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millerscoffee · 10 months

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dancing is a dangerous game | part one

you're a bandit like me, eyes full of stars.

5.5k | joel miller x f!reader

masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

tw: brief mentions of using your body for trading purposes, you shoot at joel miller????, light dub-con but that goes away quickly

warnings: post-outbreak au. no ellie. angsty smut, semi-dom!reader and dom!joel so that's fun, power struggle, age gap (joel is 56, reader is late 20s or early 30s), enemies to lovers, voyeurism (f watching m), masturbation (m and f), pet names/degrading names (baby, honey, darlin', brat, bitch, slut, etc.), dirty talk, choking, oral (m receiving), fingering, spanking, p in v (unprotected - wrap it up folks), joel is mean but not unkind. no use of y/n.

summary: inspired by "cowboy by me" by our lord and savior taylor swift. this is a post-outbreak world and joel has his own land. think bill, but a little less... deranged. kind of. you essentially are a raider, but make it fashion. when you stalk joel's cabin for the third day, that's when you get interrogated by none other than joel miller himself.

A/N: hi, i'm bee! this is my first fic on tumblr, and my first stab at this whole stratosphere. longtime listener; first time caller 💅. i was ALSO inspired by an ask i saw on @swiftispunk's page (hi! i love your writing sm??) and kinda just... ran with it. i honestly wasn't anticipating writing stuff during the outbreak, so i apologise if it's not quite right. imagine me living during that time with a tube of lipgloss and one (1) bullet in my pocket just in case. this... may be a series. i don't know yet. see ya! enjoy!!!

The first time you meet Joel Miller is down the barrel of your gun.

You can hear your father's voice telling you 'Back out, girl. Don't get too big for your britches.' Look where that got him. His ashes against your chest in a makeshift pendant necklace, buried by your clothes.

Still, you listen.

"It don't have to be like this," you drawl with index over the trigger guard. You've heard of him. Joel Miller. He's notorious, and even though you've kept to yourself most of your life, his name still roamed throughout the abandoned towns you passed. Someone always owed him, and he always owed somebody.

Your dad would've been older than him, but not by much. You knew of the world before this, was just a little thing. Still, you heard stories undulate from your father's southern voice that mostly left you bored on long days searching for food or shelter. You'd give anything to hear them now.

Part of you died when he did.

You were young when the outbreak happened. Resourceful, your father made it work in raising you. Taught you how to fend for yourself, rely on no one. Which was no easy feat considering how unbelievably stubborn you were. Were? Are.

Maybe he loved you. Maybe it was the chip on his shoulder. The kind of anguish that comes from not being able to give your mother the same kind of life. A promise to her.

Yes, you were young when the outbreak happened, but flashbacks of her getting attacked by a clicker burn you alive at night.

"Y'er on my land." A gruff voice calls you back to reality. Few words for someone who held your life in his hands. His own gun pointing back at you. Of course it would be.

"I was just passin' through." The lie flies through your teeth. You had been circling the place from a reasonable distance for a few days now. Scoping out when this man in front of you was his busiest, when he patrolled, when he slept. This was a heist situation, no doubt about it.

"Bullshit. This s'the third fuckin' time I seen you 'round here. And it's y'er last."

Shit. Fucking shit.

Your eyes dart to the side, really trying to pattern a plan in escaping but your breathing would say otherwise as calm and collected as it was.

In any other situation, you wouldn't be so willing to comply, but considering he's got you cornered and his gun is quite literally cocked and ready to go – you're not exactly in the position to make hasty decisions.

Goddammit if there wasn't something about him that made you nervous.

"Listen. Just was lookin' for somewhere to sleep. It's fuckin' cold and your stables look warm." Your head tilts in the direction of a lone horse's home in a bed of hay, and you're not fully lying. It's not that you have set up camp by any means, but you've noticed.

"We could trade. You give me y'er ammo, and I g–"

"You give me your cock, I get it. You really could be more original." You were used to this. Bartering, some might call it. Living out here on your own was dangerous, and running into men who wanted to use your body in order to get supplies wasn't that uncommon. If they were that kind, even. You'd heard the horror stories.

Albeit, most of these men met your gun in the end. Enabling you acquire their supplies, keep all yours, and your dignity. Win/win.

"...I give you the pleasure of livin' another day. Really? Y'think it's that easy?"

There was something in the way Joel says this that makes you grateful for the jacket you're wearing. Goosebumps prickle your skin, bile creeping up your throat and you will it back down again. Y'think it's that easy? As if he thought you wanted it.

If circumstances were different, you'd be rubbing the crimson off your cheeks. Flashing him a sheepish grin in an attempt to resolve whatever misunderstanding there was... but this wasn't the environment to elicit such conversation.

And you weren't that type of person to begin with.

Instead, your index sweeps from guard to trigger when you fire off at his leg. Hasty decisions be damned. You're quicker than him, so why're you tryin' to save him? You're a 'shoot to kill' type of person, and as the bullet grazes past his calf – part of you wishes you had.

Because not only did your bullet not make contact, Joel gets worse. You two lock eyes. His rifle is thrown over his shoulder as he grunts and walks perfectly fine over to you – despite the way his eyebrows knit together, jaw ticked. Was that a grin? Do something, anything – run.

Joel grips the nape of your neck, and you yelp in surprise.

Who the fuck does this man think he is?

His large hand eclipses your wrist as he maneuvers the gun from your hand. The action makes you writhe in pain, and it sends a shiver down your spine to know he's only using an ounce of his power.

You dig your elbow into his ribs despite him stronger than you. Stomping, kicking, punching anything you can find.

"What the fu–"

"Little girl, you picked the wrong one." His breath edges at the shell of your ear, and every sign should be pointing for you to hate this, but it almost feels familiar. Like yourself. It's only then when you worry.

---

You don't realise it, but Joel is pushing you inside his cabin. Keeping your head in direction of the ground, thud of the door heard somewhere behind you.

"You want to be treated like a big girl? Get these fuckin' pants off."

"What... what? No I'm fuckin' not–"

Joel chews up the space between you when he pushes you to the nearest wall. Your back at his chest, a cheek flush against the cabin's support.

Pine, tobacco, and whiskey fill your senses and you bite back the urge to whimper. He wouldn't see you like that.

"You're not? That why you were watchin' me jerk off last night? 'Cuz you don't wanna give it up?"

That alone makes blood creep up your neck and spill over your cheeks. You have to squeeze your legs together to quell the ache.

It was lonely on your own.

Most nights were spent half asleep on a cold, hard surface. Tired and hungry more days than not. You don't remember the last time you got a hot meal, much less been touched. So when you heard Joel's low grunts coming from the window (a window from a cabin you don't know quite yet that he built with his own hands) you become intrigued.

It's in this moment you're certain it must have been the rustling of branches just outside his room. You remember it happening last night, cursing to yourself for making noise. His fist stalled around the girth of his fat cock before spilling his seed over his stomach. As if that is what caused him to come.

It makes sense now, and it equally causes you to become dizzy and filled with rage. You bite your bottom lip, unable to think of a response.

"Mouthy thing ain't got much to say now. Now c'mon. I ain't taking these off you, doin' it y'erself." More of a warning, Joel lets up on his grip on you, but you're defenseless. No weapons, no pack. He's got your world in his hands.

With the newly found space between the two of you, you turn around – back of your head against the wall as your eyes find the other set for, perhaps, the first time. And they're deep. Deeper than you were aware of. Dark, impossibly round. Wrinkles reside on the sides of them, and if you knew any better, you wouldn't admit they were doing something to you.

But not only are you stubborn, you're too forthright to beat around the bush.

"I shot at you, and you want my cunt? You must be lonelier than I a–"

"Now."

Your words don't match your actions as your hands fall by your sides. Fingers play with zipper of your old, faded jeans that have seen better days.

You can't help but snicker an awkward laugh from how he's just watching you. Insecurities rise when you realise you're not laughing at him, but more his eyes on you. How intense it feels suddenly. He wants this. Wants you.

His eyes draw impatiently, broad frame leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed.

"Ain't got all day. Still considerin' your death."

His arms. Bulging through the fabric of his shirt, his body was built in a way that you could tell he worked with his hands... maybe in his past life, too. Throat dry, you shimmy out of your pants until you're left in your cotton panties.

Ones that you are becoming more aware the condition of. A small pool of wetness forming at the core of you clings to the fabric.

"Top, too."

Is that? It is. Your eyes wander down to see the growing bulge in Joel's pants. Not even the hem of his flannel could hide it. Sure, you'd seen it in its full form the night before, but that was with distance and without the heat rising between the two of you.

You bite your lip without hesitation, pulling the layers of jacket and a handful of tops onto the ground until you're bare. The cool air passes over your nipples and wills them into stiff peaks.

"Ain't you somethin', baby."

That's the first time Joel Miller draws a shaky exhale out of you. All from a single sentence.

When Joel steps over to you, that calm and collected breath is nowhere to be found. Your chest rises and falls at a random pattern, feeling more and more naked by the second as his clothes are completely kept on his body. A purposeful tactic.

He bends down to collect your clothes along with everything else that yours, and you are truly at his will. So busy on the precipice of pleasure that you don't even think about trying to get away.

"Stay."

"Ain't a dog." You glare, standing with your legs brushing together.

"Then quit actin' like a bitch. And quit movin', I'm gettin' to you."

It shuts you up quick, jaw snapping shut. You're certain if he told that to anyone else they'd be reduced to tears, but you can take it. It coils a heat inside the pit of your stomach that you've never felt. Causes your clit to feel as if it's on fire from the need to touch it.

Joel turns on his heel to walk away and it's as if you're able to breathe fresh air from the humidity he brings. You notice he's putting your things and his rifle away on his kitchen counter before coming back to you. He must really trust his ability to keep everything out like that.

Then again, have you even moved in the last five minutes?

The last thing he is, is worried.

You're able to look around, if only for a moment. Though, is it really looking? Your adrenaline is pumping, pupils blown from the fact that not only are you in the house you'd been stalking... you're about to fuck the man in it. And you almost tried to kill him. You definitely didn't miss on purpose. Couldn't have.

All the same, the cabin was nice, and you could take in briefly the light wood – old and weathered. A record player in the corner beside a guitar. This stuff could get you a lot in return, but for whatever reason that doesn't even cross your mind. Maybe your heart beating in your ears is a handy distraction to keep you walking the line.

Your eyes track the rugged man instead.

---

"Here's how this is gonna go," he announces, coming back to you and not phased that you haven't moved a muscle. "You are gonna take your ass over there on the couch. You're gonna make me come, then you're gonna go. Understand?"

"Well... I guess it is that easy."

Your bratty mouth getting you in trouble again. As if you're in the position to say anything. Naked as you are.

---

Joel's jaw ticks forward in a way that makes you feel fear, yet there's a direct correlation between it and the slick gathering between your folds. The same wide hand that gripped the nape of your neck wraps around the front of your throat while he pushes you against the wall, and your shoulders slump – all but folding instantly.

His mouth is inches from yours, forcing you to look him in the eyes.

"Listen here. I've been real kind to you. Coulda killed ya day one, tryin' to steal my shit like that. Was gonna be real kind in where I fucked ya, too. Now we're gonna fix that mouth a'yours and fast. Knees. Now." You soon come to know this isn't a suggestion. It's not even a warning. It is what's happening.

It's in the way Joel's hands guide you down onto your knees. He goes for his belt and you hear and see that distinct clang of metal untangle before your very senses. Your mouth waters instantly, teetering into fully giving into this struggle of power.

Joel's hands are calloused. You can tell he takes care of them, but that doesn't hide the wear and tear. Specifically on his fingertips. They grip your jaw roughly, and you choke back a moan as your mouth hangs open pliantly from this. Every nerve ending buzzing to be touched.

"Where'd that bratty girl go, huh? You done bein' big and bad – wanna be a slut, don’tcha?"

Your eyelash splay along your cheeks as you nod, and you feel his grip tighten, tugging your chin up higher.

"Look at me. You want this cock? I need your words. Tell me you wanna be a slut."

You're not sure when it happens, but hot tears run down your cheeks as everything comes to a head. Your body is trembling with raw desire right at your fingertips, just within reach. You can't hold back anymore, it physically hurts to.

"I wanna be a slut for this cock... please."

"Fuck, even a please. Oughta eat you out for that, sugar. Maybe next time."

Your brain is swimming at the thought. Next time?

With his free hand, Joel sets his cock free from his jeans, giving a satisfying smack to his abdomen quickly. No need for another piece of fabric keeping him from getting what he wants as you soon take note he isn't wearing boxers.

There's no denying what you're met with as you get to view it from this close. Joel Miller has a pretty cock. There's a soft, but bulging vein on the underside to match how big and thick it is. The rosy tip greets you, and it's the first time you get to see how much you've turned him on.

Your mouth is drooling while it's pried open and meets the tip of him. A moan from you is instantaneous, yet feels so distant from yourself, it doesn't affect you until much later. The taste of his precum coats your tongue as he slips past your lips and it's all you can experience. Your moans slip in and out of the sloshing sounds of your mouth. Keeping your hands by your sides, you don't tempt to touch him in fear he would pull away, so instead you twirl your tongue around his leaking head. Bob your head up and down in a slow, but sultry rhythm that causes him curse under his breath. He's not stoic above you, he's reacting.

He's clawing for every last bit of the upper hand.

"S'a lot, innit, babygirl? That's alright, you can take it." It's then you can sense Joel's guard slipping. Could be the fact that your mouth is suctioned perfectly around the length of his cock, but his voice gets damn sweeter the longer you go like this. His hips also have no problem in thrusting shallowly every now and then to knock the drool off of your dripping chin.

Even if you could form a thought, you don't know you would.

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling it out of your face as you maintain eye contact. Intuitive in your approach, he told you to look at him earlier, so maybe he likes it? The groans filling the room lead you to believe you are correct. It feels so removed from who you were moments before: snickering because his gaze felt intimidating. Now, his pupils are blown as they pour into yours and his neck hangs back when your mouth makes those pretty, sloppy popping noises – testing your gag reflexes as you will them to relax.

It's way more intimate than anything you've ever done with anyone you've ever been with, and this stranger is pulling it out of you. Within the mess your brain is in, you remind yourself if you want to stop you can, and not a bit of you does.

The hot tears that were once down your cheeks swell in your eyes once more, but this time from the sheer size of him. You moan vibration after vibration against him, shifting and pushing your cunt against your calf, thigh – anything to feel some sort of friction.

He lets out a growl when he notices you, "Honey, if it's that bad, touch yourself." If your cheeks weren't red before, they are now.

It's him calling you out, slight embarrassingly, but not letting up with his hips. It's the way the embarrassment builds the fire in the pit of your belly. It's your hand pushing inside your panties at the sound of his command. And it's you practically choking on his cock from the gasp you let out through your nose – stunned at how wet you are.

Your fingertips barely brush over your clit when you notice the slick collecting, bubbling right at the very top of your slit and slutty moans fall out of you. Your eyelids droop as you try to keep your gaze up to Joel, but the way your fingertips roll over the hood of your clit in satisfying circles sends you over the edge way quicker than you anticipate.

"Shit, baby. Just like that. You filthy thing, can't hold off another minute longer, can ya? Need it right fuckin' now."

The sound of Joel's deep voice looms overhead as you come completely undone.

Unable to stop yourself, the suction on his cock pops free for a moment. Your moans hitting the air as your eyes roll back. Your body rushing to find each wave of pleasure roll off your back. Joel's cock still nestled in your mouth, but his hips still. "Goddamn, look at that little slut come out. Such a needy fuckin' kitten."

When Joel makes sure you've ridden it out, he pulls his cock from your mouth. Your body feels weak despite how eager your mind is now, face-to-face with Joel's cock, you watch as his scarred hand glides your saliva over his length entirely. It puts you in a trance, quickly getting out of it when he taps his cock against your cheek. "Pretty kitten want this? C'mon."

If your moans felt foreign to you, you don't even know what to do with yourself at the twinge of a grin that spreads on your face. The sheer audacity of his taps right against your fucking cheek. Orgasm-drunk, you shuffle to your feet and Joel has no problem in tossing you – finally – to the couch.

Your back is to him while the front of your body brackets the width of his couch, arms hunched over the back of it, knees dig into the cushions. You're grateful for the lack of eye contact in this position as it gives you a moment to press your face into your bicep, an attempt to collect yourself. But all of it obsolete when you sense Joel's presence at your ass.

His body heat unmistakable to miss. You bite at your own skin, neck craning to behind you to watch him.

"Shit, darlin', look at you. Ass up like this like y'er in fuckin' heat for me." You whine at the fact his clothes are still mostly on, and you know he must be sweating underneath them, but he won't give it to you like that. Not yet, 'maybe next time'. "You know I can't go any further 'til you get a spankin'. Need to be punished for tryin' to hurt me like that. For tryin' to take my things. Ain't right. Need you to learn your lesson."

Where are you? A part of you knows this is a tactic. That Joel is lulling you into a position you can't say no to. It already shows itself in how you're splayed on his couch. Yet, you can't find the person you were before you stepped into the cabin. Not yet, not like this. You nod weakly, and Joel swipes the cotton undies down to your thighs so quickly the rush of air cools the heat of your folds. A flutter runs through you.

"Count. To ten. If you don't, we start over. Say, yes sir."

"Y-yes... sir. Yes sir."

A searing, mind-numbing spank wallops over your ass and it causes your hips to jut forward. Whimper hitting the top of your throat, you almost, almost, forget to count. Everything in your senses distracting you from completing the simplest tasks such as fucking counting.

"O-one." Another. "Twooo." And again. "Th-three!"

You start sniffling by the third smack of his wide hand, and you hear mocking sniffs behind your head. "Aww, pretty baby can't take the hurt she tries to give to others? That must be really tough. Y'heart's bleedin' all over my couch, honey."

Your cheeks burn, you really feel sorry for what you've done. Or at least, what you were planning to do.

The next spank leaves a welt of Joel's handprint across your skin. "FOUR!" Your body begins to feel weak, sliding against the couch, you know talking back is useless as you silent tears stream into your arm.

There are six more blinding slaps to your ass by the time he's done with you, and you feel him pull back when he's through. You imagine him wringing his palms, the roughness of them. You begin to wonder if that's how they got to be so weathered, and pretend not to be weirded out by the ache of jealousy.

"Y'know for somebody whinin' the whole time, your pussy is just droolin' from that," any narrative you wandered off with disappears in its replacement of Joel's fingers gathering slick between your folds. No announcement, just go. It was just within reach, feeling him inside you. You ride the shudder your body makes, licking your lips as you realise the unspoken rule is free and you can speak. "N-need it. Need your cock, please... please." "Need it, and you don't even know my name?" His index and middle finger waste no time in pressing into your aching core. Sounds of your wailing mix with his words as he lurches over, lip close to your ear. "Or maybe you do already."

"Please, please, please," your fingertips grip for the worn fabric of his couch while your hips that try to jut back are quickly halted by his other palm, a strong stopper at the base of your spine. "Not 'til you tell me my name." "I-I don't know. I don't know it, I swear." Joel's thick fingers slip completely out of you and you mewl pathetically, pussy clenching around nothing and he can see every last detail of it behind you. "Last fuckin' time, better tell me the truth." "It's Joel," you cry, hips pushing back against the resistance as much as possible. Anything to be filled again. "Joel. Joel. Joel. I was... I was– I don't know anybody. Not with anybody, I swear! Joel, I swear. Please! Just grew up hearin' your name. I swear on my life, Joel, please! I know I lied, didn't think you'd believe me."

You don't know why you're begging like your life depends on it, but your pleasure surely does, and there's a longer pause than you want lingering behind you. As if you can palpably feel Joel contemplating whether you're being truthful or not. But if there's one thing about you, aside from this moment in this compromising position: you don't answer to anybody.

Joel's cock bottoming out inside of you at the drop of a hat is confirmation enough that he believes you.

And you not only wail, but scream at the stretch and irresistible contact that punches you straight to your gut – right where you can feel the tip of him. Half-moon prints dig into your hips by his short fingernails when he grabs ahold of you and you're on your forearms, head hanging between your shoulders. Your panties keep your thighs straying too far apart if there is such a thing.

"This what you wanted when you watched me?" Joel grips your torso now, pulling you closer to him as you become more upright, his cock more accessible to the spongy spot inside of you and your nipples stand erect, eyes rolling back as it takes all of you not to rest your head back against his shoulder, and you fail. Hard. Your occiput makes contact with his shoulder. Joel brushes your hair back to the side, lips graze but never fully touches the column of your neck. "Thought about this tight cunt last night. Left the window open on purpose, but you knew that already, didn't you, pretty girl? Clever little thing and so fuckin' dirty."

Joel's hand snakes around the front of you, spreading your folds as he dives his fingers over your glossed-over clit your wetness claimed and that sends a whine off of your depraved lips. "That's it, honey. Show me what this cock does to ya. Makes you downright brainless from how well you take it." While his skilled fingers, toy with your clit, the other set of digits graze over your breasts on their way up to your mouth. You take them inside the warmth of your wet mouth easily, rolling your tongue over the digits until you can only focus on the white hot pleasure beginning to boil over. You keep his fingers between your teeth, a faint realisation that you can taste yourself on them. That's what does it.

His hips are relentless as they pound into you, the repetitious slaps of his skin against yours, of his balls tapping your cunt again and again sends you into a place that he knows you're approaching when you tighten and pulse.

"Y'know how tight and wet you feel around me, darlin'? Never had a fuckin' cunt like this. Let it out, let it out, just like you wanna. Just like you did last night around your fingers. Nothin' like this cock though, and you know it now, don't you? Oh, fuck yeah– thaaat's it. Look at you." "Joel... Joel!!!" Joel talks you through it, sending your body diving off the cliff that is your second orgasm. The undeniable gush of your fluids around his cock. His name stays stuck at the your tongue, the constant thud of it vibrates your lungs.

It starts at the attention on your clit. The raw bundle of nerves send signals outward as it spreads down your legs, up your stomach, to your nipples and down your spine. Your brain feels effervescent, toes curl, and it comes back again right to your heart. Your beating heart, wild, and every moan, whimper, scream that comes from you sounds like it is from someone else's chest. But it's yours, and you know that when you start to feel hazy, unable to hold yourself up anymore.

"Good for my cock after all. Ain't ya, baby? Shit."

Your torso leans forward while your cheek rests on the top of your hand that's gripped on Joel's couch, and your body is relaxed and fucked. Comfortably silent, just the way Joel would want you. His cock slips out of you, unable to stop the slew of grunts and groans that acts as an anchor to keep you from slipping under. You lick your lips, looking back at him with a nod, unable to stay silent for long. That struggle of power coming back for vengeance. "That's right. Come all over this ass you ruined. See those handprints? Dirty fucking man, you just met me. Show me how much you enjoyed doing that."

That's as far as you get when you feel the heavy streams of his hot, white come rope over your skin, and for someone who is no position to be smug, you sure do have a shit-eating grin on your face. Pure, and the simplest thing the two of you accomplish.

Joel shakes his head, shallow breaths become him as he staggers back and you pretend not to notice. "Gonna kill me, kid."

"Almost did."

---

You don't know why, but neither of you hold the promise of you leaving right away. You linger, both of you half naked and spent. You take your time cleaning yourself off, slipping your clothes back on. Day becoming night.

You tiptoe into the living room where Joel is unfurled on his couch. His eyes are closed, the back of his head inches away from where the two of you just had sex.

Planning your goodbye, you sit at the edge of the couch cushion, knowing he wasn't really asleep. Just restin' his eyes.

"I am sorry...," you finally say into the dimly lit room, pangs of annoyance fizz at your tongue for even apologising. For shooting him, for trying to steal from him. All of it.

It's not his fault. It's just how you are.

This is dichotomous in relation to your eyes. They're bleary when a yawn pulls deep from within you. As if rest had been climbing up to the surface this entire time.

"Maybe you should be apologisin' 'bout your shitty aim. Could teach you a thing or two." Joel's eyes remained closed, arms crossed. If you could let yourself experience this, you would notice how soft he looks in this moment. Instead, your stomach is recoils in fight or flight.

You're glad he can't see you swallow the knot in your throat.

There was no magical solution for your life, and a part of you wishes you hadn't chosen his cabin to raid. You wish you hadn't met him, because now you could feel yourself want to notice the small things in him. Already.

You felt it dangerous to let anything that close to you.

You scoff to play it off, giving his chest a light shove and very accidentally getting lost in the light landscape of hairs that resides at the top of his flannel. "I could teach you a thing or two." A pathetic response for a pathetically spent human.

"We could both teach each other," he resigns and you're grateful he doesn't point out your lack of wit for how worn out he's made you. Perhaps the smugness settles in the things he doesn't say. Really, it's in what Joel spouts off next that throws you upside down.

"S'why you should stay. One month. That's it."

"Excuse me?"

"Didn't stuttered," your eyes roll and somehow, despite Joel's own being shut, he tuts his teeth. "Don't roll your eyes at me, little girl. You need a place to sleep. Besides, I could use an extra set of hands. Way I see it, best offer you've had in a while. Got a shelf life, though. Don't like to wait."

A part of you is suspicious, and if this man didn't make sure you orgasmed twice, you would suspect yourself to be dead within a matter of minutes.

There's something true about him, though. You're unwilling to look at it directly, but you trust him.

"Fine."

"Gonna need clearer confirmation, darlin'. Really need you to want this if you're gonna stay with me." He knew exactly where to press.

"Fuck, I shoulda killed you when I had the chance. I want to stay with you. One month." You try to ignore the grit between your teeth as speak, but your shoulders eventually soften. And you really do mean it. It's just... you're hardened from years of misplaced trust.

Your hand goes to the pendant around your neck subconsciously.

Joel either doesn't notice, or gives you the space.

You're grateful either way.

"That's that, then."

If anyone could understand the concept, it's Joel.

"That's that."

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #tlou fic #by bee #dancing is a dangerous game

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rachalixie · 2 years

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↳ can't get you off my mind (fem!reader, fluff, 4k)

you meet chan at a bar and he promises to marry you someday

「☆ lee minho ☆」

↳ can’t get you off my mind (gn!reader, first meeting, 0.7k) ❥

classic you-meet-minho-at-a-party-and-he-takes-your-breath-away trope

↳ happy mistake (gn!reader, coworkers to lovers 1.1k)

who would have thought that sending the wrong text would lead here?

↳ the best man (she/her!reader, friends to lovers, 1.4k) ★

your best friend's getting married, and you're the maid of honor. minho is the best man. you're just trying your best to not let him get under your skin. pt II

「☆ seo changbin ☆」

↳ please don’t go (gn!reader, angst, 1.1k)

you’re shocked when changbin suddenly decided to cut things off with you (or alternatively, you’re both dumb and bad at communication)

「☆ hwang hyunjin ☆」

↳ slipped my mind (gn!reader, fluff, 1k) ❥ ★

you and hyunjin are happily together. too bad you forgot to tell anyone that.

↳ mind your business (gn!reader, fluff, 1.2k) (sequel to slipped my mind) ★

the aftermath of the crew finding out about yours and hyunjin’s unintentional secret relationship, complete with domestic fluff at the end.

↳ 3 times you're awkward with hyunjin (and 1 time you're not) (gn!reader, fluff, 1.3k)

my love, mine all mine (fem!reader, fluff, 2.3k)

hyunjin sets up the perfect valentine’s day for you

「☆ han jisung ☆」

↳ bandaids don’t fix bulletholes (gn!reader, angst/fluff, 0.7k)

sometimes your possessiveness over jisung rears it’s head at the worst moments

「☆ lee felix ☆」

↳ forgive me for what i haven’t done (she/her!reader, fluff, h/c, 17.5k)

you arrive at your enemy's kingdom under the guise of making peace. the prince being nice to you wasn't part of the plan.

「☆ kim seungmin ☆」

↳ a dose of you (is all i need) (gn!reader, fluff, 0.7k) (sequel to cat and mouse) ❥

you’re cramming for your final and what’s a better distraction than kim seungmin?

↳ cat and mouse (for a month or two or three) (gn!reader, enemies to lovers, 2.2k) (prequel to a dose of you) ❥

enemies to lovers with kim seungmin but make it ~university flavored~

↳ what i’m looking for (she/her!reader, strangers to lovers, 3.4k)

you, quite literally, run into kim seungmin on your escape from an arranged marriage

「☆ yang jeongin ☆」

↳ a smile worth a thousand words (gn!reader, fluff, 0.9k)

you can tell the story of falling in love with jeongin through his smiles

↳ 24 to 25 (to 26) (gn!reader, fluff, 3k)

you can’t pinpoint the moment when you started seeing jeongin as more than the annoying kid next door turned best friend, but you don’t know what to do with yourself now that you do.

「☆ 3racha ☆」

↳ high (all the time) (gn!reader, fluff, 0.6k)

jisung always says they do their best work when high. you just didn’t believe them. (est. chan x reader)

↳ 3racha reactions | post panic attack (est. 3racha x gn!reader, hurt/comfort)

↳ 3racha as rockstars (3racha x gn!reader, fluff, <2k)

「☆ ot8 ☆」

↳ post concert stray kids series (est. skz x gn!reader, fluff) ★

↳ skz reactions | post argument (est. skz x gn!reader, fluff/angst) ★

↳ skz reactions | to you crying (est. skz x gn!reader, fluff) ★

↳ skz reactions | when you’re sad (est. skz x gn!reader, hurt/comfort) ★

↳ skz reactions | autumn dates (est. skz x gn!reader, fluff)

↳ christmas carols advent (est. skz x gn!reader)

↳ kisses with stray kids

chan / minho / changbin / hyunjin / jisung / felix / seungmin / jeongin

↳ stray kids love languages

chan / minho / changbin / hyunjin / jisung / felix / seungmin / jeongin

↳ eight days of christmas carols

soft hours masterlist

my fills

#stray kids imagines #skz imagines #chan #lee know #changbin #hyunjin #han #felix #seungmin #i.n #stray kids fluff #stray kids x stay #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x reader

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whatiwillsay · 5 months

Note

Hey Cam, could you provide more insight into spade-riddles and why we shouldn't trust them? I know you've touched on this before but I don't know where/when. Obviously I know they're harmful/a LSK shipper but I was looking through their first post on their riddle history (just for shits and gigs, no worries) and I was surprised by how many of them allude to insider info on Tay/future releases before the public had knowledge of them. What do you make of this? Or is she fudging the dates/lying?

sure babe here is a post detailing how spade-riddles fakes her insiders (there is hard conclusive proof in this post with receipts. one of her "insiders" came to me and detailed how they were a troll, gave me the "password" they used with her, and so i used the "password" to assume the role of insider and named the kaylor baby "isla" for my friend cara who likes that name, go search spade-riddles for the name isla lol now it's part of their network of theories)

here is a post detailing how she bullies, harasses, and outs people who disagree with her

but three babe like... let's talk

i am saying this so gently but surely you understand that if you say enough random noncommittal things in "riddle" form or like her most recent troll insider does, in weird fanfic prose, that it will appear like they had insider knowledge even if they didn't. taylor does so much, has so much art, has so many interviews and so many lyrics and public moments and outfits and personas that you could write any random bit of prose and get some kind of "hit" off it.

let's take an example of a spade riddle they considered to be a correct bit of info/tea shared or a "hit":

so on january 16th 2019 spade said "take a sip, you might just get lost in the clouds." and that was supposed to be a hint because there are clouds on the lover album cover and included in some of the imagery for the album (music videos, etc) but like... what taylor era doesn't mention clouds? clouds are mentioned on i know places and in the song carolina, and storms which of course always contain clouds are mentioned on MOST of her albums, and clouds are represented in a TON of her music videos (basically any of them with a sky!)

also "you just might get lost in the clouds" could mean ANYTHING. it could represent getting caught up in a media "storm" around taylor, it could mean "taylor is hiding what she's doing and you won't see it", it could have been an EXCELLENT clue for the lavender haze music video but that song didn't even exist when that riddle was written and obviously, the music video wasn't planned and storyboarded until years later so it can't be that.

and "take a sip" could have meant anything. taylor could have released drinking merch to go with false god, or a line of sippy cups lol, or could have used a turn of a phrase in an interview during the lover era like she could have said something about "drink the kool-aid" or "you can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink" and that could have been a "hit" for the "take a sip line"

even if clouds hadn't been featured on the album cover there's an infinite number of ways "taking a sip" and "getting lost in the clouds" could have been represented by taylor during the lover era. every music video she drinks in she is "taking a sip" and that happens all over her different eras before and after the lover era.

if there's an infinite slew of things that can happen that prove a prediction correct then it's not really a prediction it's just a random series of words thrown on a page that don't prove any type of insider connection.

here is what ACTUAL insider info looks like:

this is a hard, concrete, falsifiable claim. it can be proven correct or incorrect (it was correct because my insiders are good and legit lol). there is no gray area where it can be interpreted after the fact to be correct even if it was random words. it's just a hard claim and down the line, people will be able to see if it was true or not!

for something to be a true claim of insider info it has to be falsifiable or what good is it?

a real claim supported by insider info should have read something like this, "i have seen the cover art for ts7 and some of the aesthetics for the era and clouds are featured! namely on the album cover and in the first music video."

if they had said that then fuck yeah that's a hard claim that can either be proven true or false. they didn't say that. they mentioned drinking and getting lost in the clouds. anyway, i'm rambling but i hope i've illustrated the difference between trolling and randomly throwing out words and phrases so you can try and get a "hit" in the future.

for fun let's write a spade riddle/pumpkin insider claim and then over the next year (or maybe on the next album) i can promise you SOMETHING in a song lyric, mv, piece of album art, live performance, interview taylor has, clothing/jewelry she wears, merch will appear to prove this was some bit of insider tea but i'm just pulling this out of my ass rn.

"In the still of the dawn, the eye of the storm has passed and the sun dances with the birds"

boom i can promise you something will happen over the next year or two that makes it look like that was some kind of insider prediction because it's vague enough that a TON of stuff could be a hit for it.

the last thing i'll say is if you want to learn more about how seers and psychics troll their audiences just like spade-riddles does you should go listen to the episode i did this past summer on Nostradamus who was a famous seer from hundreds of years ago.

#kaylor #gaylor #gaylor swift #ttb #spade-riddles #spade riddles #spade stopped by #lgbetty #friends of dorothea #ttbask

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ssahotstuff · 2 years

Text

Aaron Hotchner Playlist Collection 💕

All Too Well Taylor’s version by Taylor Swift can be found here

Word count: 13.8k

This is PART ONE, it was too long to post so I’ll be posting the other half right after this!

Warnings for the series: drinking, cursing, mentions of food, mentions of pregnancy and allusions to fertility issues, abandonment, SMUT pretty early on(readers first time, choking, penetration, oral f&m receiving, breeding kink with the intentions of pregnancy, birth control slip up, spanking, squirting, slightly dom Hotch, bondage, if I missed anything let me know)

Also: Jack does not exist in this universe. Haley has still been Reaper’d though.

IMPORTANT: text messages and flashbacks will be italicized

It was colder than you remembered. You supposed that having been locked up for a year, untouched, unloved, it was as cold as you, frigid, bitter. You hadn't always been that way, and there had been a time that the wood burning stove in the corner had warmed all of the rooms in your hideaway, but time does things we don't always recognize, and it had taken its toll everywhere that you had stepped.

You stepped over the threshold to be met with eerie silence, the woods covered in snow outside, and that just added to the soundless environment. You had beat most of it on the drive up, but unless there was a break in the weather, you'd be snowed in for the weekend. You'd checked the weather; it had been your plan, to clean it out over the weekend so you could sell it, closing the chapter that would forever be unwritten so you could move on with your life somewhere that wasn't the woods of Virginia.

Your first task was to start a fire; you knew there was plenty of wood, it had gone untouched after you left, covered with a tarp out back. You flipped on the light and sat down your bag, sighing heavily at the scent wafting through the air. It was his phantom, come to haunt you once more. It was earthy, rugged, his cologne left on a shirt somewhere in a closet, your nose trained to pick it up like some sort of blood hound. It filled your eyes with tears that you brushed away immediately, trying to stay focused on warming up the house. It didn't take long, you'd done it exactly the way he showed you, and after a few minutes, there was a bright orange flame flickering inside the stove. You held your hands up, trying to rid yourself of the chill, although you were certain it would stay regardless of the cold. You had the kind of shivers that could only be healed by leaving and never coming back—it was your nerves, the tremors ailing your entire body.

You added some more logs to the growing embers, closing the door to the stove and taking a peek around. You needed to cook something to eat, so you decided on a can of soup, letting it warm slowly on the stove while you crept around, afraid of stirring whatever ghosts you two had left behind. You turned on the bedroom light and immediately decided you wouldn't be sleeping in there. You were heading for the couch when you spied his flannel shirt, still on the bedpost where he'd left it. You found yourself gravitating towards it, reaching out to touch the fabric. It was soft, worn, but still vibrant. The forest green fabric and tan stripes had suited him, the sleeves rolled up halfway when he was focused on a task, but otherwise rolled down and buttoned on the ends. You were chilly, so you slid it on and inhaled deep, taking a breath of his presence for just a moment, a guilty pleasure, self indulgent.

There was a time you wouldn't have thought twice— you craved the smell of him, the way it lingered in the air and left it's mark on everything. Now it was unnerving, making you choke up. You padded down the hall to the living room and made yourself comfortable while you waited on dinner to cook, checking your phone mindlessly. You sent Penelope a text to let her know you'd arrived and you were likely going to be snowed in, and not to worry if you weren't back in a day or two. She'd worry anyway, because she knew the kind of headspace you went into at the cabin—she'd witnessed your love and the swift pang of heartbreak after. She'd seen the worst of him and still had to look him in the eye afterward. You were lucky enough that he'd left without so much as a call; he'd left a letter in the cabin that you'd found a year ago today, which is why you decided the weekend would be a ceremonial one. You were finally ready to let go of the pain that he'd caused—forever.

"Babe, this place is perfect. It's the right size, and look at the wood stove!" He was more than excited as he took a self guided tour through the cabin that you'd purchased together—your first step into a life of normalcy. He was ready to retire, ready to settle down. You'd had one too many talks about a baby, about being together everyday, and now it was finally becoming a reality. It was hard to put into words how whole you felt, like you'd made the best decision of your life.

"I love it," you beamed, kissing him lightly as he buzzed around, rolling the sleeves of his flannel shirt up so he could start a fire. He'd learned from the former owner how to clean the stove pipe, how to maintain it through the summer months—he'd learned it all, and eagerly too.

"And the bedroom is big enough for a crib. The bedroom across the hall from ours would make a great nursery," it was him that had suggested it in the first place, carefully, because he wasn't sure how you felt about kids. You were ready, happy to become a mother. You weren't pregnant yet but at the rate you were going, you'd be there in no time.

"I noticed that too. What do you want for dinner?"

"We can cook later, let's try out the new bedroom," he was already grabbing your waist, planting his lips on yours. It was starting to warm up, whether it be from the wood stove or your bodies smushed together, you'd never know. You were shedding clothes faster than he could keep up, in your underwear by the time he reached the bed.

"Let me look at you," his eyes raked over your body before he dropped to his knees, peering up at you through his lashes. His hands snaked behind you to pull you forward, lips planting gentle kisses just above your panty line. You pulled his shirt off and felt your mouth go dry at the sight—you'd never grow tired of looking at him. From his broad, toned chest all the way to his toes, he was a masterpiece, made perfectly for you.

"This has been a perfect day," you breathed, letting him roll you panties down your legs; you stepped out of them and he wasted no time diving headfirst into your center. You cried out, covering your mouth immediately before you remembered you weren't in his tiny apartment anymore; there was no one around for miles.

"You can make all the noise you want out here, sweetheart."

It sent heat straight to your core, his sensual words and expert tongue, flicking lightly at your clit as you braced against the dresser for support. His hands were secure around your thighs, so you weren't going to fall. You found your release as he sucked on your clit, groaning into you simply because he loved to pleasure you, and he always had. He enjoyed touching you, marking you up in hickies, anything to show the world that you were his. You would never get used to the attention he gave you, it made you feel like the most special person in the world.

"Feels so good," you could barely keep your eyes open, but you didn't want to miss a second of him between your thighs. You tugged at his shoulders, trying to get him to move to the bed. He didn't budge, instead he shook his head, tongue still tracing circles over your bundle of nerves.

"We'll move after you cum again," he told you, easing a finger into your entrance as you exhaled shakily. He made sure his fingers were coated in arousal before he added another, his thumb circling your clit as he watched you closely. He was obsessed with the way you looked when you were sent over the edge, chest heaving, your hair a mess. It gave him more satisfaction than anything, it made him cocky. You loved his headstrong, bossy attitude more than anyone else, but you also got to experience a side of him that no one else saw.

Your legs shook in his grasp as you came, your thighs slick and destined to become even more so at the rate Aaron was going. He gave you little warning before he picked you up, bringing you to the bed.

"Time to make a baby," he whispered, situating you on the edge of the bed, your legs fully extended against his chest. He let his belt and pants clatter to the floor, furiously pushing down his boxers so he could line up with you. It was slow, filling. You felt every second of the stretch, clenching around him as he pushed further into you, bottoming out in you after a moment. You inhaled sharply at the feeling, biting your lip as you looked up at him. His brows were pulled tightly together as he began to rock back and forth, ducking down quickly to give you a kiss. You smiled up at him, watching him mimic your actions, beaming back at you in the glow of the bedside lamp.

"I love you, Aaron," you could barely choke the words out, his hips slammed into you repeatedly, making you cry out in pleasure. It only pushed him to go faster, your moans echoing together throughout the brand new house you were going to start a family in.

"And I love you, gorgeous girl. More than anything," you couldn't help the orgasm that rocked your body, making you clench your teeth and fist the pale blue sheets that he'd insisted on for the new bed. You bought them on the drive up; they'd been on the bed maybe an hour, and they'd be ruined even quicker. He was finishing deep inside of you, hunched over as he groaned loudly, his tongue between his teeth. You took a moment to admire how he looked, more in love than you'd ever seen him, his eyes twinkling as he cupped your face.

"I'm going to tuck your legs together. Keep them up," he instructed, telling you to prop them on the headboard. You felt a little silly, but he laid down next to you as if he thought it were a normal occurrence.

"You're serious about a baby, huh?"

"Of course I am. You'd be such a great mother, and now that I'm not working, I could spend the entire pregnancy being obsessed with you."

You playfully rolled your eyes, shivering lightly. The stove was warm enough but it hadn't reached the bedroom yet. Without missing a beat, he was retrieving his flannel to cover your upper half up with.

"You're already obsessed," you teased, but really, it was true, and you loved every second of it. You were convinced no one had ever loved anyone as much as he loved you. You watched him brush your hair behind your ear, his nose brushing yours before his lips lightly touched your own. You threaded your hands in his hair, keeping him in place so you could cover him in affection. He was the kind of man who wanted to be attached at your hip, wanted you to be close to him all the time. Despite how serious he was when he was at work, with you, he wanted his hands on you constantly, he wanted to take you everywhere, show you off. You went everywhere with him, dinner parties, lunch dates, the golf course, even though you didn't play. He'd let you day drink and ride around in the cart with him, cheering him on. You'd spent more time with him than you ever had with another man.

"I can't get enough of you. You're my favorite person in the world," he breathed, barely coming up for air before his lips connected with yours again, only getting more desperate by the second.

"And you're mine. I love you so much. I hope you stay forever," he moaned into your mouth before fixing his gaze on your naked body, his fingertips teasing your sides as he moved his lips to your cheek, then down the expanse of your jaw until he reached your neck. He sucked gently at your skin, leaving love marks in his wake. His hands made it to your center, parting your thighs so he could tease your entrance. You whimpered, bucking your hips lightly, aching for him to relieve some of the pressure building in the pit of your stomach. You had expected your first night to be spent unpacking, but the sun was setting and so far the only thing you'd worked on was making a baby.

"Forever. Would never want anyone else to have you," he mumbled against your skin, fingers connecting with your clit. He rubbed slow, precise circles on your sensitive skin, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth and sucking lightly. When he got in moods like this, you'd spend the better half of the night touching, learning, exploring one another's bodies like it was your profession. He loved finding new ways to pleasure you, to make you come unglued beneath his touch. There wasn't another person alive that knew your body like he did.

"Only you. I'll never want anyone else," it was a promise, a guarantee. It was the one thing that remained constant in your life—your love for him, the way he invaded your every thought.

"Could spend all day watching you just like this. So gorgeous," you felt the heat rising to your cheeks as you came, cursing lightly. He let out a chuckle as he patted his lap, his cock already throbbing against his lower stomach. You straddled him, lining him up with you before you sank down on him, the two of you sighing in unison as you slid down his member. He was usually the one in control, it wasn't often that he let you take the reigns, but you didn't waste a second of the opportunity. You leaned forward slightly and bounced on his dick, making him grip your hips tightly. You watched his eyes flutter shut, his arms outstretched, palms up. He had surrendered to you, letting you do as you pleased.

"That's it, baby. Feels so fucking good," he said it through gritted teeth, his hands helping to move your hips. You went faster, watching his mouth fall agape as he sputtered into you, raising up to meet your lips. He sat up, wrapping his arms around you in a hug. You kissed his cheek, holding him tightly. The house was quiet, but you'd not set up the tv yet, so the only sounds were the crackling of the wood stove.

"God, I love you."

You'd never get tired of hearing it. For the last year, you'd gotten used to it, and now it was music to your ears. You'd fallen quickly, and so had he. It had seemed perfect at the time, circumstances and mutual friends bringing you together. Now, you were living together, trying to start a family. His job was long behind him and you could focus on life with him.

"I love you, Aaron. You hungry?"

"Maybe a little. We can make a pizza and set up the tv. Watch our show," you'd made a habit out of a corny ghost hunting show, watching it late at night in the dark, when the rest of the world was still. You didn't watch much tv, but you loved the ritual of sitting in bed with him and listening to the host tell the history of the different locations.

"We can put the tv in here for now if you want," you had another for the living room, but it was back at the apartment.

"I'll do that while you make the pizza," he suggested, pulling up his boxers and bringing you up out of the bed with him. You put on his flannel, buttoning it near the middle so it would stay on and made your way to the kitchen to preheat the oven. While it warmed, you searched for dishes among the piles of boxes, and Aaron checked the fire. It was heating the house nicely, but there was a backup source of heat as well for the especially cold nights, or for when you had a curious toddler and didn't want them burning their hands on a stove.

The idea of motherhood thrilled you, becoming a parent with your best friend seemed like the best way to do it. Your thoughts had been swimming with a baby all afternoon, wondering what kind of parents you two would be. You'd been talking about it for months but you finally quit your birth control and you were actively trying.

Aaron set out on a mission to hook up the tv, so you explored the rest of the house. There was a basement down below that you were going to convert into a playroom eventually. Aaron had the idea as soon as he saw it, somewhere for your babies to hang out for years to come, once they'd mastered the steps of course.

You could hear him down the hall working in the bedroom while you checked out the room across from yours. It was spacious, with a walk in closet, and beautiful hard wood floors. You wondered what it would be like to have a miniature version of the two of you running around, playing and growing up surrounded by love.

You made your way back to the kitchen, grabbing your phone and turning on music to fill the empty silence. You stood waiting on the ding of the oven, and after a moment of tinkering, Aaron was joining you, telling you he'd set up the tv. He nodded to your phone, reaching for your hand.

"This is a good one," he loved to listen to your music. He secretly profiled you based on what you were listening to, but you didn't mind. He twirled you around before bringing you into his arms, spinning you around the kitchen. It was dark, only the light above the stove to shine on you. For a minute you just danced around the kitchen, listening to the steady drum of his heart beating in his chest.

You woke to the chill of a forgotten fire, your breath visible as you scrambled off the couch and rushed to the thermostat on the wall. You turned on the heat so you could get warm quickly, flipping on the coffee maker as you stretched and yawned the sleep away. The first thing you did while waiting for coffee was check your phone, the only notification from an unknown number. It had left no voicemail, so you called it back, only to be sick at the sound on the other end.

"You've reached Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner—"

You hung up immediately, dialing Penelope's number as quickly as possible.

"You okay?"

"No, Pen. He called me."

She gasped on the other end which was a clear sign that she hadn't known anything about it.

"When? Why? You haven't heard from him in a year," she reminded you, but you knew that you hadn't imagined it; it had been his voicemail that you heard.

"Sometime last night. I—I don't even know what I would say to him."

Truthfully, you wanted him to call back so you could scream every obscenity you knew at him, but that wouldn't help you in this stage of recovery from him. You were still angry, yes, but it wouldn't help anything.

"Not that he tells us about his private life, but I don't think there's been anyone since you."

"I'm not surprised. He loves the BAU more than he'll ever love a woman," you scoffed, remembering the letter he'd left you, and his reasoning for leaving in the first place.

"He did love you though. That's undeniable."

It was true. While you had him, he loved you more than anything. That was, until one day, he just didn't anymore. He shut off his feelings and returned to his shell.

"You don't do things like this to people that you love."

✨✨✨

Your conversation with Penelope had you shaken up; you had no clue what you'd do if he called again, but you wanted to be prepared for if it happened again. You knew being rude to him would only make things worse so you decided you'd hear what he had to say, and go from there.

You managed to get a little bit of packing done; there wasn't much left that you wanted to keep, so you were sorting everything into two stacks, your things to get rid of and his stuff. If he wanted it, he could come get it when you were done cleaning.

It was lunch time before you realized it, but you'd gotten a lot accomplished. You sat down on the couch to take a break and noticed that your phone was lit up with messages. Your recognized them as his, quickly opening it up to see what he had to say.

Are you busy around noon?

I just wanted to call and talk.

On one hand, you were curious as to what he had to say, but you were also terrified of speaking to him again. It was too easy to let him back in, too easy to forget the heartbreak if it meant having him back. You were weak, powerless to him, and he knew it.

I'm just at the cabin. We needed to talk at some point because I need to know what to do with your stuff.

You poured a cup of coffee while you were waiting on his response, the floor creaking beneath your steps. You hadn't remembered the house having so many quaint little qualities, or maybe you were just trapped in the nostalgia that it left behind. It was almost noon already, the shrill ring of your phone making you jump. You sat down on the couch and steadied your breathing, hitting the answer button, putting him on speakerphone.

"Hi."

"Why are you at the cabin alone? The weather is supposed to get bad tomorrow night."

You should never have told him where you were. That was your first mistake. You prayed he didn't show up, because that was the last thing you wanted to deal with.

"Because I'm selling it and moving somewhere it's warm all the time. I hate the snow."

You had only recently begun to hate the snow. Before, you and Aaron spent hours playing in the snow, watching it fall from branches, throwing snowballs, acting like kids.

"You're moving?" He sounded shocked, because you loved Virginia. You came to school here and stayed after because you liked the atmosphere.

"So what did you want to talk about, Aaron?"

You tried to change the subject, and he cleared his throat awkwardly on the other line.

"I wanted to apologize."

You laughed, although you didn't mean to; it was just ridiculous of him to do something like this after a year. Bringing up old wounds never helped anyone.

"I don't need it, but thank you."

"You deserve one though. And I am sorry that I put you through all of this. I thought I was ready and I wasn't."

In his letter he'd explained it all, albeit loosely, and as vague as possible. He'd never be able to truly leave his job.

"You're forgiven. Do you want your things?"

"I'll come help you, if you want me to."

That was the last thing you needed, but you really couldn't stop him if he decided to come. His name was on the paperwork just as well as yours was.

"You really don't have to do that. Like you said, the weather's getting bad and the last thing either of us need is to be snowed in together."

You heard him sigh on the other end of the line, but he wasn't finished, not by a long shot.

"Please, Y/n. Just let me come help. I'm only thirty minutes away."

"You aren't at work?"

There was nothing but silence on the other end of the line as he tried to find the words to say. You had no idea that he was still hurting too, that his actions left consequences on his end too.

"I took today off. I— I don't know why I thought I'd see you today, but it felt inevitable."

You'd felt it too, although you'd never admit it to him.

"You're really coming, huh?"

He made an 'mhm' sound, and you felt all the air leave your lungs at the idea of being stuck with him, forced to fight with him; none of it sounded like fun to you.

"I'll bring lunch."

"Well I'll turn off the heat so you can play with the wood stove one last time. I'm going to miss this place."

You hadn't meant to say the last part out loud, but you couldn't take it back. You missed a simpler time, when all you needed were these walls and the man on the other end of the line. You were anxious to see him, shaking at the mere thought of being trapped alone with him. Hopefully you could work quicker and be gone before the bad weather hit.

"Me too. It'll be nice to see you again. I know the way I left things wasn't easy for you and again, I'm sorry."

You didn't want his apology. You wanted the last year back, the life you'd mapped out with him, you wanted it. You didn't want to live alone, not when you had a house that was meant to be shared. You discovered that seeing him was going to be a lot harder than you ever anticipated.

"It's okay, Aaron. Let's just drop it. Everything's fine now."

It was a lie, but you didn't want to talk about it anymore, and you hoped he got the hint.

"Is our bottle still there? Maybe we can finish it," you could practically hear the smile in his voice at the thought of finishing a 300$ bottle of scotch, a bottle that Rossi had gifted you two. It was still on his bedside table.

"It's here. I wouldn't drink it alone," you wouldn't have even thought about touching his stuff, not if you didn't have to. What you truly wanted was him to decide he didn't want you to pack up anything—but you'd never get what you wanted.

"I'll see you soon, okay? Don't start without me," he was hanging up before you could protest, so you could only sit and wait, and think about the way things were before.

✨✨✨

"It's too cold for you to be out without a coat," you'd just stepped outside with your coffee, the sun creeping over the mountains edge in the distance. You wanted to see it before it rose, the pinks and purples of the horizon glorious as the leaves faded into yellows and oranges. It wasn't that cold, but you were barefoot, and he was always afraid you'd get sick.

"I'm fine. Look," you nodded towards the sunrise, so he stood behind you, wrapping his arms around you so he could watch too. It was stunning, and you were glad you hadn't missed it. You took a sip of coffee and leaned up on your tip toes to kiss him, the air growing crisp as the wind blew slightly.

"What a view. We picked the perfect place," it had been three days of unpacking, fucking, organizing—but mostly, you'd just been filthy, taking advantage of the seclusion. You'd had so many neighbors before that you had to keep quiet, and Aaron loved that you didn't have to do that anymore.

"We sure did. We have to try to get something done today. At least one room," you decided, turning to face him so he knew you were serious.

"Or I could bend you over, right here. Fuck you over the railing," he countered, his eyes gleaming back at you. He took your mug, taking a sip before he sat it on the barstool behind him, bringing you forward and smashing his mouth against yours. You realized he'd been serious too when his hand slipped past your drawstring to play with your clit. There wasn't anyone around for miles, not here, tucked in your little hideaway. You were completely alone, so there was no one around to see him making good on his promise to fuck you over the railing, your arms holding tightly to the post as he slid into you and fucked you mercilessly. Your moans got lost in the whistle of the wind, your body no longer registering the frigid temperatures around you, only the erotic chaos captivating you.

"What was that about getting something done today?" He teased, and you could only giggle in response, because you were struggling to form a sentence. It was hard to think about anything but his hips slamming into you making your legs shake and the floor beneath you creak under your weight. You could feel yourself getting close, his cock buried deep inside of you, his fingertips gripping you tight enough to mark your skin.

"I'd rather be doing this," you admitted, spreading your legs slightly to give him better access. He shifted behind you, slowing down a bit, rolling his hips against you. It was a drastic, heavenly change from how rough he normally was in this position.

"Of course you would, dirty girl. We have forever to get settled in. Quit worrying and let me take care of you baby," you knew he was close, his hips were getting more urgent, he was a moaning mess, giving you every ounce of passion he had. When he came, he slipped out of you and pulled your pants up so he could take you inside. The temperature continued to drop, and you'd get sick if you stayed out any longer.

"Ready to start?"

He looked questionably at you as you headed for the bedroom, taking a box with you on the way. You heard the swift pad of feet behind you, stopping in the doorway to stare at you.

"One room and then we'll watch the ghost show?" He stepped forward while you considered his offer, nodding at him in response. He set to work on hanging up his clothes and you organized the closet on your side of the room. You worked mostly in silence, but you got finished quicker, just in time for dinner. He'd already decided to cook, so you left him to it while you took a shower.

By the time you were finished, he was nearly done with dinner, a pasta specialty that Rossi had taught him. You loved when he cooked—it was so out of character for him, but he enjoyed it.

"Smells good in here," you snaked your arms around his waist while he finished plating your food.

"You smell good. Is that the new body spray you got?" You couldn't believe he recognized the scent because you'd only used it once before, but he'd really liked it when you bought it.

"Yes! How'd you know?"

He turned around, kissing you before he took your plates in the direction of the bedroom.

"You smell like sugar cookies. Come on, you promised we'd watch the show," he raised his eyebrows at you, so you followed behind him, climbing in the bed after him to eat dinner. He was normally really particular about eating at the table, but he'd been in rare form the entire time at the cabin so far. He was breaking all of the rules; starting with fucking you outside. As much as he loved showing you off, he'd never been into exhibitionism before, and you found it strange that he'd start now, but you assumed it was because he could—it's hard not to get caught in the city, but here, there was no one to watch you.

"This one is in Virginia," he said excitedly, watching the men talk about a haunted mansion near Manassas, close to where he grew up.

"Oooh, Halloween is coming up. We should go," he'd never go for it, but it was a nice thought.

"You're kidding. You'd be terrified," he chuckled, and he wasn't wrong. You scared pretty easily, and a haunted house would be no exception.

"But I'd have you to protect me."

"I thought you wanted to do scary movies on Halloween?"

"You're right, I forgot," you told him, taking your empty plates to the kitchen. You grabbed the bottle of scotch Rossi had bought for you and two glasses, retreating back to the bedroom.

"You read my mind," he sat up, rubbing his hands together excitedly as you poured you both a glass, handing him the bottle so he could examine it. You knew it was fancy, but judging by Aaron's expression, you had no clue how expensive it truly was. You handed him the glass and he clinked it against yours, smiling wide before he took a sip.

"That's good," he mused, but you weren't impressed. It tasted like mint and fire, smooth but strong. You drained your glass quickly as opposed to him, who would sip on it for as long as possible.

"Gotta drink it fast or I'll gag," you made a face and he burst into laughter, pouring you another drink.

"It's not your taste, I know, but it's so expensive. Would be a shame not to drink it," he reasoned, and you gave it another try, sipping it slowly so you could try to pick out the different flavors; it didn't work, so you tossed it back and went to the kitchen for a bottle of water. Aaron was thoroughly amused, albeit a bit bewildered that you slammed two glasses of scotch back to back.

"We'll save the rest for a special occasion," he topped off his glass and sat it on the table on his side of the bed, patting his lap for you to climb into. You went happily, straddling his lap, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

"Feel all fuzzy," when you drank, you got the cuddles, which meant you wanted to be as close to him as possible. He loved it— it gave him the giggles, which was always a special treat for you.

"Good fuzzy?"

"Mhm. Wanna be close to you," you played with the hair at the nape of his neck, kissing lightly at his skin. He shifted beneath you so you could feel his cock, already growing hard beneath your hips. You tugged at his shirt before it made its way to the floor, your mouth sucking tenderly across the expanse of his chest, your nails dragging lightly down your shoulders. He shivered, grabbing his drink from the table and taking another long sip, exhaling deeply afterward.

"I love being close to you. You make me go a little crazy if you haven't noticed. I can't believe you let me fuck you outside! You're so naughty," he laughed lowly, kissing your lips, cupping the back of your head with his hand.

"You make me a little crazy too," you admitted, climbing between his legs, taking his black boxer briefs with you. He groaned as you lowered yourself below his belt line, taking his cock in your hand. You let a stream of saliva drip from your mouth to the tip of his dick, looking up at him curiously. His eyes were wide, mouth open slightly as he licked his lips. You used your hand to make him slick, before taking him into your mouth, pumping him lightly with your free hand. He used his hand to guide your mouth, a string of profanity falling from his lips as his hips bucked wildly into your mouth. You gagged on him, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you did it again, loving the reaction it elicited.

"Fuck, baby. You're such a good girl, letting me fuck your mouth like this," he was doing all of the work, slowly thrusting into your mouth, reaching the back of your throat for a moment before slipping back out. He'd found a steady rhythm, bobbing in and out of your warm, wet mouth, his eyebrows pulled tightly together in concentration. You flattened your tongue against him and took him completely, letting him fill your mouth with his sticky, salty cum. You looked up at him, and he seemed dumbfounded as he stared back at you.

"That was really fucking hot," he was breathless, tugging you to the pillows lazily, laying you down flat. He placed himself between your legs, using your thighs as a pillow as he lowered himself down to your center. The look of determination on his face told you all you needed to know; he had a one track mind in that moment, honed in strictly on pleasing you.

"Such a sweet, gorgeous girl," he cooed, planting a trail of kisses from hip to hip, making you wiggle against the mattress. He ran a finger through your slick folds before settling on your clit, his thumb brushing it lightly as he watched your face closely. Within seconds he was slipping his fingers into you, pumping slowly until you got used to him, and then he changed his movements, curling into you at an angle. You cried out, clutching his arm as your body shook, your orgasm rattling through you.

"Going to taste you now, baby," he didn't give you time to respond, he was already attaching his lips to your clit, wrapping around it and sucking lightly, making your body go limp as he pleasured you. There was nothing quite like it; it was an indescribable feeling. Your arousal covered his chin as he took his time between your legs, his fingers still pumping inside of you. You barely saw the second orgasm coming, your back arching off the bed as you tried to steady your breathing.

"So sexy," he purred, sitting up so he could fuck you, folding your legs up towards your chest. He slid into you easily, watching his cock glide in and out of you; you were mesmerized at the sight of him filling you repeatedly. You often caught yourself stuck on the sight of him fucking you, absolutely starstruck that you got the chance to have him in the most special way.

"You're so hot, Aaron. Look at me," his eyes met yours briefly before he leaned over to kiss you quickly, the new angle causing a familiar sensation to spread out over your body. You gritted your teeth, dragging your nails down his back as he fucked you senseless. You saw stars as you came, moaning his name, staring into his eyes. You could feel the love, strong and hot as fire radiating throughout the room, filling you with wholesomeness that you'd never experienced. Aaron was an answered prayer, someone you could always depend on. He was a man that would never let you down if he could help it, someone who wanted a life with you.

"At the speed we're going, you'll be pregnant before winter," he murmured as he came inside of you once more, the two of you quickly working towards a new record.

"That's the plan," you said cheekily, pulling him forward by the neck to kiss him. He slid out of you to lay next to you, pulling the blanket up around the two of you.

"You know I love you, right? More than anything," his voice was sweet as honey in your ear as he snuggled in close, the stove finally doing its job by warming the house.

"And I love you, Aaron. We really have to unpack tomorrow," you told him, but he was already snoring lightly, his arm wrapped around your waist.

✨✨✨

You stood on the porch, waiting for his arrival. You could hear a car on the empty stretch of road leading to your house, so you knew he was close. If you had a minute before he spoke to you to prepare yourself, you were convinced it wouldn't be so bad. You spied the familiar black top of his car hood and gripped the porch for support as he pulled in the driveway. The snow was melting, but soon it would freeze, and there were already flurries starting up. He stepped out of the car with a bag of takeout, staring back at you like it was the first time you'd ever seen him. You tossed your hand up awkwardly, and he took a tentative step forward before stopping again, his eyes trained on your every move.

"Hi," you tried to keep your voice steady, neutral, so he didn't think you were secretly crumbling at the sight of him.

"Hi. You look so good. I hope you don't mind me saying that," you weren't sure what to think, especially considering he was complimenting you after a year without seeing you.

"So do you. Do you want to come in?"

He was still frozen in place, the snow starting to blanket the space around him. The weather was growing bad by the second, the sky cloudy and the sun nowhere to be seen.

"I have some stuff in the back," he walked up the steps to hand you the food, so you sat it inside on the coffee table and then went outside to help him carry the rest in.

"You plan on staying here a week?" He had a duffel bag full of clothes, a box of snacks and drinks, and a couple of really thick blankets.

"You should look at the weather. There's a blizzard moving in. We're here for a few days, at least."

You hadn't checked it since before the drive up, but he had no reason to lie; you carried in the food and blankets, sitting them down by the door.

"Well if that's the case, we'll have to start liking each other really quickly," you deadpanned, dreading being stuck arguing all week. Things were going okay so far, but he'd just showed up.

"I'm ready to be friends if you are," he held out his hand for you to shake and for some insane reason, you took it, hoping it washed away all prior issues that you had with him. You didn't want to fight with him about anything but he'd done you so shitty, and he deserved to know it.

"We can be friendly without being friends. I haven't seen you in a year, Aaron. Let's not pretend that we know anything about each other now."

His face fell, so you sat down on the couch, waiting for him to join you.

"I knew I'd have to see you and try to make things right eventually. I know there's not an apology in the world that will make what I did okay. You don't have to forgive me, but I'd like to try to make it right."

He handed you a box of food, and you were shocked to know he still knew your order after a year. You ate in silence, growing chilly from the lack of heat. You realized you still had his flannel on, so you shrugged it off quickly, sliding it across the couch.

"Looks better on you," he handed it back, so you left it laying on the couch. Truthfully, you wanted to keep it; you wanted to wrap up in it everyday, have a little bit of him around at all times. You weren't sure how to act; it was almost uncomfortable, but you could tell he didn't feel the slightest bit awkward. He was fine, and it killed you. He'd probably moved on quickly, finding someone more his age to settle down with. He deserved someone good, someone that would fulfill all of his needs. You longed for it to be you more than anything, but you knew he didn't want you anymore, and he never would. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing you didn't mean anything to him anymore.

"I got an offer to work as a makeup artist on a soap opera. I think I'm going to move to New York and do it," you said finally, tired of the eerie silence.

"New York? You hate the city," he sat down his food and started working at the fireplace; he could start a fire quicker than anyone you knew.

"It's a good job though. I could buy a condo, see what it's like."

"You should do what makes you happy. What about your book, are you still writing?"

You shook your head; you'd lost all of your inspiration when he walked out the door.

"I don't really write anymore."

He looked back at you, perplexed.

"You love to write. What do you mean you don't do it anymore?"

You shrugged, taking you food to the fridge. You didn't want to be having this conversation; you didn't want to admit he was the reason.

"Sometimes loving something isn't enough."

He nodded, working quietly at the stove until the stove was piping hot, smoke billowing out the pipe; you could see the puffs of smoke through the window.

"I took an office job. I'm not in the field anymore."

You knew it was hard for him not to be in the middle of the action, and you wondered what kept him from doing what he loved the most. You hoped it was because he was trying to live a more normal life, not such a fast paced existence.

"Do you miss it?"

"Not as much as I thought I would. Do you miss writing?"

"No."

It was a lie; you felt deprived of your purpose. But without Aaron around, you simply hadn't felt like pursuing your passion anymore. You hoped to get the spark back eventually, but it still hadn't came back yet.

"So, New York. Do you have a place lined up?"

You shook your head; you still had a few months to decide what you were doing. For now, you worked freelance, and made more than enough to afford your apartment.

"I'm still not decided. I've debated a bunch of different places but I'm afraid none of them will feel like this place."

The cabin held a certain nostalgia for you that was hard to describe; your best and worst memories all involved these creaky floors and outdated floral wallpaper. No matter how hard you searched, you'd always be looking for the feeling that it gave you.

"I've missed this place. I wanted to come back, but it didn't feel right. Not without you."

You'd avoided it for the same exact reason.

"Well we're here now. Maybe by the time we leave, some of the magic will come back," you said sarcastically, heading to the bedroom to retrieve the bottle of scotch. You needed a drink—maybe three. Aaron knew exactly why you went to the bedroom, because he was grabbing two glasses, joining you on the couch. He poured you both a glass, and you clinked your glass against his out of habit before you drained it, wincing at the taste.

"Still not a fan?" He savored the taste, letting it sit on his tongue; you loved how relaxed it made him, the way he'd loosen his tie after a drink, and shed it completely after another. You had to admit, even now, in a black sweater and jeans, he still looked just as good as he did a year ago. You'd always think he was gorgeous, no matter how infuriating he was.

"Not exactly but I'm willing to make an exception today," you held out your glass for a refill, quickly emptying it once more, deciding you were done for the moment. Aaron didn't know you bought another bottle and had it tucked away, because you'd seen it in the liquor store and just couldn't help yourself, despite the price tag. Your plan now was to drink it with him if you were going to be snowed in for more than a couple of days.

"If Rossi were here, he'd be mad that we didn't toast with a scotch this expensive," he poured himself another drink, and despite your better judgement, you held your glass out for another.

"We can. I'll let you do it, so it's official," you could feel yourself lightening up around him, although you weren't sure if it was a good thing or not.

"I've never done a toast before. So we can just toast to the past, and fixing what's broken."

You weren't sure what he meant but your glass dinged against his anyway, and you had to avert your gaze away from his eyes or else you'd cry.

"So tell me what it's like not being in the field anymore," you wanted a distraction of any sort, even if it meant listening to him talk about the one thing that had driven you apart.

"It's different. The thrill is gone, but having a regular schedule is nice. I only go if they really need me." You were really curious as to why he left the field, maybe it was guilt; he was supposed to be retired anyway.

"At least you always know you'll get to be home for the night. I hated when you were in the field. You were always gone," you regretted it as soon as you said it, because your feelings on the subject didn't matter anymore.

"It's not retirement, but it keeps me stationary. When I was in the field, having a life was impossible."

"I know. That's why we held off—" you stopped yourself before you could get too carried away. You'd refused to entertain the thought of a baby until he pulled himself out of the field, because you weren't raising a child alone.

"I know. Being in the field held me back from a lot of things."

It had ended your relationship; he couldn't stay away, no matter how hard he tried. It was like a drug, pulling him in, and away from you in the process.

"I'm giving JJ the crib," you'd bought it at a yard sale, Aaron just had to have it. It rocked, and was clearly handmade, and for $20, it was a steal. He'd sanded and stained it himself, and it was meant to be for the child that never came.

"No. We bought that together. We should keep it," he poured another glass, and instead of declining, you took the final bit, finishing it off.

"You planning to have a family sometime soon? Take it, I don't want it, Aaron."

"Well, no, but it's special to me."

You scoffed, polishing off the last of the harsh liquid, nearly drunk already.

"I know. It is to me too, but I don't want it. I'll probably never have kids."

He shook his head, turning towards you.

"Don't say that. We didn't even try very long."

You laughed lightly, tucking your legs beneath you. You felt almost normal, talking to him. It felt good to get some things off your chest. You were feeling bolder than usual, thanks to the alcohol.

"It's not that. I don't want—I just don't see myself settling down with anyone."

He understood. You'd only had him—he was your first, and your only. You didn't want anyone else to ever know your body the way he had. You felt momentarily exposed, because he'd known you in the most erotic of ways and could still look you in the eye.

"Not that you asked, but I haven't been with anyone since you."

It made you feel a bit better, although he could have anyone he wanted. You could too—you'd had plenty of opportunities, but you only wanted one person, and it was him. Even now you found yourself drawn to him, tethered in a way that could only be described as soul snatching, all consuming. He was irresistible, and you hated it.

"Me either. I don't want anyone else knowing me like that. It's too—I don't know. I just can't open up like that again. It was hard enough the first time."

He'd been more tender than you could've hoped for, taking your virginity. It had been a cold night, much like this one. You dated for months before you ever let him, and by the time it happened, you'd been begging for it the entire day prior. You remembered the spectacle he'd made out of it too; roses and candles filled your memory, and the bubble bath you'd taken together beforehand was still fresh in your mind.

"Do you ever think about us, all the plans we had for this place?"

You looked around, and the vision of a dark haired toddler running around flashed by for a second before you blinked away tears that you hoped went unnoticed.

"Every single day."

You stood and went to the kitchen, grabbing you both a bottle of water so you had a minute to breathe away from him. You could tell he was unsure of what to say by the ticking in his jaw, the way it was clenched tightly. When you rejoined him on the couch, he set his gaze on you, still wearing his flannel. He touched the hem carefully, chuckling to himself.

"You wore this more than me. You should keep it."

"I love this shirt. I loved it in the store when you bought it."

He checked the fire, adding another log. When he joined you again, he was closer, purely by accident. You could tell he was feeling the effects of the alcohol by the pink in his cheeks, and his talkativeness.

"I really wish you'd reconsider selling this place."

He sounded genuinely hurt that it wouldn't be yours anymore, although it went unused and likely would remain that way forever.

"What should we do with it? Take turns using it as a vacation home? What reason do we have to keep it?"

"I don't know— I was thinking maybe now that I'm out of the field we could reconsider—"

"Oh, you're not serious! You came up here because you want me back? That's awfully bold considering the way you left me!" You didn't fight back the tears this time, he deserved to see the mess he'd made.

"I know how badly I fucked up. But I can keep promises now... I know that was important before and I couldn't do it but I can now, if you want to consider it. You don't even have to decide now. We can clean this place up and go from there if you want."

You rubbed your temples, confused at the entire situation. On one hand, you wanted to fix things terribly, but there was still a matter of forgiving him for what he'd done.

"I don't know Aaron. You really hurt me. I'm still trying to figure out who I am because without you, I don't know. None of my hobbies make sense anymore. I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss life with you."

It was a lot to take in. You stood, heading for the front door so you could step outside and cool off. The snow was coming down in thick sheets, so you stood on the porch and watched. It was a gorgeous night, the moon big and blue in the sky, leaving a glow on everything below it. The door scraped open and closed just as quickly, Aaron coming to stand next to you.

"Can't see this from New York," he said softly, wrapping a jacket over your shoulders. It was too cold to be out barefoot but you didn't care—the cabin was hot and stuffy and you needed a quick way to cool off.

"You're right. I only wanted to go to New York because there's nothing there that'll remind me of you," it was so quiet it barely came out, but he heard it anyway.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but leaving you was the hardest thing I've ever done. Don't act like it was easy for me to forget everything that we've been through. We were together nearly two years, and there isn't a day that goes by that I don't regret what I did."

You turned sharply on your heel, instantly furious.

"You could've picked up the phone and changed your mind then! You had a year to say something—anything! You waited until now. I want to know why. Why now, after everything you put me through, would you ever think I wanted to do this again?"

He took a step forward leaned against the post, crossing his arms over his chest.

"There hasn't been anyone for either of us in a year. I know plenty of guys throw themselves at you—so why didn't you just move on? I'll tell you why I didn't. There's no one else for me— I realize that now. I'll never find another person like you. We both know that. You're too good for me, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. I know I don't deserve another chance, but I'm really hoping for one anyway because whether you want to admit it or not, the last year has been just as hard on me."

You'd never stopped to think that maybe he regretted his decision immediately but knew you wouldn't have him back. Your head was spinning with possibilities that he'd debated calling as soon as you'd found the letter— who knew how shortly after he'd changed his mind. There was no telling with him, but you were getting the honesty from him that you'd always needed before.

"Why didn't you just call?"

"It wasn't that simple and you know it. I went back to the BAU. I didn't see my apartment for 8 months. I didn't even know if you were still in town until a few weeks ago when you came up in a conversation that I never expected to have. There... there was a girl on a case we worked and she looked just like you. Unidentified for the first week. Her hair was a different color but otherwise I couldn't tell you two apart and I was terrified. I called Garcia then and she told me you were living in her building and that it couldn't be you and I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since. I left the field right after that."

You hadn't even been around, but you were his reasoning for leaving the field twice now. You hoped it was a permanent change otherwise, he'd only ever be committed to one thing, and it wasn't you. You shivered slightly, so you slipped on the jacket he'd brought out for you and tried to make sense of what you were feeling. It was hard coming to terms with the fact that he'd missed you just as much, because you thought surely he didn't care anymore. It wasn't an easy year for either of you. There was, however, room for growth, and understanding. You were still on the path to actual forgiveness but you were closer now than you had been when he arrived.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that. I know it couldn't have been easy."

You hated that he'd been afraid something terrible had happened to you— you hated the thought of him being worried that you were dead and then he'd have to figure out why.

"It was hell not knowing if it was you or not. I stepped away from the case before she was ever identified. As soon as I knew you were okay, I remembered why I left in the first place. I'm sorry that I couldn't be the person you needed me to be. I couldn't just be content with what I had and I lost you as the result. I'm so sorry, sugar. I was supposed to keep you from getting hurt, I was supposed to protect you. I'm sorry I gave up the life we had together."

You sniffled lightly and turned away before he could see the tears. The reality was, you loved him and you'd never stopped. It was hard not letting him right back in; but you needed more than an apology. You deserved more than words.

The wind filled up the silence, howling in every direction. The flurries had quickly turned into billows of white, the temperature far below freezing. You were thankful Aaron was around to work the stove, because the power would go out if the storm got any worse.

"Want to go inside? We could watch the ghost show. I've got a bottle of wine in my bag," he said coolly, but you didn't want to mix wine and liquor, so you decided to tell him about your secret bottle of scotch you'd hidden away.

"We can watch the show but I've got another bottle of the good stuff hidden away. Might as well keep drinking the expensive shit," you joked, letting him lead you inside. You retrieved the bottle from the top of the fridge and followed him to the bedroom where the tv was. He had your glasses, so you let him refill them while you got comfortable. Your side of the bed was still yours, and he slid onto his like the two of you had never missed a single night in the cabin.

"You bought this? You don't even like it," he questioned, and you shrugged, flipping on the tv and going to the last episode you'd started. You still remembered where you were in the series, because you'd recorded every episode in hopes that one day, he'd be back around to watch them with you.

"I was feeling nostalgic on my way up."

He didn't press further, so you sat back and let the show play. It was more entertaining than you'd remembered, capturing your attention quickly. You almost didn't notice how his shoulders were leaned against yours, parallel on the bed. Your legs were a safe distance apart for now. He excused himself to change, which left you alone for the first time since he'd gotten there. You took the time to breathe deeply, grounding yourself so you wouldn't lose your mind. You couldn't handle being so close without touching him—you wondered if it was hard for him too, not to reach out and hold your hand. It took everything you had not to play with his hair, absentmindedly tracing your fingers over his skin. You'd never been in your current position; close but not quite. You weren't even sure if he really wanted you back, or if it was just because you were together again, and he was lonely. There were so many things you were uncertain of.

He returned in his usual pajamas, black sleep pants and his t-shirt, also black. You trained your eyes on the tv so you wouldn't stare at him, but it was almost impossible given he was in your favorite color combination: black on black. Anytime you went out somewhere fancy, he wore all black—and now, in his coziest clothes, he looked effortlessly sexy, his hair spiked up slightly in the front.

"What did I miss?" He was handing you a freshly filled glass, and then filling his own.

"It was the mother, she drowned the kids and shot the husband because he had an affair," you explained, tossing back your glass. You were nearly drunk, and soon you'd be dying to touch him. You were already, but there was plenty holding you back.

"Oh, so this place is going to be really haunted. How'd you remember where we left off?"

You handed him your glass, your fingertips brushing his lightly during the exchange. You tried not to notice the spark, but it was there in full force, taunting you.

"I recorded them all this last year. I thought maybe if we ever got the chance, we could watch them."

You had a slight moment of bravery, curious as to what he'd say back.

"I'm glad you did. Now we can catch up. You're a genius," another brief touch when he handed you the glass, so you weren't imagining things. You yearned for more, leaning back on the headboard as you tried and failed to pay attention to the show. You understood the basics, but so far nothing exciting happened. It wasn't until they were in the barn, the sight of the first murders, when things got creepy. The barn door slammed shut, and it made you jump, your hand on his thigh before you could stop yourself. His hand instantly found yours, clutching it tightly.

"This is getting good," he made no effort to move either of your hands, so you turned your palm up and felt him lace his fingers through yours. Your heart pounded in your chest, the memories of the last year seeming a thousand miles away. Right now, everything was okay. You were with him again, and things had never felt more right.

"I forgot how jumpy this show makes me," you giggled, your cheeks warm from the alcohol. He turned out the lamp, the only light on in the house was the one above the stove, all the way down the hall. You found yourself moving closer to him, tucked in at his side.

"We, uh— we can cuddle if you want. It's kind of cold and we always cuddle, I just thought maybe—"

You cut him off, securing yourself into him, letting go of every worry you had prior. He tossed his arm over your shoulder and pulled your legs into his lap, and you let out a sigh of relief. There was no more tension, right now, it was still, perfect. You couldn't have asked for a better way to spend the evening. You'd wanted it for a year now and you finally had it again. You knew there were things to be discussed, boundaries to set, but you were content.

"This feels normal." You were feeling honest, looking up at him for the validation that he felt it too. You knew he did; he was practically tripping over himself at the opportunity to be with you again.

"Mhm. I'm glad we're doing this. Do you want to share the bed tonight? If not, I can sleep on the couch," he offered, but you shook your head no.

"We're grown ups, Aaron. We can share a bed. It's fine," you gave into temptation and let your hand creep up to the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. He scooted down slightly to give you better access, leaning against your shoulder as he watched the show.

"I'm going to go check the fire. Keep the bed warm," his thumb brushed your cheek before he went down the hall. You climbed under the blanket and waited for him, lifting up the end for him to crawl under when he came back. His legs tangled with yours beneath the covers, just like normal—he was trying to warm up, laying flat on his back. He held his arm out for you to lay on, so you put your head on his shoulder, buried into the crook of his neck. You tried to stop yourself from kissing his neck lightly, but you did it anyway, watching as he inhaled sharply, moving his jaw so you could do it again. His arm came to rest around your middle, pulling you into him.

"Do you think we can go back to normal? Be honest," you mumbled against his skin, his grip on you tightened, the vein in his neck throbbing beneath your lips.

"Can you forgive me? If you can, there's no reason we can't try again." He sounded certain that you could fix things, so you went a step further, reaching out to cup his face with your hand. You didn't hesitate to kiss him, and he kissed you back expectantly, like he also couldn't wait any longer to have you back.

"Just promise me things won't end like last time."

He raised up, pulling you into his lap. You straddled him, taking a deep breath as he stared back at you hungrily, like he'd been waiting all this time to have his hands back on you and he didn't know where to begin.

"I don't want to lose you twice. You... you're who I want. I've always wanted you, sweetheart, I never stopped. I just couldn't give you what you wanted. I can now, so long as you can handle the job."

You knew he was out of the field, so you could deal a lot easier than before. You nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again. This time he didn't let you stop; your mouths connected and you suddenly felt the massive weight lifted from your shoulders, because you could feel him beneath you, he was here.

"I'll handle whatever it takes to keep you in my life. I've missed you so much, Aaron. It's felt like a lifetime without you," you pulled his shirt over his head, taking turns undressing each other until you were both in your underwear, looking back at one another with more want than you ever thought you had; your desire for him only grew as he sat up, his fingers mapping out your skin. It was time to relearn one another.

"I'll never leave you again, baby. God, I've wanted this for so long. I never thought I'd get to see you like this again. So beautiful," you felt yourself blush as he turned on the lamp, desperate to see you.

"You're the only person I trust like this," you confessed, but he already knew. You'd only ever belong to him; no one else could satisfy your hunger the way he could.

"This feels like the first time," he said softly, your hands brushing against each other's bodies slowly, taking your time in exploring one another.

"It really does," you breathed, unclasping your bra and letting it fall to the floor. He reached out to touch you, rolling your nipples between his fingers. Soon after, he was sucking at the skin on your chest, your nipples entering his mouth one by one. He swirled his tongue around them, and you were eager for more.

"Can I show you how much I missed you?" He asked, laying you down flat, positioning himself between your legs. He pulled your panties down, groaning once he had you completely naked. He kissed your body possessively, from your neck to your navel, before he laid between your thighs. His own hips rutted against the mattress in desperation, but his eyes were trained on your center.

"There's no going back after this. I won't be able to keep myself away from you and you know it," he warned, kissing your clit lightly enough to have you writhing against the bed.

"That what I was hoping for. It's always been your for me. I don't mind being inseparable again," you were weak and he knew it, but he nodded his head anyway, grinning from ear to ear as he licked a stripe up your center. You cried out immediately, your hands finding the back of his hand instinctively to guide him where you needed him. He loved it, loved to see the needier, more longing side of you.

"That's it, baby. Use me," he pleaded, letting you use his tongue however you pleased. He flattened it against you before flicking your clit lightly, repeatedly, making your legs tremble as you came. He groaned as the sweet rush of your orgasm hit his tongue and it only encouraged him to keep going, faster, with more urgency than before. Your back arched off the bed as you watched him with wide eyes, because you'd never seen anyone so turned on by pleasuring another person. He truly enjoyed every second of touching you; when you let him use his mouth on you, it transported him to another place, one where his only objective was to make sure you were satisfied to the fullest extent.

You were swiftly losing track of how many times he'd brought you over the edge with his mouth when he added his fingers to the combination, slipping them slowly into you. You propped up on your elbows to watch, brushing his hair back with your hands. He gazed up at you long enough to shoot you a dazzling smile before he was sucking at your clit, taking it between his lips. Your head hit the pillows as you came again, tugging at his shoulders to come and kiss you. He crawled up you slowly, meeting your mouth wildly, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue.

"Will you ride me? I want you to be in control of everything," to say he had you stunned was an understatement. He only let you ride him occasionally, when he didn't feel like doing the work, and he'd certainly never asked before. You nodded slowly, climbing on top of him, taking a deep breath as you sank down on him. He moaned loudly, his fingertips digging into your thighs as you adjusted to his length. You'd forgotten how big he was, how much of him there was to get used to. You slowly started to bounce up and down, his member slipping in and out of you at one of the best possible angles. You watched him slide in and out of you, your breathing ragged and unsteady as you fucked him. He was enjoying every second of it, letting you take charge.

"I won't last long, sweetheart. It's been too long and you feel too good," you were already close, shifting your hips so you could rotate back and forth, going a bit faster with the help of his hands working your hips. You came nearly at the same time, letting him fill you without a second thought. You'd never started your birth control again, because you weren't having sex with anyone. You debated whether or not he'd be mad when you told him, so you cleared your throat awkwardly and got it out of the way.

"I'm not on the pill anymore so we should—"

"Christ! Why didn't you tell me?" His entire mood shifted instantly. He was springing out from underneath you, finding his clothes.

"I'm sorry! I didn't expect this!"

He scoffed, tugging on his shirt. You tried to locate your clothes as quickly as possible, finding them by the time he'd grabbed his pillow.

"I'm going to the couch. That was really immature of you, you know. We're barely on speaking terms, we can't be parents right now!" He shouted, making you feel small and vulnerable. He left you standing alone in the bedroom, slamming the door behind him on the way out.

You laid in the bed and tried to fall asleep, but when the sun crept over the horizon and your eyes still hadn't closed, you gave up. You went to the kitchen, making a cup of coffee as quietly as possible because Aaron was still sleeping peacefully on the couch. You took your coffee outside, where the weather was still freezing and harsh. Snow blew all around, covering every inch of the woods surrounding you. Aaron would have a fit if he caught you out in the cold, but it didn't matter right now; you were able to watch nature in full swing, trapping you on the mountain with him for the foreseeable future.

You released a breath you didn't realize you were holding before the tears came. You cried for the baby you should've been able to give him, for the future you once had that you were trying so hard to get back. You hadn't meant to blindside him with the lack of protection but you hadn't been thinking about it in the moment. He had every right to be mad; you just hadn't expected him to become so cold after a year apart.

"You're going to freeze," he was standing in the doorway, waiting for you to come inside. When he saw the tears, his first reaction was to reach out and grab you, wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

"Don't cry, sugar. Everything's alright," he murmured against your hair, cradling your head with his hand.

"It's not. You're already mad at me. I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I know it was irresponsible but I just wasn't thinking about it," you'd never be able to take it back, and you'd never know for certain if your unprotected sex would be effective, not for at least a couple of weeks. It's not like you could just drive to the pharmacy and get a Plan B; you weren't worried, because you hadn't ever been able to successfully get pregnant. You knew he was just being paranoid, but you weren't convinced there was anything to stress out about.

"I'm not mad anymore. I was at first until I realized there was no reason to be. It's already happened and it's bound to happen more than once while we're here. I suppose if you don't mind, there's nothing to be afraid of, right?"

You weren't sure what to say. If he wasn't mad anymore, then you were back to square one. You were still in the baby steps of starting over, and it was a delicate process. It had been an entire year, so you'd have to relearn everything about one another.

"I think kids are the one thing I can't give you," you said, sadness thick in your voice. The thing you'd wanted most of all would never be a reality; eventually he'd want someone that could give him a family.

"Then we'll adopt. But we won't ever stop trying. I know what you're thinking—I'll still want you even if you can't have any kids. Don't worry about that."

But you would always worry that you weren't enough for him; he deserved a woman who could give him the experience of a pregnancy, the initial shock and surprise and the thrill of waiting afterward. You secretly hoped it would still happen one day, but you'd be content until then.

"I really am sorry that I didn't tell you."

He led you inside, which was much warmer than the frothy outdoors. You went to the coffee maker and poured another cup, pouring one for him as well. He stood at your side, sipping his mug.

"Things felt so familiar that it didn't seem necessary. We both got caught up in the moment. I reacted badly, and I know that. From now on, it'll be intentional," he winked, making you smile softly. You didn't feel as bad anymore, not now that he was acting normally. You hated that your first night back together had been ruined, but you could always make up for it tonight.

"If we're fixing things, where does that leave us on packing this place up?"

You looked around at the boxes you'd already started on. Either way there was a lot of stuff you could get rid of.

"We're not. We unpack officially. I think we should stay here," he said finally, taking another look around.

"Just like that? Move back in together?"

It was an insane idea. You needed to take your time, work up to staying together again; but on the other hand, you'd already stayed with him, and you would be for the next couple of days.

"Why not? We're already spending the night together. We could just spend the rest of our time here getting reacquainted, like our first week here, remember?" He pulled you in by the waist, kissing your forehead. You couldn't forget; it had been a week of pure pleasure, being as lazy as possible.

"We'll see. Surely you don't want to spend the next few days watching tv," he shook his head, gesturing towards the living room.

"We still have all the paint. Let's turn it into the place we wanted it to be before. I recall you wanted this kitchen to be yellow," it had been the one thing you insisted on when you talked about decorating; your sunset yellow kitchen.

"You're serious? You want to live together like, all the time?"

"We can either keep paying rent where we live now or drop a handful of bills entirely, and get to keep the cabin too," he'd been so upset when you told him you were selling it that it almost made you regret the thought of it.

"What the hell. We may as well, right? I can't believe we're doing this again," you hugged him tightly, but this was just the beginning; there were still doors left to close.

✨✨✨

"Your phone is ringing."

You were painting the kitchen while he worked on the living room, but he hadn't heard his phone from where he was standing. You didn't miss the shrill ring, but you were closer to his jacket, which is where his phone was. He looked at the screen before excusing himself to step outside. You assumed it was work and continued to paint, until he began to raise his voice outside. You could barely make out the words, but he told whoever it was not to call again.

When he came back inside, his mood had visibly changed. He was pale, like he'd seen a ghost while he'd been outside. You wanted to question him, but you stayed quiet, letting him go back to his task without another word. He'd laid his phone on the table, and you wondered who would be bothering him on his time off and why, if it wasn't work. Your mind went a hundred different places, but the first was to another woman.

"Who was on the phone?" It took every ounce of courage you had to ask.

"No one important."

You knew it was a lie but you let it go. You were in no position to be questioning him, not this early into your new budding relationship. He obviously didn't want to answer any questions about the mystery caller. Against your better judgement, you decided to snoop at the first available moment. He went down the hall to use the bathroom and you checked his caller history. The only name other than your number for the last three days was definitely not a man.

Beth.

Taglist: @ssamorganhotchner I think you said you wanted on the Taglist but I don’t remember lmao @thenewnormalforensicator

Next part can be found here

#aaron hotchner playlist collection #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader smut #Hotch au #aaron hotchner au

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rose-n-gunses · 10 months

Text

🤍 masterlist 🤍

Hi! Call me Rose. I write for Hellcheer, and I post about whatever interests me (which,,, is mostly Hellcheer).

You can find me on ao3 at rose_n_gunses, but my works are also linked below! (works are locked to guest users)

My asks are open so feel free to use them! Ask about my works, chat about a headcanon, tell me about your favorite song, send me a recipe, anything. I'm always down for it.

Original posts are tagged as "just r's thoughts". Everything else is tagged accordingly (to the best of my ability).

I also now have a Spotify account where I'll be making playlists for some of my works!

🤍 works linked below the cut 🤍

💚 - teen and up | 🧡 - mature | ❤️ - explicit

🦄 - part of the Jamie-verse

🎄- ho, ho, holy shit! (series)

~multi-chaps~

hold me (and i'll make it through the night) | 💚

1996. reunions and relationships and reconciliations.

WIP | 3/6 chapters | last updated 5/25/23

roll in the sand with a rock 'n' roll man | ❤️

Chrissy goes on a Tinder date with a guy her friends met at the beach.

completed | 2/2 chapters

~oneshots~

close your eyes (and just reach out your hands) | 💚

Chrissy's got end-of-year blues and Eddie's got arms to hug her with.

as long as one and one is two | 💚

Eddie's first Father's Day.

i can see you | 💚

Chrissy and Eddie have been staring at each other and decide to do something about it.

Inspired by "I Can See You" by Taylor Swift.

and feed them on your dreams | 💚 | 🦄

Eddie teaches his mini-me how to play D&D.

From this request.

you're a dream come true | 💚 | 🦄

late nights and lots of love.

From this request.

midwest monster of the highest grade | 💚

Chrissy wants to win Best Couple's Costume. Jason is no help. (Eddie is, though.)

From this prompt.

thrilling christmas, trembling fear | 💚 |🎄

Jason Carver has beef with Santa Claus.

beneath the mistletoe screaming | 💚 |🎄

Eddie needs service hours to graduate. So does Chrissy! It's a fuckin' Christmas miracle.

the streets don't change but maybe the names | ❤️

Eddie and Chrissy have succeeded at being friends for the eight months since they broke up. They should be able to fool around no problem, right? Right??

what i wasn't even looking for | 💚

The only thing Eddie is looking to do on Valentine's Day is drink and forget. Cupid has other plans.

Last updated 2/15/24.

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kellyvela · 2 years

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Personal feelings aside, I really don't see Jonerys as a possibility in the books. I doubt she'll even reach Westeros until the end of Winds, and by then her story will be about the throne. People blow the whole thing where GRRM told the GOT creators Jonerys would happen way out of proportion. I believe he basically said that their *meeting* would be important. With all of the other symbolism and messages, there's no way in hell the whole point of the books was that relationship.

Hello Anon!

First, let me make a little precision:

Key word: "today." But today was two days ago, August 13th, 2022.

I should have tagged that post as #jonsnowsadhours, like I used to do time ago.

I was especially emotional and pessimistic after re-watching Jon Snow scenes from GOT Season 8. It was painful.

So yeah, personal feelings and emotional phases aside, I agree with you. Before GOT Season 7 I never saw jonerice as a possibility in the Books, because, as I said in this other post, Jon has an evident contempt for entitled monarchs with pyromaniac tendencies. And there's also the fact that I never saw the poetic title A Song of Ice and Fire as a reference for romance, because for me that was always a reference for a clash of two opposite entities and/or individuals.

According to George, aunty will meet Tyrion at the end of TWOW:

I also asked Martin about one extremely eagerly anticipated character pairing: Tyrion and Daenerys. What will their interaction be like?

“Well, Tyrion and Dany will intersect, in a way, but for much of the book they’re still apart,” he says. “They both have quite large roles to play here. Tyrion has decided that he actually would like to live, for one thing, which he wasn’t entirely sure of during the last book, and he’s now working toward that end—if he can survive the battle that’s breaking out all around him. And Dany has embraced her heritage as a Targaryen and embraced the Targaryen words. So they’re both coming home.”

That “coming home” should get fans excited—unless Martin was merely speaking metaphorically. (The Targaryen words are “Fire and Blood.”)

—George R.R. Martin teases ‘Winds of Winter’: More deaths, betrayals, weddings – Exclusive - June 2014

And I suppose that encounter will happen in Essos. So yeah, we can only imagine that she will reach Westeros and meet Jon at some point in ADOS, the final book. So, if the so called "romance of the series" cannot be much longer than the 8 chapters that Jon had with Ygritte, can we really call it "the romance of the series"??? Will they meet, inevitably fall for each other, find out that they are related, break up, clash against each other despite of their feelings and end up with Jon killing her just in some chapters of the final book??? Will that be that significant???

Now, let me tell you, if you are talking about Alan Taylor saying that GRRM told him that jonerice will happen and that they are the whole point of the story, that wasn't exactly like that. You can read more about it here.

Yeah, what probably happened was that George said to Taylor that Jon meeting aunty will be an important point in the story, as you just said, but it was Taylor the one that talked about romance and it had a lot of sense back then, since he was hyping the last episodes of GOT Season 7 where jonerice happened in the Show.

Has GRRM told Benioff and Weiss that jonerice is going to happen? We don't really know that, D&D only said that they planned the Jon killing aunty scene around GOT Season 3.

Thanks for your message :)

#anon asks #grrm #asoiaf #game of thrones #d&d #jonerice

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lostloveletters · 2 months

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Hi Battie! Fellow Godfather fan here, I absolutely love all your content, especially your fics. Thank you for this blog! I just saw in your Masterlist that you're going to write a Sonny x OC series soon, and I'm so excited because Sonny is my favorite character in both the movies and the book. Could you tell us a little bit about You Want It, You Take It, You Pay the Price? Lots of love xxx

Thank you so much! You’re incredibly kind, and I really appreciate it!!

Sonny’s my favorite too🖤 Hard to believe considering I went full steam ahead into a longfic for Michael, but I wasn't exactly planning that lol.

Unlike Bruised Fruit, I’m going to finish You Want It, You Take It, You Pay The Price before posting (it's just a 5 chapter fic, but I want to write accompanying one-shots too!) That way I can post chapters more consistently, and not be thrown off by real life stuff!

Okay, I hope the premise of the fic makes sense as I try to summarize my outline for it😅

Delaney’s the daughter of a tailor who owes a substantial gambling debt to the Corleones. She’s known pretty much her entire life that her father’s had a gambling problem, but she doesn’t realize the extent of how bad the situation got again until she eavesdrops on Sonny confronting her father about it one night. She stops Sonny outside the shop before he leaves and they talk, not really expecting to see each other again, until a month or so later when she’s moved out of her family’s place and working at the Lord & Taylor flagship store. They end up getting drinks together, and Sonny admits he's kind of surprised she doesn't hate him, but it becomes clear her resentment's toward her father and how his actions have effected her and her sisters. At one point she tells Sonny about his being the one to come around and collect on her father's debt, “If it weren’t you, it’d be someone else, and I like you." Sonny ends up way more entangled in Delaney's life than either of them ever expected, especially as Delaney trusts him more and reveals darker family secrets and Sonny takes it upon himself to right those wrongs for her, however violently he has to.

It takes place late November 1935 to March 1936, so Sonny’s single and they move incredibly quick in their relationship hehe🤭

I'm hoping to have it finished by the summer! So late May/early June?

I hope any of that made sense! I know I got to rambling a bit🫠

Thank you so much again🖤

🦇 Battie

#ask tag #insp: you pay the price

0 notes

readyforit · 4 years

Photo

— taylor swift, the making of songs

#my edit*#my gifs*#wasn't planning on making/posting this but taylor and her 'the making of' series is the one of the cutest things to exist #tswiftedit #tsedit #userpenny #useraudi #usercblues #usersanya #hermionegrangcr #userliubs #*#*19

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phoebe-delia · 2 years

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Hi hi! For the song prompt list, totally random number hm could you do number 9? Thank you! ❤️

Hello! @weirdbutnodifferent, Thank you for this Completely Random Number. It just happens to be "betty" by Taylor Swift, so I do hope that's okay with you.

This is, of course, going to be the last in the trilogy of august (Draco POV) and cardigan (Ginny POV), but for anyone reading this who is thinking I'm following Taylor's story exactly as she wrote it, worry not! This series, as you're about to read, has a happy ending for Drarry. CW: making up after a past breakup.

This is Harry's POV. Enjoy!

I didn't forget, Draco.

I know that's sort of the bare minimum, and I have a lot to make up for here. But I just want you to know, first off, that I remember every minute, every detail of that summer. I could never forget the best few months of my life.

It's over with Ginny. Gods, I'm the worst for putting her through this. And you; all three of us, really, but mostly the two of you. I'm so sorry I wasn't brave enough to tell you both what I wanted.

I think that, at the time, I was scared about any divergence from the path I'd been imagining since I was eleven. Everyone thinks Gryffindors are so impulsive, and of course, we can be, but when you're a child being used as a pawn in a game you only barely understand, controlled by a prophecy set from fucking birth, impulsivity only goes so far. I was used to that; following plans set out for me beforehand by some force. Dumbledore, Voldemort, fate itself—take your pick. I don't know how impulsive I can really be when my every move is predicted, pre-designed before I can even think to make it.

But trust me when I say that I've thought about this moment, right now, ever since that summer ended. I've watched you at Ministry galas, wondering why you've never brought a date other than your mother or Pansy. Wondering if you know how much I had to hold myself back from striding across the room and grabbing you by the waist and kissing you senseless; or even saying something as simple and mundane as, 'Hi, Draco.' Wondering what you'd say if you knew how many letters I wrote with a whiskey-soaked mind late at night and then vanished in the morning. Wondering when this twisting, sharp ache in my chest would stop rendering me momentarily speechless at the mere mention of your name.

I'm done wondering. I'm done wasting time. And I know that showing up to your birthday party unannounced seems impulsive, but I don't know if it really is if I've been dreaming of this for six years.

I'll kiss loving marks onto your skin. I'll hold your hand and protect your heart and create enough new memories to leave the last six years in the distant past. 'Let me stay this time,' I'll murmur against your lips. 'Tonight, and forever.' And now that I'm a man worthy of your love, instead of a boy too scared to believe he could deserve it, I'm here. On your doorstep. Rehearsing this speech one last time in my head before I say out loud what you deserved to hear six years ago.

You're about to open the door, and I'm nervous; but I think that the day I left, I knew somewhere, in the back of my mind, that I'd be back. And now, I know just where to start.

"Hi, Draco."

I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Check my pinned post to see what's been done, then pick a different number between 1-99 and send me an ask and I’ll write you a fic based on it!

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amortentiaparker · 3 years

Text

RED (and blue) + p. parker series

+ chapter one

→ Y/N, a swiftie, jokingly reposts the “Red (Taylor’s Version) boyfriend application form” on her instagram story.

The details are as follows: Looking for a boyfriend for the last week of August to the month of November- right before RED (Taylor’s version) drops to be exact. Applicant needs to make me fall in love with you immensely and you are required to break me like a promise before the deadline.

And somehow Peter Parker finds himself as the top candidate.

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

warnings: not much, some typos maybe and just peter turning red every few seconds

word count: 1.8k

series masterlist + my masterlist

prologue | one

The thing about Ned Leeds was that he's an ambivert.

Often stutters around the presence of peers like Y/N Y/L/N or Cindy Moon but he would definitely stand his ground in front of Flash Thompson.

Nevertheless, his classmates still found his sweet disposition endearing which meant that, surprisingly, he has a lot of instagram followers. Another surprise was that Ned was somehow always on top of the latest gossip around Midtown High.

"Dude, check what Y/N posted on her story." Ned chuckled as he elbowed Peter's side.

His friend merely grumbled out a response as he furiously wrote something down on his notebook. Ned peered over Peter's shoulder to check what was going on.

Web fluids, again?

Ned sighed as he put his chin on the palm of his hand. Their chemistry teacher this year wanted to "go back to the basics" on the first day to serve as recap for the students in the class. Which was completely ironic considering this school is one of, if not the top science school in New York City.

"She was totally checking you out earlier, y'know?"

"What?"

The sudden halt from the pencil scratching the paper made Ned laugh again.

"Y/N." He shrugged, as if he was really trying to put a blush on Peter's face. "She was staring at you during homeroom."

"N-no she wasn't." Peter stuttered, shaking his head in denial.

It's not like Peter was intimidated by you. Well, he kind of is now compared to a few years ago. He knew you were nice and easy to get along with, but he was a witness to what happened between you and him, so Peter decided that the best thing was to keep his distance. He wouldn't know what to do if he was in your position; having the friend of the person who hurt you constantly be in your presence isn't something he'd want to go through.

So, he made sure not to socialize much around you. Peter knows you wouldn't bite his head off, considering the time last year that you two were paired for a short presentation in History class. You two were civil and it pained him to see your face fall whenever he gave a nonchalant response to your niceties.

Bro code, Peter always used as an excuse. But he couldn't fool anybody, not even himself. He knew that it wasn't good for you to befriend him in order to try and cling on to a part of what had hurt and left you to the ground.

Peter didn't know he let out an audible sigh, but the raised eyebrow on Ned's face told him that he did.

"It's just, you know, with her and everything that happened in the past..." Peter didn't know where he was going with this argument but lucky for him, Ned was called on to answer a question.

Ned gave him the side eye, which signaled that he wasn't done pestering him with the topic of Y/N.

All Peter wanted was for lunch to come sooner.

As students flooded the hallways to get to the cafeteria, Peter found the perfect excuse. Well, perfect if he wasn't an enhanced individual.

Ned was still trailing behind him with a knowing look and rolled his eyes every few seconds, right after Peter said that he couldn't hear him because of the people around them.

The two got their food in silence and Peter's plan of speaking up about how he didn't want to talk about you flew out the window when you and Cindy stood in front of their table with soft smiles on your faces.

Immediately, his thoughts went back to what Ned said earlier. You were staring at him? That couldn't be right. You were kind and friendly, but you never really looked at him. Only at who once stood by his side.

Cindy cleared her throat and gave Peter a pointed look. He immediately took away his glance at the two girls who now probably thought he was a creep. He felt heat rise to his cheeks when he saw that you were looking at him. Again? But that's just wishful thinking.

Yeah, Cindy was pretty, but you were pretty.

He shook his head. That doesn't even make any sense. Get your mind out of the gutter, Parker.

"Hi," You said with a small wave.

"Hey, guys!" Ned greeted with enthusiasm. Peter was surprised yet thankful that his best friend knew what to do in this situation.

"Can we sit?" You timidly asked which shocked Peter.

He knew you as this outspoken girl, often being present at student rallies, being a representative for school advocacies, and god, you were once the darling of the decathlon team. Always the one with the winning answer followed by a shy smile when your teammates cheered your name.

Unfortunately, you were once the darling of somebody else too at the time, which led to your departure from them.

Ned elbowed him once again and he looked up to see the worry starting to settle on your features. His spidey senses also felt that you were about to turn around so he flashed his best and most reassuring smile.

"Yeah, of course!" Peter's smile mirrored the one blooming on your face.

"Finally, Parker. I was starting to think this table's an exclusive club." Cindy joked but he was barely paying attention.

Peter was trying his best to tone down his enhanced senses. He felt you look at him, back down at your food, then at him again. He doesn't like using his senses on regular citizens but sometimes it gets difficult.

Unbeknownst to each other, you were both thankful that Cindy and Ned carried the conversation for the group, with you chiming in every once in a while. You felt a little out of place considering that Cindy had time to cultivate a friendship with the two boys.

You had your fair share of memories filled with laughter with Peter and Ned when you were still part of decathlon. But after leaving, your own personal insecurities clouded your thoughts and you felt as if they were disappointed in you. Cindy had always assured you that these thoughts were ridiculous and everyone on the team sympathized with you. She even said that they all miss you but you recall your History project with Peter and her words become hazy. He barely interacted with you and when he did, it was through a curt email that had his parts for the presentation attached, nothing else. No 'I hope you are doing well' or 'how are you?' considering the fact he barely acknowledged your presence when you two had to work real time in the classroom.

From across the table, Peter could feel the pitter patter of your heart turn irregular which worried him a little. As he opened his mouth to speak to you, you looked away. A sound of a text message notification caught your attention.

You heard Cindy sigh in frustration next to you and she looked across the cafeteria. You followed her gaze to see Flash with a ridiculously funny, freaked out expression on his face.

"Be right back." Cindy whispered to your ear before she stood up.

"But—"

"Babe, I love you but you have to do.." Cindy looked at Peter which increased his worry tenfold. "This. Okay?"

Do what? Peter internally panicked. What did Cindy look at me for?! Is it about the thing you posted that Ned told him to check out but out of pure cowardice he never got—

"Okay," You sighed in defeat.

Ned raised an eyebrow but neither one of you noticed. It's funny, how Spider-man's best friend's actions are usually the ones that go unnoticed by the hero himself.

"I–uh, I need water." Ned suppressed his laughter at the pleading look in Peter's eyes, silently asking ‘don't leave me alone with the pretty girl who you said was staring at me earlier.’

"But you still have—" Peter pointed to the full water bottle on Ned's tray.

"I gotta stay hydrated, y'know?" Ned said and he gulped as he made eye contact with you. "To.. avoid acne."

Your giggle was nearly inaudible, but of course Peter picked up on it. It distracted him enough for Ned to slip away and approach the vending machine with no absolute intention of purchasing something.

"So.."

"Uhm.."

"Ladies first." Peter said.

"Ever the gentleman," You said with a small laugh for a second before your lips formed into a straight line. "You're friends with MJ, right?"

Or more than friends, you thought. You knew about their short lived relationship that blossomed because of the Europe trip. You also knew that they broke up but remained good friends. You knew the latter because of the time you longingly stared through the window to watch the decathlon team practice and you saw them laughing together. You wonder if true friendships can really withstand the trials and tribulations of relationships losing its magic. Or maybe they were still in love.

You were jealous. Not of anybody, but of the way you will probably never get to feel what it's like to have the person you've been through so much with stay after falling in love, even if it was in the cruelest way.

"Yeah, why?" Peter smiled. He could still feel the irregularity in the pattern of your heart beat so he decided that the best he could do was smile. He absolutely didn't want himself to be the cause of your discomfort. Not after everything you’ve been through.

There’s a pause in the air. It’s as if the world around you stopped spinning. Some unsettling feeling settled in the pit of your stomach and you knew that you were smart enough to walk away but the boy in front of you was quickly pulling you in.

Also, you like to think you had average vision. Your eyesight wasn't perfect considering the fact that you have to use reading glasses when necessary. But from where you were sitting, you could see the prominent freckles littering Peter's cheeks and nose bridge. They almost mimicked constellations, or starlight.

The pink hue starting to overlap with the freckles snapped you out of your reverie. Your cheeks felt warm too.

Maybe his spidey senses weren't the only thing he needs to control around you, Peter thought. How many times has he blushed today?

"Cool! Uhm.. I was thinking," You said, softly. You used a fork to play with your food to serve as distraction. "I was thinking of re-joining decathlon. If you'll have me."

With the way you whispered it, anybody else would've missed the words, but not Peter. Never Peter.

"That's great! Of course we will!" His grin is very infectious. "There's try outs next week and because of the rules, you have to go through that, but are you kidding me? You're Y/N! Nothing but the best!"

You nearly cry at his words. But instead of succumbing to tears, you opt for copying Peter Parker's adorable smile. The upturned muscles in your cheeks made you forget what date it was today.

The sound of train tracks suddenly echoed in the cafeteria and broke your eye contact with Peter.

Even in the big wide city, no noise could compare to how lovely the laughter you let out sounded. Peter had this sure feeling rising within him. If a staring contest was what he needed to hear that again and again, then so be it.

But maybe it wasn’t a staring contest that would bring you two together, but rather the mischievous smirk on Ned Leeds’ face when he took a screenshot of your instagram story post followed by him opening an editing app.

A/N: Hope you’ll like this chapter!! Also, if you want to see what the application form looks like check it out here. I was inspired by that post to create an entire fic series haha

taglist: (if you want to be added, send an ask/message! x) @woahmrstark @elios-timotea @decadentwastelandtrash @paulaabellag @givebuckyhisplumsnow @love-you-to-saturn

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fic #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst #red (and blue)#peter parker fanfiction

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amazinggrace00 · 2 years

Text

AmazingGrace0 Master Fic List

*Most summaries are shortened for the purpose of this post. Main pairing for all are Juke

All can be found on AO3

Series:

Unperfect Harmony (The Accidental Taylor Swift Stan Series):

(Yes I know Unperfect isn't a word, it's fun)

Unperfect Harmony:

20 Chapters (Completed)

125,341 Words

Rated: M

Friends to Lovers to Exes to Enemies to Bandmates to Friends to Lovers.

Julie and Luke dated in high school, break up, go off to have their own careers, and then are brought back together to form a new band to save both of their careers.

The Truth Has Come Down Now:

6 Chapters (Completed)

25,686 Words

Rated: T

5 + 1

Now that Julie and Luke are back together, they plan on keeping their relationship a secret from everyone except their close friends and family for a long time. Or, Five Times Julie and Luke almost revealed their relationship, and one time they did.

Now That We Are Done With That, Wanna See My Renegade:

8 Chapters (Work in Progress)

26,310 Words

Rated: T

One shot/multi shot series

Julie and Luke are married now. What kind of trouble can they get up to?

Mistake Series... Just Like Me:

We Don't Make Mistakes -- We Just Have Happy Accidents:

Oneshot

4,997 Words

Rated: G

5 + 1

Five mistakes on Julie and the Phantom's First Tour, and one time it wasn't really a mistake.

I Never Made A Mistake In My Life. I Thought I Did Once, But I Was Wrong

Oneshot

4,374 Words

Rated: G

5 + 1

Five more mistakes that happened on the Julie and the Phantom's tour and one time it wasn't a mistake.

Mamma Mia Broadway AU:

A Grown Up Women Should Never Fall So Easily:

Oneshot

18,612 Words

Rated: T

Julie is having a great time making her Broadway debut in the revival of Mamma Mia. So why is she getting upset over the fact that her costar might be leaving the show and New York? And why does no one else seemed to be as affected by the news as she is?

A Little Small Talk, A Smile And Baby I Was Stuck

Oneshot

17,624 Words

Rated: T

Luke is enjoying his time as Sky in the Broadway Revival of Mamma Mia! He is performing with his best friends, meeting new fans from all over the world, and gets to kiss his crush every night. His crush being his best friend, costar, and on-stage fiancé. But when he makes plans to fly out to LA for three weeks to potentially start a solo career, things start to get weird with said crush/costar and he isn't exactly sure why.

Speak Now

'Cause I see, sparks fly whenever you smile

Oneshot

1,668 Words

Rated: G

Julie has a hard time not being affected by Luke's smiles.

Track 2: Sparks Fly

Your time is running out and they said, "Speak now"

Oneshot

2,469 Words

Rated: G

Luke Patterson is not the type to interrupt a wedding.

Okay, maybe he is.

But he swears that he is not going to.

Track 4: Speak Now

This night is sparkling don't you let it go I'm wonderstruck blushing all the way home

Oneshot

7,686 Words

Rated: T

Julie would have done anthing in the world not to go to the party that night.

But then she met Luke.

And now she doesn't know what to think.

Track 9: Enchanted

'Cause you can't lead me down that road, And you don't know what you don't know

Oneshot

4,189 Words

Rated: T

People are mean sometimes.

Julie tries to deal with it.

Key word is tries.

Track 6: Mean

Now go stand in the corner and think about what you did

Oneshot

5,032 Words

Rated: T

Everyone thought that Julie and Luke would get together the summer before Senior Year.

But they didn't.

Now Julie and Nick are together.

And Luke is jealous.

Track 10: Better Than Revenge

Stand Alone Multi-Chapters:

another name goes up in lights, you wonder if you’ll make it out alive

14 Chapters (Completed)

73,988 Words

Rated: T

Julie Molina is enjoying her time on Phantoms, the supernatural detective show. It had been her saving grace after being blacklisted from basically everywhere following her media feud with former Disney Channel costar Carrie Wilson that tanked her music career before it even started.

But with rumors that the show isn’t going to get a third season, Julie is worried about her career completely ending with no jobs or recording contracts in sight.

Add in the fact that even if they get a third season, Julie’s costar might leave the show and go off to pursue his music career.

And Julie is trying to understand why said costar potentially leaving is making her so upset.

Back To December:

10 Chapters (Completed)

107,406 Words

Rated: T

Ten Year Fic

Julie and Luke are an international ranked Ice Dance Pair, formed when they were tiny. Over the next ten years they navigate their careers, partnership, and relationship. (Yes it's based off of THAT Canadian Ice Dance Pair)

There Is Nothing Ironic About Show Choir

10 Chapters (Completed)

31,976 Words

Rated: T

A weird Bring It On The Musical AU with a splash of Glee

Julie gets notified that she has been redistricted to Los Feliz West, a school that is significantly poorer and is rumored to be extremely dangerous, Julie finds her life over. She doesn't fit in, she has made some enemies, and worst of all, they don't even have a choir class, let alone a show choir

Stand Alone Oneshots

Yes, I Did That And You Would Do It Too For A Check:

4,034 Words

Crack fic

Julie and Luke are fed up with the press and decide to troll the hell out of them.

I've Waited A Hundred Years But I'd Wait A Million More For You:

17,599 Words

Rated: M

Part of JATP FFM week (Royal AU)

Julie, as the future Queen of the Country of Dahlia, is not looking forward to her 25th birthday. Turning 25 means she has to become an official working royal. Turning 25 means that she can't be with the love of her life.

#julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #juke #julie molina #jatp #juke fic #jatp juke

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in-superbloom · 3 years

Text

did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen? (a.i.)

right where you left me: prologue

pairing: ashton irwin x olivia jones (oc)

warnings: uhh a kinda grieving theme i guess? but no deaths. it has a sad tone overall, but nothing major (in this chapter hehe). foul language because i can't help myself. the tiniest mention of alcohol, but as a memory. think i should probably warn you that this contains a very sad ash. also not much dialogues. this is mainly for explanation and introduction, but very important for the story. if you find anything else that might be triggering, please let me know so i can add it here !!

author's note: oof okay. so. this is the prologue of a series very very dear to my heart that i've been working on for what it feels like my whole life but really it's been just a few months. but i'm in love with the story (which rarely happens with my own writing) so i hope you can enjoy it too !! this is also my very first time posting a fic since 2013 so pls keep that in mind <3 no i am not shaking as type this ofc not also: although i have the full story ready in my head, this is the only chapter that's written. i wanted to wait until i had at least a few ready before posting this but i'm too anxious for that lmao just saying this bc it will take a good while until i have any more chapters, so <3 (p.s.: i went over this thing a million times since may so if you find any errors pls look away, i'm not fixing this thing anymore. thanks <3)

another note: anna from the future here to say that i completely forgot about the playlist i made for the story lmao here it is in case you're interested k thanks bye <3

credits: title is from taylor swift's song right where you left me. model in the picture: paola locatelli. banner by me.

i also wanted to take a minute to thank some really nice friends that i've made here over these past few months & that i'm extremely grateful for @wastelandcth @suchalonelysunflower @littledrummerangie i cannot thank you babes enough for inspiring me the way that you do & for letting me yell about this to you && for encouraging me so much 🥺 i'll never be able to explain just how much this means to me, so i'll have to settle for saying thank you at any change that i can get <3 i love you all 💜 also gem my baby, thank you for the inspo with the banner 💚

@bluesdelis look babe i did it 😌 you know how grateful i am for you & for you letting me have a breakdown every week about my writing for the past 8 years so let's not dive into that or else i will write something bigger than this prologue jsjsjdjd love you 🖤

i hope you all have a good reading and a nice day ♡

let me know what are your thoughts about the fic ! ♡

word count: 4.1k

☆☆☆

Cold. That was the first thing that Olivia’s brain processed.

Still with her eyes closed, she buried herself more into the duvet, while her arm blindly reached for the furnace in human form that she calls boyfriend. However, as soon as her arm was only met with cold sheets, her eyes shot open.

Blinking the sleep away, she sat up on the bed, searching for the infamous red clock resting on Ashton’s bedside table that was supposed to look like a vintage alarm clock. Olivia had ordered it online at an auction website a couple of years back, as a gift for his 23rd birthday, since it was something he had mentioned multiple times prior that he was looking for, but still hadn't found. But when it finally came in (two weeks after the due date), it looked nothing like the picture she saw on the website. Feeling beyond frustrated, she wanted to send it back immediately and ask for a refund and maybe leave a not so polite review on the seller's page. But Ashton stopped her right away, laughing like the situation was absolutely hilarious to him, while saying, 'I like it, it’s quirky'. So, the clock stayed and found a home right next to him in their room.

Some days, however, she would wake up at some ungodly hour because of the blaring noise of the only ringtone the clock had. But whatever annoyance she could feel towards the object, it always vanished as soon as she felt Ashton's lips gently touching her face in a good morning kiss before he would get up to start his day, leaving her to catch some more hours of well deserved sleep.

As the furthest from a morning person as a touring musician could possibly be, Olivia had always feared that living under the same roof as Ashton would turn her into an early bird like him, but she's thankful that it never happened (not that he needs to know about that).

When she sees the red clock, she smiles at the sudden but welcome memories of them flooding her foggy brain, but frowns slightly when she realizes it reads 12:13 pm. Ashton rarely lets her sleep past 10 am.

Gathering all her strength and will, she rises up from the bed, smoothly picking up a grey wool sweatshirt from the chair (way too baggy on her slim body, but it smells like him), pulling it over her head and relishing on the soft material warming up her body. Making her way to the door and calmly going down the stairs, she can’t help but stop for a minute to admire the picture frames on their walls, one in particular catches her attention – probably one of the most prized pictures and memories they had. It felt older than it actually is, but it was around 4 years ago, she's sure – a little while after the two of them met. The picture was of their group of friends that still remains the same: Ashton and his best friend, Luke; Olivia, her best friend, Calum and their old hometown friend, turned into Calum’s new friend at college, turned into everyone’s friend, Michael; and her then newly band members, Suki, Eli and Ravi. Together, their group was the life of the party through all their college years, and it showed by the big smiles and drinks in hands they all had in the picture. It was a very special night, the first time Olivia’s little band played for the public – for a small audience sure, but it was a wonderful night nonetheless. What a long road it had been since that night.

Her nostalgic thoughts were interrupted by a shiver that went through her whole body, and it made her realize how oddly cold the whole house was, not only their bedroom. Which, granted, it was November in New York and the weather was just getting colder, but that’s exactly why Ashton always made sure to keep the house warm enough. As much as she loved the chilly season, the warm weather always reminded him of his hometown, and who was she to deny him that?

The smell of fresh made coffee could be sensed even before she reached the kitchen. Arriving there, the curly haired woman still found no signs of her boyfriend, so she went straight after the coffee maker pot sitting on the far left corner of the cream marble counter. Smiling softly at the tons of memories of Ashton's sleepy figure making their favorite beverage, she reached for a coffee mug on the cupboard on top of the counter and poured the remainder of the hot liquid on it (it's her favorite mug, if she must choose – it was a gift from a fan, and it had printed on it a collage of the pictures of her and Ashton that were posted on social media through their first year of relationship).

Moving to the glass doors that lead to the mini garden they cultivate, she didn't have to open them to spot the 6-feet-tall man sitting on a bench outside, looking oddly small in his oversized clothes, coffee mug tightly held between strong hands. Something about his figure made Olivia frown, however: he was staring with an unwavering look at her small but eye-catching pot of yellow daffodils that were almost as much of a pet to them as Stitch at this point. Sensing that there’s something definitely off about his semblance, she made a mental note to talk to him and find out what’s wrong later. So she goes back to the kitchen, knowing that he might need this quiet and private moment for himself.

She lost count of the minutes that went by (couldn't have been more than five) before she hears the garden's door opening and closing, and then his bare feet are dragging his brawny body to her. Except, he goes over to the sink, walking right through her, not showing any sign that he even saw her hunched figure over the counter table in the middle of the room.

Alright, someone's in a mood.

Olivia tries to swallow the annoyance already bubbling inside her – he knows how much she hates to be ignored, no matter how mad he might be – by trying to think of what she can say that won't piss him off. This is always a hard feat to accomplish when Ashton gets in these moods, but there’s a reason for them to work so well together.

“I missed my favorite body heater when I woke up,” she says in her best sweet voice, knowing how quickly his resolve crumbles when he hears that voice.

Still, no reaction.

That settles a worry at the pit of her stomach, because Ashton is never like this. Even when he's not in the mood to talk, he always gives some kind of reaction to her words; it doesn't matter how small, just enough to make her feel acknowledged.

When he's finished washing his mug and the few scattered dishes across the sink – she noticed that he already had lunch, if the lone plate in the drying rack is anything to go by –, he dries his hand in a towel, turns around and throws it on top of the same counter Olivia was leaning up against. Once again, he walks away not even sparing her a look.

Indignant, she leaves the now empty coffee mug on top of the table and follows him as he walks up the stairs, any determination to not aggravate his mood now well gone.

“Hey! In case you didn't notice, I'm right here. Whatever got you in this sour mood, I'm certainly not to blame, so can you stop being a child now and talk to me?!”

Ashton just keeps walking – more like sluggishly dragging his body – until he reaches their bedroom and suddenly stops just merely two feet inside the room, looking around with vacant eyes; like he was expecting to see something that wasn't there.

“Okay, that's really mature of you. Are you planning on ignoring me all day then?” Olivia questions exasperated, staring angrily at the back of his neck, where the condor tattoo lives – her favorite of his, but that sight doesn't bring her any peace today like it usually does.

Her glare only breaks when she hears the familiar sound of dog tags swaying on her right side. Shifting her gaze to the direction of the sound, Olivia notices Stitch, their small, black & white French bulldog – who she thought was outside in the garden – slowly trudging his way from around the bed until he stops at Ashton's feet, looking up at one of his humans with sad eyes. That realization only makes the worry in her stomach grow uncomfortably.

“Hi buddy,” Ashton's voice cracks a bit from the lack of use, but he smiles softly at the sweet dog, and crouches down to pet him.

Olivia can't help but gasp as she notices three things all at once that leave her overwhelmed: first, how she didn't even notice Stitch was in the room when she woke up – which never ever happens, in fact, most days he wakes her up whenever he deems her bedtime as finished and can't ever contain his excitement when she finally gets up; second, how the windows blinds are closed, which, again, rarely occurs under their roof, not if Ashton can help it. And third, how sad and melancholic the whole scene in front of her is – how sad and melancholic Ashton is. Pointless to say by now – that's also a very rare occasion.

A chill creeps up Olivia's spine, putting her body into high alert and also serving as a reminder of how everything looks out of place today. Trying to keep her head from spiraling down way too soon, she wraps her arms around herself and crouches down beside her two favorite boys, trying once more.

“Ash? Can you hear me?” even with her throat closing, she softly asks, purposefully putting her face in Ashton's point of view. Her only answer is the low whispers he's letting out to Stitch, while cradling the tiny dog in his arms, spreading gentle kisses on his head.

“I know, bud, I know. I miss her too,” is the only whisper she could understand and immediately wishes she hadn't. The weak wail that comes from Stitch's throat seems to fit perfectly with how the three of them feel.

Ashton then looks up and for a couple of seconds, and Olivia can swear he’s staring right into her eyes. But when he shows no reaction, she knows he’s just staring ahead and not at her, with that look that says there’s too much going on inside his head. She feels the urge to embrace him and get him to talk about whatever is on his mind, so they can share that weight like they always do, but when Ashton gets up from the ground and settles on the bed with Stitch, Olivia can physically feel the crack in her heart caused by the feeling she’s left with.

While Ashton is pulling the duvet over him and the dog, with clearly no intentions of getting up anytime soon, Olivia stands up on her feet with a new-found determination – she needs to figure out what the hell is going on.

This nightmare had to be just that, right? Nothing but a very vivid dream – she's had those before. Scary sure, but they always go away, and soon enough she's back into Ashton's arms, with Stitch jumping on the bed ready to lick their faces off. She just needs to wake herself up from whatever fucked up dream this is – right?

She's running down the stairs this time, frantically in search of something, of what exactly, she doesn’t know – but she knows she needs an answer. The more she looks for something, the more desperate she gets, not knowing what to look for. Then suddenly, something catches her eyes.

The white and blue calendar that's held up by magnets on the side of the fridge. She knows their calendar is red and yellow. They got it from their favorite flower market. Slowly, as if scared of what it might be there – “It's just a calendar, for fucks sake” – she approaches the damn thing. Upon inspection, she deems it as a normal calendar – she really doesn't know what she was expecting – until.

She knows what's wrong with it now.

It's November. She knows it, because the Asian and last leg of her first world tour is about to begin November 21st, eleven days from today. Right after Mike's birthday, she knows this.

Then why does the calendar say today is January 14th?

☆ ☆ ☆

Ashton woke up with a jolt. He quickly sat up, frightening the little Frenchie that was asleep right next to him on the bed. Trying to make sense of his surroundings, he roughly rubbed his face to get some sleep off of it and soon reached for the dog that was staring at him with sleepy but sad eyes. Ashton is sure Stitch understands far more than a dog is supposed to understand about their current situation.

The room is covered in shadows, almost pitch black, but he can see the sunlight even through the thick dark grey blinds covering up the windows. Ashton knows he won't be able to sleep again at that moment, so he gets up from the bed – much slower than he used to. His heartbeat is still out of control because of the nightmare that woke him up, but he can't bother to pay attention to it when Stitch is softly wailing beside him. Ashton lets out a ghost of a smile when the dog rests his head on his right upper thigh, looking up at him with an expression Ashton knows all too well.

“C'mon you little ravenous creature, let's feed you,” the bulldog excitedly jumps to the ground, already running his way down the stairs, not even waiting for Ashton to get up.

That gets a real smile out of him, but it vanishes as soon as he glances at the alarm clock on his bedside table. It reads 5:13 am, nothing out of the ordinary for him. But that small and inoffensive clock, with its red paint peeling off, holds a lot of memories for him. Memories that two months ago would bring joy to his heart, but now he almost wants to throw the object across the room.

It was a stupid thing, really. He had been wanting a vintage alarm clock and Olivia got one for his birthday. But the product they received was definitely not the one she bought, and if he's being honest, he didn't like it as much as he made out to. But seeing her so excited in the weeks before it arrived, and how disappointed she was when it did, he couldn't help but try his best to make her smile that luminous smile again. It's part of his nature by now.

That's also the reason why he lets her think that he doesn't notice when she wakes up at some ungodly hour (her words, not his) along with him, because of the annoying and only sound the alarm clock is able to produce. He always leaves soft kisses in every inch of bare skin he can find on her sleeping figure, so she goes back to the dream land and doesn't wake up before 10 am. No one wants to deal with that kind of bad humor, not even him.

As much as he likes being a morning person and absolutely enjoys her company in the mornings, he knows she'll take any and every extra hour of sleep she can get before starting the day. And that's why he loves that she's so stubborn that his early bird tendencies never got to her – he knows she feared that this would happen when they moved in together, but he met her like this, fell for her like this. He wouldn't change a single thing about her.

Ashton drags himself out of the bed, wincing slightly at how cold the wooden floors are under his bare feet. He doesn't bother putting some socks on, or a sweater – the cold weather in the house is uncharacteristically comforting to him. Nothing feels warm without her anyway.

While descending the stairs, he mentally curses himself for not being strong enough to look past the picture frames on the wall. One in particular catches his eyes – a picture from the night of Olivia's first concert with her band. The memories of that night are still painfully vivid in his mind: the laughter among their group that eventually infected everyone at the pub, Suki and Luke's first kiss and the silly smile that didn't leave his best friend's face all night, the standing ovation Olivia got after her three-songs set, and her captivating and breathtaking smile that made him realize right then and there, while watching her sway to the music, that he was definitely falling in love with her and there was nothing he could do to stop it – not that he wanted to.

So many memories held up on that wall, in the relatively short time since they met, that he can't help but wonder if that's all they'll get in this lifetime.

Ashton is abruptly taken out of his thoughts by Stitch's barks coming from the bottom of the stairs. He quickly jogs down the few steps left and goes straight after the dog's food in the kitchen's cabinet. After Stitch starts to happily devour his breakfast, Ashton goes to make his coffee, doing enough for two people like he always does, since Calum drops by most days for a chat or to drop Duke before going to work. Although all three of them know he just can't bother to make food for himself in the morning, while Ashton is the group's elected chef. Ashton always says he just needs a boyfriend – Olivia says Calum already has one who makes him breakfast every day.

He grabs an apple from the fridge and makes his way outside to their garden. Even though a lot of their memories took place there, the garden is the only space in the house where he doesn't feel like suffocating all the time. At least here, he can breathe some fresh air and look at the sky when he's feeling overwhelmed – which is basically all he's been doing for about a month now.

Yet, a lot of the garden has Olivia's name written all over.

He remembers vividly the day she came home after spending two weeks in LA doing some pocket shows, with a pack of daffodil seeds and the largest smile. She excitedly told him that a friend gifted it to her when she mentioned the little garden they were planning to build together at their new house. The friend told Olivia that daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings, so as the good lover of symbolism that she is, Olivia loved the idea of having those flowers to symbolize their new beginning.

Ashton, on the other hand, wasn't a fan of the flowers at first – he just didn't see the appeal to them. But nonetheless, he indulged her, letting Olivia plant the seeds near the bench they used to sit during the quiet and unrushed afternoons, so they could admire the sunset, and she could happily look at the daffodils.

Pointless to say – the damn flowers grew on him.

Now, however, looking at them without Olivia and her contagious joy next to him, they were back to be as dull as they were before, if not more so.

Still lost inside his head without any sense of how much time went by since he sat down, Ashton doesn't hear the front door closing, and doesn't notice that he's no longer the only person inside the house until someone sits next to him on the bench. Yet, he doesn't show any sign of acknowledgement to them.

A few minutes go by before either of them speaks up.

“Luke said you didn't go to see her yesterday,” Calum starts softly, not wanting to disturb the calmness of the morning.

Ashton takes a few seconds to respond, “No point in doing that.” The black haired man licks his lips while thinking carefully about his next words.

“You know staying inside this house all day by yourself won't help either,” Calum turns his head to his left and takes a good look at Ashton's uncharacteristically hunched over figure, and immediately thinks that anyone can tell this man is not himself anymore. His second thought is that Olivia would hate seeing him like this.

“And what exactly do you expect me to do? Move on with my life like nothing happened? Like I'm not slowly and painfully losing the love of my life? Just because it’s easy for you doesn't mean it's easy for me.”

Calum closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He knows Ashton doesn't mean it, it's the anger and frustration talking. He knows it. Doesn't make it sting any less.

“I'm not telling you to move on with your life, because that's far from what I'm doing, and I certainly don't expect you to do it. I'm just saying you need to occupy your mind or else–”

“I'll go insane? Think it's a bit too late for that,” Ashton interrupts with a bitter tone that doesn't belong to his usual chirpy voice.

“You know it's not,” Calum sighs and drinks the rest of his coffee, moving his body slightly, so he's facing the blonde man, “I got a job interview for you at that school you talked about so much last summer, the principal said you can go any day this week. I went ahead and sent her your resume as well as explained everything that she needs to know about Olivia, so you don't have to. You just gotta put on some decent clothes and show up.” he sees Ashton's face softening a little and takes it as a victory. A few beats go by and then, “Maybe take a shower too. That's gonna make you feel better.” Calum leans in closer to his friend's personal space and takes a sniff, causing Ashton to deflect from him slightly, but not to push him away – another small win.

“Definitely take a shower, you stink. When was the last time your hair saw shampoo?”

“Fuck off,” is Ashton's only reply to the younger man's inquest. But Calum can see a smile creeping up on the blonde's face, which brings out a smile of his own.

“I'll send you all the details later today,” he checks the hour on the watch on his wrist and gets up, “Just please, Ash, go. I can't lose you too.”

Calum gently lays a hand on Ashton's shoulder and squeezes a little. The man doesn't look up, but gives a curt nod to his friend, who's satisfied enough. Calum stops on the threshold of the garden glass doors to give some kisses to Stitch – who came to make Ashton company as soon as he finished his food –, and then he puts the coffee mug on the dishwater. And soon enough, he's on his way out of the door. But not before snatching a tangerine from the fridge.

Ashton is left by himself once again. As he hears the sound of the front door closing, he thinks that this might be his life from now on. Just him and Stitch, trying their hardest to make it through another miserable day without the love of their lives. While everyone else comes by just to make sure he's still breathing. Breathing, maybe, but alive?

Swallowing the tears, he looks up at the sky. It's a deep, beautiful mix of orange, pink and blue, but he knows that it won't last long and soon the rain will be pouring down. He thinks about how much Olivia loves the rain.

God, he needs to pull himself together. She would hate to see him like this. Maybe he should take Calum's offer after all, he really needs to occupy his mind.

Making a mental note to thank Calum later, and also to apologize for how rude he was to him this morning, Ashton slowly gets up from the bench to put his mug on the sink and makes his way to the living room, with the small dog loyally following his every step. He puts on some cartoon that for once doesn't remind him of her (she always lovingly made fun of him for still watching those) and cuddles with Stitch on the couch. He can take a shower later.

Not half an hour goes by, he falls asleep and has a good dream for a change. He dreams of the days he spent with Olivia in the Philippines last February, right before her first world tour started. Some of the most magical days of their lives – surrounded by delicious food, a whole new culture to learn about and the warmth of the sun. Infinite counted days full of love and passion, where they were the only people in the world.

Even his subconscious knows to hold on to that brief moment of happiness, because he might never live that again.

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