala, y/n woke up in a daze, her mind still reeling from the whirlwind of events. wonyoung had given her a ride home in her sleek black car, the interior smelling of leather and expensive perfume. before dropping her off, wonyoung had handed her a business card with an address and a time scribbled on the back.

“be here at 8 pm sharp,” wonyoung had said, her tone leaving no room for argument. “don’t be late.”

now, as y/n stood in front of the towering skyscraper that housed wonyoung’s penthouse, she felt a mix of nerves and excitement. she smoothed down the front of her dress—a simple black number she’d borrowed from mina—and took a deep breath before stepping into the lobby.

the doorman greeted her with a polite nod. “miss y/n? ms. jang is expecting you. take the private elevator to the top floor.”

y/n nodded, her heart pounding as she stepped into the elevator. the ride up was smooth and silent, the glass walls offering a breathtaking view of the city lights. when the doors slid open, she was greeted by the sight of wonyoung’s penthouse—a sprawling, minimalist space filled with floor-to-ceiling windows, modern art, and sleek furniture.

wonyoung stood by the window, a glass of wine in her hand. she turned as y/n stepped out of the elevator, a small smile playing on her lips. “you’re right on time. i like that.”

“i didn’t want to keep you waiting,” y/n said, her voice slightly shaky.

wonyoung gestured for her to come closer. “relax. you’re not here for an interview. well, not exactly.”

y/n walked over, her eyes darting around the room. “this place is… incredible.”

“it’s home,” wonyoung said with a shrug, as if it were nothing. she handed y/n a glass of wine, their fingers brushing briefly. “sit. we have some things to discuss.”

y/n sat down on the plush white sofa, her hands clutching the glass tightly. wonyoung took a seat across from her, crossing her legs elegantly. she reached for a sleek black folder on the coffee table and slid it toward y/n.

“this,” wonyoung said, “is your contract.”

y/n’s eyes widened. “contract?”

“of course,” wonyoung said, her tone matter-of-fact. “this is a business arrangement, after all. i need to make sure we’re both on the same page.”

y/n opened the folder, her eyes scanning the neatly typed pages. the terms were lavish—generous monthly allowance, a luxury apartment, access to wonyoung’s world—but there were also rules. y/n would be expected to accompany wonyoung to events, be available when needed, and maintain a certain level of discretion.

“this is… a lot,” y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper.

wonyoung leaned forward, her gaze intense. “it’s a fair deal. you get financial security, and i get… companionship. someone interesting. someone who isn’t afraid to stand up for me.”

y/n looked up, meeting wonyoung’s eyes. “and if i say no?”

wonyoung smirked. “you won’t.”

y/n hesitated, her mind racing. this was insane. completely, utterly insane. but as she looked around the penthouse, at the life wonyoung was offering her, she realized she didn’t have it in her to say no.

“okay,” she said finally, her voice steady. “i’ll do it.”

wonyoung’s smile was triumphant. “good. i knew you’d see it my way.” she reached for a pen and handed it to y/n. “sign here.”

y/n took the pen, her hand trembling slightly as she signed her name. when she was done, wonyoung took the contract and set it aside, her expression softening.

“now that that’s out of the way,” wonyoung said, standing up, “let’s celebrate. i have reservations at a place i think you’ll like.”

y/n blinked. “right now?”

“why not?” wonyoung said, her tone playful. “consider it your first official outing as my sugar baby.”

the restaurant was everything y/n had imagined and more—a Michelin-starred establishment with dim lighting, soft music, and a menu filled with dishes she couldn’t pronounce. wonyoung ordered for both of them, her confidence effortless as she chatted with the waiter.

“you’re not allergic to anything, are you?” wonyoung asked, glancing at y/n.

“no,” y/n said, shaking her head. “but i’ve never been to a place like this before.”

wonyoung smirked. “get used to it. this is your life now.”

the food arrived, each course more exquisite than the last. y/n tried to keep up with wonyoung’s easy conversation, but she couldn’t help feeling out of place. wonyoung noticed, her sharp eyes catching every nervous fidget.

“relax,” wonyoung said, reaching across the table to touch y/n’s hand. “you’re doing fine.”

y/n’s breath hitched at the contact, her cheeks flushing. “it’s just… a lot to take in.”

wonyoung’s smile was soft, almost tender. “i know. but you’ll get used to it. and i’ll be here to guide you.”

the rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter, wine, and stolen glances. by the time they left the restaurant, y/n felt a little more at ease, though the weight of her new reality still lingered.

as they stepped into the cool night air, wonyoung turned to y/n, her expression unreadable. “you did well tonight.”

“thanks,” y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper. “i’m glad i didn’t embarrass you.”

wonyoung chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down y/n’s spine. “you could never embarrass me. in fact, i think you might just be exactly what i’ve been looking for.”

y/n’s heart skipped a beat, her mind racing with possibilities. as wonyoung’s driver pulled up to the curb, y/n realized that her life was about to change in ways she couldn’t even imagine.

the weeks that followed the signing of the contract were a whirlwind of luxury and excess. y/n moved into a sleek, modern apartment in one of the city’s most exclusive neighborhoods, courtesy of wonyoung. the space was everything she could have dreamed of—floor-to-ceiling windows, a marble kitchen, and a walk-in closet filled with designer clothes. it was a far cry from her cramped, cluttered apartment, and yet, y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that she didn’t belong.

wonyoung had been true to her word, taking y/n to high-profile events and introducing her to a world she’d only ever seen in magazines. there were galas, charity auctions, and private parties, each more extravagant than the last. y/n learned to navigate the social scene with a practiced smile, her hand always resting lightly on wonyoung’s arm. she was the perfect accessory—beautiful, poised, and just interesting enough to keep wonyoung entertained.

but beneath the surface, y/n was struggling. the pressure to maintain the image wonyoung expected was exhausting. she spent hours practicing her posture, memorizing the names of influential people, and perfecting the art of small talk. she felt like an imposter, constantly waiting for someone to expose her as a fraud.

one evening, wonyoung took y/n to an art gallery opening, the kind of event where the champagne flowed freely and the art was secondary to the socializing. y/n wore a stunning emerald green dress that wonyoung had picked out for her, the fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places. she felt beautiful, but the weight of wonyoung’s expectations was heavy on her shoulders.

“remember,” wonyoung had said as they stepped out of the car, “smile, but don’t overdo it. you’re here to impress, not to blend in.”

y/n nodded, her stomach churning with nerves. she followed wonyoung into the gallery, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. the room was filled with the city’s elite, their laughter and chatter creating a low hum of energy. wonyoung moved through the crowd with ease, her presence commanding attention wherever she went.

“ms. jang!” a man in a tailored suit greeted them, his smile wide and practiced. “it’s been too long. and who is this lovely creature?”

“this is y/n,” wonyoung said, her tone casual but her eyes sharp. “my… companion.”

the man’s eyebrows rose, his gaze flickering between wonyoung and y/n. “charmed,” he said, taking y/n’s hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “any companion of ms. jang’s is a friend of mine.”

y/n forced a smile, her cheeks burning. she hated the way people looked at her, like she was a shiny new toy wonyoung had acquired. but she kept her composure, nodding politely as the man launched into a monologue about the art on display.

as the night wore on, y/n found herself growing more comfortable. she even managed to hold her own in a conversation with a well-known art critic, surprising herself with how much she knew about the pieces on display. wonyoung watched her from across the room, a small smile playing on her lips.

“you did well tonight,” wonyoung said later, as they stepped into the car. “i’m impressed.”

y/n’s heart swelled with pride, but she quickly pushed the feeling down. “thanks. i’m just trying to keep up.”

wonyoung chuckled, the sound low and warm. “you’re doing more than keeping up. you’re thriving.”

a few days later, wonyoung took y/n to a charity gala at a luxury hotel. the event was even more extravagant than the gallery opening, with crystal chandeliers, live music, and a guest list that included some of the most powerful people in the city. y/n wore a sleek black gown, her hair styled in loose waves that cascaded down her back. she felt like a princess, but the illusion was shattered the moment she met her.

“well, well,” a voice purred from behind y/n. “if it isn’t the new girl.”

y/n turned to see a woman standing there, her golden dress hugging her figure like a second skin. she was stunning, with soft features but a confidence that made y/n feel instantly inferior. the woman’s long, dark hair framed her face perfectly, and her gentle eyes sparkled with an unreadable intensity. she smiled—a smile that felt effortless, almost intimidating in its beauty.

“i’m sorry,” y/n said, forcing a polite smile. “do i know you?”

the woman laughed, the sound cold and mocking. “oh, honey, you don’t need to know me. i know *you*. you’re wonyoung’s latest little project, aren’t you?”

y/n’s smile faltered, her stomach twisting into knots. “i… i don’t know what you mean.”

“don’t play dumb,” the woman said, stepping closer. “i was in your shoes once. wonyoung’s sugar baby, the center of her world… until she got bored and tossed me aside. and trust me, she *will* get bored. it’s only a matter of time.”

y/n’s heart raced, her mind reeling. she wanted to argue, to defend wonyoung, but the woman’s words struck a nerve. before she could respond, wonyoung appeared at her side, her expression icy.

“danielle,” wonyoung said, her voice sharp. “i see you’ve met y/n.”

the woman—danielle—smirked, her eyes glinting with malice. “i was just welcoming her to the club. you know, giving her a heads-up about how this little arrangement of yours usually ends.”

wonyoung’s jaw tightened, her hand resting possessively on y/n’s waist. “y/n is different. and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of her way.”

danielle laughed, but there was no humor in it. “we’ll see how long that lasts.” with that, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd.

y/n felt like the ground had been ripped out from under her. she turned to wonyoung, her voice trembling. “is that true? will you just… get bored of me?”

wonyoung’s expression softened, her hand moving to cup y/n’s cheek. “don’t listen to her. she’s bitter and jealous. you’re not like her. you’re… different.”

y/n wanted to believe her, but the doubt had already taken root. as the night went on, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was just another replaceable part of wonyoung’s world.

months had passed since y/n signed the contract, and her life had become a carefully curated blend of luxury and performance. she attended events with wonyoung, played the part of the perfect companion, and tried to ignore the growing sense of emptiness inside her. the apartment, the clothes, the attention—it was everything she’d ever wanted, and yet, it felt like she was living someone else’s life.

the turning point came on a rainy evening, after a particularly draining charity gala. y/n had spent the night smiling and nodding, her cheeks aching from the effort. wonyoung had been her usual composed self, commanding the room with ease, but y/n had noticed the way her eyes lingered on danielle, who had been there with a new sugar mommy. the sight had stirred something ugly in y/n’s chest—a mix of jealousy, insecurity, and resentment.

now, back at wonyoung’s penthouse, y/n stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring out at the city lights. the rain streaked down the glass, distorting the view, and she felt like she was looking at her own reflection—blurred, fragmented, and unrecognizable.

“you’ve been quiet tonight,” wonyoung said, her voice cutting through the silence. she stood a few feet away, a glass of wine in her hand. “is something wrong?”

y/n turned to face her, her arms crossed over her chest. “do you ever get tired of this?”

wonyoung raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. “tired of what?”

“this,” y/n said, gesturing vaguely at the room. “the parties, the pretending, the… the performance. don’t you ever feel like it’s all just… empty?”

wonyoung’s lips curved into a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “it’s part of the life we’ve chosen. you knew that when you signed the contract.”

“did i?” y/n shot back, her voice rising. “because i don’t think i really understood what i was getting into. i didn’t realize i’d have to give up everything—my friends, my independence, my sense of self—just to be your perfect little accessory.”

wonyoung’s smile faded, her expression hardening. “you’re not an accessory, y/n. you’re my companion. my partner. i’ve given you everything you could ever want.”

“except the truth,” y/n said, her voice trembling. “except the freedom to be myself. i feel like i’m losing who i am, wonyoung. and i don’t know if it’s worth it anymore.”

there was a long silence, the weight of y/n’s words hanging heavy in the air. wonyoung set her glass down on the coffee table, her movements deliberate. when she finally spoke, her voice was low and measured.

“what are you saying, y/n?”

y/n took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest. “i’m saying… i can’t keep doing this. i can’t keep pretending to be someone i’m not. i need to figure out who i am outside of this… this arrangement.”

wonyoung’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something—anger? hurt?—crossing her face. “so that’s it? you’re just going to walk away?”

“i don’t know,” y/n admitted, her voice breaking. “but i can’t keep living like this. i need… i need to find myself again.”

wonyoung stared at her for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, to y/n’s surprise, she let out a soft, bitter laugh. “you think i don’t know what that feels like? to lose yourself?”

y/n blinked, caught off guard. “what do you mean?”

wonyoung turned away, her gaze fixed on the city lights outside. “do you think i’ve always been like this? respected, controlled, untouchable? i wasn’t always this person, y/n. i had to become her. i had to build this… this fortress around myself to survive in this world. and sometimes, even now, i feel like i’m drowning.”

y/n’s anger faltered, replaced by a pang of sympathy. “wonyoung…”

“i didn’t expect you,” wonyoung continued, her voice softer now. “i didn’t expect to feel… anything. but you… you’re different. you’re not like the others. you’re not afraid to challenge me, to push back. and for the first time in a long time, i felt like maybe… maybe i didn’t have to be alone.”

y/n’s breath caught in her throat, her heart aching at the vulnerability in wonyoung’s voice. “wonyoung…”

wonyoung turned to face her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “i don’t want to lose you, y/n. but i also don’t want to trap you. if you need to leave… if you need to find yourself… i won’t stop you. but i want you to know that what i feel for you… it’s real. it’s not part of the arrangement. it’s just… you.”

y/n felt tears welling up in her own eyes, the weight of wonyoung’s confession settling over her like a warm blanket. “i don’t know what to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” wonyoung said, her voice barely above a whisper. “just… think about it. and whatever you decide, i’ll respect it.”

y/n swallowed hard, staring at wonyoung—the woman who had, against all odds, become so much more than just a contract. she had been so sure that leaving was the only way to find herself again, but now, looking at wonyoung’s raw honesty, she wasn’t so sure anymore. maybe she had been looking at this all wrong.

maybe she wasn’t losing herself—maybe she had just been too scared to admit that she had already found something worth holding onto.

a shaky breath escaped her lips. “i don’t want to leave.”

wonyoung’s eyes widened slightly, the first crack in her composed mask. “you don’t?”

y/n shook her head, stepping closer. “no. i just… i don’t want this to be fake. i don’t want to be with you because of a contract. i want to be with you because it’s real.”

wonyoung exhaled, almost like she had been holding her breath, before a small, hopeful smile tugged at her lips. “then let’s make it real.”

y/n’s heart pounded. “what do you mean?”

wonyoung reached for her hand, lacing their fingers together. “no more contract. no more pretending. just you and me, figuring it out… together.”

y/n stared at her, searching for any hesitation, but all she saw was sincerity. warmth spread through her chest, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she could breathe. she squeezed wonyoung’s hand, a slow smile forming on her lips.

“together,” she agreed.

wonyoung let out a soft laugh, her eyes shimmering. “you have no idea how long i’ve been waiting to hear that.

y/n chuckled, pulling her closer. “well, you’re going to have to wait a little longer… because i’m going to kiss you first.”

wonyoung’s breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away. “then what are you waiting for?”

y/n didn’t need to be told twice. she closed the distance between them, capturing wonyoung’s lips in a kiss that was slow, deep, and full of everything they had been too afraid to say.

this time, there were no contracts, no expectations—just them.

[hotchnerwrites]

I had a fic request !! I adore your writing sm I loved the soft cute moments with hotch and the reader eee :)

I’ve really been wanting to read pre!relationship hotch x reader or early on when they start showing more care for one another, if the reader is not feeling well or might be coming down with a cold and hotch gets the chance to take care of them in quiet ways! bonus points if he’s being subtle in front of the team, but much more caring in private aaaa I am melting

If you feel like it!! I’ll just be scrolling thru all your works now :)

Warmth

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: SFW, pre-relationship, fluff, no use of (y/n)

A/N: Hello my lovely anon. Thank you so much. You've no idea how much it means to me that you loved my writing. If you want an easy way to navigate through my hotch fics, just look up the tag #hotchnerwritescm. I keep intending to make a masterlist, but I've just been so caught up with IRL stuff and my med exams </3. Anyways, here is your request, I adored the idea! I wrote this in an hour, so I'm sorry for any grammar errors, I didn't proof-read as much as I usually do. Anyways, I hope it's what you wanted, and that you like it!!! Lots of love. Can't wait to hear more from you :)💙

PS. let me know if the formatting is off. looks good on mobile but not laptop for me 🤨

My requests are open. Send me stuff! :)

It had started as a dull throb at your temple. It was easy to ignore; you’d had headaches like these your whole life. But as the hours stretched on, the pain only intensified. It had spread to your limbs, making your skin feel too warm and your head too foggy.

You weren’t sick, not really. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. You’d push through it. It was probably just the office AC running too cold or just stress from unending paperwork. Either way, you didn’t have time for it.

Which is why you tried to ignore the slight shiver racking through your body as you reached for yet another file.

“Are you all right?”

Hotch. Damn. 

Were you that obvious? 

You blink up at him, feeling like you’d got caught with your hand in the cookie jar. He was standing just beside your desk, arms crossed. His posture was utterly relaxed, but his gaze was sharp, assessing. His expression was unreadable to most, but you’d learned his subtleties. His Hotch-isms, as you’d dubbed it.

“I’m fine,” you mumble. Too defensive.

Hotch didn’t look too convinced. 

You clear your throat nervously, pushing through the scratchiness and offering him a small smile, hoping that would get him off your back. “Just a little tired, Hotch.”

There was a pause. Not long, but you could feel the weight of his scrutiny. Then, without a word, Hotch left. With a sigh of relief, you turn back to your report, forcing yourself to focus on the words. Eventually, one page blurred into the next, the steady scratch of your pen filling your ears. It was almost enough to lull you into a rhythm, your body switching to autopilot.

That was, until a very familiar presence returned to your desk.

You glance up as Hotch places something down beside your elbow— a cup of tea, steam curling up from the rim.

It was chamomile, made just the way you liked it.  “You—”

Your wings curl around the cup, warmth seeping into your skin. You hadn’t asked for this. Hadn’t even thought about it. But as you lift the cup, inhaling the familiar scent, the realisation settles.

Aaron had seen you make it once, late at night on the jet, after a gruelling week-long case. You’d thought everyone else was asleep, so you’d allowed yourself the small comfort of your ritual—quiet, familiar, something just for you. But he’d noticed. And somehow, he had remembered.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. 

Hotch didn’t wait to hear whatever you had been about to say.

“Drink it,” he commands, voice slipping into the space between your thoughts. Then, as if he hadn’t just caught you completely off guard, he turned and walked away again.

You stare after him for a minute too long, a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the tea.

Subtle.

But not to you.

The rest of the day, you caught things— small, almost imperceptible. The way he passed you a tissue before you realised you needed one. The way his voice softened when he told you, “Go home. Get some rest.”

————————

By the time you made it home, you were struggling to keep your eyes open. The air in your apartment was still, save for a faint hum coming from your heater. You kick off your shoes by the door, making no effort to line them up on the shoe rack. You were a tidy person by nature, but tonight you couldn’t care less.

All you wanted was the warmth of your bed.

You drift towards your bed, pulling one of your heavier blankets around yourself. You sink down into your bed with a slow exhale, your body releasing some of the tension you had been carrying all day. You curl into yourself, slowly lowering your head against your pillows. You let your eyes flutter shut, willing sleep to take over.

Then, cruelly, your doorbell rang. 

Maybe they’d go away if you ignored the door. But the bell rang again, the insistent tone tearing through your haze. Frowning, you sit up slowly. No one ever came over this late. Dragging yourself to your feet, you shuffle over to the door, the blanket still draped over your shoulders like a sorry cape. When you finally drag the door open, you freeze. 

Aaron Hotchner.

The last person you’d expected to see. Standing in your doorway. Holding a bag with what looked like a robot on it. 

What on earth? Maybe this was the hallucination stage of your fever.

You blink at him, slow and disoriented. 

“Aaron?”

His expression was unreadable, but there was something soft in the way he looked at you—something close to amusement, something fond. “You shouldn’t be so surprised.”

“I—” Your voice came out rough, throat tight with exhaustion. You swallow against it, staring at him like he might disappear if you blinked too hard. Moving slightly to let him in, you ask, “What are you doing here?”

He gestures vaguely towards the bag. “I didn’t know if you had anything at home. Figured soup was a safe bet. I even stole Jack’s lunch bag for you.”

You stare at it, then back at him.

For a second, you didn’t move. Your brain wasn’t functioning.

Warmth bloomed in your chest, too overwhelming, too much for how tired you felt.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you murmur, voice quieter now.

Hotch met your gaze, steady and unwavering. “I know.”

The words sat between you, heavy with things unsaid.

You reach for the bag, and your fingers brush his. He didn’t pull away immediately. The touch

lingered, warm and deliberate, before he finally stepped towards your living room.

“Sit,” he instructs, voice gentle but firm. “Eat. And try to get some sleep.”

You huff a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you pull the soup out.

“You take care of everyone like this?” you tease, reaching for bowls and cutlery.

Something flickered across his face—something private, something just for you.

“Not quite like this,” he admitted.

And just like that, the cold didn’t seem so bad anymore.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[delcakoo]

Getting giggly thinking about Prince Yeonjun meeting his princess for the first time? Also why were up at 1 am 🤨🤨🤨

PRINCE YEONJUN I LITERALLY YELPED RAVEN ILY FOR THIS. oh. and uh… i was uh.. doing important things!! 😇 anywaYs enjoy jshsjs

9:02AM — “yeonjun, tuck your shirt in for the last time,” a strict, female voice barks in the distance.

you awkwardly balance your weight from one heel to another as your soon-to-be husband paces over to you, rolling his foxy eyes whilst his mother sends him strict side glares.

the prince looks as if he’d rather be anywhere else in the world; gloved hands digging into his pockets unceremoniously and plush lips formed in a subtle frown.

nonetheless, your own mother’s face brightens with each and every step they take. “smile, honey,” she reminds passive aggressively.

“why, you both look simply ethereal!” yeonjun’s mother compliments once they come to a stop, bowing with gracefulness that her son begrudgingly copies.

while the queen’s blabber on and feed each other sweet talk, yeonjun finally returns your gaze. he scans you up and down, seemingly unimpressed by his default expression. your brows furrow, feeling offended by the male’s lack of respect and decency.

was this rude, stuck up jerk really the man you’d be married off to?

“well, how about we let them introduce themselves on their own while i fetch you a cup of tea?” your mother offers, extending a gloved hand out to miss choi.

“that sounds delightful.” with one last squeeze to her son’s shoulder, the queen leans in, whispering something unreadable against his ear before prancing off elegantly.

now, only you and yeonjun remain outside the palace. he makes no move to do anything, so you reluctantly take charge despite only wanting to scold him for his awful, un-princely attitude. “i’ll show you around.” you don’t give him time to refuse, making your way inside with confident steps.

luckily, the prince doesn’t put up much of a fight; black dress shoes clicking and alerting you of his looming presence close behind.

you pause in the first hallway with a nervous gulp. “so.. this is where we—“

“what do you want?” the black haired boy rudely interrupts.

you frown, “pardon?”

he rolls his eyes yet again, and you resist the urge to comment on how it’ll get stuck there if he didn’t stop. “fortune? pleasure? fame?” he lists off as if he’d said it a billion times before, eyes drifting off to a nearby painting hanging delicately. “which one?”

squinting, you try to study his features and read his emotions, but as usual they offer you nothing. “uh, none?” you reply honestly, and at last, yeonjun turns to face you in peaked curiosity. “i just want to make my parents happy.”

yeonjun hates the fact that he falls for your confident tone and body language. “well, me too,” he mumbles so softly that you nearly miss it.

“then.. why is it that you’ve broken up with all.. what even is it now— ten of your past wives?” you couldn’t stop yourself from blurting it out, even if it was definitely a question for another day.

however, the choi family’s son seems to care even less. “they were all just using me for different reasons,” he replies instantly. “not a single one actually gave a shit about me as a person, so why should i allow them to sleep next to me in my bed?”

you blink at his honesty, nodding in understanding, “that makes sense.”

yeonjun snaps his head over to you, face still blank, but eyed widened a fraction. “it- it does?”

“uh.. yeah?”

he gulps, unsure of what to say. “sorry, it’s just.. i’m usually told that i’m wrong and i should just learn to accept it.”

feeling proud that he’s opening up to you, you quickly reply with something a princess should definitely not say. “well they’re all dickheads, aren’t they?” yeonjun nearly chokes, coughing in surprise before a laugh tumbles out of his lips. his brown, fox eyes crinkle softly, and you can’t help but think he looks shockingly cute like this. “what?” you ask through your own giggles.

“i’ve never heard a princess say such a word,” he cackles.

“well, i suppose you’ll have to give me a chance if you’d like to hear more.” you wiggle your brows playfully, a mischievous smirk still on your lips.

then, the prince does something he’s never done to a girl before (at least, out of his own free will). with a few steps towards you, yeonjun wraps his arm around your waist, leading you off to where your mother’s wait in the dining hall. maybe he’s gullible, maybe this was all a set up and you were simply a wonderful actor.

but at least for now, yeonjun felt genuine hope. “i think i will, princess.”

this was prob not what u expected sorry for the slight angst 🫶 also ten wives was supposed to be an exaggeration if u couldn’t tell 😭😭

[kryptonitejelly]

I'm a big sucker for yearning and pining trope so reading your blurbs that contains those makes me go 🥰 haha so i have a blurb request!

say reader has been pining and yearning over aaron for so long and decided to tell him about reader's true feelings but reader didn't know that aaron is currently seeing someone :") he's all sorry and apologetic towards the reader :( after the 'rejection', reader ask for transfer request to another department bc as much as the reader try to not get affected, it still hurts :( reader and aaron separated (for idk how many years and months it's up to you) and they met again due to the clashing department has to work tgt on a case, aaron tried to tell the reader that back then his reasoning to 'reject' the reader is that he had a fear of being in a relationship w someone whose line of work is just as dangerous he is 😞 as much as he wanted to try it w the reader back then he couldn't do it thus he tried to be in a relationship w someone outside his field of job. the ending is up to you whether it will be angst or fluffy or whatever!! thank you and sorry if the blurb comes out messy im not really good writing out ideas :((((

A/N: nawh baby, its ok, the idea is greattt and came off really well but i’m not too sure if i did it enough justice 🤨

Your heart is hammering in your chest, the rapid thumping audible in your ears, as you walk into the BAU. A small wistful smile flickers across your face as you look around, taking into account the familiar layout.

“Look who is back.” You hear Derek before you see him emerging from around the corner.

“Last time I was here you were still in the bullpen.” You tease as you open your arms while simultaneously stepping into his. “I see someone has an office now.”

He laughs and shrugs as he squeezes you tight. “Acting as Hotch’s stand in for a few months had its perks.”

You laugh as Derek draws away, winking at you, but you feel your heart sink at the name “Hotch”.

It had been 2 years away from the BAU, 2 years since your transfer out to cybercrimes, but the sting of rejection was something not so easily forgotten.

(“I’m seeing someone, her name is Beth.”

“Oh…..”

“(Y/N)-”

“Forget I said anything Aaro- Hotch.”

“Can we - ”

“Just forget it. I gotta go.”)

“They couldn’t drag you out of the room huh?”

“They tried.” He winks, reciprocating your banter as he goes in for a side hug, squeezing your shoulders lightly. “Good to have you back, even if only temporary.”

Your lips part as you begin to respond when a flurry of voices exclaiming your name take over. You turn, releasing yourself from Derek’s half hug to find the rest of the team tumbling in through the glass doors, JJ, Spence, Emily, Dave, Penelope and following up behind them, an unreadable expression on his face, Aaron. It makes your heart seize and belly sink when he catches your eye over Emily’s shoulder as she pulls you in for a hug, offering you a tentative smile.

(“You wanted to see me?”

“You put in a transfer request.”

“I did, cybercrimes.”

“If this is about…”

“It isn’t.”

“You are good at the work we do here, I - the team won’t want to lose you.”

“I’ve thought it through Hotch.”)

“(Y/N).”

“Hotch.” You extend your arm to grasp his in a quick handshake. You read the small shifts in his expression, the pause before he shakes your hand, the moment of thought which is accompanied by a twitch in his cheek, and small flare of his nostrils as he finally extends his hand to meet yours, not liking it but going with the flow.

(“These are the last of my files.”

“Can I get you to change your mind?”

“I think the change will be a good one for me.”

“I … - You know where to find us if you ever change your mind.”)

-

You press your thumbs to your temples, as you duck your head down, eyes staring intently at the papers spread out in front of you, your eyes searching for the pattern you needed to find but could not.

“I hope you haven’t changed the way you take your coffee.”

A paper cup slides into view on the table beside you.

“Two splendas and a dash of milk.” You confirm, eyeballing the cup before looking up to meet Aaron’s eyes. “Thanks Hotch.” You manage to push out after a pause. You had been avoiding him ever since you had stepped back into the BAU, keeping the conversation minimal, and busying yourself with everyone else and the case.

“I liked it better when you used to call me Aaron.” His quiet admission surprises you, but you school your features as you spring the coffee cup to your lips, offering no response.

He slides into the chair beside you, and you look around.

“Where is everyone else?”

“They went back to the hotel, I told them I would wait for you.”

“You didn’t have to Hotch.”

“I’m not letting you go back alone.” He offers you a small smile, fingers smoothing down his tie, and you let yourself look at him, taking in the shadows under his eyes, the five o clock shadow appearing on his jaw, - he was tired.

“I’m done, we can go.” You stand, packing up your papers.

(“Are you leaving because of Aaron?”

“Rossi… what, did he say something to you.”

“He said nothing, but you both manage to say plenty without saying anything. We aren’t all blind you know.”

“I read it wrong.”

“I don’t think you did bella. It just…. It isn’t so simple for him. He’s been though alot.”

“I know.”)

-

“I broke up with Beth.” He confesses suddenly, breaking the silent hum of the SUV along the road.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” You tighten your fingers into a fist in your lap, your eyes trained on the passing street lamps outside the window. You catch a flicker of him glancing at you through the reflection against the window which the night brings.

“You never replied any of my texts.” He refers to the few texts he had sent you now and then, checking up on you.

“I’ve been busy.” Your reply is short, clipped, and it causes silence to fall over the both of you.

“I was afraid.” His voice is raw, quiet, real and it makes you turn to look at his side profile as he keeps his eyes trained on the road in front of him.

“Afraid?” You echo, letting yourself hope.

“Of being with someone who face the same dangers as I do.” You are silent, and he continues. “I was afraid of feeling like I had everything, only to lose it all again.”

The car rolls to a stop in the hotel’s parking garage, and you find yourself looking straight at him, his eyes holding yours, yours searching his. Your heart is hammering against the edge of your ribs.

“What are you saying Hotch.”

“That I was a fool 2 years ago,” you see the fire behind his eyes, “and I shouldn’t have let you walk out of my office, on us, on me.”

He reaches across the center console of the SUV, his hand slipping over your fists and you let him, letting yourself and emotions unfurl.

“I would like to get to know you again if you’ll let me.” His hand tightens around yours.

“Ok.” Is all you manage to whisper.

[canadian-riddler]

wanted to say i reaaallly really like your idea of edward not killing his father and mischaracterizing him as a violent thug...... i think when we're kids we look at our abusive parents like theyre the most evil, vile person in the world but as we get older and grow independent from them we realize that our parents are just kind of lame....... and i think edward is the type of person to hold on to the image that his father is a horrible brute late into his life until he allows himself, maybe by having a life outside of being the riddler or letting go of his trauma through therapy, to gain that clarity that maybe his dad was just kind of a loser who took his frustration out on his son

and i think edwards father staying alive is just an interesting concept to explore? like i can imagine he would visit edward in arkham and taunt or make fun of him, and edward would either try and ignore him because hes boiling in his skin listening to his childhood tormentor go off or be mature enough to not give a shit and retaliate (ratio the old man) 🤨iirc you have a scene like that in one of ur fics....... but what are ur thoughts on that

Yeah like this is a big topic in Something the Riddler Would Never Do actually which is why I have started talking about it a little. I don’t know if I can say my mom was abusive (to me) but I’ve put a lot of thoughts about stuff like that into the fic. Not really bad parents being lame but sometimes they genuinely don’t know what else to do. Is it because they’re losers? Or have they just lost it and given up? Or are they doing what their parents did because they tried to break the cycle and ultimately failed? Arkhamverse kind of implies his father was a single parent which is a whole new set of challenges, especially if you’re not getting child support or outside support from friends or family. Edward’s father might not even have had so much as the internet.

Yes I have a couple scenes like that in We Get Along. I sort of have moved away from that personally because it just started to seem cartoonish. That and Deleted, Unread were based on a couple things my mom did but I went too far with it with regards to the visiting stuff.

[mymadmedleyw]

little bit of public opinion survey...

(in case anyone is interested)

what would be better 🤔- about wtph polishing:

a) upload the chapter(s) once I am done with those editing - sort of one by one then - or

b) better upload the whole at once? so, in case someone wants to read further, they could until the current last chapter?

(I hope I could finish with it this weekend, though, but it's damn time-consuming, besides, I'm using my old notebook for this, which is glitchy and just tormentingly slow 😞)

(and I've just realised I should take a look at 'bits' too, to connect the chapters with the additional ones too, which is like 15+ more chapters... 😅 but I hope that would take less time then this big work... those one are shorter after all... or something...)

(sometimes I am wondering why I am doing this at all, but-- I think I'd like to be proud of my work, and looking back, I admit, here and there it was just unreadable and a bad mass of words - I seriously have no idea how you could read it, it was absolute garbage... 🤨 unfollowable and just overall messy...)

(anyway, if you are interested in the progress, I'm at chp9 with Grammarly, and at chp3 in Word-fixing)

(bad thing is, I do Grammarly check as 'step zero', then taking a look at it with Word -- yes, I know, through Drive I could do both at the same time, but my old notebook does not like Drive, and even in these two are like using Explorer with it (if you know how I mean...) -- and once I cut the text to shorter paragraphs and add some things via Word, fixing things and stuff like that, I implement it back to Grammarly again, so it's rather an endless circular procedure, but I think I'm making a progress now, a slow but sure progress ☺️)

(but thinking about it, we are still talking about 19 chapters (+ 'bits' ones, which is 16 if I remember well, so overall it's 30+ chapters, not counting some other works that I count part of this AU too...). Why I thought it was a good idea, at the first place, especially when I should have instead worked on the Invisobang story... is a mystery 😅 I'm insane...)

(sorry, I just hope it'll change to better in the end and that this whole will worth it... I think it will 😊)