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tangerinesilk · 1 year ago

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－ I CAN SEE YOU : TANGERINE X FEM!READER

tangerine is going on a solo mission… well, at least he thinks he is. with lemon missing by his side, he’s left with one other option that is supposed to make his job easier. unfortunately for him, you’re not the easiest to work with. stubborn, strong-minded and feisty. you’re both so alike yet nothing has made your bloods boil more than each other.

rating ✷ r (18+ minors dni!)

warnings ✷ (very quick) smut: fem receiving, kisses all over bodies, a needy but quick hj, p in v, dirty talk, praising, implied rough (consensual) sex / others: cursing, drinking alcohol, mention and use of guns and violence, male hurting female (?) but not between main characters, mentions of blood and wounds.

tropes ✷ enemies to lovers!!!, person a is all talk no bite + person b knows that but still pushes them, playful banter, hiding together in small spaces, fake dating (?), if one is hurt– the other goes a bit crazy, says ‘i dont care’ then cares 5 seconds later.

word count ✷ 6k!

songs that fit the vibe ✷ i can see you - taylor swift | moth to a flame - swedish house mafia + the weeknd | king of my heart - taylor swift | attention - charlie puth | nonsense - sabrina carpenter

a/n ✷ so i made a poll a months ago and this trope + pairing won! i’ve honestly been wanting to write a dave lizewski one as well and got a request idea. so.. we will see lmao. i will probably post then maybe edit later if there's still things i don't like... also, if you couldn't tell but im kind of a swiftie so i will love to write fics inspired by whole ass albums y'all.

but i hope this is what u guys expected and wanted. i actually do love writing for tangerine. just gives into my delulu thoughts. also, if you guys would like a plain pwp fic and not all of this fluff and dialogue stuffed inside, pls let me know bc i am definitely into that idea. 🫡

“You had to go and get yourself shot… then you wonder why you have to wear a bulletproof vest. Fuckin’ hell.”

Tangerine kept his voice at a hushed tone, basically talking under his breath as he strutted through the grand hall of the hotel. Golden light glossed over his figure, passing by couples who were at standing tables with their cocktails.

“Well, Thomas said-”

“Thomas didn’t say shit. Don’t get me fuckin’ started now.”

Lemon already knew Tan was in a bad mood. Another Thomas the Tank Engine factoid wasn’t a playful move right now.

“Hey, mate. Don’t get all fussy wit’ me. You’re just mad about your new partner for the night.” Lemon rolled his eyes.

“Can’t believe I can’t be held accountable of myself. I can handle it on my own but you had to call the fuckin’ princess-”

“She’s good. Your denial is obnoxious, bruv. It’s only a night, you get in and get out.” Lemon replied, holding his wounded side as he laid in his bed back in England, “What happened between you two that you’ve got beef like this?”

“No time to explain nor do I have the patience.” He arrived at the small bar to the side of the room, “If I leave her behind, can I take half the pay that’s supposed to be hers?” Tangerine asked.

“She’s supposed to be wearing a red dress. You’ll see her there… and please don’t cause a scene.” His brother begged.

“No promises.” He replied before hanging up.

Tangerine blows a sigh past his lips, quickly asking for his drink of choice before scanning the mass of people around him. His blue eyes could only search so fast for the man that the hit was called on, causing him an instant frustration when he’s already worried about you ruining things regardless of how long you’re together.

“He’s next to the woman in the tacky gold ballgown… about two feet away from the ice sculpture.” Your soft voice suddenly spoke next to him, “But, I didn’t need to tell you that, right?”

The smirk on your face burned at his nerves and you noticed the clench in his jaw.

“Well, if it isn’t the fuckin’ Queen herself.” He said in a stern tone, “What? Germany was too borin’ for ya? Had to figure out a way to ruin someone’s operation?”

“Lemon is the one who called me in, and it isn’t about you. It’s about the pay out… you’re bound to screw something up with your ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ tactic.” You trailed, rolling your eyes as you turned your head away.

“And I’m certainly not afraid to use that tonight and not your fucked up, painfully long mind games like some fuckin’ psycho thilling killer.” He spat as his drink was place in front of him.

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Fuck you.”

“Darling, I’m flattered, but we have more important things to do right now.” He lowly groaned, purposefully looking at his target so his back was facing toward you.

Behind his tall stature, you glimpsed past his shoulder and saw your target chatting up a woman.

He won’t be smiling for long, you thought.

“Alright, I’ll wait for him to slip away, follow him and you go through the kitchen.” Tangerine said under his breath, keeping quiet for only you to hear him.

“To go where?” You ask, walking around him to stand face to face.

“Erm…” He sighed, “Whatever car or vehicle you got here in, drive yourself back to whatever place you’re staying and I’ll figure out how to wire you the money.” He shrugged, downing the rest of his drink.

He took a step but you placed your hand on the center of his chest, “Not so fast. I’m not going down if you make a mess of this.”

“I don’t make messes. Well, actually, I get away with them once I’ve done ‘em so, I don’t need to worry about a liability.” Tangerine smirked, a bit of a tilt to his head. Cheeky bastard.

“The only liability here is the one who is ready to pull the trigger in his back.” You said before huffing, “I’m not sorry for what happened in Paris, but that was my choice. So, I’m going with you because it’s our operation. You know… I don’t need a fucking helping hand either.” You practically growled.

The two of you held a long gaze, creating a tense eye contact before he sighed, “Didn’t even say anythin’ about Paris, but if you’d like to assume I’m still mad ‘bout that, be my guest, princess.”

His shoulder bumped yours, making you clench your jaw before quickly following behind his tall stature. While he seemed persistent, you grabbed his hand which made him stop in his tracks in the middle of the dance floor.

He turned, “Am I your babysitter?”

“No, you’re my date. Hold my hand, you idiot.” Your eyes pierced through his.

As he looked down at your hand, he slowly grasped it, your fingers intertwining with one another’s before he proceeded through the glamorous crowd.

Couples swayed and waltzed between each step you took, assuming you were unnoticed by your target. Tangerine kept his eyes on him, easy to with the frosty-white full head of hair he had slicked back. The woman in the tacky dress ran her hand down his shoulder, pressing her lips to his ear to whisper something which made you and Tangerine veer to the side at a standing table.

“Are they movin’?” He asked, facing his back toward them.

Your eyes smoothly shift, taking a quick glance at the assumed couple. You ran your hand down Tangerine’s arm, accidentally feeling how toned his bicep was through the thick fabric of his suit jacket. You almost glanced down, wanting to give another squeeze before clearing your throat. A heat rose on your cheeks as you turned your head to face away from him.

“Y-Yeah, near the bathroom. There’s also a backdoor that leads up to the second floor… lots of private rooms for reasons that are obvious.” You said in a hushed tone, moving away from him to the other side of the table.

“Alright, since you wanna tag along, I’ll follow them and you cover the door.” Tangerine suggested once again.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “You do understand what teamwork is, yes?”

He chuckled, “Yes, I go up there, shoot a few rounds, then we make a getaway.”

“Will you just trust me?”

“Your trust means nothing… I need to know you’re not going to fuck anything up. Just like in Paris.”

You smirked, “So you do have that against me.”

“Well, it’s not like it was your best. Leave me with a shot in the arm, Lemon on the ground and you, little miss greed, get away with your cash. If we all did this job for money, we wouldn’t be riskin’ our lives just runnin’ around killin’ or resucin’ people just for someone’s dime. You obviously do though.”

You narrowed your eyes, “You don’t know me…”

“Nor do you know me so…” He huffed, “Let’s just do what we have to do.”

There was tension between you, as if there was more fo a protective instinct than hate toward one another. You couldn't figure out Tangerine’s deal. Why was he so hostile toward you? Yes, what happened in Paris was fucked up, but he wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. He didn’t take shit from anyone, so why were you getting under his skin?

“Shit!” He grunted under his breath, seeing your target disappear into the hall.

The two of you hurry, yet still try to act casual to not raise eyebrows, and exit into the same hallway. As you push open the door, you hear the two talking in the stairwell before another door closes.

“You got your gun on you?” He asked as his hand slid into the back of his pants.

“Of course.” You scoffed, tearing up the slit in your dress. He saw the small pistol strapped to your thigh, making his mouth a bit dry.

He nodded, “Good…”

Taking a quick breath, Tangerine opened the door. You slipped through and he followed behind, your backs facing one another as you scanned the hallway. It wasn’t narrow but if anyone slipped out of one of the rooms, they were right in your sights.

“I’ll take this one, you take that one.” He whispered, pointing his gun to the opposite door of his.

With your heart in your throat, you slowly crack the door open and don’t see anyone before a body flies from behind and slammed the door open from Tangerine’s side. The woman lied dead on the floor, blood all over his dress, and just as you turned around, a punch slid across your cheek.

Instinctively, you ducked to dodge the second jab and swoop under to get on the other side of the man as Tangerine wrapped his arms around the guy to pull him to the ground.

Tan loudly grunted as he tried to gain control, basically attempting to straddle him in order to push his arm against his neck. Even with all his strength, the man gripped his hands around Tangerine’s arms to throw him off along with trying to push his knee between his crotch.

“Watch the door!” Tan directed to you.

You nodded, catching your breath with your back against the wall by the door. The adrenaline ran through your veins and heard your heartbeat in your ears as one tear of blood dripped down your cheek. The crack of bones made you turn your head, seeing the man’s body go limp as Tan began to stand over him.

He quickly walked over the man, as if he was in the way, and comes to your side.

“He nicked you bad. Lemme see.” Tan said, your eyes meeting his as he held your cheek. The touch of his hand seemed to be some comfort, his thumb wiping the blood away and trying to see how bad the wound was.

“Bastard.” He muttered, “C’mon, let’s go before someone comes up.”

Without a word in, he grabbed your hand and dragged you behind his lead. You two headed for the exit door down the other side of the hall as you heard footsteps rumble from the other stairs you came up.

“Wait a minute.” Tan said, fiddling with his belt buckle.

Your eyes widen, “What on earth are you doing?”

He smirked, “Relax, darling. You flatter yourself too much.”

You rolled your eyes as the sound of his belt slid against the fabric of his belt loops before curling the leather strap around the door to keep it locked. The two of you fled down the stairs and suddenly found yourselves in the kitchen area. A few eyes followed as you both ran through, very obvious that you were running from something, but still aimed to get to some kind of exit.

With sudden luck, Tangerine saw his car across the street, instantly knowing which way he was supposed to go. Without skipping a beat, he grabbed your hand once more and the two of you ran across the street. Hopping into the passenger seat and Tan taking off was like a blur, just happening in seconds.

“Y/N?” Tan saying your name woke you from your trance.

“Huh?” You asked, shaking your head.

He quickly turned his head, “You alright?” He said with concern, one hand on the steering wheel and his foot easing off the gas.

“Y-Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t know what happened back there.” You trailed, a bit embarrassed. You were never one to let your guard down, well– enough to get hit right smack in the face.

“Are you sure?”

You turned your attention to him, “I’m fine, why wouldn’t I be?” You asked rhetorically.

“‘Cause of that big cut on your cheek.”

You narrowed your eyes, “Alright, what’s your big plan now, Einstein? Were just going to sleep in your car and hope we don’t wake up decapitated?”

He half-chuckled, “You truly think so little of me, don’t you?”

“Is that rhetorical?”

Tan rolled his blue eyes, “We’re goin’ somewhere safe.”

– – –

You wanted to believe you were strolling into some kind of trap. The lobby had a classic aesthetic to it, pale gold wallpaper and a wall of keys behind the person at the small front desk. You two placed your go-bags on the red carpeted ground as Tangerine checked into a room.

“Hello Mr. Tangerine.”

Oh, great. He’s some guest of honor here.

“‘Ello, Colin. My usual room.”

“Is that what you say in front of all the girls?” You tilted your head, standing behind him.

He rolled his eyes, “‘Cuse her.”

The man chuckled, crinkles by his eyes, “How many nights are you staying this time?”

This time. You could scoff out loud but you didn’t want to hear the tude from him.

“Just overnight. Nothin’ too serious.”

“Well, enjoy your stay, as always.” The man nodded before Tangerine thanked him.

The two of you head toward the old elevator, watching him quickly press the up button before you stand by his side. You half chuckled, “I’ve never seen you act so kindly toward anyone, tell me, does he see you bring girls through here all the time or-”

“Has anyone ever told you to shut your pie hole?”

“Hmm, not verbally. But, those eyes of your say enough for me… you’re too predictable, sometimes, Tan.”

He gave you a lingering look as the door opened, passing him into the elevator. The two of you make your way to the fifth floor and the hall is eerily quite for a hotel full of private contractors and assassins. You had your hands behind your back then patiently waited for Tangerine to jiggle the key into the lock, opening a door to a huge room with a surprisingly wide view.

“You’d think the curtains were closed.” You muttered as he walked over, closing them anyways.

Suddenly, he stripped from his suit jacket and you couldn’t help but see how tight his button up was around his biceps and chest.

“Did you get that a size too small?” You ask as you chunk your heels into the corner.

“Well, I certainly can’t kill fuckin’ bloaks wearing baggy clothes now.”

“But, you can in a three piece suit?” You cocked your eyebrow.

He licked his lips, “As if your dress is a flexible material.” Tangerine said as he pulled his rings off, placing them on the night stand.

“I can say the same for your pants.”

Tangerine wanted to look down but didn’t give into your comment. You place your bag down on the bed, grabbing your silk pajamas nearly folded on top and changed in the bathroom.

“God, just go to bed. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.” You somewhat groaned.

You sit on the top of the bed, unfolding the duvet before shoving it off to get underneath them.

Tangerine paused, “What the fuck do you you’re doin’?”

You furrowed your eyebrow, “This thing called going to sleep. Try it sometime, you’d be less grouchy.”

He rolled his eyes, “I know that, smartass, I mean what’re you doin’ in the bed that I’m goin’ to be sleepin’ in too?”

You rolled over, putting your weight on your elbows, “I know you’re dramatic but this takes the cake for top performances.”

He faked a laugh, “If you don’t get your ass out of that bed in two seconds, I’ll throw you in the tub with a pillow.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to. Fine, do it.” You said before laying flat into the mattress, staring straight at the ceiling.

He didn’t care for your equal amount of sarcasm, but he just gave you a cocked eyebrow.

“Okay, fine. I’d rather sleep on the floor anyways.” He said, stretching his arms up and behind his head. Your eyes quickly admired his muscles before turning back.

“Be my guest, princess.” You scoffed, slipping on your pajama shorts, “I’ll enjoy my big comfy bed.”

You pulled the heavy duvet over your waist, curling up with the dense pillow beneath your head.

Tangerine stood there, biting the inside of his cheek as he watched you roll on your side. He tilted his head back before unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it on the desk chair. Although your eyes were closed, his side of the bed sunk in and you tried to hold back your smile at his faded stubbornness.

With your backs facing one another, you two just listened to the silence of the city. It gave you a moment to think of Paris– the last time you were with one another or much rather supposed to be against each other. You were a double agent, not exactly proud of it but you let greed take over your motivated justice.

Having to scam Lemon and Tangerine wasn’t your finest hour either, you thought about it for months and finally coming face to face with Tangerine (out of the two, he wasn’t the one you would want to bump into again), all the guilt came rushing back like the snap of an elastic band.

– – –

The morning sun runs through the thin silk of the curtains, shining over your bodies in the bed. You wake up to the sound of light snoring, happy that you could sleep through it, and Tangerine in a deep slumber with his arm over the bed. He suddenly looked like innocence, so soft and tender, simply laying there like it was any other day.

You sit up, putting your hair out of your face then head to the bathroom. When you turn the light on, you’re almost surprised to see your reflection. Forgetting about the scar against your cheek, you look more rough around the edges. You sigh as you run your fingers over it, remembering the way Tangerine did last night.

After washing up, you go back out and Tangerine is now standing up and stretching his arms above his head. Your eyes quickly shift up his body, admiring the tattoos in their random places and how the band of his briefs rest on his hips. You sealed your lips from smiling at how sharp his v-line was accompanied by the happy trail disappearing into his pants.

“Sleep good with that stick in your ass?” You retort, passing him.

He rolled his eyes, “...You’re annoying, ya know that?”

“Oh, you’ve made that clear.” You mocked him as you closed the curtains more, “That’s why I love to do it.”

Tangerine flicked on the lamp, giving the room a warm glow.

“Alright, I say we lay low today. Better to be out of sight and–”

You cut him off, “Stuck in this room together?... are you trying to kill me t–”

He then put his hand over your mouth, looking deep into your eyes, “Yes, stuck in this room where we can keep an eye on each other and you can’t screw me over again.”

Your heart stopped for a split second, as if he couldn’t have been more of the controlling one. He took his hand away and you gulped, “Yep. Fine. Fair.”

Tangerine pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek before you go to your bag in the chair that’s pushed in the corner of the room. You slightly bend over to look inside your duffle and his icy eyes can’t help but look up the back of your thighs and straight at your ass and lower back. How he could easily put his hands on your hips and make you hold onto something.

He shook his head, feeling like he was coming down with something to even imagine that thought.

You pulled out an old novel and sat yourself back on the bed, hoping that the hours would pass as you sank further into the broken-in mattress.

Tangerine sat down in the chair nudged into the corner, adjacent from your view, and he pulled out his gun that was conveniently tucked into the back of his pants.

“Are you actually holding me hostage?” You furrowed your brows, but didn’t take your eyes from your sentence.

“Whatever fantasy you’d like you believe.” He trailed, opening his gun and emptying his rounds into his palm.

– – –

Suddenly, you leaped out of a deep sleep. Your book laid open on your stomach while an extra pillow was between your legs. Your eyes fluttered open, thinking the past few days has been a dream, until you noticed Tangerine wasn’t sitting in the chair. You quickly looked around before hearing the bathroom door open and he stepped out, shirtless and in new dark slacks that rested on his hips.

Your mouth became dry. How could you dislike him so much yet here you are, ready to jump his bones as he crossed the room.

“What are you getting dressed for?” You asked, rubbing your eyes.

He half-chuckled at your groggy voice, “I want a drink.”

“Oh, like you’re not just going to abandon me here like I did you?... Where you go, I go.” You warned him.

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“A bit hypocritical coming from you.”

Tangerine just ignored your smart comment and opened the door, letting you through first before he followed. His eyes, once again, trace your lower back and trailed down your legs. His cheeks flushed pink as he quickly looked away, clearing his throat as he caught up to you so you two were walking side by side.

You pushed the faded down button as you pushed a big breath past your lips. Tangerine put his back against the wall and crossed his arms, his muscles basically restraining in his light button up. As you turned around, you rolled your eyes– but not at him, just at yourself. How could you have any little feeling for someone who also annoyed you to your core?

He took your silence as a bit of a tease. To be fair, you two didn’t really know one another. You met once before and then you simply betrayed him. Quickly, you were dead to him, but now you’re forced to be together and it raised an important question to himself too. Why was he helping someone who obviously can’t be trusted?

Tangerine furrowed his eyebrows at that thought, knowing he would have thrown you to the wolves last night after you closed your eyes. He played with his watch a bit before the elevator dinged and caught both of your attentions.

After entering, the low-sounding shifting mechanics of the elevator were the only sounds between you two. You heard Tangerine sniffle, seeing him stretch his neck out of the corner of your eye, but you kept a straight view to the doors. While Tangerine thought you were continuing to give him the silent treatment, you were lost in your own thoughts of the past.

You flashbacked to your last night in Paris together, and remembered how the guilt creeped up on you knowing that, in a few hours, you’d have to betray both Lemon and Tangerine. Before knowing them, you didn’t care, but now that you’ve realized how hard you were falling for Tan, it felt like a double edged sword. If you didn’t do it, maybe you could stay with him– have a life together. But, if you went through with your selfish heist, you’d lose the guy who made you comfortable with being vulnerable after a long time.

Obviously, you regretted your decision.

“Is this what you want?” You simply asked.

Tangerine quickly turned his head, “What?”

You rolled your eyes before facing his direction, “This.” You gestured between the two of you, “The weird animosity and constantly arguing and nit-picking?”

He never thought you’d be so bold to point it out, “I mean, we don’t like each other. Simple, isn’t it?”

“I guess…” You trailed, facing back toward the doors.

Tangerine licked his lips, wondering if he should utter the words on his tongue.

“...But, that doesn’t mean we can’t start over.”

You looked over your shoulder once more before turning around to him, “You mean that?”

He arched his eyebrow, “Should I regret it now?”

Just as the elevator dinged, the doors slowly opened and the hotel lobby appeared empty. You smirked to yourself, “Why don’t we catch up over that drink, huh?” You sort of teased– not sure if it had purpose.

– – –

Your drink tasted smooth, easily trailing down your throat as you leaned your head back to finish off the rest of the liquor in your glass. Once you tilted your head back straight, you were met with Tangerine’s signature eyebrow arch.

“Don’t worry, I’m paying for my own drinks.” You sighed, placing your glass back down on the wooden table top.

“As long as I don’t got to carry you back up to the room.” He sighed, sounding more defeated than witty, then his blue eyes glanced down then back into your eyes.

You hummed, running your finger along the rim of the empty glass.

“‘right so, what’ve you been doin’ since we last…” He cleared his throat, “saw one other?”

You crossed your leg over the other, “Not much. Actually, it’s the first time I’ve been out for a while. After leaving you guys, I laid low in Tuscany.”

“For how long?”

You shrugged, “Five months? I was on the countryside and I wanted to be alone…” then, you smirked, “I heard that you were in Kyoto.”

Tangerine could chuckle about it now, “For a bit. Had a job to do for some psychotic, fucked up family. The dad called in us, they were all turin’ on each other. Whole fuckin’ thing…”

“As in…” You trailed, “Against one another? The whole family?”

He just nodded before taking a sip of his drink.

You raised your eyebrows, “Wow… and you got out with no bruises or cuts? Bullet holes?”

Tangerine licked his lips before he presented the side of his neck, lighter skin over his tanner tone to show the scar. You carefully reached out, brushing your fingers against it which made a tingle go up his spine. You sit back down as he turned back in his chair, and he seemed to tense up.

“Amazing you survived it.” You sealed your lips.

He crossed his arms, “I supposed…”

A comfortable silent fell between you, the light, jazz music playing at a low, and Tangerine’s eyes trailed up the side of your bare leg. He didn’t mean to stare this much, but he felt more vulnerable than usual. One thing you knew is that Tangerine was a layered person, you had to take time to get to the center of him and realize he’s not so cold once you get to know him.

“Five months in Tuscany, I bet that was lovely.”

“Not really. I isolated the whole time… I wanted to be by myself, but I felt bad about what happened… what I did in Paris.” You admitted, but didn’t look into his eyes, fearing that he would turn on you in a second.

Tangerine sighed, “You had to do your job, we did ours… that’s ‘bout all that can be said.”

Assuming from the lack of eye contact and his tone, he seemed hurt too. You could easily let it boost your ego, but, you actually felt a relief. This hatred you’ve held against each other has finally come down and even though it wasn’t actually said, both of you can feel hostility leave the room.

You bit the inside of your cheek, “Remember, we’re starting over. Clean slate. I hope I’m making a good impression so far.” You raised your eyebrows, lifting your glass again just to drink the mixture of watered down liquor.

He chuckled, “You’re just lovely.”

The comment made your face get hot. You blame the accent and how it can just get under your skin.

“I don’t think you’ve ever called me something so nice.”

Tangerine smirked, “Funny since we’ve just met, darling.”

Darling.

It was the first time you heard it as a term of endearment then pure spite.

You rolled your eyes, but you could humor that Tangerine was going along with it. This new cheeky side of him was something you didn’t think existed– maybe it was the liquor talking, but you hoped it wasn’t just that simple.

“So, what brings you here?” You continued to tease, placing your elbows on the table, “Business… or pleasure?” Your hand laid on top of his, brushing your fingertips along the chunky rings that perfectly fit his fingers.

Multiples thoughts sounded through both your minds.

“Maybe it’s the liquor.” “Maybe we’re a little over our heads.” “Maybe we’re bored.”

But, Tangerine held your hand on top of the table, gently holding it as his thumb grazes over your knuckles.

“Depends…” He trailed, now leaning in too, “What are you here for?”

– – –

In just a few minutes, you two were back in the room you felt trapped in for hours.

Tangerine pressed your back against the wall, a tingle running up your spine from the coolness of the wallpaper. Your lips pressed together over and over, tilting your head before biting his bottom lip. He effortlessly lifted you up with his hand under the back of your thighs, and your ankles meet around his back.

He needed so bad, desperate even… and the feeling was mutual.

He put you down on your feet again, pressing a kiss against your scarred cheek then another on your jaw. His light kisses run down the middle of your breasts as his hand lifted up the end of your skirt. You pushed your hips out as your back was against the wall still, watching him pull down your panties in an instant. You kick them to the side and Tangerine placed your leg over his shoulder, kisses along your inner thigh and your hand ran through the front of his curls.

Suddenly, his tongue ran over your swollen clit before sucking on it. With one hand in his hair, the other caressing your breast and running your thumb over your nipple.

Tangerine panted, moving his hand against your pussy lips. He pushed them apart, showing your tight hole and how you clench around nothing. He lowly groaned, running his fingers over your clit before sliding his two fingers into your pussy. You bite your bottom lip to hold back the moan stuck in your throat, watching him suck your clit and finger you at the same time.

Just as your climax neared, he felt your cunt tighten around his fingers. He couldn’t end it like this so, he took them away. You let your leg down, watching him come back up and tower over you.

“If I’m goin’ to make you cum…” He sighed, “I’m gonna be deep inside you when you fucking crumble.” He said so low before pressing his fingers against your tongue, and you tasted yourself.

You pulled his hand back, running your thumbs over his tattooed hand.

“Not if I make you cum first.” You trailed, moving his hand down so you could kiss him.

He could drop to his knees in an instant, but Tangerine surprisingly kept his composure.

You smirked as you pushed him toward the bed, the back of his knees hitting it to make him sit down. As you stood in front of him, he leaned on his elbows as he watched your dress drop to the floor. It pooled at your ankles and when his eyes shifted back up, so glossed over, your bare body was the center of his attention.

“Hmm, I don’t think you’ll last.” You taunted.

As much as he could snap back, you straddled him and pulled apart his tightly buttoned shirt. Your hands ran over his toned and tatted chest before reaching down to his pants, unzipping the fly and he shuffled a bit to shift them off his hips. His cock was hard, restrained from his boxers and you felt flattered.

You giggled, leaning forward to share a slow kiss with him. Your bare pussy rubbed against his cock as you moved closer to him. A low groan mumbled between your makeout, and you pushed him back so you two both fell on the bed.

Your hands pressed into each side of the mattress, gaining strength to help yourself grind against his hard. His big hands tightly held your hips as you continued your smooth momentum, whimpering at your clit being rubbed by your harsh grind.

As heat rose in the room, your right hand dipped between the two of you, and ran over his hard cock once more. Tan’s lips now desperately met your jaw before taking a light bite at your neck. The feeling of your hand caressing through his boxers could make him release right there.

Becoming more impatient, you finally pushed your hand into the band of his boxers and he once more moved his hips to shift out of them.

“Fuck, your cock is so big… can barely hold it with my hand. God, I want you to stretch me out…” You moaned, “Is that okay?”

You purposefully let him believe that he was in charge, and you were falling into the submissive role. Tangerine gained a bit of confidence from your desperate comments, and he sat more up on the bed.

“Fucking christ…” Is all he could say.

He moved the swollen and red tip against your wet slit, also aching and needing your walls to wrap around him now. At first there was pressure, pushing the tip inside your hole then slowly guiding your hips down to completely take in every inch of his cock.

Once he bottomed out, your body lightly shook as your lips brushed against his. He was fully inside you, the tight and warm feeling making him wither beneath you.

Tangerine moved his hand, kissing your shoulder, “God, you feel like fuckin’ heaven.”

“Don’t stop. Please…” You huffed.

– – –

Then, it was morning.

The rising sun peaked through the small split of the curtains. As you tried to shift, your body ached throughout every muscle. A small groan left your lips, but you were pulled back by a strong arm wrapped around your waist.

It snapped you back into reality. Last night really happened… and you were okay with that.

Tangerine’s tattooed arm unconsciously tightened around you, holding you close still as he still slept behind you. You barely look over your shoulder and saw his face, his eyes still shut and his curls looked wild.

You faintly smile as you turn around to face him, and that’s what woke him up. He pulled his arms back and rubbed his eyes from the brightness of the sun coming in. You run your finger along a curl on his forehead, pushing it to the top of his head and your heart melted from the sight of those blue eyes.

“Did last night really happen?” You mumbled, but with a faint smile on your lips.

He placed his hand gently on your cheek, caressing his thumb against your jaw.

“I think the real question is…” He trailed, “Do we stay another night or go back to pretending to not know each other's existences?”

You bit your bottom lip, lightly giggling, “I think we pick secret option three and go somewhere else. Get away for a while… see where this is going. Don’t you?”

Just at that moment, Tangerine’s phone vibrated in his pants that were on the floor next to the bed. He turned over on his other side, reaching down to pull it out and reading a text Lemon just sent.

“Got a call about a job in Budapest. Are you in or overstaying your weekend?”

Tangerine smirked at himself, then felt your lips press against his neck. You placed another kiss on his shoulder, leaving a tender love bite before he turned back around to kiss you. Maybe it was the natural thrill of the chase, but you loved the not knowing.

Whatever was next, you could only hope that he kept it interesting.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x y/n #tangerine x you #tangerine fic

341 notes · View notes

gleamingyu · 1 year ago

Text

anti-hero.

part II of the midnights series. inspired by taylor swift’s midnights. part I

pairing: music-producer!seungcheol x lawyer!fem!reader [exes-to-lovers]

genre: angst. fluff.

warnings: she/her pronouns for reader (but no specific physical characteristics). a bucketload of angst (i'm so sorry). light cursing. terrible knowledge of law stuff. so much crying yikes. miscommunication & misunderstandings. mentions of drinking and allusions to driving under the influence (do not do that ever!!). reader might seem a bit unlikeable in this chapter, but it's all part of the plot, okay?? she's trying her best. mentions of intimacy and sex (??), nothing graphic tho. slow burn. alternating povs. jihan as my lovely, beautiful, in love babies (yes they're a couple). some petnames (baby, babe). flashbacks are in italics. lower caps intended [if there’s anything i missed, please let me know!]

word count: approx. 8.1k (idk what happened)

notes: finally managed to work on my baby again. i'm sorry for the long wait but i had a lot of shit going on :/ thank you to everyone who showed love on the first part, i love each and every single on of you!! once again, likes, reblogs and comments are more than appreciated :)

summary: seungcheol wants to fix things; you want to avoid him at all costs. one thing is for sure, though. neither of you will have closure until you talk.

four months ago

the silence ringing inside seungcheol’s ears was even louder than the ambient noise of the restaurant he found himself in.

he genuinely couldn’t believe you were doing this to him again. the time was nearing 8 p.m., almost an hour later than when you were supposed to be here, and seungcheol was trying very hard to ignore the pitiful glances the waiters were not-so-subtly throwing him. he didn’t know what frustrated him more; the fact this was the seventh date you were clearly canceling on, or that you hadn’t updated him on your whereabouts in almost half an hour. if you weren’t going to show up, the least you could do is call and let seungcheol know you were gonna meet him at home.

home. funny how the word no longer brought a sense of peace in seungcheol’s heart.

just as he was about to get up and leave, seungcheol felt his phone buzz in the pocket of his pants, and his heart soared when he saw your name displayed on the screen. maybe you were going to make it after all, maybe you could still enjoy the nice evening he had planned, maybe…

“cheol… i’m so sorry.”

you were not coming.

seungcheol could tell from the apologetic tone in your voice. he didn’t even hear the next words that came from your end, whatever excuse you had to offer getting lost in the sound of his heart breaking. the grip he had on his phone was the only thing anchoring him in that moment, his eyes closed as he was trying to push down the tears that were threatening to spill out. he could hear you calling his name, are you there? but all he could offer was an “i’ll see you at home” before ending the call.

there was no part of you that was ready to face what awaited you on the other side of your apartment door.

the day hadn’t gone as you’d planned. you knew seungcheol had plans for the two of you that evening, so you had decided to wake up and go to the office earlier than usual in order to finish what you were working on in time for your date. but when you woke up that morning, you found seungcheol in the kitchen, diligently trying his best at making breakfast for the two of you. you melted at the sight of your boyfriend wearing your peach-colored apron – and nothing underneath but a pair of sweatpants – and you didn’t have the heart to turn him down when he oh-so-gleefully presented you with what could only be described as an admirable attempt at pancakes. moments like these were rare in your lives, with both of your hectic schedules and whatnot, so you sat down and enjoyed the warmth that came from the food, the sun coming in through the curtains, and seungcheol’s smile.

the sense of peace that came with spending the morning with seungcheol quickly dispersed once you arrived at the office and realized you were late, which gave your boss – mr. moon, a pathetic, greedy, and cruel excuse of a man who lived to make the lives of his employees a living hell – the perfect excuse to make you his target of the day. in addition to the case you were supposed to work on, mr. moon decided to dump on you stacks of paperwork that apparently needed to be taken care of by tonight, a task that normally a damn paralegal could take care of – no offense to paralegals.

normally you wouldn’t put up with this type of behavior. you weren’t raised to let people just walk all over you as they damn pleased. but around the office, there was one unspoken rule that everyone learned as soon as they started working here; ‘whatever mr. moon says, goes.’ besides, moon was the only person on the board of directors that could veto promotions in the firm, so until you could see the words senior associate inscribed under your name on the door of your office, you’d have to shut your mouth and take whatever was thrown at you with your head held high.

that isn’t to say that sometimes you wished mr. moon would get hit by a bus, ‘mean girls’ style. today had been one of those days, as the hours trickled by, closer and closer to when you should leave for your date with seungcheol, and yet mr. moon seemed to have a continuous stream of tasks that needed to be done, by you specifically. you realized you would never make it in time to see seungcheol, and so, tonight marked the seventh date you had to cancel because of work.

now, with the time on your phone reading 22:32, you were standing outside your apartment, bracing yourself for the talk you knew you were going to have with seungcheol. letting out a big exhale, you punched in the door code and let yourself in, the quietness of the apartment immediately enveloping you.

for a split second, you thought seungcheol might have gone to sleep already, but the faint sound of glass redirected you towards the kitchen, where you found said man standing by the kitchen island, nursing a glass of wine. you recognized the bottle mingyu had gifted him on his birthday that year, some fancy brand you’d never heard of before. as you stepped closer, the dim light of the kitchen finally illuminating you, seungcheol turned towards you, an inscrutable look on his face.

after four years of learning, knowing, loving seungcheol, you prided yourself in being able to discern what he was feeling at any given moment. but now, standing in front of him, you were scared to admit that you couldn’t read whatever feelings his eyes held. it made you feel uneasy, the way it seemed like he was looking through you, into you, and you wished you could come up with something to say to disturb the uncomfortable silence, but saying i’m sorry seemed redundant in that moment.

“a bit late, isn’t it?” seungcheol spoke up, and your heart clenched at the cold, almost mocking tone of his voice.

“i know, but i couldn’t get out faster. no matter what i said, my boss kept piling up my work and i just… i couldn’t. i’m so sorry… you know i wanted to come, more than anything. i really did,” you said, silently pleading that seungcheol would forgive you.

“i’m sure you did,” seungcheol gruffed, turning his attention back to the wine before him.

“cheol… don’t be like this, please…” you tried getting closer to him, but his body whipped towards you, his eyes narrowing at you.

“like what, exactly? angry? frustrated? sad? disappointed? i can be like that, actually, seeing as this is the seventh time in 3 months you’ve ditched me for work, apparently!” seungcheol spewed, making you take several steps back. your body tenses.

“‘apparently?’ what is that supposed to mean?”

“i don’t know, it just seems very unlikely that you’d have to sometimes spend more than twelve hours at work. i mean, you’re a lawyer, aren’t you? surely, you should know everything about workplace laws,” seungcheol bit back. he’s never spoken to you like this before, ever, the mockery in his voice surely aimed to hurt you. you felt anger bubbling in the pit of your stomach, but you tried your best to stay calm, for the sake of both of you.

“seungcheol,” you said, and you couldn’t help feeling a twinge of satisfaction seeing his eyebrows raise in surprise after hearing you use his full name. “if you have something to say, i’d rather you just do it, instead of insinuating it.”

seungcheol fell quiet for a moment, glancing down at his feet. “i meant it when i said i was held back at work, cheol. why would i lie about that?” you continued.

“for the past two years that you’ve been working there, you know i never once met any of your coworkers? i’ve never even stepped foot into your office, for god’s sake! you’ve been to my studio countless of times, you know the people i’m closest to, i’ve invited you to all the events the label organizes, so i just can’t understand! i don’t understand why you’re dead-set on keeping me away from that part of your life! and it makes me think… it makes me feel like i’m not enough, like you’re ashamed of me–”

“that’s absolutely not true, cheol!” you jumped in. you couldn’t even entertain the thought of seungcheol feeling self-conscious because of you, when it was the furthest thing you wanted. “i think you’re the most talented person i know, the most passionate, hard-working, smart… beautiful… i could never be ashamed of you.”

unshed tears were clinging to both of your lashes, heavy breathing echoing around the kitchen. how could you let things get so bad?

“it made me think there was someone else,” seungcheol breathes out.

the air gets stuck in your throat, the tears brimming in your eyes finally sliding down your face. “cheol… how could… there never was anyone! i swear, all the nights i would come home late, it was because of my work! i swear, i would never… you’re the only person that’s ever on my mind…”

silence fell over you and seungcheol, the words thrown between you slowly sinking in. seungcheol sniffled, taking a seat at the round table in the middle of the kitchen; you wished you could go to him, gather him in your arms, even though he’s too big to fit in completely, but you knew that this was probably the last thing seungcheol wanted from you in that moment.

“why don’t you quit?”

seungcheol looked up to you, the sadness in his gaze so intense it made you look away, knowing you’re to blame for it. “you complain so much about it… the hours, the work, the boss, the people. why can’t you just leave?”

you breathed in, thinking over seungcheol’s words. “because… because i love doing what i do. i feel about law the way you feel about music. it’s just the environment that’s shitty. but it’s something… that’s mine. and the kind of opportunities i got at this firm… people just starting out, like me, don’t come by them very often usually.”

there was a pause as seungcheol mulled over your words. a part of you thought, hoped, that the way the conversation was going would lead to fixing things, but then seungcheol spoke up again, and you knew. there was no fixing, not anymore.

“i was yours, too. and i would’ve never chosen music over you.”

“you say that now, but if you were put in a situation where you had to choose, i don’t think you’d have as easy of a time as you say.”

“i guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.”

and that was the end of it.

three days after your unexpected reunion with seungcheol, you find yourself back at PLEDIS, ready to tackle jihoon’s case.

the morning had gone on normally enough, with people coming in to give their testimonies regarding jihoon, his work and their relationships with him. as expected, no one had come forward with any potentially harmful or negative remarks about him, everyone applauding him for his tireless dedication to the label and the artists he worked with, as well as marveling at his seemingly innate musical talent and creativity. this was no surprise to you; having known jihoon for almost as long as you’d known seungcheol, you witnessed first-hand jihoon’s mastery of his craft, on multiple occasions. and now, with all the information you had gathered in the past three hours since arriving at PLEDIS, you were starting to feel more confident about winning this lawsuit.

initially, you had no intention of taking on jihoon’s case. the previous weekend, when mr. moon had called you in, you arrived at the firm with your mind set on demanding a break. in the past months, you might as well have changed your home address to the office, seeing as you had been working non-stop on one case after another, pulling countless sleepless nights and taking on extra paperwork as favors to some of your coworkers. and after finding out what the case was actually about, you were even more adamant about turning it down. but all the excuses you offered mr. moon were effectively shut down, leaving you almost begging the man to pass the case to someone else.

before you could use your past relationship with the other in-house music producer working at PLEDIS as an excuse, mr. moon delivered the lowest of low blows. “you know, a high profile case like this could attract lots of new clients for the firm… and put you right on the track for senior associate.”

there was no use arguing anymore after that. moon knew how much you wanted that promotion, and you were honestly not surprised to see him using it against you in order to force you into doing whatever work he wanted you to. so you shut your mouth, took the case, and then went home and cried.

yes, you cried. moving on.

seeing seungcheol again, and unexpectedly so, definitely set you a few steps back in whatever emotional healing you had done in the past few months. and it definitely made you doubt your own abilities as a lawyer. if you couldn’t put aside your personal feelings and instead focus on helping a guy who was being wrongfully accused, were you even meant to practice the law? but you had worked far too hard and sacrificed far too much to let these thoughts cloud your judgment and confidence, so you told yourself that even if you had to be in seungcheol’s proximity for the foreseeable future, your main priority was winning this case. for jihoon, and for yourself.

of course, planning to ignore the obvious feelings you still harbored for your ex-boyfriend was way easier than actually ignoring them. now, as you were gathering your things to meet wonwoo in the conference room he was stationed in, you were also mentally preparing yourself for the off-chance that you would bump into seungcheol again. considering how your luck’s been going in the past few weeks, you think the chances are pretty high.

walking through the halls of PLEDIS felt oddly familiar, and yet strange at the same time. when you and seungcheol first started dating, the label was just starting out, carrying all its business in a measly two-story building on the outskirts of town. you felt a tiny knot forming at the back of your throat, thinking how crazy it was to have witnessed the immense growth that seungcheol went through as an artist and a person, and now, to be walking amongst the fruits of the labor of his work, and so many other people’s, who built the label from the ground up.

as you grow nearer to the conference room where wonwoo was most likely waiting for you, you suddenly catch a whiff of a scent all too familiar to you. musky notes of jasmine and bergamot fill your senses, and for a brief moment, you feel an almost supernatural pull urging you to follow the indistinguishable fragrance.

you know exactly where it leads. but now is not the time.

before you can push the door open and walk into the room, your phone’s screen lights up with a text message. ‘hey honey. can you call when you have the time? she’s not having a very good day…’

you sigh, before dialing your mom’s number.

four years ago

seungcheol always smelled divine.

over the years, you’d heard so many of your friends go on and on about their boyfriends’ perfumes, and how once they found the right scent, they could charm the pants off of them with just the smell of their cologne. to you, that idea seemed entirely far-fetched, because, after all, people aren’t dogs. who in their right mind would base their selection of a partner on something as feeble as smell? even more so, an artificial smell, that didn’t even last forever.

clearly, since a few weeks ago, you haven’t been in your right mind, because you swore there was nothing better in this world than the way seungcheol smelled.

all your friends kept telling you that they’d never seen you act like this before. the honeymoon phase of your relationship had hit you pretty hard, and you were completely smitten with cheol. his smile, his eyes, his dimples, his laugh, his hair, his charm… and his scent, you couldn’t get enough of him. and now, as you were making your way towards PLEDIS together, you couldn’t help but wish you could nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck and stay there forever.

it was your first time seeing where seungcheol worked. you had been wanting to see his studio ever since he had first told you about his job (and proved that he wasn’t one of those wannabe soundcloud rappers or whatever), but considering the label wasn’t exactly in a central location, getting there proved slightly difficult. not to mention that most days, your classes ran pretty late, and seungcheol shared his studio with jihoon, the other music producer at PLEDIS, which meant you couldn’t pop in whenever you had a window of free time, so as to not disturb them.

that night, however, seungcheol decided you deserved a break from your studies, and since your midterms were coming up, it might have been one of the last times you could afford to go out before getting swept up in the craziness of exam season. so after your last class of the day, seungcheol picked you up from campus and drove you outside of town, where PLEDIS stood.

“are you absolutely sure it’s alright for me to be here? i don’t want you to get in trouble with your… superiors, if that’s what you call them,” you said, walking up the stairs closely behind cheol.

“i already told you, it’s fine! besides, you’re not planning to steal any confidential information and spread it online, are you?” he teased, stopping in front of a door that you assumed was his studio.

“hmm, i don’t know… what makes you think i’m not secretly working for one of your competitors?”

seungcheol chuckled, shaking his head, before looking back at you. “oh, baby, you and i both know you like me too much to hurt me so,” he said, finally unlocking the door and letting you step inside.

well, he wasn’t wrong.

to most people, seungcheol and jihoon’s studio might not have looked like much. it held all the standard recording and mixing equipment one would expect to find there, along with personal touches from the boys, like pictures with their friends, some posters, a couple of cd racks, as well as a couch and two huge leather desk chairs. one the other side, inside the recording booth, you could see a keyboard, a couple of guitars, and a drum set, as well as some microphones, of course. to someone who’s never stepped foot in a recording studio before, like you, the place was amazing. and not just because cheol worked in there.

“i know it’s not a lot…” seungcheol mumbles, moving besides you, his arm stretched out in a way that said you could walk around.

your hands grazed the equipment on his desk, holding yourself back in fear of breaking something. “i like it, cheol. it’s homely, and cozy. definitely a good space to get those creative juices flowing,” you gave him a genuine smile, which you could tell instantly put him at ease from the way his shoulders visibly relaxed. he grinned at you, pulling up next to you by the sound board.

“you wanna see how the magic happens?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows. you couldn’t help but groan, rolling your eyes.

“cheol, that was so cheesy… but yes, i do. please,” you said, giddy smiles taking over both of your faces.

“okay! come here,” he said, pulling you into his lap as he sat down in his desk chair. you felt your cheeks heat up at his actions, so natural and nonchalant, totally unaware of the effect he had on you. how could he be so oblivious, and quite literally torture you so? being so close to him now, his cologne starting to overpower your senses, you were sure to go dizzy.

“i’m gonna use one of the demos i have here, but for the record, i did not play anything for you while you were here, got it?” seungcheol said, opening an audio file on his laptop.

“yes, sir!” you gave him a wink, his ears turning red. cute.

for the next couple of minutes, seungcheol gives you a rundown on the soundboard, showing you what goes into recording and mixing a song, and even letting you play around with the different settings for pitch and autotune. even though it was all very interesting, nothing compared to just watching seungcheol’s excitement and passion while talking about music. every time your conversations would somehow turn towards music, his face would light up like a kid’s on christmas morning, his whole body animatedly gesturing while he rattled on about his favorite artists and composers, whatever new album came out that week, and even why a song with a good bass line is guaranteed to become a hit (yes, that was an actual discussion the two of you had once). seeing the obvious love he harbored for this art form made you ten times more enamored with him. you could already tell his passion and hard work were going to take him places, and you couldn’t wait to see it all.

“cheol? how did you know you wanted to do music?” you asked, turning to look up at your boyfriend.

“oh, wow, we’re going for the deep stuff, huh?” he laughed.

“you don’t have to share if you don’t want to, i was just curious… you always talk so passionately about it, i could just tell it means a lot to you.”

seungcheol sighed, leaning back into the chair. “it’s alright. i really don’t know how i got here, to be honest. i’ve always been interested in music, and found myself writing and experimenting with sound. one day, i just knew that i couldn’t really picture myself doing anything else. so i focused on that and worked my ass off, i guess.”

“well, clearly?! we’re sitting in your own studio! i’d say you’re doing pretty great,” you exclaimed, smiling at seungcheol’s blushing cheeks. “you should be proud of yourself, cheol, really.”

seungcheol can’t even look at you right now, too overcome with giddiness at the onslaught of compliments you’re suddenly throwing his way. instead, he shoves his face in the crook of your neck, mumbling a quiet ‘thanks.’

“is it hard to come up with new music?” you continue, playing with the strings of the hoodie he was wearing.

“hmm, it depends,” his voice is muffled, and you flinch at the ticklish feeling of his breath fanning on your neck. “there are days when i can put down a whole song and melody at once; sometimes it takes me weeks to be satisfied with a song i’m working on. but lately i’ve been feeling more… inspired than usual, so it’s been going pretty well.”

you turn your face towards him, a teasing smile stretching across your lips. “oh, really? how come?”

seungcheol returns your smile, his fingers pressing slightly harder into your skin where they sat on your waist. “just someone i met recently… they’re really nice and beautiful and funny and smart,” now it was your turn to grow shy, feeling your cheeks and chest grow warm at the implication of his words. “but i think jihoon is growing tired of all the ballads i’ve been writing.”

you both fall into a fit of giggles, your faces so impossibly close, your noses brush. “poor jihoon… whatever will he do?” you whisper, and before you can breathe in again, seungcheol’s lips fall against yours.

the air in your lungs dissipates in seconds. your entire body is ablaze, and you swear your hearing no longer registers the music playing from seungcheol’s laptop, instead becoming attuned to the sound of cheol’s soft sighs. you want this moment to last forever, to melt into his embrace, ingrain yourself into his very existence. his lips grow more and more fervent against yours, and you swear your mind goes blank, the only thought even going through your head in that moment a chant of his name. cheol, cheol, cheol, cheol…

later that night, once you’re home, getting ready for bed, you catch a whiff of seungcheol’s cologne again, the scents of his perfume imbued into your sweatshirt. you can’t help but smile like an idiot.

you didn’t wash that sweatshirt for a week after.

no matter how much seungcheol loved his friends, he couldn’t go on another second hearing jeonghan and joshua discuss whether they should choose lilies or hydrangeas for their wedding (because the good ol’ rose is too much of a cliche, apparently, according to joshua).

an exasperated sigh escaped him, his whole body slouching from the weight of the gloom he was carrying. jeonghan and joshua, who had been animatedly bantering over wedding preparations, suddenly go quiet, their heads snapping up to look at their friend. if this was a cartoon, they swore you would see a huge, gray cloud hanging above his head.

“alright, you gotta tell us what’s got you all pouty and gloomy, because this? this is just sad, cheol,” said joshua, gesturing at seungcheol’s crouched figure.

he sighed again, but straightened his back this time. the truth was, nothing particularly bad had happened today. but the day hadn’t gone as seungcheol had initially planned.

that morning, seungcheol had arrived at work determined to talk to you. seeing you again earlier that week had broken down the walls seungcheol had put up in the months following your breakup, and all the emotions he had tried pushing behind those walls – anger, sadness, frustration, yearning, love – were slowly, but surely, seeping back in. there was no point denying it anymore; seungcheol was not ready to let go just yet.

taking jihoon’s advice to heart, he decided to ‘grow some balls’ and initiate a discussion with you, one that you probably should’ve had before any of the shit that went down between the two of you could’ve gone down. seungcheol knew, deep down, that you were hiding something, and thought that once both of your cards were out on the table, you could either work on fixing what’s been broken, or you could both gain some closure and move on with your lives.

seungcheol was desperately hoping for the first option.

either way, whatever plans seungcheol had made were quickly put on hold when he arrived at his meeting and only found your colleague, jeon wonwoo, waiting for him in the conference room. he’d made himself look like an idiot, bluntly asking about your whereabouts, disappointment clear on his face at your lack of presence, which only got him an inscrutable look from wonwoo (who made a mental note to check in with you about this little outburst, for safety reasons). wonwoo hadn’t mentioned anything about you throughout the interview, which in retrospect, seungcheol realized, was more than normal, considering wonwoo probably had no idea that the two of you even dated before. if anyone at your firm would’ve known about your previous relationship, he imagines you wouldn’t even be here, working on this case. conflict of interest and all.

in the end, seungcheol had no idea whether you were even at PLEDIS at all, and didn’t even have time to ask around for you, having a number of recording sessions planned for the rest of the morning. it wasn’t until jeonghan called and invited him out for lunch with him and joshua, that seungcheol left his studio again. when his friends greeted him outside the restaurant they decided on, they held back from commenting on his sulky expression.

seungcheol didn’t tell them that he had half a mind to turn down their invitation when he heard where the couple wanted to meet. IL GRATO was your favorite place in town (you used to say because it was where seungcheol had taken you on your first date), and the restaurant held plenty of the many happy memories you and seungcheol had made over the years. obviously, seungcheol wasn’t particularly keen on revisiting them today, but he didn’t want to seem more pathetic than he already felt, so he shut up and pretended everything was fine.

that didn’t last long, evidently.

“why don’t you just call her? she’s obligated to answer, now that she’s working on jihoon’s situation, right? ask to schedule a meeting with her or something,” jeonghan said, sipping on his glass of prosecco.

“and what reason could i give her for a meeting? that jeon dude already asked me anything he could about jihoon, so i can’t use anything about the case,” seungcheol mumbled. “and saying i wanna discuss the clear unresolved feelings left between us is guaranteed to get her to hang up on me.”

joshua, who had been intently listening to seungcheol’s whines, suddenly perks up, grabbing seungcheol’s shoulder. “cheol, didn’t you mention jeon said he still had some interviews lined up after lunch time?”

seungcheol frowned. “yeah? what difference does it make?”

“well, dumbass, if Y/N was in fact at PLEDIS all this time, that means that she’s probably in one of the conference rooms on the same floor as him. and since most staff clock out at 5 p.m., i’d say you still have about half an hour to go back, find her, and talk to her. like you said you wanted,” joshua explained pointedly, giving seungcheol a look that screamed you have to do it or else i will hurt you.

joshua was right. how could he have been so stupid, to completely overlook what wonwoo had mentioned off-handedly at the end of their meeting. he hadn’t even considered the possibility that you and wonwoo had split up to cover more ground in collecting testimonies, and now he was at risk of completely missing his chance to see you, unless he hauled ass to PLEDIS immediately.

seungcheol shot up from his seat, quickly gathering his things and throwing his credit card on the table, before dashing for the front door. “you guys are the best! lunch is on me!” he shouted, before taking off running.

jeonghan and joshua look at each other, before bursting into giggles. jeonghan sighs, “i need them to resolve this issue before the wedding, really. i won’t be able to handle it if seungcheol mopes around during the whole ceremony.”

joshua cooed, rolling his eyes. “you simply can’t rush love, babe,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to his lover’s cheek.

jeonghan rolled his eyes, turning his attention to the spreadsheet full of wedding prep details laid out on the table. a mischievous glint gleamed in his eyes, as he turned to look at joshua. “so, my dear joshuji, how about lilies for the flower displays?”

“JEONGHAN, I SAID NO!”

nine months ago

when you and seungcheol arrived at IL GRATO, jeonghan and joshua were already inside, patiently waiting at the table they had booked for your party of four, wearing two oddly calm smiles on their faces.

to say you and seungcheol weren’t suspicious at all would be a lie.

jeonghan had called earlier that week to invite the two of you on a double date that weekend – which wasn’t unusual, since the four of you had been going on dates like these since forever – but what had put you and seungcheol on edge was the ‘news’ jeonghan mentioned he and joshua had to share.

you and seungcheol had been going through a rough patch in the past two weeks, and this fact wasn’t unknown to your group of friends. the two of you were not the type to air out your dirty laundry, so for your friends to notice the growing tension between you meant that things were truly going badly. even though neither you or seungcheol had verbalized this to each other, you were both worried that tonight’s double date was just a cover up for an intervention, aimed to make you and seungcheol work through whatever it was bothering you two. jeonghan and joshua were seungcheol’s oldest and closest friends, and they never shied away from confronting seungcheol (and you, after you were welcomed into their friend group), especially when it came to his well-being, both physical and mental. you had been preparing your defense all week, just in case they decided to bring the situation up (and you also realized how desperately you needed a break from work).

after settling in and exchanging common pleasantries about your lives and work, the four of you put in your orders (jeonghan ordering the most expensive bottle of champagne on the menu, much to yours and seungcheol’s surprise), and after the waiter brought the drinks along, you decided to bite the bullet and ask the question that had been bothering you all week.

“so, you two said you had some news to share, right?”

jeonghan and joshua exchange a secretive look, and you only just notice the blush that seems to grace their faces. they looked like teenagers in love. you couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of envy.

“i guess there’s no reason to beat around the bush…” joshua said, looking again towards jeonghan.

“we’re getting married!” the other continues, leaning back into his seat to throw an arm around joshua, grinning from ear to ear.

silence falls over the table, as you and seungcheol drink in jeonghan’s revelation. you jump out of your seat, genuine excitement and joy overtaking you, as you walk around the table to hug and congratulate the two men. a string of high-pitched ‘oh my gods’ leave your lips, gaining the attention of a few other restaurant patrons, but you honestly couldn’t care less, too happy for your dear friends to pay attention to them.

as you make your way back to your seat, holding tightly onto joshua’s hand, you notice that seungcheol was eerily quiet, silently watching his friends, his eyes wide and unblinking. you lay a hand onto his arm, squeezing. “cheol… aren’t you going to say something?” you whisper.

that seems to snap him out of his daze, a gasp escaping him, before his hands come up to cover his face. you, joshua, and jeonghan exchange a concerned look, completely blindsided by seungcheol’s unexpected reaction, since he was as one of jeonghan and joshua’s loudest supporters (he had been betting on the two of them getting together since they were teenagers). but before either of you can say something else, seungcheol looks up, unshed tears swimming along his lash line.

“i’m sorry, i just…” he pauses, as if trying to find the right words. “i just can’t… believe… that neither of you told me! you traitors! you were planning to get engaged and i just find out at the same time as everyone else?” seungcheol pouts, his dramatics leaving the rest of you in tears.

“hey! what is that supposed to mean?” you tease, trying to calm your laughter down.

“no offense, baby, but me and the boys? we have history,” seungcheol winks, before turning back to his friends. “which means i should have priority to all life-changing news in your lives!”

the table falls into laughter once again, before jeonghan and joshua proceed to give you and seungcheol all the details he was claiming they had been keeping away from him. the rest of the evening goes like this, drinks and food shared around, and you almost forget about whatever problems your own relationship has been having, too busy reveling in the love radiating from the couple in front of you.

that night, on the drive home, you and seungcheol fall into comfortable silence, a first in the past weeks. you don’t know if it’s the buzz from the alcohol you drank, or the crooning voice of whatever singer was playing on the radio, but you can’t help but look over to seungcheol’s side, your eyes glancing over the side of his face. he was so handsome, cheeks blushed and hair messy from tonight’s laughter. you wanted to lean over and run the tips of your fingers over the edges of his face, pour everything you couldn’t say into just one touch. please forgive me, just trust me…

“what’s the staring for?” seungcheol speaks, and you whip your head around, looking out the window on your side.

“ah, i wasn’t staring!” you mumble, feeling your face grow hot. “was just thinking… about tonight.”

he smiles, briefly glancing your way. “me too,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

a beat passes before seungcheol speaks up again. “when we get married, what would you want our wedding to be like?”

your heart swells when you realize he said ‘when’ instead of ‘if,’ but you can’t help but tease him a little bit. “‘when?’ i haven’t even said ‘yes’ yet, cheollie,” you smirk, turning your face towards him again.

evidently, seungcheol catches onto your little joke, but he plays into it. “emphasis on ‘yet’, baby. now answer the question!”

“okay, okay,” you chuckle. “well, i think i’d like something small… just our closest family and friends… maybe somewhere outside the city, like in the countryside, something like that,” you say decidedly, already daydreaming about all the possibilities.

“what about the beach? i think a beach wedding would be so cool… do you think your mom would let us have it at her beach house?” seungcheol says, an excited glimmer evident in his eyes.

he completely misses how your face falls at the mention of your mother, but you quickly mask it by nonchalantly agreeing with him. “i don’t see why not, she would probably love that…”

the rest of the drive goes by fast, the two of you bantering over silly wedding things like flowers, color palettes, and music selection (obviously), before you finally arrive home. inside, you both move lazily, drunk on love – or the leftover champagne in your systems – slowly undressing, stealing kisses, exchanging giggles and tantalizing looks… for the first time in weeks, you feel a sense of peace cover you, a quiet voice in the back of your mind assuring you that everything was going to be alright, and you embrace the feeling, falling into seungcheol as he whispers sweet nothings into your ears.

just as you’re about to fall into bed, your phone starts ringing from the floor of the bedroom, and at first you ignore it, too caught up in the feeling of seungcheol’s mouth against you, but the noise is insistent, and cheol detaches from you with a groan, urging you to see who’s bothering you in the middle of the night.

seungcheol can’t see the name on your screen, but when you tell him it’s your mom, he motions for you to take the call – she wouldn’t call this late unless there was an emergency, after all – but much to his surprise, you shuffle to find a shirt to put on, before you leave the room to take the call. from the bedroom, he can only hear muffled snippets of your conversation, and the tone of your voice is too ambiguous for him to guess how the talk is going.

when you come back, he doesn’t bring up the fact that you’d never gone to another room to take a call before. ever.

as soon as the clock on the wall reads 5 p.m., you bring the final interview you had scheduled for the day to an end, and as you say your goodbyes to the woman from the marketing department, wonwoo walks into the conference room, struggling to balance a stack of papers in his hands. you rush towards him, picking up part of the papers.

“woah, are these all the testimonies from your part of the staff?” you question, marveling at the size of the stack wonwoo brought in.

“yeah, crazy, isn’t it? i still can’t believe so many people came forward for this guy,” wonwoo replies, setting down his shoulder bag on the table. his shoulders seem tense, a whole day sitting at a desk clearly taking a toll on him.

“well, he’s clearly appreciated. everyone who i talked with only had good things to say about him,” you say nonchalantly, flicking through the papers, trying to pretend like you weren’t already aware of jihoon’s stellar reputation. each piece of paper seemed to be a reformulation of what the previous person mentioned, everybody mentioning similar qualities and compliments regarding him.

after you and wonwoo go over the information you both collected today, making a game plan for the next steps that needed to be taken, you both gather your things to finally go home for the day, exhaustion setting in. although the day hadn’t been particularly stressful, the possibility of bumping into seungcheol had caused you much more anxiety than usual, and you honestly couldn’t wait to get out of here and finally be able to breathe normally.

as you wait for the elevator – which seems to be taking its sweet time, moving in slow motion to the seventh floor – you hear wonwoo mumble under his breath, before he lets out an “oh, fucking hell.” ever the proper gentleman, he catches himself, and swiftly apologizes for his choice of words.

you chuckle, waving your hand to dismiss his unnecessary apology. “what’s wrong?”

“i’m missing some documents… i think i left them in the room i was in this morning, i’ll go after them. you go ahead and get going, i don’t want to hold you back any longer,” he explains, already turning around to head for the conference room.

“are you sure? i don’t mind wa–”

“i’m sure! go, you deserve to rest,” he shouts, disappearing around the corner of the hallway.

you sigh, shaking your head, but appreciating the gesture nevertheless. the elevator bell dings, and the doors open to reveal an empty cabin. you breathe out a sigh of relief, thankful for the silence. you press the button for the ground floor, and close your eyes, leaning against the back wall of the elevator, hoping to ease the sting that came from staring into a computer screen for a whole day.

your peace and quiet is short-lived however, as the elevator only manages to go down to the sixth floor before stopping again. you sigh, preparing yourself for the onslaught of tired employees who were most likely rushing to get home as well. however, when you open your eyes, there’s only one other pair staring into yours, and you feel all the air inside your lungs dissipating, leaving you breathless.

seungcheol is standing in front of you, wearing an equally speechless look on his face. the two of you stare at each other, almost as if you’re scared to move, in fear of disrupting the karmic force that brought this moment upon you even more. you wish the ground would open up and swallow you whole, feeling completely unprepared for this situation. you’d thought you were finally out of the woods, that you’d be able to go home in peace and not think about the case, about cheol, about anything anymore, at least for tonight.

clearly, the universe had other plans for you.

seungcheol seems to snap out of his daze when the doors of the elevator start to close again, his arm shooting out to stop them and finally stepping inside. as the doors close behind him and the elevator resumes its course downwards, you suddenly feel like the cabin is ten times smaller than it was a few moments ago, your body instinctively moving to one of the corners of the elevator. seungcheol naturally takes over the corner opposite from you, and you can feel his eyes on you with every step he takes.

you can’t fucking breathe, and you can’t believe he still has such a hold over your body.

“hi.”

you both say it at the same time, and under different circumstances, the two of you might’ve erupted in giggles at the coincidence. in this moment, however, the tension between you is so palpable, it’s almost constricting.

“how’s jihoon’s case going?” seungcheol asks, and you feel almost grateful for him taking the initiative to fill the silence.

“it’s good, yeah. we had a productive day, gathered a lot of info,” you say, clearing your throat. why were you being so goddamn awkward?

seungcheol nods, humming, silence filling the space once again. you dared to sneak a glance in his direction, noticing his furrowed brows and pursed mouth. four months could not erase everything you learned about cheol in four years, and you immediately recognized his ‘i’m trying to find the right words’ look. you sigh, knowing exactly what’s inevitably coming, so you decide to put seungcheol out of his misery.

“seungcheol,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. your eyes meet in the quiet of the elevator. “just ask me. just ask me what’s bothering you. at this point, should we even beat around the bush with each other anymore?”

seungcheol opens his mouth, then decides against it. he shakes his head, sighing, before looking back at you. “i’m not ready to let go yet,” he murmurs.

your voice trembles as you try to keep your tears at bay. “cheol… why are you doing this? i mean, why are you doing this to yourself?! things haven’t been working out between us for months, and i– i was terrible to you! you should let me go, why can’t you just… leave me alone?”

seungcheol’s eyes widen, an almost crazed glint appearing behind them. “leave– leave you alone? are you fucking kidding me?” his voice rises in volume, as he takes a few steps closer. “i can’t leave you alone, because i gave you four years of my fucking life, yeah? and in those years i learned all there is to know about you. unless everything you’ve ever told me was just an act, i’ve learned how to tell when you’re lying, and i’ve learned how to tell when you’re struggling, and you know what? you’re doing both right now!”

your hands start shaking, frustration bubbling inside your chest. “i don’t need you looking out for me, alright? i can take care of myself! and i’m fine, for your information!”

“bullshit! you’re not fine, and you know why? because for three years, everything was perfectly fine with us, and then all of a sudden last year, something happened, yeah? i don’t know what exactly, because you won’t fucking tell me, but something happened that made you squeamish around me, distant, paranoid, and– and careless! you stopped caring about me, about us!”

“i didn’t stop caring!” you croaked, your throat raw from holding back your tears. seungcheol’s eyes softened slightly at the sight of your tears finally let loose on your cheeks. “i just… i…”

seungcheol closes the last of the distance between you, standing right in front of you now. “Y/N… baby… if you’re in some sort of trouble, please… just tell me. there’s nothing you could say that could scare me or drive me away. i know you can take care of yourself, but you don’t have to! please, just… no more lies, please…”

your eyes meet his, the sincerity and love swimming in them bringing even more tears to your eyes. you could just tell him right now, let everything that’s been weighing down on you for the past year spill out all at once… but you can’t. you would never forgive yourself to come in between seungcheol and his work, his dreams… your burdens couldn’t be his burdens. you just can’t allow it.

“cheol… i ca–”

“okay, i need you to take five steps away from her, or i will physically remove you, hyung. no matter that you are older and stronger than me,” comes a voice from your right. in your fight-induced stupor, neither you nor seungcheol had realized that the elevator had reached the ground floor, the doors opening to reveal one of your favorite people on earth.

thank god for boo seungkwan.

#📁 lexie.works #🌙 midnights #choi seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x reader #choi seungcheol #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #svt au

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janesociety · 2 years ago

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how different marauders characters would act at a taylor swift concert w/ you ⭑

inspired by this post by the lovely @bealovesmarauders

(0.7k)

remus knows her discography by heart. he was originally a little insecure to sing the whole time, but he can’t help but sing along when you look so cute dancing and screaming the words to each song. he probably would’ve been the one to buy tickets after you came to terms with your chances of getting them being so slim, so when he surprised you with them you were over the moon. he would’ve gotten you two lower bowl seats so you would be really close but also able to see every single visual. he also would’ve offered to stand and wait in the merch line during the openers and before the concert started so you could have fun and watch them and have a cute t-shirt to take home.

james “swiftie” potter would be going absolutely feral. he would’ve gotten floor seats that were at least in the first ten rows so he could feel everything. he would’ve made a huge ordeal about surprising you with the tickets. i just know he would take you out to a fancy brunch before you guys got ready for the concert. he would probably want you two to go as miss americana and the heartbreak prince and people would definitely use your pictures as inspo for their shows. i also think he’d be the type to propose during lover or love story if you were at that point in the relationship. he would’ve been all cute about it too and told everyone around you so they could film and take pictures for you guys during the moment. he would also make a show of carrying you back to your car after the concert, even if your feet didn’t hurt that bad from the extremely uncomfortable shoes you inevitably would wear.

oh, sirius. i feel like he’s a total music snob and was really only going originally because you were so excited about it. but then he gets to the concert and he’s awestruck. he would’ve gone insane during the beat drop in don’t blame me but also prob would’ve teared up during my tears ricochet. he would’ve loved every moment of it and would immediately regret not learning all her songs before the concert. i think he’d be so obsessed that the minute he got home he would’ve gone online and bought you two more tickets for either the second night in your city or the next closest show. he’d also probably make you explain all the lore and stories behind everything on the way home. you just know that next time, he will be so prepared he will outshine every other swiftie boyfriend in the crowd. he’s also a rep girly.

lily is a swiftie through and through. there’s not doubt in my mind that she’s not an evermore and lover girly. she would’ve fought hard for those tickets and she would be so proud when she surprised you with them. you and her would spend so much time picking out the perfect themed outfits for the night and would definitely end up in a few of those “my fav outfits i saw at the era’s tour!” videos. she definitely has a note in her notes app where she keeps track of all the surprise songs and which ones she wants (she was heartbroken after dbatc and clean were taken in the same night, but she also knows that there’s not a single song that she’d be disappointed in getting). it honestly doesn’t matter where your seats are because no matter what you two will be having so much fun it won’t even matter in the end.

regulus, unlike sirius, actually prepared for the concert. he was definitely doing his research before hand. he was never a big taylor swift fan before, but when he saw your eyes light up when you told him you got tickets, he knew he had to be ready. he spent months listening to each album one by one, making playlists, attempting to learn words, and maybe even looking into the meaning behind the songs. he may get a little too caught up in connecting each song to one of her relationships and prob would wear and “i <3 T. S.” shirt to the concert. like james, he would’ve offered to carry you out of the arena, but unlike james, he would’ve listened to you saying no and would’ve been content simply holding your shoes in one hand and your hand in the other.

#the marauders #marauder era #taylor swift #the eras tour #taylor concert #marauders x reader #marauders x you #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #sirius black x reader #lily evans x reader #regulus black x reader #janie writes ‧₊˚✩彡

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humblequestvinyl · 2 years ago

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penthouse

PENTHOUSE, EDDIE DIAZ X FEM!READER

APART OF THE 'ROLLING UP THE WELCOME MAT' SERIES

SUMMARY: y/n’s packing up the penthouse with eddie, reminiscing on the times they had together, both good and bad.

inspired by penthouse by kelsea ballerini

previous chapter | next chapter

lowercase intentional! wc: 1.1k

warning: swearing, vvv much angst! divorce meeting/hearing, anger & a courthouse

a/n: i swear on 911 on abc i did not forget abt this series, i was just busy doing smth for taylor swifts eras tour. anyway enjoy <33

“BUCK I HAVE TO GO PACK UP THE HOUSE.”

y/n told buck softly, before quickly leaving his house, and getting into her jeep.

the entire ride was silent. no music, no singing, and all of LA’s traffic was quiet as all could be. the girl was left alone with her thoughts, thinking about how badly it would hurt to roll up the welcome mat they had picked out right after they had moved in.

december 16th. exactly two weeks after their wedding date, and four days after they had gotten back from their honeymoon. a penthouse with a backyard for chris, and maybe a few more kids down the road, outlooking the mountains.

a penthouse that was filled with so many birthdays, holidays, and endless fights between the two. a penthouse the diaz’s thought they could call their forever home.

guess that’s kind’ve hard to do when you’re playing house in a home that didn’t feel like one.

it took the girl exactly 12 minutes to get to her old home, seeing eddie’s car already sitting in the driveway, and she dreaded going in. having to be in the same room as him, having to try to hold a conversation with him for the first time in two months.

finally taking a deep breath in, she walked inside, seeing eddie already packing up the kitchen, leaving half of it for y/n to take.

“take it all.”y/n spoke up, causing the man’s head to snap towards her, with almost a glare of some sort, “i’ve got enough plates back in nashville.”

“i’m only here to take my clothing and whatever else is mine.”she told him, before walking towards their old bedroom, leaving him standing there silent, something that wasn’t new between the two.

grabbing a box that was leaning up against the wall, she walked into the closet, seeing all of her clothing scattered on the floor, just the way she had left it. the first thing that had caught her eye was the black jumper she had worn in 2019, with flashes of the night before running through her mind.

all of her old tour costumes, red carpet dresses she wore with eddie right by her side, and all of the clothing she would wear while they stayed up late at night, watching the bachelorette. all packed away into a box labeled ‘storage’.

the last thing that stood was her wedding dress.

the gorgeous silk wedding dress she spent hours upon hours searching for with her mom, going to endless bridal appointments looking for, and spending way more money than she was willing to admit.

all being packed away into a box, forcing her to act like nothing had happened.

packing up her office, her half of the bathroom, her half of the storage room they had in the penthouse. all of it being gone, trying to get rid of the memories associated with them. pain went through her chest, with tears building up knowing she was the reason they were packing up the boxes, and moving out of the penthouse she adored, but knowing she couldn’t stay there anymore.

family dinners, dancing in the living room with eddie to their favorite taylor swift song, endless family game nights (with buck joining them everytime) and the christmas parties they always hosted. all gone because she was blowing up the life they had together.

picking up her guitar case off of the floor of the closet, she walked out to the jeep, stuffing everything she could into the car before walking back inside, seeing eddie standing in front of their dining room table.

“what do you want to do with the table?”eddie spoke up, not daring to look at the girl in front of him, “you were the one who bought it, figured you’d want it.”

“keep it, sell it, donate it.”she suggested, before shrugging, “i don’t care eddie. do what you want with it.”

“you want nothing to do with anything in this household besides whatever was distinctly yours?”he questioned as she placed her old key on the counter, shaking her head slightly.

“too many bad memories associated with it.”

—--

(ONE WEEK LATER.)

“HE WANTS WHAT?!”

y/n gripped her steering wheel hard as she was stuck in standstill LA traffic (one thing she wouldn’t miss), trying to get to her divorce hearing.

“he wants alimony along with child support, or half of the house with child support.”y/n’s lawyer told her, and she could feel her anger boil over, “he didn’t pay for the fucking house!”

“like yes he contributed, but he sure as hell didn’t pay for it!”she exclaimed, and she could already tell her lawyer, maeve was cringing, knowing she was right, “i will gladly pay the child support, but i want visitation with chris.”

“that kid means more to me than anything. i’m not abandoning him.”y/n stayed firm, and she heard maeve hum on the other line of the phone, “what about the other half of it?”

y/n stayed silent, debating her options.

having an alimony hearing every other week, with press standing outside the courthouse every single time, causing the divorce to be even messier, or have him take half of the house that she wanted nothing to do with.

“let him take half of the house.”she finally spoke up after a few moments, feeling her knuckles turn white, “it's better than being stuck at alimony hearings every other week.”

“are you sure?”maeve asked, and y/n stayed silent, “i know how much you love that house.”

“give him the house.”she stated one last time, before they figured out the final details as she pulled into the parking lot of the courthouse, praying everything would go over smoothly.

something that rarely happened with the two.

as y/n walked in, the h/c girl saw her soon to be ex husband standing with his lawyer, waiting for the girls arrival so they could get it over with. when they walked in, the two sat across from each other, his brown eyes met her e/c ones.

he could tell she knew. she knew about him wanting the half of the house that she adored, one that she loved so much. one they had picked out together, and now they were ripping it apart like it was just a piece of paper.

you can’t win when you’re playing house, in a broken penthouse.

#eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz fluff #eddie diaz smut #eddie diaz fic #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #911 on fox #911 spoilers #911 #911 on abc #evan buckley x reader #911 fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #rolling up the welcome mat

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unique-high · 1 year ago

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Sunscreen | Mingi x Blk Fem Reader

a/n: wrote this for myself cause I'm a little sad and in my feelings. I discovered this lovely song on Spotify called sunscreen and fell in love with it. lyrics are worked into the fic. sorry for any mistakes.

With every break-up, it always seemed like it was your fault. Your recent breakup had been no different from the rest. You felt numb when it suddenly ended. You thought of every single thing that could make your ex look like a bad person in your eyes, but he wasn't a bad person at all.

But you needed him to be.

When people ask you why it ended, you'd shrug, saying, "I don't know." because you really didn't know.

One minute he was here talking about marriage and how he would cry when you walked down the aisle. And the next he's storming through your apartment collecting his things, shoving them into his duffle bag, saying how he couldn't do this anymore. All you could do was cry and beg him not to go. He still left.

Now it's 2 am. You're in your bathroom listening to Erykah Badu while drinking warm red wine from a paper cup. You stare at your hair clippers, turning them on and then cutting your hair. It was freeing in a way you always did this after every breakup. Making you feel less light, but that numbness will still linger for about two more weeks, maybe even months.

So you move through your life without ever really thinking of your ex until something suddenly reminds you of him all over again. Like how when you hear his favorite song that you two would sing while drunk late into the night or when you run into some of his friends and you try your hardest not to ask them how he is doing.

These days were always a little harder.

After when you thought it was okay to actually move on, you get dressed up. Put on your favorite red lipstick and your favorite perfume.

The singles mixer was at a karaoke bar. You signed your name getting a sticker that read: ‘Hello, I'm Y/n’.

You smooth the sticker on to your black Chanel blouse while you order a drink. There were some people already up on stage singing some Taylor Swift song that you heard one time at the grocery store. Cruel summer.

Once you had your drink, you sit back watching everyone as they talk. Remember, you came here to have fun, and meet someone new.

From across the room, you see a guy walk in. He's awkwardly smiling, greeting anyone who walks by him. He slaps on his sticker and you squint your eyes in the dimly lit karaoke room to see his name tag. But all you could make out was ‘Min’

He slid down beside you. You pretend not to notice him. He leans towards you spooking you.

“Y/n's a cute name.” He says with a smile.

With the brim of your glass to your lips, you mutter, “Thank you.”

You glanced at his name sticker. ‘Hello, I'm Mingi.’

The host of the mixer came around encouraging those who were just sitting to get up and have fun. Mingi holds a mic for you. You stare at it before shaking your head.

“I can't really sing.” You say.

“Karaoke is not about how good you can sing. It's about having fun. Sing with me, please?”

So you take the mic. Go up on stage with Mingi. The song Mingi picked was The Black Eyed Peas My Humps. Mingi sings and dances on stage. Everyone was cheering him on. He grabs your hand getting you to dance a little. You're hesitant to sing at first but you sing having fun, but when Mingi twerks, you burst into laughter midway through the song.

You just met the guy and you couldn't help but imagine yourself with him. And it felt nice.

I want someone to remind me to wear sunscreen. And take my vitamins when it slips my mind.

You could imagine Mingi peeking his head out of your bathroom, toothbrush in his mouth as he reminds you to not forget to put on sunscreen and to take your vitamins as you're rushing about the kitchen trying to grab your tea mug, keys, and bag so you could head the door.

I want someone who knows how I like my coffee and wants to share a bed from morning to night.

Then you couldn't help but imagine him in your kitchen early in the morning, with messy brown hair and shirtless. He would know how you liked your coffee in the mornings. It would take him a week to get it right and when he does, it's worth seeing your smile and telling him he tastes like heaven. Then Saturdays would be your favorite again. Mingi would want to sleep in with you on his days off. And on the days he comes to your place late after work, sharing your bed at night with you would become his favorite thing.

“I would like to get to know you more,” Mingi says as the two of you walk off the stage. At first, you didn't know what to say, too scared that if Mingi eventually knew the real you, he'll be gone too.

But I'm stubborn. Selfish. Easily Jealous at times.

It's hard being you. Now you start to see why things never worked out with anyone else. You were just being yourself. What's a relationship when you couldn't be your true self? So what if you're stubborn? You've been that way since you were five. Selfish. Because you're the eldest daughter who had to be a parent to your younger siblings when your mother didn't feel like being a mother. Being easily Jealous comes from the time in 11th grade when your ex-best friend was far prettier than you, and got all the boys. These things made you into who you were.

I'm hard to love and I just want someone to try.

Of course, you weren't the easiest person on earth to love. But you think that came from your father. You tried your best to make your love easy, to make it comfortable for others to want to lean into. It was the opposite, though. At the end of the day, all you wanted was someone who would try. That's all you ask for.

You let Mingi in a little that night at the mixer. What could it hurt? The worst that could happen is you're crying into your pillow a couple months from now because he breaks up with you.

Ending up in your bed naked by the end of the night with Mingi wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. You'll regret it in the morning when he sneaks out while you're still asleep. So right now, while he's sleeping, you stare at him, counting how many breaths he takes.

By morning, you're a little groggy. You didn't expect to be pulled into Mingi's naked body. He's still here.

I want someone who knows that I'm not made for mornings and doesn't scold me for smoking when I drink.

Mingi doesn't try to pull you out of bed with the talk of breakfast and getting your day started early. Mornings weren't meant for you. And he somehow knew that. By the afternoon, Mingi is still at your place. He's wearing a pair of your sweat pants that go above his ankles. You make lunch for the two of you. Sometimes you like having a smoke during this time of day with a drink. Mingi isn't bothered by it. He doesn't try to scold you telling you how bad for your health it is. He doesn't know you to tell you what's good or bad for you. You liked that, though.

I want someone who can ground me when I'm too high. Light up the dark side of my head.

There were days when you floated on the surface of your mind, not really here, you functioned like you were on autopilot most days. It's been two weeks now. You knew Mingi's last name and all his favorite things. He spends nights at your place on the weekends. He noticed you weren't being yourself, he'd stroke your back, speaking to you softly. Sometimes being in your head all the time makes you depressed. Because you would find your ex still lingering there. Mingi sits and listens to you talk about your ex.

"I want to hate him, Mingi. But my heart won't let me."

Mingi kissed the top of your head. He understood what you were going through he's been here before too.

"Sometimes it takes a while for our hearts to want to let go. It's normal. You just haven't had the time to grieve for the loss of your relationship with your person."

He knew it was going to take you some time to heal and he was willing to wait to for you.

I want someone to share my coffee and sunscreen. My mornings, my stories and my bed.

Two weeks with Mingi turned into two months. He moved into your apartment. His toothbrush had a permanent spot next to yours. You had someone to share coffee with in the evenings. Sharing your sunscreen with Mingi became a daily thing.

You told Mingi all your stories from like the time you were ten and your pet cat Frankie brought you a dead mice, and how you when turned thirteen and your mom forget your birthday and tried to make it up to you by giving you a hostess chocolate cupcake she got from the gas station.

And lazy Sundays cuddled up with Mingi felt nicer than anything in the world. You liked having someone to share your bed with again. Mingi got comfortable with you in a sense he knew you better than your ex had.

Mingi tried with you.

That's all you ever wanted from someone was to try.

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angelfairyqueenheart · 1 year ago

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3:18am (BST) 14th december 2023

i met my ex for coffee today. the nice one, not the ones from school. it was good to see him. we were never really meant to be - but we work great as friends. he's kind. he sees with eyes and a mind that no one else i know does. he understands so deeply - and yearns to if he doesn't. he has piercing blue eyes and curly ginger hair that never really knows what it's doing. turns out we've been in the same city at uni for over a year now. his ears are pierced now. he has a cool green paisley sort of silk scarf. with that and his coat off he looks just the same as i knew him before though.

we broke up because my grandfather died. i didn't know how to deal with it. i already had bad mental health issues. it broke me a bit. a lot. once i went to this christian youth festival with my youth group and this kid a year younger than me said that i would undergo transformation, specifically like the art of kintsugi. you know, that japanese thing where they fix broken pots and stuff with liquid gold? my cracks and breaks would be sewn together with gold, they said. they didn't lie - i don't think.

i think the first evidence of that was when my grandad died. through my cracks and grief, a burning passion leaked through and made me stand up for myself for the first time. i realised the relationship wasn't right for me - it just immediately felt wrong, like a skin i had to shed or i'd have to live in it forever. mind you, i didn't deal with it right, i didn't have the wisdom or courage that i do now. not that i'm wise, or courageous. i changed my clothes too. my birthday rolled around and my now-partner gave me an amazon gift card so i bought the cheapest makeup i could find. i went thrifting and bought clothes that make me feel like a human being (and maybe a little bit cool).

that didn't help my mental health though - it didn't make it worse - but it didn't like, improve things. i was still a mess. i still drank at school for the next year and a half. i didn't trust anyone. i still don't trust anyone. i'd like to. my ex didn't see me much at all after we broke up. we met up for coffee after 5ish months... and then i ghosted him (again) (having just told him i'd be up for being friends). yeah not a great move morally. still keeps me up at night sometimes.

my partner didn't mind us meeting for coffee today (boyfriends sometimes do apparently). he didn't really show any opinion. he doesn't often, without me begging for it a bit. i ask the question 3 times for a response, you stare vacantly at me, fake an answer, i ask if you're sure. repeat. so yeah - i did miss my ex. i missed connection and a friend and things to talk about. he was always good to talk to. empathy levels off the charts. don't worry, i'm not gonna try and go back to him - i don't want to. i just need friends, and he's a good one. and my relationship isn't as bad as i make it sound lol but my boyfriend does know i'm not happy in it right now.

i did other things today too. i went pottery painting with the art society. one of the things i painted is for my sister. i hope she likes it. no idea if she will though. i got a sports bra from a charity shop (it's really comfy). i got a turtleneck from another charity shop (i've been really wanting one to wear under dresses [summer dresses can be for winter too]). and i got some uniqlo sports leggings from another reallllyyyy good charity shop. very good price (£6!!!!!! in 2023??? crazytown). i've been wanting to try and exercise a bit. for my brain more than for my body.

i should go to bed now. woke up at 10am this morning but now it's 3am. oh i did yoga too!! just felt like it. i have a creaky unused lil conker of a skeleton. she needed stretching wayyyy more than i realised. it was supposed to be relaxing meditation yoga but it make me a bit more stressed bc i couldn't stretch ffs. was fun anyway. it was for me. today was for me. it was taylor swifts birthday too today the swift society had a birthday party lol. it was fun. i made a terrible friendship bracelet with my own name on it. i won a prize. i was first on the kahoot for a bit. i'm not even that much of a swiftie. i think a girl flirted with me a tiny bit there? idk she probably didn't but i hope i'm right. i hope. i have hope right now. today was for me. night night.

#diary #dear diary #journal

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middleagerunblog · 11 months ago

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XXX.

Had it all planned out.

Though I didn't eating perfectly through the holidays, I didn't do that badly if I am being fair with myself. I have emerged into the new year, entered week 4 of this training program, feeling great.

Thinking I had it all figured out, allowing myself some strategic carbs, pasta on Friday nights before Saturday morning long runs. Carby brunch after the Saturday long run or race. I could do this.

Doing some shopping with my wife midweek, drive by Waffle House, she says she could go for that again sometime soon. I say how about after my long run on Saturday? I joke maybe I can run here then you can meet me here for brunch. I check Google maps and see that this Waffle House is 7 miles from our house. Saturday long run is 7 miles. OK, we're doing this.

My kids get involved, they want in. My daughter especially is in on the plan. I make a 72-minute Taylor Swift playlist, perfect for a 7-mile run at a 10:15 easy pace.

I can't stress enough how good I am feeling, Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday. My runs are going great. I've emerged from the holidays inspired to eat well. Been watching running videos on YouTube and Instagram, really getting excited about more running. I should do more races. I should admit this is more of a thing in my life. I run. I am a runner.

But I haven't weighed myself in a while, tell myself I need to.

Weigh myself on Friday. 194.4. Ugh. OK, I can do this, it's probably still some holiday bloat. If I stay on it, I'm sure next week I'll be a few pounds down. Then there's no reason I can't lose a pound a week or so for the next month or so. Weight loss will be tough the last month or so of training. But I can still be in the mid-180s. No, I need to do this race sub-185 I tell myself. No, I feel great, don't worry about the scale I also tell myself.

My youngest son has a soccer game Friday at 6p. It's outdoors and it's chilly for Florida. I wear my jeans. They're a little tight, but not too bad. 36 waist, they should feel better. After we go out for pasta. Salad and breadsticks before the meal. I eat too many breadsticks. They aren't part of the strategic carbs plan, are they? I devour my plate of spaghetti and meatballs. The booth no longer feels comfortable in these jeans.

The 35-minute drive home is even less comfortable. I unbutton the top button on my jeans--a nod to my fatter days--there's no reason to be a martyr in uncomfortable pants. The way these 36 waist jeans feel shake my confidence in an attitude about not focusing on the scale and just feeling great. I need to lose weight and don't want to go to 38.

Get home, change to pajamas and feel better. My wife mentions a storms is blowing through Saturday morning. My run to Waffle House plan is looking like a bad one. Was planning on running at 9:15a, meeting family there at 10:30a. Now looks like 7a will be the best time to avoid the rain. I will need to wake up earlier and run earlier than I really want to on a Saturday. And stick close to home.

Wake up at 5:30a on Saturday, drink my morning coffee, still reeling about how terrible I felt after dinner in those jeans. I order 38 waist jeans from Gap online because I need jeans that fit for the next few months.

I go out for my 7-mile run shortly after 7a. It rains off and on. The Taylor Swift playlist was fun. Easy pace, 10:05 average, it's crazy how easy these easy pace runs feel. I hope I'm doing this right.

Go out to Waffle House with the family, eat my carby brunch, drink more coffee, feel great in elastic waist shorts. For a moment I stop worrying about my weight.

#eating badly #eating well #losing weight #running #long run recaps #waffle house #diet #clothes #rain #weather #family #taylor swift #music

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declanfs · 1 year ago

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December 13, 2023

Happy birthday, Taylor Swift!

Bebe. Boy. You have been sleeping so good lately, which means I’ve been sleeping so good. Celebrate celebrating!

I wish I could capture the tightness of your embrace. The way your arms wrap around my neck to pull your heart to my heart and glue your whole body sighs in response. The way I try to pull away just to reposition and get more comfortable and without waking at all, you just instinctually hug me closer. Its is pure joy to share these moments with you. Sometimes I do sneak away to fold laundry or program or whatever, but on days like this when you clearly need proximity, I stay. What an absolute privilege to be a source of comfort to another human, you can count on me.

Last night we heard some loud car stereo sounds and you asked “what was that?” And I said, just some car playing loud music. And you said “it’s okay, it’s just the racecar.” And this made me feel so sad in this moment because our across the street neighbors just moved and the racecar you were referring to no longer lives here we haven’t heard it for weeks. Before it moved, you would run to the window to watch the racecar drive off - a green dodge charger? It was so dang loud and obnoxious but it was something you loved and looked forward to seeing and hearing. It was a distraction sometimes when you were upset or needed help transitioning to the next thing. I felt sad because what other little things like this have we already lost or forgotten. I have such documentation anxiety and want to remember everything for myself and to tell you when you’re older, but it’s just impossible to remember it all. So I will find comfort in knowing I am remembering as much as I can and documenting when I can and all the other things were just lived and loved in the moment and that was their purpose all along.

The other day I told you “Declan, you need a haircut!” And like you were 5 or 10 or 25 years old you said “I just got a haircut!” I heard dada burst into laughter from the kitchen. You got a haircut like a month ago, so you’re not wrong, but because you’re such a wiggle worm, it was a bit patchy at first and is now noticeably mismatched in length in multiple places.

It’s just fun and funny to have conversations with you, you are definitely your own person with your own agenda and wishes and determination and I hope that I foster that. I hope I don’t try to tame you too much with my own agenda and wishes and determination. You couldn’t be a world shaker if you want to.

Oh and you love maps lately! We got this book from the library (10 min to bed little unicorn) and the inside cover is a big map and when we first got this book, we spent more time looking at the map than it took to read the story.

You point at and name all the things:

Lighthouse, bridges, spooky castle, where the giants live, unicorns, pirate ship, x marks the spot, sea dragon, volcano. And you ask who lives in the cave at least 3 times per viewing. The first time I asked you who lives there you said “I don’t know. Maybe…a raccoon” which I think is a great guess.

Oh, and it snowed! You got to try sledding for the first time and loved it. But didn’t last long since you refused to wear mittens and kept picking up chunks of snow/ice to eat.

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flirting-with-psychology · 2 years ago

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Mercury: What’s your full name?

lol

Venus: What’s your first language?

English

Earth: Where’s your home?

Colorado

Mars: What’s your sexuality?

Straight, but maybe a little bi-curious

Jupiter: Do you have any siblings?

Saturn: Any pets?

Not currently, but I’ve had cats

Uranus: What’s your hobby?

DnD, shopping, costumes

Neptune: When’s your birthday?

November 26

Pluto: What time is it right now where you are?

4:47pm

Moon: What are you currently studying/hope to study?

I studied film production and psychology

Sun: Have you ever had alcohol?

Yes

Sirius: Have you ever failed a class?

Rigel: Have you ever gone on a rollercoaster?

Yes

Deneb: Have you ever been out of your home country?

Yes

Arcturus: Have you cried out of something other than sadness?

Yes

Betelgeuse: What’s something you can never forget about?

All my crushed

Aldebaran: What’s something you care desperately about?

Love

Canopus: Have you ever broken a bone?

Bellatrix: Have you ever been forced to lie/keep a secret?

Yes, but I don’t like it

Alphard: Have you ever lost a friend?

Yes

Vega: What’s something you’ve done that you wish you hadn’t?

Gained weight

Centaurus: Favourite holiday?

Halloween

Orion: Favourite month?

Maybe August? Idk

Cassiopeia: Favourite book?

Harry Potter

Delphinus: Favourite study?

It changes

Hercules: Favourite instrument?

Clarinet

Gemini: Favourite song?

All Too Well by Taylor Swift

Pegasus: Favourite place to be?

Idk

Libra: Favourite colour?

Teal

Phoenix: Favourite thing to wear?

Dresses

Aries: Favourite movie?

Back to the Future

Cygnus: Favourite weather?

Sunny

Hydra: Favourite sound?

Music

Milky Way: Who’s your oldest friend?

I’m-significant

Andromeda: Do you consider yourself social?

Yeah, I like to be

Black Eye Galaxy: Do you believe in love at first sight?

Cartwheel Galaxy: When was your first kiss?

Freshman year of college

Cigar Galaxy: How’s your flirting skills?

Not great

Comet Galaxy: Have you ever had to leave a relationship because someone changed too much?

Pinwheel Galaxy: Would you date the last person you talked to?

Sombrero Galaxy: Do you have a crush right now?

Yes

Bode’s Galaxy: Have you ever had a secret admirer?

Don’t think so

Sunflower Galaxy: Would you date/make friends with someone out of pity?

Yeah probably

Tadpole Galaxy: Would you deny a relationship/friendship?

Yes

Whirlpool Galaxy: Have you ever cried over a breakup?

Yes

Comet: What’s your big dream?

I’m still figuring it out

Asteroid: What does your dream life look like?

Winning the lottery and going back to college

Meteor: What’s something you wish you could tell, but can’t?

Wish I could tell the guy from the film shoot that he’s cute

Nebula: If you could undo one thing in your life, what would it be?

Not sure

Shooting Star: If you could bring back one thing, what would it be?

My favorite restaurant

Pulsar: What do you hope to do in the next 10 years?

No idea

Supernova: What’s one thing you want to do before you die?

Get married

Quasar: If you could spend the rest of your life with only one person, who would it be?

Not sure

Wormhole: What’s something you wish would happen, but know won’t?

Getting with an old crush who is engaged

Black Hole: What’s the last thing you want to see?

Someone I love

#survey

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manchestereyes · 7 years ago

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there’s this rainbow halter dress that i REALLY REALLY want but it’s $75.....should i get it anyway?

#i've been eyeing it up for the last week now i want it so baaaaadddddd #but idk if i'm brave enough to actually wear it??#if i did get it i'd probably wear it to one of my ii shows if i end up going to more than one #or maybe i could wear it to see taylor swift next month?#holy shit YES i should maybe i could meet other lgbt swifties yeeeeeeeee #claire chatters

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scuttling · 3 years ago

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Paper Rings

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.

You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.

That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.

You are not the only one to notice.

“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”

“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.

That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.

“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.

“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.

“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”

“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”

Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.

He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.

Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.

Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.

As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.

“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.

He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.

“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”

It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.

You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.

“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.

“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.

It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.

He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.

You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.

“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”

He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.

“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.

“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”

He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.

When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.

He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.

“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.

“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.

“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.

“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.

She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.

You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.

It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.

When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.

The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.

“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”

He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.

“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.

“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.

“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”

He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.

“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.

“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.

“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.

“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.

More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.

“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.

Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.

When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.

The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.

“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.

He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.

He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.

You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.

“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack.”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.

“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.

That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.

You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.

“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”

You hold back a smile.

“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.

“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.

“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.

“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.

You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.

Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.

You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”

“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.

“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”

“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.

You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.

Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?

You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.

“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.

“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”

“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.

“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.

“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”

It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”

You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.

“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.

“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.

“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…

You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.

“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”

“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”

You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.

At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.

Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.

“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.

“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.

With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.

Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.

“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.

“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.

You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.

It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.

“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.

“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.

It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.

“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”

You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.

You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.

“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.

“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.

“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.

“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.

“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”

You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?

When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—

He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.

You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.

Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.

You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.

Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.

You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.

“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.

“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.

“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.

“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”

“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.

“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.

“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.

“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.

“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”

“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.

“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”

“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”

“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”

You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?

“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”

“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”

“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”

You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.

You’ve never felt less like celebrating.

At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.

“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.

“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”

You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?

“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.

“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.

Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.

At least there are two beds, this time.

You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.

You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.

It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.

It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.

“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.

“Where would she be? The front or the back?”

“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.

Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.

The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.

You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.

“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.

“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”

“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.

“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.

The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.

You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.

“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”

He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.

“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”

He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.

“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.

The words are nice to hear, though.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.

“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.

“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”

“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.

It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.

“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”

“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.

“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”

“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.

“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.

“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”

“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.

“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.

“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”

“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”

“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.

“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.

“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.

“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.

“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”

You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #paper rings #inspired by #taylor swift

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