#I just love the contrast between their place and Luke's apartment

[notes-in-the-margins]

Here Comes the Son - 3x21

[idkyetxoxo]

Daeron Targaryen - Doomed

Summary - Star-crossed lovers, the only daughter of Rhaenyra and the youngest son of Alicent, destined to be together but doomed from the start, bound by love and fate to an end neither of them could escape.

Pairing - Daeron Targaryen x Velaryon reader

Warnings - Violence, injury

Word count - 3105

Based on this request (anon, I could kiss you! This is genuinely one of my favourite pieces I’ve ever written)

Masterlist for Daeron • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

The only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and the youngest son of Alicent Hightower, bound by fate in the midst of a war that had already claimed too much. 

From the start, our love was doomed a tragedy waiting to unfold—a match as forbidden as it was inevitable.

But how could I help it? How could I stop the wildfire that had taken root in my heart for him? 

His kindness, his tenderness—it was such a contrast to the cruelty of his family, a cruelty that echoed in the halls of the Keep, a place I had once called home before it became a den of enemies.

"You will accept the betrothal, Daeron. We need the allies, and you will forget that girl," Alicent's voice was cold, sharper than the blade of any sword. 

It had only been a week since Daeron returned from Oldtown, but in his absence, war had erupted like wildfire. 

The blood of family stained the earth, and still, his heart was torn, tainted by his mother's venomous words.

"She is not just some girl," he murmured under his breath, his hand running through his silver hair. 

His mind was awash with memories—each one sharper than the last, each one a wound he would never let heal.

We were children when we first met. Innocent, naive, unaware of the storm that would one day swallow us whole. 

We vowed to be friends forever back then as if we could somehow bend the future to our will. But as the years passed, the lines of that friendship blurred.

It was his mother who saw it first, the way Daeron and I gravitated toward each other, our bond deepening into something dangerous, something she could not control. 

She sent him to Oldtown to snuff out whatever flame had sparked between us, but the distance only fanned the embers. 

Letters smuggled by ravens, secret meetings in the dead of night—no wall was high enough, no ocean wide enough to keep us apart.

Every stolen laugh, every whispered promise only bound us closer. We defied the world, knowing it would condemn us if it knew, but caring so little for what came next. 

For us, there was only now.

I stared out across the turbulent sea from the window of Dragonstone, my heart heavy with longing. The sound of footsteps behind me broke the silence. 

Jace's voice was bitter, edged with anger. "You're crying again," he said, his frustration palpable.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, wiping the tears from my face, though it did nothing to hide the evidence.

"You have to let him go," Jace pressed, his voice sharper now, filled with a pain that mirrored my own. "Don't forget that his brother killed Luke—our Luke. How could you forget that?"

"I haven't," I replied, though my throat was tight, and the words felt like shards of glass. "I can't."

Jace's stare bore into me, but I could no longer meet his gaze. I stood, pushing past him, needing the sky, the wind, and the open air. 

Needing him.

It was madness, and I knew it. He knew it too. But the pull was stronger than reason, stronger than blood and betrayal. 

I had to see him, had to make sense of the storm of emotions that threatened to tear me apart.

I mounted my dragon, her wings catching the wind as we soared into the clouds. My heart raced as I flew toward him, knowing he would be there, knowing he was coming to me too.

Above the clouds, Tessarion's cry pierced the air—a streak of blue and copper, flying in tandem with me. I landed sharply on a sandy beach, the world around us a blur of wind and sea as I watched him dismount. 

My legs moved on their own, and before I knew it, I was in his arms, sobbing into his chest.

"Daeron," I choked out, my words lost between my gasps and the crash of waves. 

His arms tightened around me, his hand stroking my hair, shushing me as though we weren't standing on the precipice of destruction.

"My love, I've missed you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. His violet eyes, the same eyes that haunted my dreams, shimmered with unshed tears. 

He looked more beautiful than I remembered, the time apart having only sharpened the features I loved.

"And I, you," I breathed, tilting my head up toward him.

In that moment, all the wars, all the betrayals melted away. His lips found mine in a kiss that stole my breath, a kiss that silenced every doubt, every fear. 

It was deep, desperate, a hunger that could never be sated—a love that could only end in ruin.

But we didn't care. Not then. Not yet. 

The world could burn around us, and still, it wouldn't matter.

The salty air clung to us as we stood there on the beach, the crashing waves a distant echo to the storm raging inside our hearts. 

Daeron held me close, his hand stroking my hair gently as I tried to steady my breath. 

I looked up at him, his face still so familiar, so achingly beautiful despite the chaos that surrounded us. 

I wanted to stay like this, frozen in time, but the reality of the war pressed down on us like a weight too heavy to ignore.

"The war..." I began, my voice trembling, "It's only getting worse, isn't it?"

Daeron's expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he nodded. 

"Yes," he whispered, "Aegon's grip is tightening, and my mother... she's more relentless than ever. She's pushing for more alliances, more battles. Rhaenyra..." He trailed off, unable to finish the thought, but I knew what he meant. 

My mother, our queen, wasn't backing down either. Blood had already been spilt, and it wouldn't stop. Not until the realm was torn apart.

"I can't bear it," I said, tears welling up again. "Every time I close my eyes, I see Luke. I see his face..." My voice cracked, and I could barely breathe. 

"And I can't stop thinking—what if it's you next, Daeron? What if they take you from me too?"

His grip on me tightened, his violet eyes filled with sorrow and determination. 

"They won't," he said firmly, though I could hear the fear beneath his words. "I won't let that happen. I've already lost so much... I can't lose you."

I buried my face in his chest, trying to drown out the images of war, of death. 

For a moment, I felt his heartbeat under my cheek, strong and steady, and I let myself believe we could outrun it all. But I had to know. I had to hear him say it. 

"Daeron, what are we going to do?" I asked, my voice small. "We can't keep meeting like this... sneaking around, hiding in the shadows. We're on opposite sides of a war that will destroy us both."

He was silent for a moment, the weight of the truth hanging in the air between us. "I know," he finally said, his voice barely a whisper. "I've been thinking... thinking about a way out."

I pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. 

"What do you mean?" I asked, though part of me already knew. His gaze shifted as if he was afraid to say it out loud.

"We could run," he said quietly. "We could leave all of this behind—the war, the blood, the lies. We could go somewhere they'll never find us, live the life we should have had. Together."

My breath caught in my throat. The very idea seemed impossible, and yet, it was the only thing that made sense. The thought of running away, leaving behind the death and destruction, was like a lifeline in the storm.

"Run away?" I repeated, my voice shaking, not with fear, but with hope. "You really think we could?"

He nodded, his eyes lighting up with the spark of desperation, of a dream we had both silently shared but never dared speak. 

"Yes. There are places in Essos, far beyond the reach of the crown, where no one would know us. We could live quietly... peacefully. We wouldn't have to hide anymore."

For a moment, the image flickered in my mind—an open sky, a distant land, just the two of us, free from the chains of duty and war. No more dragons. No more crowns. Just Daeron and me, safe in each other's arms.

"But..." My voice wavered as the reality of the situation crept back in. 

"Would they ever stop looking for us? What if they find us? My mother—your mother they would never forgive us. They'd brand us traitors."

"I do not care," Daeron said fiercely, his eyes blazing. 

"Let them hate us. Let them curse our names. All I care about is you. If we stay, it will destroy us, one way or another. Either the war will tear us apart, or our families will. But if we leave now if we escape there's a chance we can build something new. Something they can't touch."

I stared at him, my heart torn between love and fear, between hope and duty. 

Could I really leave everything behind? Could I leave my family, my brothers, and the throne that my mother fought so hard to protect?

But then I thought of Jace's words, of the pain in his eyes when he spoke of Luke, of how this war had already taken so much from us. 

How much more would it steal before it was over? And for what? A crown? A seat of power that had cost us our innocence, our lives, our love?

The thought of abandoning my family felt like a knife in my gut. But the thought of losing Daeron again? It would shatter me in ways I couldn't even fathom.

"I want that too," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I want to leave, to be with you. But we need a plan, Daeron. We can't just fly away and hope they don't find us."

He nodded, his expression serious now. "I know. We'll need time to prepare. We'll need supplies and a place to go where no one will look for us. I will arrange everything on my end. I can slip away from court without raising suspicion."

"And I'll gather what I can from Dragonstone," I added. "But it has to be soon. The longer we wait, the harder it will be to escape."

"Agreed," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "We'll meet again in a week's time, here, at dawn. Once everything is in place, we'll leave Westeros behind... forever."

My heart swelled with both fear and hope, but as I looked into his eyes, I knew there was no turning back. I would leave everything behind for him. For us.

"Promise me," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the waves. "Promise me you'll come."

"I swear it," Daeron replied, his voice as steady as his gaze. "I'll be here. Nothing will keep me from you."

We stood there in silence for a long moment, the weight of our vow sinking into the air around us. I knew the path we had chosen was dangerous, reckless even, but I also knew it was the only way we could truly be free.

"I love you," I whispered, my fingers brushing his cheek.

"And I love you," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "Always."

With one last kiss, full of the promise of the future we would build together, we parted, both knowing it could be the last time we ever saw each other in this world. But we vowed to return. We vowed to run.

And no matter what it cost us, we would be free.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ─── 

A week passed, each day slower than the last, each hour filled with the weight of what was to come. The war continued to rage around us, but I had clung to the hope of our escape, holding onto the dream of a life far away from the bloodshed and betrayal. 

I counted down the days until we could be together—until we could leave Westeros behind forever.

The night before our planned escape, the sea outside Dragonstone roared with fury, as if it sensed the storm building within me. 

I couldn't sleep, my thoughts too wild, too tangled with fear and hope. 

I kept thinking of Daeron—wondering if he, too, was awake, wondering if he was preparing to leave behind everything he'd ever known. Wondering if we could really do it.

As dawn broke, I mounted my dragon and flew to the place we had promised to meet—the same sandy beach where we had whispered our vows just days ago. 

The wind bit at my face, and my heart pounded with anticipation and fear. 

My mind conjured images of the future—of us living free, far away from this war, from the weight of our families. It felt so close as if I could reach out and touch it.

But as I landed on the beach, something was wrong. Tessarion was there, Daeron's dragon, but she seemed agitated, her blue and copper scales shimmering uneasily in the morning light. 

And then I saw him.

Daeron was there, dismounted from his dragon, but he was slumped against her side, barely holding himself upright. My heart dropped into my stomach.

I rushed toward him, panic clawing at my chest. "Daeron!" I called my voice already breaking. 

As I got closer, I saw the blood—too much blood. His tunic was soaked in it, a deep crimson spreading across his side.

"No," I whispered as I reached him, dropping to my knees beside him. "No, no, no..."

His face was pale, his eyes half-lidded, but they fluttered open when I touched his cheek. He tried to smile, but it was weak, a shadow of the smile I had known.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered, his voice rasping like it took everything in him to speak.

"Daeron, what happened?" I gasped, my hands shaking as I pressed them to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, though I knew it was useless. 

His body was cold, far too cold, and the blood kept flowing no matter how much pressure I applied.

"Aegon..." he choked, his breath laboured. "He found out... He knew I was planning to leave... He couldn't let me go... not after... after everything. We fought... but I couldn't..."

Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head, refusing to believe what was happening. "No. Don't. Don't say that. You're going to be fine, we're going to leave together. You're going to be fine, Daeron. I'll get help. Just—just stay with me. Please."

But his hand gripped mine weakly, and his violet eyes were already dimming. "It's too late," he said, his voice breaking. "I... I tried to make it, I had to see you one last time..."

"Stop it!" I cried, my voice hoarse. "Don't talk like that! We're supposed to leave together. You promised me, Daeron! You promised!"

His fingers brushed my cheek, his touch barely there. "I'm sorry," he whispered again, tears slipping from the corners of his eyes. "I love you. I always have."

I sobbed as I clutched him to my chest, rocking back and forth as if I could somehow hold him together, keep him alive through sheer will. 

His breath rattled like the wind before a storm, each exhale quieter than the last. I held him tighter, willing his heartbeat to stay steady, but it was fading beneath my hands. 

The coppery smell of blood filled the air, and the sand beneath us turned dark, soaking up the last of him.

"Please, don't leave me," I begged, my words choking in my throat. "Don't leave me alone. I can't do this without you. I can't..."

His breath hitched, his body shuddering in my arms. He tried to speak again, but the words were lost, swallowed by the blood that spilt from his lips. 

And then, with one final, broken breath, he was still.

I stared down at him, my heart shattered into pieces so small I could never put them back together. The world around me disappeared, the sound of the waves, the screeching of the dragons—none of it mattered. 

All I could see was Daeron's lifeless face, the warmth leaving his body, the dream we had shared slipping away like sand through my fingers.

"Daeron..." I whispered, my voice breaking under the weight of my grief. "You can't leave me. Please don't leave me."

But he was gone.

A sob tore from my throat, so raw it felt like I was being ripped apart from the inside. I held him tighter, as if holding him could bring him back as if the gods would take pity on us, but they didn't. 

They never did.

I looked around, my vision blurred with tears, and I saw the dagger at his side, stained with the blood of his final battle. My heart screamed in agony, the world spinning around me, dark and empty. I couldn't see a life without him. 

I couldn't bear to face this war, this world, without the one person I had lived for.

I pulled the dagger from his belt, the cold steel biting into my hand as I held it. My breath came in ragged gasps as I stared at the blade, the only escape from the pain that now consumed me. 

I had lost him—there was nothing left for me here. I had nothing without him.

"I can't," I whispered to the wind, my voice shaking. "I can't do this without you."

I pressed the dagger to my chest, right where my heart still ached for him, and closed my eyes. It felt cold against my chest, but nothing could match the chill that had already settled in my heart. 

In my mind, I saw the life we were supposed to have, the life we would never live. 

I saw us running through a field, laughing under the sun, free from the chains of duty and war. I saw his smile, felt his arms around me, and in that moment, I knew where I had to go.

"I'm coming," I whispered. "Wait for me."

And then, without another thought, I plunged the dagger deep into my heart.

The pain was brief, a sharp, searing agony that quickly faded, replaced by a strange sense of calm.

I collapsed beside him, my blood mixing with his in the sand, our bodies entwined as they always should have been. 

As the darkness crept in, my last thoughts were of him—of his smile, his laugh, his kiss. We had been doomed from the start, bound by love and fate to an end neither of us could escape. 

But now, in death, we would finally be free. Together. Forever.

And as my vision faded to black, the last breath leaving my body, I saw him—waiting for me, his hand outstretched, his smile warm, as if nothing had ever come between us at all.

A/n - This was so so fun to write!! I truly hope I did the req justice <3

[hairpintvrns]

Terry hadn’t been startled. They’d sensed him sensing them, and, anyway, it was not as if they made made any concentrated effort to obscure their presence, no more than they were used to. He sat on the chair opposite her, drawing the attention of an aging couple sitting next to them as he did, and her fingers tightened around the stem of her wine glass as she contemplated his form, closer, now. 

Ketziya. Their real name, typically reserved for close friends and family, had always sounded so strange against his tongue. For a moment, Terry contemplated using the same moniker they’d reserved for him when he was being obtuse—Saul Wiseguy—but decided against it. “Weissberg,” they said instead, taking a sip of their drink, allowing themselves to meet his gaze. They leaned back in their seat, cradling the drink in their hand, but found themselves perturbed by the question.

“You make it sound like I have a nefarious agenda, Saul. I didn’t plan it,” they began, but only as a half-defense, not quite making a formal denial. “There hasn’t been a lot to do while I’m waiting for the fall semester to start anyway.” A lift of their shoulders, projecting nonchalance. “The building caught my interest, then you arrived, and I lost focus.”

Terry swirled the red in their glass, watching the dark liquid catch the light from the fixtures above them. Hadn’t that been where everything began? Of Ketziya Lowenstein turning up in some strange place, finding Saul Weissberg there, and then leaving with him? They let themselves sit in the memory—they did that more often these days, they found—for a little while. To drown in the sensory overwhelm, of garishly decorated red cups, bright lights, loud 90s music, stilted laughter, and overbearing young men and women grazing their arm and professing something about them being their first love, first heartbreak, and first regret, and whatnot, but all Ketziya was doing was standing in a corner with Luke, tapping their fingers rapidly against their cup, and counting down the days until their parents would watch them graduate.

Beloved Ketziya, first to attend college, first to graduate, first to leave home.

In truth, they’d wanted to leave. To ditch the party. To walk back to the residential halls with their only friend. To begin packing up what little they’d brought from their dorm room in preparation for moving out day. And, finally, to return to their second-floor apartment in Harlem, flanked between two other units of their tenement building, and which had sat just below their father’s butcher shop, the only place in the world where chaos made sense. 

Then there Saul was, sauntering across the room, tall and lanky and carrying a smile that was purported by the CU-Barnard gossip mill to have launched a thousand heartbreaks. They held the sleeve of Luke’s shirt but he’d walked away, instead, leaving Ketziya alone with this marvelous idiot of a man who’d called her by the wrong name and pushed a stray curl back into place as a stand in for an apology. His touch came abruptly and he’d stood too close, and the world was reduced to his blue eyes—solid and piercing—to his honeyed words, to the gap between them. That was one of the first few things they’d been taught: that it was not the light that created the space but the shadows cast against it. Only then did the space begin to transform, to move, to bring the objects comprising the space into focus. Everything existed in relation to everything else.

Even now, or especially now, she couldn’t remember who closed the gap first. Only that against the dark, there was movement, of a body orienting itself to the presence of another, colliding into each other. It was especially powerful to understand the world like this dialogue of contrasts: his thousand-times-over rehearsed movements against her tentative touches, his lightness against her severity, his evening stubble against her delicate skin, his practiced ease and her intense determination to make it work. That first kiss, too, had been a curious permutation of friction, heat, and light. Electric. An energy that she could control.

They wanted to remember something else, some other memory to better paint the picture of them in those early years. Maybe snippets of early conversation where their interests might have collided, where their worlds might have intersected. If they tried hard enough, they could picture vignettes. A memory of a memory. Swaying together as the train rattled into their station on 116th and Broadway. Kissing in library bathrooms scrawled with bad poetry and housing advertisements and political testimonies. Standing in the footsteps of Barnard Hall and watching his figure make the quick, hundred-foot trek from his building to hers. Taking a carriage ride through Central Park past midnight. Of crossing the boundary of 96th Street, past the elegant East Side of Manhattan, and towards the older tenements and storefronts with their loud signs, and introducing a Weissberg to their butcher father, who’d held the tightest of smiles and bid them some nice words before sharpening his chalef knife against the whetstone. 

They were petty comforts. Not even memories, really, but disparate pieces of images pulled out to assign meaning to the decades of resentment and pain and hurt and anger that came next. Because the truth of it was the next clear thing had been Micah, whose presence redefined their world, and the invocation of which promptly put an end to their recollections. 

Reality pulled itself back—to the restaurant, their pasta dish, the silverware, the wine, the presence of him. “My attention bothers you,” Terry said, simply, bringing again the glass to their lips. The weight of the memories slowly lifted with each sip, replaced by the coldness brought by the stern gaze of this man in front of her, whom they could not read at all, or maybe always could. “Why?” And after all this time? They asked, curious, but also in challenge. 

In truth, it was almost compelling to see Saul like this, with his fire contained, so at odds with the demeanor by which he’d moved through the world. Throughout the day he’d appear to almost enjoy wearing that mask of courtesy and professionalism and being the most agreeable person in the room. Yet here he was, jaw set, muscles taut, lips pressed in a thin, downward line, and a voice dripping with displeasure.

Another study in contrasts, then, because how was this man the Saul they knew, three decades ago—hell, three minutes ago? 

A muscle in their cheek twitched, intermittently, almost betraying the chuckle threatening to puncture through their lips. The false nostalgia of their encounter a month ago was gone. Now laid only him, older, more gaunt, and with buttons decidedly easier to press. “I’ve largely kept to myself. Fuck, Saul, I’m not trying to intimidate you.” With their free hand, they gestured towards him, the whole of him, the shape of him, and sighed. “You’re the one who keeps announcing their presence today.” A mild accusation, though not an entirely false one, threatening again to touch an indelicate truth. Terry was very much content to slither through the shadows. Only Saul had been daring—perhaps foolish—enough to bring them into the light.

saul, i’m trying here,

and what, he wasn’t? saul was trying so hard that he felt like his teeth might crumble in his mouth from how hard he was clenching his jaw. any other time of day, or any other venue, he’d be more willing to play along. any other time or venue, he might’ve been more prone to tell them to straight up fuck off. the publicness of the courthouse and the fact that it was, several times a week, his place of business kept his mouth shut. instead, he closed his eyes and inhaled noisily.

what i’m saying is that you might take the darkness for granted until you catch wind of the light.

his eyes snapped open, then stared down at them vacantly. he wanted to understand. he couldn’t understand. every word of that sentence was as foreign to him as quantum physics and he didn’t have the time, nor the inclination, to decipher any of it now. time was running short and while it wasn’t a large courthouse to walk through, he needed time to prepare for the next hearing. leaving the topic of chiaroscuro unanswered, saul tried not to feel annoyed at how they commented on how he should’ve gone with his client instead of her, and nodded his thanks on breaking a leg. he never needed luck, and probably could’ve dominated the next hearing in his sleep, but he was just thankful to leave terry’s presence and get back to where he felt most at home.

saul had the urge to tell them to go literally anywhere else, but terry, like their son, made a point to always do the exact opposite of what he wanted, so he just waved limply as he turned on his loafer and started towards the front doors. 

FAST-FORWARD…

the rest of the work day proceeded like any other, except for the haunting specter of terry in the pews and the returning possessive feeling of their eyes on his back. he ignored them the best that he could, keenly aware of their presence with every movement he made. saul performed expertly, careful not to balk again, and the day passed by adequately. 

eventually, it passed into night and saul found himself at la galleria. despite living in his oak gardens home for three years now, he never became familiar with its state-of-the-art kitchen. ever since he moved out of his mother’s home in the late eighties, saul either ordered dinner out from a number of places in manhattan to enjoy alone in his office or had a friend and/or client accompany him out to a restaurant. the kitchen in every home or apartment he inhabited throughout his adult life was only used by whichever wife he had at the time, and that had been mainly cassie. it was a spoil of the rich. he never had to scrounge up a meal with few ingredients and make it last for a few more days because there was forever money in his bank account to make someone else cook for him. the only reason he hadn’t hired a personal chef was that he hated to be alone in his own home, cold and dark without the presence of a wife (or son) to warm it, and eating by himself inside of it just added insult to injury. anywhere else in the world, saul was not afraid to be alone.

he was not a stranger to patronizing any given restaurant by himself, but he maintained it was better with company and that night, he took his second client out to celebrate. it was a regular, if not nightly, occurrence back in manhattan. things worked slower in blue harbor, but he could never shake that particular habit and most of his clients were pleased with the idea of him paying for their time instead of the other way around as normal. halfway through the repast and an entertaining story of the time saul spent a weekend in the hamptons with a certain athlete without actually realizing they were a famous athlete because he could never give a fuck about sports, he felt it again.

like a bloodhound that caught a scent on the wind, every muscle in his back tensed and his head tilted up in the air. his client was none the wiser, telling him about what they planned to do with their settlement as they dug into their pasta, but saul knew terry was there. he whipped his head around, eyes darting around until his searching gaze fell upon an obstructed view of his first wife. sitting against the wall on the far end of the restaurant, it was unmistakably terry. even with a handful of tables and other patrons in the way, he knew it was them from the curve of their nose and the curtain of black hair. just some of the same features they gave to micah, as if saul’s genes hadn’t contributed in the slightest. the irritation he felt earlier returned, though he tried to rationalize that maybe terry just had the same idea to dine out at la galleria that night. there were only so many restaurants in blue harbor, after all.

knowing terry, though, nothing was ever a coincidence. every move they made was intentional and purposeful. terry didn’t make mistakes. terry didn’t balk. terry didn’t sacrifice their son for their career and leave micah with abandonment issues three times over (though he doubted micah felt all that abandoned by thalia, already a grown man by the time saul made her his second step-mother). the perfect parent, balancing a career with motherhood while saul could barely manage to make it home in time for dinner or read him a fucking bedtime story like cassie could. even across a whole damn restaurant, terry was suffocating him with the reminder that saul was a deadbeat father and an unworthy partner and g-d fucking damn it, she should’ve picked someone else to marry and get impregnated by straight out of college. it was ruining his mood and putting him off his meal.

saul tried to keep playing the part of gracious host for a party of two, but just knowing terry was there, watching him with their hawk eyes… it was hard to stomach any more, so he let the server take his plate and didn’t order another drink as he usually did with his clients. he could admit he enjoyed the praise after negotiating a settlement or finalizing a custody agreement, so he’d normally stick around for another drink or a dessert. now, however, he just wanted to leave.

would terry follow him home, though? if he tried to stop by o’shea’s for a nightcap, would he find her among the barstools awaiting his arrival or would they sneak into some broom closet to secretly observe him from a distance? phoebe didn’t believe him when he said terry had an analytical gaze by nature, positing that maybe terry had reserved it just for him, but she hadn’t been on the receiving end of terry’s fascination like saul had for the last thirty years. in senior year of undergrad, he felt flattered by the attention, like terry was cataloging the cut of his cheekbones in case he somehow evaporated into thin air and she never wanted to forget what he looked like. he wished he could fucking evaporate into thin air.

saul tried not to be rude in his parting with his client, so he feigned an emergency phone call and told them to order any dessert off the menu that they wanted. suitably excused, he left the table with a polite smile and then wound his way through the restaurant. it didn’t take long to reach terry, his stride more hurried than usual. he didn’t give them a chance to speak, sitting down in the empty opposite chair with a noticeable thud.

“hey, ketziya.” he only evoked their rarely used first name in instances of true displeasure with them, so he hoped they understood just how fed up he was. “lovely evening. are you dining by yourself?” he asked sarcastically; the empty chair opposite them and lack of a second plate proved his theory. yes, there were only so many places to eat in the area unlike new york with its bustling restaurant scene, but blue harbor wasn’t a one horse town, and with their appearance at the courthouse that morning, saul was disinclined to believe in this all happening by chance. he dropped any pretenses, frowning deeply, “i’m seriously starting to think you’re stalking me.”

[scarlettatg]

The Handmaid’s Tale

Thoughts on 505 and 506

Even before Gilead June had doubts and insecurities about her relationship with Luke which I think is completely normal, but what has always been interesting to me is that the flashbacks that weren’t her idealized memories of her family, were about the red flags of her relationship with Luke. How they met, June’s guilt over the infidelity, Moira and Holly’s warnings and his reactions to when Gilead started taking over. Season 4 was even more brutal in terms of showing how out of touch he unfortunately was and even with these “changes” in Season 5 I still see the same issues being portrayed.

When I watched episode 505 this particular scene came to mind. In the bowling alley when Luke starts singing there’s a look of doubt and sadness that reminded me of the look she had in episode 207 after she walks in on Luke screaming into Annie’s voicemail. June looks back at Jayden and that’s when we see her expression. It’s kind of hard not to associate Jayden to Nick. I would love to think she’s probably thinking about the fact that she’s in love with Nick and maybe she was, but the show loves to make it seem like June doesn’t think about him (which I believe it’s impossible) but in this particular case I think it has more to do with Hannah. June has always felt that Luke’s love is conditioned to her ability to be a mother and we have seen that portrayed in the show. The fact that she couldn’t save Hannah and bring her back to Luke weighs heavily on her. The whole dancing sequence and the way it was shot seemed idealized like the flashbacks she used to have of Luke and Hannah. It felt like a dream or like the title of the episode, a fairytale. Even though by the end of the scene there is a connection between Luke and June I keep feeling that connection is in a way centered on guilt than in the love she had before. Ironically by the end of the episode they end up once again separated in the woods.

Then in the next episode, we see these 2 characters physically together (like the title of the episode) but it felt like they were more apart than ever. I think the cages symbolize the striking contrast of having them together but separated by those huge cages. There’s just so much space around them yet they’re trapped with each other - by who they are now and how much they’ve changed. Luke is now seeing and feeling a small part of what June went through and June is in complete control, disassociating to her survival self. She’s not worried about herself, she’s worried about him.

I'm sorry. Sorry. I just... it's just when I... When I think of you in places like this, by yourself, I just wish... I wish I could've been the kinda guy that could've come and got ya. And I know how that sounds, I just... I just wish I could've been with you through that.

You were with me. You were.

In this interaction Luke is clearly and obviously panicking. He’s frustrated because he knows once again there’s nothing he can do. His inability to save and protect June is once again out in the open. So he gets mad. He says I’m sorry I’m being such a man about it. This comment made me think that I’ve always seen Luke as written to be a subtle misogynistic character product of being raised in a patriarchal society. And just like in our society some people see it some people don’t. We expect Luke to be prepared (at least somewhat) but he clearly isn’t. Then we see June and everything she’s gone through and it’s painful and frustrating to watch her babysitting someone who doesn’t seem to at least acknowledge that this has to be triggering for her. I’m not saying he isn’t worried about her, he obviously is but it’s more about how he feels in that moment. Obviously June doesn’t show it and that makes him feel even more inadequate.

The second thing he says is how he wished he could be that guy. It’s a constant guilt Luke has had to live with and 2 episodes ago Serena pointed it out bluntly. This is what gets him mad at Serena not the things Serena’s done to June but the things he couldn’t/didn’t do. There’s no way that in between the lines who both of them are thinking about is Nick. June knows the risks and the things he did for her and Luke recently got more confirmation that Nick took care of her in ways he couldn’t. I don’t want to be unfair so I will point out that there were times Nick had to literally stand by knowing June was being abused and he couldn’t do anything; but he did sacrifice himself for her safety and paid for it as well. She also did say on the tape that Nick helped her to survive. June’s expression when she tells him that he was with her is interesting. It gave me the impression she really didn’t mean what she was saying and he didn’t believe her either.

You listen to me, okay? Okay. Okay. Last time when we were apart... No matter what happened, I never gave up hope. And you never gave up hope, because we knew... we just knew... that we would find each other again. So, we're just gonna do that again. Right? I love you. I love you. And we are gonna do that again. Do you understand? Yeah, we're... we're gonna stay alive. That's right.

This is one of my least favorite lines of the whole series. (Both dislikes in the whole series for me are in this season and it’s simply because it seems like a change of narrative and storyline). I had issues with it because it makes no sense with what I have been shown in terms of June and her longing for Luke, which is basically non existent. Every scene of her thinking back to him was always conditioned to Hannah.

In Episode 105 she says why does it feel like I’m cheating on Luke? This was the first time she went to Nick’s apartment ordered by Serena. It was something she had no choice in the matter like all the other ceremonies before and she didn’t think of those as cheating on Luke. She also still believed he was dead. I took it as she wanted and was attracted to Nick which we saw since their first interaction. The flashback to Luke in this episode shows the first time they were together and the awkwardness between them since they were being unfaithful and it contrasts to the second time June goes to Nick willingly. She says she felt invincible the same way Luke had described the way she looked in her in the picture when he met her at the food truck. Luke told her he looked invincible, Nick made her feel it.

In Episode 307 she sees Luke with Nicole at the protest on the TV. She longs for him in a way and says she wishes she could be held and told her name, things we know Nick who just had left for the front did for her many times before and she kept doing even after she knew Luke was alive. But let’s take Nick out of the equation. She saw him, she longs for him; yet that flashback is to the night they made Hannah. This is also when she sends him the tape where she says she’s embarrassed, because she knows she’s being unfaithful just like Luke had done with Annie; and where she says Nicole was made out of love and that it was Nick who helped her to survive.

In Episode 405 she reminisced about their first time again while Janine and Steven are having sex. It isn’t an intimate setting, they’re in the middle of a war front. She believes that what Janine is doing is wrong so I have no idea why she thought back to that.

In Episode 406 which is called Vows interestingly enough, we get the flashback where Moira says that Luke left Annie because she couldn’t conceive. We then see June talking to Luke about their and his vows with Annie asking what if she can’t give him kids, if she disappoints him or isn’t who he thought she’d be. Which is interesting given the context that she comes back a completely different person and without Hannah. She even says it to Moira on the boat. She didn’t want to come back to him without Hannah and you can see how worthless she feels when she tells him I’m sorry it’s just me.

She also says she never gave up hope and well she did many times and after season 3 she was suicidal, and in season 4 she tells Aunt Lydia to kill her.

After her first escape, what happened with Omar, her pregnancy and Nick’s marriage she was extremely hopeless. June has always had the will to fight and has drawn strength not only from Nick but from her friends. After planning Angel’s Flight she had nothing left to lose and her plan wasn’t to escape. Luke even questioned her decision to stay making it about him not realizing June stayed behind for Hannah. In season 4 she runs back to Nick while she was scared of going back to Luke. Nick didn’t save June, she saved herself but he tried to help and his love helped her survive. That has been a constant for 4 seasons. We see her struggling to connect and it’s not until 409 that we see a semblance of peace and safety when she sees Nick. I know it was also a struggle for Luke to connect with her but I think it’s because unfortunately he expected her to simply go back to who she was and she doesn’t feel safe enough to open herself to him. He expects her to be someone she isn’t.

I can understand the moment they’re in, about to die but the lines could’ve been entirely different and still been accurate to the storyline. I don’t doubt June loves Luke, but she’s not in love with him and we can see it clearly even in this intent to reconnect. Even Luke doesn’t seem to buy it. That conversation made me think of the way she spoke to Hannah in 210 when she’s giving her hope so that she can go back to her other parents. As much as they seem to be trying to change the direction of the storyline it makes no sense and in between those lines I can still see the remnants of the same issues I saw in past seasons.

[the-girl-who-cried-wolf]

Fingertips on me

5SOS Calum Hood fan fic

This was mainly inspired by the pretty nail polish Calum was wearing lately, so I ended up writing a random fic about it <3 not much else to say really, enjoy reading!!

Background: painting Cal's nails for him can be fun, but he's always a little impatient

Warnings: mild swearing, fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

“Y/n?”

Calum’s voice echoed through the apartment, reaching all the way to where you sat on your shared bed, busily typing away on your laptop. You looked up as he came into the room, a box in his hand and a frown on his face.

“Hey, y/n, can you help me out here?”

“Sure, love, what is it?” You shut your laptop and pushed it onto the bed beside you as he came over, fingers dancing through the bottles of nail polish that were neatly arranged in the box.

“I need to pick a colour, and I don’t know what will suit best…” he hummed as he sat beside you, picking out a bottle of bright pink to see the colour, then dropping it back and checking another one.

“You’re painting your nails?”

“Yeah,” he looked up at you, a shy smile dancing over his face. “Me and the boys wanted to do a photoshoot tomorrow and we all decided that we’d do our nails, and maybe a little makeup or something for it.”

You grinned back at him. “That sounds awesome, Cal.” You leaned into his side, resting your head on his shoulder and watching his fingers sort through the bottles, making soft clinking noises with every movement.

“You know I love when your nails are painted,” you murmured, pressing a light kiss onto his arm. He stopped sorting through the bottles for a second, picking up on what you were doing before you had even started.

“Yeah?” He turned his head to look at you, his hand abandoning the polishes in favour of dragging a finger across your jaw, turning your gaze to him. He was sitting so close already, he just had to look down at your lips and you were done. How did he do this so effortlessly? His voice was low as he continued, “Well how about you help me paint them first, then you can look at them all you want.”

“Just look?” you said with a sly grin.

He smirked at that. “We’ll see. But we have to paint ‘em first, okay?” You just sighed as he turned back to the box, lifting out a bright orange one with a frown. “The fuck is this?” He spun the bottle around to read the label. “Sunburst Grapefruit. You couldn’t just call it orange could you? Pretentious bastards.” You chuckled at that, earning a smile from him.

“Do you know what colour you wanted? Did you guys have a theme in mind or something?”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Ash said he’d do red, and Luke’s are already silver I think. And Michael wasn’t sure yet but I’m assuming he’d do black or something, you know him.” Calum raised his eyebrow a little as he picked out a dark purple-ish colour, holding it between his thumb and finger like it was an object of disgust.

“I’ve literally never seen you wear half of these colours, y/n, why do we have so many?”

“Well you never know when you might need some-” you checked the label of the one he was holding- “Aubergine Maroon.” You laughed at his evident confusion.

“It doesn’t even look like an aubergine, damn it,” he said as he put the bottle back with a little laugh of disbelief. “These names are so fucked up.”

You just laughed at his mocking. “Ok, ok, give it here. If you’re just going to insult all the ridiculous name choices then we’ll be here forever.” You took the box and placed it in your lap, fingers running through the colours until you found a dark blue one, almost navy coloured, and pulled it out for him to inspect. He put his arm out behind you so he could lean back a little, his other hand reaching across to hold the polish for a second. He shook his head.

“Too dark. They said it would be a low light shoot,” he said.

You nodded and placed the bottle back in its place. “How about this one?” The cornflower yellow was certainly lighter. He screwed up his nose though.

“Maybe the cooler colours would be better,” he leaned forward to watch your fingers dance over the blues and purples, his head resting on your shoulder.

“Not green?”

“Nah.”

“Oh, how about this one?” You pulled out a baby blue colour, a lighter shade of sky blue. He hummed in thought for a second.

“Actually…yeah, that might work.” He reached out his hand to hold it.

“See,” you nodded at the pale bottle in his tanned hand. “It contrasts your skin nicely.” You smiled sweetly at him, making him laugh.

“Ok Miss Sunshine, now you can help me paint them,” he said with a smile as he took the box from your hand and stood. “Cause lord knows I’d fuck it up in two seconds flat if I did it by myself.” He walked out the door without checking to see if you were following.

“Come on, y/n, let’s go.”

---

“Shit, that’s cold!”

“What did you expect, tough guy? Quit whining will you,” you told Calum with a smile as you began painting his nails with the baby blue colour polish. You were sitting at the kitchen table now, his hands spread out in front of you as you applied the polish as neatly as you could, a frown creasing your brow as you concentrated.

“It tickles.”

“Shh.”

A moment of silence passed. A few more nails finished. Then his free hand started tapping on the table a little, the sound of his rings echoing on the wood as he started a beat. You looked up at him, eyebrows raised. He just smirked.

“Sorry.”

“Do you want me to paint your nails or not?”

It was hard to fight off the grin when he was staring at you so sweetly, mock innocence all over his face. “Yes, please.” He wiggled his fingers to bring your attention back to them. You huffed out what might have been a laugh as you went back to painting, quickly finishing off that hand and holding out your hand for the next one. He switched them over, placing the other hand in front of you as he blew on the freshly painted nails.

“You look like such a diva,” you giggled.

“That’s cause I am one.” He grinned, giving you an imaginary hair flick before blowing more on his nails. You laughed at him. What a dork.

You quickly finished up his second hand and screwed the lid back onto the bottle of nail polish. “There you go, Cal. Now just don’t touch anything for ten minutes and I’ll do the second coat for you then, okay?” You stood from the table, stopping in front of him when you noticed his pout.

You just raised your eyebrows at him. “Yes, diva?”

“But what am I meant to do for ten minutes?” his whiny voice was saying something completely different to his wide eyes as they watched you lean down in front of him, matching his sitting height.

“I’m sure you can find some way to amuse yourself,” you said quietly, eyes dropping to his lips, then dragging up his face back to meet his dark eyes. “Unless you can’t even do that by yourself.” You reached out and flicked his nose with a cheeky smile, tutting when he went to grab your wrist. “Uh uh, no touching, remember?”

“Not fair,” he mumbled, another pout turning his lips downwards.

“God, you’re pathetic,” you muttered as you straightened up. “Come on then. The sofa’s more comfortable.”

---

You flicked the TV on to play quietly as Calum went and sat on the sofa, careful not to brush the wet nail polish on anything as he went. He sat and looked up at you with a little grin, hands spread out on his thighs so he wouldn't bump them into anything. You just smiled and shook your head at him. He really was like a little kid sometimes.

You sat down next to him, remote in hand, surfing through the channels until you landed on a sports one. You knew he liked watching soccer matches, so you let that play.

Finally quiet and content, Cal just watched you as you tucked up your legs and leant into his side. He carefully lifted his arm and settled his hand on the back of the sofa, leaving room for you to properly snuggle into his chest, which you did. He was deliciously warm and cuddly in his big hoodie.

“You happy now, diva?”

He pressed a kiss to your head. “Mm hmm. Be happier if I could touch you though,” he whispered into your hair. You could hear his cheeky smile.

“Well just wait a few minutes,” you checked the clock on the wall, “then you can touch me all you want, princess.”

You casually lay a hand on his thigh as you pretended to watch the TV, slowly picking at the loose threads of his distressed jeans, and smoothing out wrinkles in the denim. Completely unnecessary touches, you both knew that.

“Y/n.”

“Mm?”

“Don’t.”

You smirked as you turned your head and leant back to look at him properly. “Don’t what?” you asked innocently, a hand still resting on his leg.

“Don’t be such a tease,” he almost growled, even as he fought off a little smile. “You could let me kiss you at least.”

“Okay, princess,” you said quietly, a smile quirking up the corner of your mouth.

That was all he needed to hear before he leant towards you, connecting his lips to yours ferociously. You could feel the strain in his arms as he willed himself not to touch you, to only taste with his lips. You indulged him for a long while, letting him bite at your lips and swipe his tongue along yours before you gently pushed him back with a hand on his chest.

“What’re you doing?”

You just looked at the clock, then back into his dark eyes. “It’s been ten minutes. They should be dry now.”

The smirk he gave you was pure evil as his hands were finally free of their invisible restraints, one coming to rest on your jaw and draw you in for another hungry kiss, then both hands slipping down to your waist as he quickly pulled you onto his lap. You gasped a little in surprise at the sudden movement, and you felt him smile into the kiss.

Your legs straddled him as his wandering hands came to rest on your thighs for a moment, before drifted back to your waist, then up and over your back. He couldn’t stop touching you now as his mouth explored your, drinking you in as much as he could.

You eventually parted for breath, a smile on your red and swollen lips as he looked up at you with wide eyes.

“Only ten minutes, and you were that desperate.” You said quietly, making him blush a little through a smile.

“Only for you, princess.”

“Hey, don’t steal my nickname,” you laughed as you swatted at Calum’s chest, before crawling off his lap.

“What, it’s cute,” he said as he offered you a hand to help you stand, chuckling at your clumsiness.

You just smiled in response as you went and retrieved the bottle of nail polish from the kitchen table. You came back and sat beside him again, holding his hand still against his thigh as you balanced the bottle on the coffee table in front of you, dipping in the brush and spreading the polish over his nails once more, easily falling back into the rhythm.

A moment of silence passed as he watched you, then, “How long will this one take to dry?”

You grinned at him, pure, evil delight on your face.

“Twenty minutes.”

Thanks for reading!! Check out my [masterlist] for more fics <3

(and thanks to @theduckgoesquack for helping me with this one, ily jocelyn 😌)

[heartcal]

“who do you believe?”; l.h. (pt. ii)

oh my GOD it’s here, it took longer than expected but she’s finally here! after the eye strain i got a sty so that threw me in for a loop, but the good news is my eyes are better! and i’m fully vaccinated too! please get the vaccine if you are able to :^) enjoy!

a/n: (formatting again lol) there’s a part where there’s supposed to be texts (in italics) so it may be a bit weird to read (hopefully not) (sorry for these parantheses) please let me know if there’s anything off!

pairing: luke hemmings x reader

summary: having known luke for years, it was bound to happen eventually. the crush you developed happened before you could stop it, and you did your best to keep it a secret. you told no one, did your best not to show it, so what do you do when his girlfriend finds out?

warnings: swearing (as usual), 

genre: angst, fluff, basically friends (to brief enemies but not really) to lovers?

wc: 5,201 (they’re getting longer, huh)

taglist: @1sosrvd1267 + @wowitsel (side note: i don’t have a current taglist, this is just for this fic!)

part one | my masterlist!

You skipped the after-party that night. You couldn’t bear standing in the same room as Luke and Rachel, so you booked a ride and left as soon as the car pulled up.

Had you stayed for the party, you would have crumbled under the looks of pity thrown at you by those who would have heard about what happened. The knowing looks that something bad had happened between two people everyone on the crew knew were best friends would have been uncomfortable.

The ride home is uncomfortably silent, but you were thankful the driver wasn’t the talkative type. The soft jazz playing on the radio wasn’t calming but it did distract you from the pain and embarrassment you felt from the argument.

Once the car had pulled up to your place, you bid a silent farewell to the driver and slid out.

You just wanted to get inside, take a shower, shut your phone for the night, and sleep until you physically can’t get any more sleep.

You’re not too surprised Luke stood up for his girlfriend. He does love her—he’s shown that with friends and with fans. But the way he glared at you, defended her without trying to find out what exactly went down…he had never looked at you like that.

You’ve seen that look before; it wasn’t something you were used to but it was the look he would give paparazzi when they would harass you, the guys, and his friends. The glare carried such strength that it would make people back off. And so when it was directed towards you, it struck you hard.

Having done what you wanted to do once you entered the house, you lay in bed with wet eyes staring at the ceiling. Your phone was face down on your nightstand, completely out of reach to the point one slight touch could knock it off.

Maybe you were the one at fault. Maybe you should’ve told the truth about your feelings to Rachel or Luke before this all happened. It could have prevented the fallout and you would be with the guys and the crew celebrating a successful show.

But what good would that have done? Had you told someone, anyone, that you liked Luke more than a best friend should, would that have caused the same problem but presented differently? Or would something come from it? Maybe nothing would have happened.

A sigh escapes your lips as you turn your back away from the nightstand, facing the empty half of the bed and before your mind drifts to more pitiful thoughts, you close your eyes.

You didn’t dream that night. It’s as if you blinked, with the night flying by faster than you had wanted and anticipated.

The sunlight beamed down on you from above your headboard. It was late morning and it was time to face the harsh reality of the day.

There is no doubt you have lost Luke as your best friend.

Wiping the sleep and crust from your eyes, you sit up and vacantly glance around the room. The box where you keep gifts from Luke is illuminated by the sunlight, and with the vacant stare you stand to walk towards it.

You hesitate to open it; it’ll bring back memories of good times and with the events of the previous night, you do not think you can handle the rush of emotions.

It’s then when you realize your phone was off, and though you don’t want to do anything social today and would rather stay home with your favorite snacks and shows, you know you have to let your friends know how you’re doing.

You stall by washing your face and brushing your teeth, albeit slower than usual. You know that once you turn your phone on, the onslaught of questions and missed calls are going to take possibly an hour to clear up.

Sure enough, as you turn your phone on, the missed messages come in, barely giving your notification tone a break and the missed calls and voicemails were coming in fast. You can feel the heat from the battery on your palm, and for the sake of the phone you switch the sound off and turn on Do Not Disturb to prevent any new calls from coming through.

The messages you saw were from the crew, asking where you went and if you were okay. Others were from the boys minus Luke, and looking through the missed calls, there was nothing from Luke.

You’re not surprised, but the pain was still simmering within and seeing no messages or missed calls from him was adding to it.

You responded to the crew’s messages first, since many of them sent one or two messages asking simple questions: “Are you okay,” “Where did you go,” and “Did you get home safe?”

Then you responded to the boys’, Michael’s first since he had the least amount of messages.

hey, you didn’t have to leave. we could’ve talked some sense into him when he calmed down (11:37pm)

did u get home okay? we know you didn’t drive here yourself. (11:58pm)

please let us know you made it home. let us know you’re okay (12:10am)

hope you made it home and that you’re safe and okay. thank u for ur work today. please text me when you see these. goodnight (12:49am)

You typed your reply to him, letting him know that you were okay and got home safe.

Calum’s messages were similar, asking the same questions but some were repeated to emphasize his worry. In response, you answered his questions like Michael’s.

But even before you can open Ashton’s messages, seeing double digits next to your conversation with him, rapid knocks on your front door grab your attention.

With a groan you stand and grab your robe from the hook on the door, wrapping it tightly around your body as you open the door and groggily walk to the front door.

It was a stupid idea, as you weren’t ready to face anyone yet Ashton stands in front of you. He’s well-rested, a stark contrast to you as you were sure your eyes were still puffy and bloodshot, along with an occasional sniffle from your nose.

His eyes travel from your face, down to your feet, and back up to your eyes. He can immediately tell you had a terrible night.

“You weren’t answering anyone last night,” he begins, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes, “we were worried about you after you left.”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I just—I didn’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“You could’ve let one of us know that you were shutting off.”

You nodded with a frown, “I could have, yeah,” your eyes dart around behind him to avoid his worrisome eyes before asking him if he wanted to come in.

He doesn’t hesitate and steps in once you move aside, opening the door wider to give him enough room. He notes your bag in a heap on the floor a few inches away from the couch, and how your shoes were far apart, with one upside down, as if you flung them off.

“How are you holding up now?”

You shrug, still avoiding his eyes because you know if you make eye contact, you’ll break down and you won’t have control over the onslaught of emotions.

“Be honest,” his voice is soft, wanting to make you feel comfortable enough to open up.

You stare at the ground, biting the skin of your lower lip nervously. This is why you did not want to talk to anyone face-to-face. Talking to them over the phone, preferably through text, allowed you to lie to the other person (and if applicable, to yourself). But talking to someone in person, and to someone who can see through your lies, you were bound to break down and become vulnerable.

You inhale, taking careful steps to the couch and gently sitting down with a sigh. Ashton follows you, sitting next to you but giving you space to not overwhelm you.

“What happened last night—,” you lean back with your arms folded over your chest, “—was something that I feared. When I realized I liked Luke, I was so worried about him finding out and what the outcome would be. I knew from the beginning that things would never be the same if he found out, and I was afraid of the change that would come from it.”

Ashton listens intently, his eyes displaying sincerity as he listens to you list off your worries. What he saw last night bothered him to no end, and had he not exerted most of his energy during the show, he would not have slept at all and would have stayed up all night in a constant state of worry.

“So, now that Rachel knows, and no doubt Luke has caught on, I don’t know what to do. I responded to everyone’s texts before you arrived, and Luke sent nothing—not even a phone call.”

Ashton nods, swallowing before speaking, “Well, after you left, things went down that may be the reason why he hasn’t tried contacting you.”

Your head turns to face him, eyebrows furrowed as confusion embeds itself across the rest of your features.

Ashton readjusts himself, getting comfortable in his seat as he gathers the right words.

“Something happened after I left?” You ask as you shift in your seat to face him.

“Michael wanted to go after you, to at least offer you a ride back, but Calum went back to tell Luke that it was bullshit what happened. So, Michael went back to make sure they wouldn’t fight or anything. I also pointed out that he was a dick; choosing you over her when he’s known you the longest didn’t sit right with us. But he got defensive and kept wanting to leave but Rachel convinced him it was alright, so they stayed for the party. But the party was bad—the crew felt the tension and the vibes were down—,” he chuckles at the word choice, getting a small laugh out of you as well, “—it brought everyone out of the energetic and ecstatic mood we were in before the confrontation. We all kinda did our own thing during the party but we noticed things were tense between Luke and Rachel. And when the party ended, shit hit the fan.”

“What happened?”

Ashton sighs, “To make the long story short, they got into an argument when we were leaving the venue after Michael brought up your name. He said something like, ‘I hope they got home safe,’ and that you weren’t answering your phone at all. Calum and I pointed out, again, how rude Luke was to you and Luke kept defending himself. Rachel dropped an insult and something shifted. Basically, they’re done and the guys and I can finally fucking breathe.”

“Wait—,” you stand with bulging eyes, “—wait, are you saying they broke up?”

Ashton hums as he watches you mindlessly walk around your living room.

The guys have been waiting for their break-up. It’s not something they were open about, as to avoid any conflict with their best friend, but it was almost an unspoken agreement: Rachel was not liked.

As for you, it’s not like you were wishing for their break-up. You wanted Luke to be happy, and if he was happy in that relationship, then so be it. But you were not a fan of it. Yeah, you liked her in the beginning but when she started disregarding you as if you did something to offend her, you lost most of your respect for her. Now, with this news of their break-up, you don’t know what to do.

Are you happy? You don’t exactly feel happy about it, but there is some relief.

“So,” you sit back down on the couch slowly, “what am I supposed to do with this information?”

“Not sure,” Ashton shrugs, “but I recommend talking to Luke.”

You shake your head fervently, “No. I don’t feel like talking to anyone.”

“But you’re talking to me,” Ashton has a smirk, but you know there’s no malice behind his joke.

“You showed up unannounced, Ash,” you smile, “I was responding to everyone who sent messages and voicemails. I don’t feel like talking to anyone else in person.”

He holds his hands up in defense, “Fair enough, but don’t be a stranger.”

He gives you a quick hug, whispering something similar to ‘don’t shut Luke out’ before he pulls away and walks out.

Ashton’s words stuck with you for the next week. You felt comfortable enough a few days after the fact to contact the boys, eventually meeting up with Ashton and Calum for lunch and third-wheeling Michael and his fiancée. The only person out of your friend group and co-workers you have not contacted was Luke. He hasn’t contacted you either, but you do not think much about it as you’re still trying to figure things out. If he were to contact you, how do you talk about what happened?

You want to know why he was able to choose his then-girlfriend over you, but at the same time you don’t want to know the answer. You know that one day, and though it hurts, you will not be his number one. With the way he behaved that night, it felt like that dreadful moment came to earlier than expected, that he found his number one and you immediately became his second go-to person.

So it did surprise you when you were out with an old friend to receive a text from Luke.

Can we talk about what happened? (2:23pm)

You only stare blankly at the text, not even moving to type a response. You were in such a good mood, and not even this text would change it. Instead, you lock your phone and place it back in your pocket, noting to leave it alone until your day out comes to an end.

And when it does, you see that more texts from Luke had arrived, the final being sent an hour before the outing ended.

I know you’re mad, I understand that and I don’t blame you but please talk to me (2:31pm)

You’re reading these, please say something (2:33pm)

There are some things that I need to clear up with you, I want to apologize for what happened that night but I want to do it face to face. Please respond. (3:57pm)

Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be waiting. Sorry if I’m bombarding you with these texts, I just don’t want to lose you over something that I realize now should not have happened. Respond when you want to, I’ll be here. (5:49pm)

You could only let out a small chuckle at the persistent requests to talk, and you don’t deny the small—minuscule, honestly—flutter in your stomach. You don’t waste any time responding.

Sorry, I was busy. We can meet somewhere to talk. (7:08pm)

He responds about five minutes later, agreeing to meet at a small café the two of you love tomorrow afternoon.

The rest of the night for you is spent thinking of ways to carry yourself, being completely confident, and accepting the fact that you love your best friend. Pep talks in the shower and mirror to calm any arising nerves, revising the topics you want to talk about in your head so you keep the confidence.

As for Luke, he was struggling to gather all his thoughts. In the beginning, he thoroughly enjoyed the fact that you and Rachel got along. He liked seeing his best friend and girlfriend become friends like that. He didn’t notice the shift, however, and he wishes he did before things got out of hand.

When he defended Rachel, without finding out the story from all sides, he thought he was doing what was right. To him, friendships and relationships have the same base, but romantic relationships with a partner have a different structure than friendships do, and he was starting to see cracks in his friendship before he saw it in his relationship.

When he confronted Rachel after she insulted you, he started to see someone he never saw. He remembered the times Rachel ignored you, sometimes playing it off as if she never heard you. He remembered how she would make plans with everyone and exclude you, but he always played it off as an accident (even if he knew it wasn’t). He remembered all these times he noticed a change in mood when the two of you were in the same room, and he couldn’t believe he turned a blind eye to all of it.

It hurt him to break-up with Rachel—he won’t deny that because he did love her. It’s not that he saw the rest of his life with her as they weren’t at that mark in the relationship.

But, when he did picture his future, he always saw you. He always thought it was just as a friend, someone who was just joined at the hip. Yet, he was quick to throw that away for someone he rarely saw when he pictured the future.

Which is why, the next day, as he sits at a booth near the window of the café, he carefully goes over what he wants to say. He doesn’t want to ruin the chance to fix things between the two of you. If it goes awry, not only does he lose you, but his friendships with the band and the team will take a hit since they all love you.

The bell above the door rings making his head turn to watch you walk in. Your eyes danced around the café before they fell on him.

He couldn’t help the smile the formed on his lips, a small breath of relief escaping as he watches you walk towards him. The smile doesn’t stay long though, because as you sit down with a stoic expression, the reality hits him.

“I got your usual,” he’s shy and timid, pushing the mug toward you as he eyes the liquid nearly spills the edge.

You mumble a ‘thanks,’ grabbing the mug and taking a small sip. It falls silent as the two of you wonder who should start first.

Luke makes the move first. He sighs, sitting up straight and wiping his palms on his pants.

He’s nervous. When the guys started touring, visiting new cities and countries, he would always be nervous and constantly wiped his hands on his thighs, sitting up straight and even straighter if he wasn’t slouching. It’s an old habit, but something you remember fondly as he had grown out of it. Or so you thought.

“I want to start with I’m sorry,” he begins, making eye contact but fails to hold it. His eyes instead drift to his drink, “I know what I did was wrong, and I put you in a spot that hurt you and disregarded you. At the moment, I thought I was doing the right thing because she was my girlfriend, but then—” he gulps, “when she insulted you, it struck a nerve and, not to sound cliché or anything, it felt like it opened my eyes. I saw someone I didn’t see when I first met them.”

You don’t respond, just nodding your head to let him know you’re listening.

He licks his lips before continuing, “When the guys brought up how you left on your own, I was feeling nervous and they started reminding me how much of a dick I was to you. I didn’t want to admit it myself, but now, I was such an ass. I’m just—I’m so sorry for what happened.”

“Luke,” you sigh, shifting in your seat, “I’m not saying I forgive you but I accept your apology. It hurt me so much that a friend, someone I’ve known for years was just so quick to turn their back and take someone else’s side. I know she was your girlfriend, but I wish you didn’t do what you did.”

“If I could go back and fix it, I would.”

You only nod again, trying to think about other things that need to be talked about. The one topic you hope to avoid is the possibility of him knowing your feelings—something you do not want to discuss, at least not yet.

“Did she say anything to you?”

The question leaves your mouth before you register it, and the widening of your eyes catches Luke off guard.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you mutter, grabbing your mug and taking a long sip.

“She didn’t tell me what started the problems between you two, if that’s what you mean,” Luke smiles a bit, watching you nervously play with the mug’s handle after the sip. It fades when your eyes move up to meet his, “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but it isn’t important anymore. She’s out of the picture, and I don’t want to lose you.”

The silence returns, but unlike the previous bout, it’s a calming silence. It isn’t uncomfortable, rather the air is easier to breathe and the tension isn’t unsettling.

“Where do we go from here?” Luke asks, nervously wringing his fingers.

“I don’t want to lose you as a friend, Luke,” you offer a smile, “but it’s going to take some time to ‘heal,’ if you will.”

Luke smiles again, this time a bigger grin. He nods, leaning back in his seat, “Let me know what I can do to make things better. I’ll do it if I get to keep you.”

Over the next few months, your friendship with Luke was rekindled. The guys were at ease now that Rachel was gone and you seemingly had taken her place, even though you were friends. The awkward glances they would give when Rachel was in the same room were now playful rolls of the eyes over a dumb joke or pranks. You didn’t miss out on any outings you wanted to go to, now that everyone invited would check in with each other the night before. Things went back to the way they were before Rachel.

There was a change in your friendship, however. It wasn’t something you noticed right away, but it was something you thought about at night just a few weeks ago. Luke paid more attention to you, not that he didn’t pay attention before, but this was a noticeable change where he still looks at you even after you finished talking, and would only look away from you when you caught him. He would always cover his mouth with his index and middle finger, but you saw a small smile behind them. You played it off as friendly teasing, but it tugs on your heartstrings.

Another noticeable change is the hugs. Duration-wise, they were relatively the same. However the touch lingered; if he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, an arm would stay around your shoulder, meanwhile if they were around your waist, his hand would stay on the small of your back. You played it off as a friend being protective, but yet again, it did nothing to stop your growing love.

Tonight was the first night of their tour. The boys were up to their usual pre-show antics, as well as the nervous habits; Michael fixing his hair and deciding whether to go with a beanie or a hat, or neither, Ashton was warming up with his pre-show playlist, Calum testing his bass, and Luke was relatively fine.

Sure, he was nervous because it isn’t a crowd of 500, close to 20,000, but he was calm compared to the last time he performed. He didn’t have any worries to talk about, his vocal warm-ups were smooth, and getting dressed up was a breeze. He shared chuckles with you as you both watched the others move around with tense expressions (all with no malice, of course).

“You sure you’re not on edge?” you nudge Luke with your arm as he leans forward on the couch your sitting on to fix his shoe.

“Nope,” he sits up, leaning back in his seat.

“Really?” you inquire again, doubt laced in your tone with a hint of teasing.

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “if anything I’m excited about tonight.”

You hum, crossing your arms as you watch Ashton walk over.

“Ten minutes left,” he nods at Luke before walking to Michael to tell him the same thing.

You give Luke a look, wanting to get him to admit he is nervous, but all you get is a smirk and a shrug. He stands, patting your shoulder left before walking away to put in his in-ears.

You won’t deny you still don’t have feelings for him. Throughout the past few months, you were able to pinpoint the reasons why you fell for him. The small acts, the obscure things he would remember about you—especially the ones you don’t remember yourself—with the attention he would give you. It was staring you in the face, but you chose to deny all the signals to give yourself the satisfaction of thinking it was just a phase. But now you know why you love him.

Two minutes until showtime, Ashton finishes his speech and the crew is taking their places. The band stands at the opening, waiting for their cue to head out.

As you watched them hype themselves up, you noticed Luke looking around nervously. Of course.

“Nervous?”

His head whips toward you, and you can see it in his eyes.

“A little,” he mumbles, but you don’t hear it over the crowd’s excited screams.

“You got this,” you grab his shoulders to make him look you in the eyes, “like Ash said, you guys worked your asses off for this album. The fans loved it, your shows are all sold out, and you have thousands out there waiting to see you kill it.”

He’s silent, blue eyes staring into yours as they bounce from one eye to the other.

“I love you,” he blurts, loud enough just for you to hear.

You freeze, the grip on his shoulder loosens but remain.

He notices, “She did tell me something that night, and whether or not it’s true, I-I love you.”

“Sixty seconds!” a stage recites in the earpieces.

The boys turn to look at both of you, curious eyes turn into surprise as they watch your expression.

“I don’t know how long, I don’t know when, and I don’t know what it was, but I know for sure.”

Your eyes glance at Ashton briefly, not missing the knowing smile he gives you before you look back into Luke’s eyes.

“I…love you, too,” you respond, gripping his shoulders while your eyes drop down to his shiny shoes.

He doesn’t hear you over the cheers and screams, but reading your lips he knows the answer.

Luke smiles, grabbing the back of your head and kissing your forehead.

He leans down to your ear, “I expect to hear you say it when I come back.”

With flashing lights scattering across the stage, the boys run out to the stage, big smiles gracing their faces for multiple reasons with adrenaline pumping through their veins. From backstage, you watch the show you a smile, feeling high from the brief but fulfilling confession.

It’s two hours later when the show ends. Your heart is pounding as you watch the crew celebrate the successful first show.

Luke pulls you away from the crowd, into the hallway and away from the noise.

“So it was true, what Rachel said?” Luke begins, his hand still holding yours as a shy smile forms.

“What did she say?”

He exhales air through his nose in a laugh, “She said you were in love with me, and that you were trying to break us up.”

You scoff, shaking your head as you look at your intertwined fingers. He squeezes your hand to get your attention.

“I doubt that last part, but the first part I’m hoping is true in a sense.”

Your eyes meet his, adoration swimming in them bringing a smile to your face, “There may be a strong crush I have on you,” you tease, “and it may or may not have turned into love.”

He laughs, letting go of your hand to wrap you in a hug. His head dips down, his forehead on your shoulder as he breathes in your scent. He moves slightly, whispering in your ear, “Say it.”

Your head rested against his chest, hearing his heart beat rapidly and rhythmically.

“I love you,” you whisper.

You feel him smile against your shoulder before he pulls away, his arms resting on your hips as he smiles down at you.

“If you’d like,” he begins, his tone timid now, “that place you like in Seattle has a new dish. It’s our next stop…” he drifts off, hoping you’d catch on to him asking you out.

You do, laughing at how he remembered yet another thing you seem to have forgotten. It was a themed restaurant that had some of the best food you’ve ever eaten, and for days you wouldn’t stop talking about it. But you never went back to it, even during breaks, but somehow he seemed to remember.

“Yes, Luke.”

You know the shock will hit you later that night, that finally the person you’ve fallen for, who happens to be your best friend, admitted his feelings to you. But you’re happy, Luke’s happy, and with the boys’ and crew’s reaction to the two of you walking back to the area where they’re celebrating, the happiness is infectious.

On the road in the tour bus, Ashton passes you as you respond to emails.

“Thanks for not shutting him out,” he says, drinking a small bottle of water from the fridge.

“Did you know?”

He shrugs, avoiding your eyes as he finishes the bottle and tosses it in the recycling bag. “Maybe,” he walks towards the back where the beds are, “maybe not.”

You shake your head, “You did.”

“Didn’t want to spoil it,” he gives you a quick hug before retreating to bed.

Luke walks out of the bathroom shortly after, taking his spot next to you.

“Go to bed,” you slightly shift your shoulder as he lays his head on it, “you need the rest.”

“No,” he mumbles, sleep lacing his tone, “feels like a dream. Don’t wanna wake up.”

You chuckle at his nonsense, finishing off the last email before shutting the laptop and placing it on the counter next to you. You adjust yourself on the couch to have Luke lay down with you. He readjusts himself so he doesn’t crush you, wrapping his arm around your waist and placing his head on your chest.

“I wish I had known before all the drama,” he mumbles again, eyes closed, “I want you in my life, always.”

He drifts off to sleep with that, a faint smile on his lips.

You know what made you fall in love with your best friend. You accept it now, and you’re at peace knowing the feeling is mutual.

[spongyllama]

😅 before perhaps I get anyones hopes up of a fic channeling the full spirit of this excellent discussion here, I would first like to say I absolutely wholeheartedly agree with all of you, with the entire contrast between sacrificing others and sacrificing yourself being the true heart of Star Wars for me, and though I’m a prequel girl through and through the moment where Vader sacrifices himself to save Luke is my favorite part of the best Star Wars movie and also fundamentally what it’s really all about for me. Anakin starting as, like you said, his mother’s son, doing absolutely anything he can to do to save Luke, including but not limited to ending almost 25 years of pain and suffering that he was deceived into by a poisonous wound of a man… and possibly going on a tangent here but the thing that draws me to Anakin in the first place is that shift from self-sacrifice, being corrupted and groomed into selfish maliciousness, and then reminded of what is important at the very end and falling back onto his original self-sacrificial nature…😙👌

Anyway, the fic in question deals in fact with sort of the opposite: what happens when someone DOES sacrifice you? Have you ever wondered what would happen if Padmé DID sacrifice Anakin in Shadow Warrior, on a fools hope that securing Grievous as a prisoner might bring about an end to the war, and indeed be for the greater good? The grief and self-loathing she would feel as she comes to terms with the consequences of her actions? As she mulls over all the same things that you all are saying about her right now, and how much she would regret it? And also…what might happen to Anakin if a certain Sith Lord operating in the shadows has a vested interest in keeping him around, no matter how much Dooku would probably love to do away with him? Well now you can find out in my 8 year old story Asylum lol

(Dramatic pitches aside I do of course think Padmé did the right thing in canon and I do fully agree that this is easily the best and most in character Anidala episode in the series. So often in canon they’re bickering or fighting over Clovis or their jobs keeping them apart, or they’re too busy to really have a romantic moment, but this one is just so sweet and I love it so much and while my fic could have existed without it, it’s so slept on and was the perfect jumping off point for a Winter Soldier AU, and now here I am)

Now being made into a podfic by the lovely @kittonafoxgirl

Padmé and Anakin (aka Senator and Jedi crime fighting husband and wife duo) being really cute in 4.4 “Shadow Warrior”

When I first watched this episode years ago, I thought it wasridiculous that the Gunguns could capture Grievous and that was the extent to which I thought about it - but then, I watched it again and it changed my entire perspective on Anakin and Padmé’s relationship. Honestly, it made me actually ship them after I hadn’t for a long time.

I just love the way they look at each other here. Usually when we see them in TCW, they’re busy putting on a show that they’re not together, or they’re arguing and when they’re done arguing they pretend that they hadn’t argued in the first place. But in this episode, they’re free to shoot each other loving smiles, they’re free to stop pretending that they’re not totally in love because the people of Naboo love Padmé and they love Anakin. And what’s more, this is the first time since The Phantom Menace that I get the sense that they’re actually friends and not just a couple, and that is such an important part of any relationship.

Padmé Amidala was faced with this horrible situation: to keep General Grievous, whose capture could have been a turning point in the war itself and would have almost certainly tipped the scale in favor of the Republic (at least for a little while), or to give Grievous up for Anakin because she couldn’t bear to let him go. And she chose Anakin. Say what you will about the ethics behind her decision, because they’re obviously questionable at best, but the way that she holds him at the end in front of everyone else makes me melt into a pile of Anidala-shipping goo.

This episode is really important to me and it’s also gorgeous in it’s coloring and voice acting and everything (and I not-so-secretly love Gunguns, plus Anakin gets electrocuted FIVE TIMES in this episode and who doesn’t love that? Well, Anakin doesn’t) and I just really wanted to say something about why I love it so much.

[thedeathdeelers]

Could I hold you for a lifetime?

22nd of July, 2023

11:55pm

They stand in each other’s arms in the middle of the studio, looking for all the world like nothing more than a sweet image of two people in love. If only their bitter reality were so simple.

Julie’s phone screen lights up from its place on the coffee table, alerting them to the 5-minute mark. The arms wrapped around her only hold onto her tighter, her face finding purchase in the soft fabric of his t-shirt as she snuggles closer to his chest. She can feel Luke burying his face deeper into her hair, his exhale leaving a trail of goose bumps behind.

It never gets easier.

“I wish we had more time,” she whispers, tilting her head up slightly to rest her chin against his sternum.

Luke’s arms briefly squeeze her tighter one more time before he loosens his hold, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with her.

“Me too,” is his anguished reply, his hand coming up from her lower back to gently cradle her cheek. “God Julie, me too.”

Julie sinks her cheek deeper into the palm of his hand, closing her eyes to relish in the sensation.

11:56pm

The phone screen lights up again: it’s the 4-minute mark.

Julie’s heart rate picks up slightly, her fingers holding onto the back of Luke’s t-shirt for dear life. She turns her head, shifting the position of her cheek in his hand just enough to press a kiss to the center of his palm. His fingers twitch in response.

“Jules…” Luke starts off, but she already knows with the weary tone of his voice where his mind was headed. They’ve had this talk so many times in the last few years, but no matter how hard he tries to argue his side, she knows he will never change her mind. He was it for her, no matter how complicated their situation was. And she tells him as much every single time.

But the last thing she wants to do in the remaining few minutes they have to themselves is to rehash this conversation.

She quickly shakes her head before he can continue, her cheek rubbing lightly against his calloused fingers. Pulling away from him, she withdraws her arms from around his waist in order to cup his face in her hands.

“Julie, I-“ he tries once more, only to be cut off again, this time by Julie pulling his head down towards her and capturing his lips with hers. He relents almost immediately, his arms at her waist pulling her impossibly closer to him.

11:57pm

Her phone lights up once more, this time accompanied by a quiet five second ringing.

A warning.

They break apart, resting their foreheads against each other, both breathing hard with their eyes closed.

Her hands migrate to the back of his neck, fingers sliding into his soft messy hair.

They had spent all day glued to each other, her fingers memorising the shape of his cheeks, the softness of his lips, the line of his jaw. They had caressed and tugged at his hair, and then trailed lines up and down his arms. They had doodled stars and hearts and lyrics onto his back, as he held her like she was the most precious thing in his universe.

She had not stopped touching him, nor he her.

And yet, it still wasn’t enough.

It never is.

11:58pm

The ringing is a little louder this time, harder to ignore.

Julie panics when she feels cold air rush in where Luke’s hands were resting on her back a second ago, snapping her eyes open only to find him watching her as he moves his hands to gently hold her face in his grasp. His eyes roam her features as they follow the movement of his thumbs swiping across her cheekbones, then slowly down her jaw line. He repeats the movement, a calming effect to her beating heart.

He knows her so well.

The familiar feeling of three particular words bubble up past her chest and slip to the tip of her tongue, bursting out of her.

“I love you.”

She watches as the light in his eyes shines a little brighter, a contrast to the change of pressure in his fingers and the sadness lingering in his lips as he tilts them up into a smile.

“You are my world Julie, you know that.”

Julie nods at his words, warmth filling her up on the inside, pushing at the rising anxiety that had settled in, uninvited. Luke leans in a little closer, pressing his lips against her forehead. She feels his breath tickle her skin as he hums into the crown of her head,

“I love you too.”

They stay that way for a while.

11:59pm

Their final warning rings loud and clear, Luke’s jaw clenching at the sound, his muscles underneath her fingers tensing.

Her hands slide down from his neck to his back, her fingernails scraping against the soft fabric of his t-shirt. And just like she knew he would, Luke relaxes at her touch, a small sigh escaping him. With a half-smile on her face, Julie repeats the motion, her hands going up and down his back, triggering Luke to shift his hands to their original position on her back, mirroring her actions.

They both try to savor the feel of each other as much as possible during the last full minute they have; slow comforting movements and soothing touches to counteract the rushed nature of the moment.

When her arms grow tired, Julie’s repositions her hands between Luke’s shoulder blades, holding onto his t-shirt and bunching the material between her fingers. She buries her face in his chest, pressing herself as close to him as she possibly can get.

Taking in a deep breath, Julie tries to commit the unique smell of Luke, of home, to memory.

A second later, she drops a kiss just above his dormant heart.

12:00am

Julie can feel the warmth beneath her fingers start to dissipate; the solid planes of Luke’s back softening, little by little. Her heart rate spikes while her breathing speeds up. She desperately tries to squeeze him tighter, only for her arms to phase through him by an inch.

Luke’s hands make their way back to her face, his touch feather light as he tries to coax her eyes open.

“Julie, please.”

At the soft pleading in his voice, Julie slowly opens her eyes as they immediately lock onto his. They stare at each other for a few seconds, before Luke lowers his face to hers, peppering kisses onto her cheeks, her forehead, her eyebrows; the corners of her lips. Her eyes slide shut once more, willing her mind to only focus on the brush of his lips against her skin.

Except when she succeeds, she starts to notice the pressure of each kiss administered to her skin decreasing as the seconds tick by, his touch becoming less and less tangible.

Luke’s lips finally come to rest against hers, hovering there for a moment. She scarcely feels them move when he whispers to her, low but certain:

“If the very last thing I get to feel before a year's worth of nothing are your lips against mine, then I know I can make it.”

At his words, he closes the distance between them one last time just as sensation of his skin against hers disappears.

Their time was up.

12:01am

They stare at each other, both of their gazes filled with the same heartbreaking sadness. His final statement rings true, loud and clear in the quiet darkness of the studio.

They’ve done this before, they can do it again.

“Me too,” comes her delayed response, a soft murmured truth.

12:02am

Clock reset: 12 months.

52 weeks.

365 days.

8760 hours.

525,598 minutes.

[annabethy]

42 ;)

#42 I’m going to save you from the terrible date you’re having,, percabeth

Annabeth’s sure her face looks incredibly pained right now as she stares her date in the eyes. She’s been on quite a few dates before. She thought she'd seen rock bottom by now, but no. This was rock bottom. Every two seconds her date was finding ways to insult her, and she was about one more comment from snapping.

“So, why did you decide to become an architect?” Luke asks. He leans forwards onto his elbows, and for once he looks genuinely interested by her answer. She truly doesn’t want to answer, but she knows that she’s stuck here for at least another hour if she doesn’t want to stoop to his level, so she doesn’t see any option other than to answer.

“I’ve just always been so interested by it,” Annabeth says, leaning forwards to match his stance. She smiles hesitantly when his eyes trail down the front v of her dress she had mistakenly decided to wear. She pauses for a few seconds, thinking maybe he’d have the decency to look away, but his eyes stay glued to her chest, prompting her to sit back up and pretend to scratch her neck just to block his view. “Ever since I was a little girl, I just wanted to be an architect, I guess.”

Luke clears his throat. “I can’t imagine why you’d ever want to do that though.”

“Uh—what?”

“Architecture is so… boring. Not only is it boring, but it’s for people that are good with math and have a big future ahead of them, and I just don’t get those vibes from you.”

Annabeth scoffs in his face.

“We’re both looking for something serious—“

“Never said that.”

“—so I’m going to be straight to the point. I want my wife to be someone there for me. I’ve a busy man, and I’m going to need your help so I can’t have you working your own job.”

Annabeth honestly didn’t think people like this actually existed. She’s met some despicable guys before; she was practically a magnet for them. But Luke had seemed like such a generous person, and she somehow thought that today would be enjoyable. She has never been more wrong.

“So what do you think?”

“I think…no?”

Luke furrows his eyebrows. “No?”

“Yeah, no.” She blinks at him, and she can tell that he expects a further explanation. She decides not to give him one.

“No one’s ever said no to me before.”

“Shocker.”

“What did I do wrong? It’s worked on a million girls before you.”

“Wow. A million. You sure know how to pick em.”

He stutters. “I just meant that girls love the idea of not having to work. You all want an easy life, and I’m offering you that.”

“I’m quite sure that no one wants that.”

“It’s a kind agreement.”

“It’s insulting is what it is,” Annabeth says. There’s a touch of humor in her voice because this could not actually be happening.

“I’ll make you an offer because I know that we both want this to work.”

Annabeth snorts.

“You can have a part time job.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes and straightens in her chair, ready to start scolding him loudly, not caring who hears, but before she gets the chance to, someone’s hand is settling onto her shoulder and squeezing. She jumps slightly, tilting her head back to see the person now standing directly behind her, and the face she recognizes but can’t quite pinpoint.

“Hey,” the guy says to Annabeth, looking as though he’s known her his whole life. “Sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to know what time you’d be home tonight.”

Annabeth blinks, her brain taking a minute to catch up with his words. “What time I’ll be home?”

Luke raises an eyebrow in what he thinks is a threatening manner. “I was in the middle of something here.”

“I just wanted to talk to my wife really quick,” the guy says, and Annabeth is sent reeling.

“Wife?” Luke asks weakly.

“Wife,” he repeats surely, smiling widely. He turns to Annabeth. “Also, dear, will you be bringing him home with you? Has he agreed?”

She’s about to open her mouth and state her confusion, but then the guy is winking at her when Luke glances away, and she suddenly gets his drift. “He’s getting there.”

Luke tilts his head like a lost puppy. “Getting where? I’m not getting anywhere with both of you.”

“Huh?” Annabeth pouts. “You said that you were serious about this though.”

“About what?” Luke looks thoroughly scared to hear the answer. Annabeth isn’t entirely sure of the answer herself so she looks to the guy with his hand still on her shoulder for guidance.

The guy clears his throat. “Threesome.”

To his credit, Annabeth thinks he looks quite disgusted with his own words.

“What the fuck?” Luke asks. He’s beginning to lean back in his chair, a precarious position.

“That’s what I was trying to tell you!” Annabeth says brightly. She pats the guy’s hand. “I wasn’t looking for a partner — I was looking for someone willing to help my husband and I. I love him, but after five years, it gets pretty boring if you know what I mean.”

The guy gasps. “We are not boring!”

“Then why are we looking for a threesome?” Annabeth challenges.

“Adventure?”

“No.” She turns to Luke. “You in or out?”

“Literally,” Percy adds.

Luke’s eyes go wide as he looks between her and the guy. He appears to be contemplating his existence, and Annabeth is very proud of the image her and this stranger have created. “Are you serious?”

Annabeth nods expectantly.

“Yeah, I don’t think this is going to work,” he says. He wastes no time before he’s gathering his stuff and practically running out, not even glancing over his shoulder to wave goodbye. Annabeth watches him go, surprised that it had actually worked. The two of them hadn’t exactly given an Oscar worthy performance.

The guy’s eyes trail after Luke until he’s out the door, and then he’s sliding down into the empty seat across from her a few moments later. Annabeth smirks as they stare at each other until he breaks the silence.

“So,” he starts, “you looked like you were getting stuck there. Thought you could use some help.”

She laughs. “And that’s what you thought of?”

“I didn’t really think about it before I set the plan in motion.”

“You should probably start thinking things through before you actually end up in a threesome…” She trails off in a silent question of his name.

“My own wife doesn’t even know my name,” he says, laughing and holding a hand out over the table. “I’m Percy.”

“Annabeth,” she returns. For the first time, she takes a moment to really look at him. Her breath catches slightly on his eyes that were a sparkling green. The crooked smile he was giving her made his face seem brighter in the dim lighting of the restaurant, and the quick flick of his eyes made her flush with heat.

“So, Annabeth, was I correct in assuming he was the devil reincarnate?”

“Painfully so.”

Percy chuckles, lacing his hands together in front of him and resting his chin on them. When he speaks, it’s gentle, for just the two of them. “Oh god. What did he say?”

“He wanted me to stay home and take care of his babies, or some shit.”

“Men,” he says, disgusted.

“You’re one to talk.”

“Yeah, but I like to think I’m different.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“Well, for starters, it seems that I’m the one on a date with you.”

“Is that what this is?”

“You tell me.” His eyes are dark but calm. She can tell that he won’t get upset if she rejects him. The way he composed himself was already a big contrast from the way Luke did. He kept his eyes on her face and his hands away from her. He gave her space — she was the one in control, and it was for her to decide what she wants to do.

“I couldn’t say,” she settles for, choosing to push him further. To see how he reacts. “You’re sitting in the middle of a fancy restaurant with me, but why are you here in the first place? Where’s your date?”

“Would you believe me if I said that I work here?”

She looks him up and down. He’s not dressed badly, but it’s by no means work attire. “Not a chance.”

“Well, I do. Kinda.” Percy chews on his lower lip. “I don’t work here, but I’m here all the time. It’s sort of my mom’s restaurant?”

“Wow,” Annabeth says, impressed. “A man who can cook.”

“I’m better with pastries, but I get by.” Percy chuckles. “But no, there’s no other girls in the picture.”

She notices that the smile hasn’t left Percy’s face for one second, and she has to admit she’s never been this intrigued by someone she’s just met before. Something in the back of her head tells her to use her common sense, but she’s been doing that all her life and it still ended with her on a date with Luke. She figures it couldn’t hurt to live a little for once.

“I don’t know how to cook,” she warns, “or pick my men, apparently.”

“It’s your lucky day! I can teach you how to cook, and this is, of course, for you to decide, but I think I’d be an awesome choice of yours.”

Her stomach flutters. “You might just have to prove it, then.”

“I can do just that,” he promises.

“So when’s this first date, then?”

“Did we not settle that this was an impromptu date?”

“You seem desperate.”

“You’re cute,” is all he says.

“I don’t think we want to start something where Luke was first,” she explains, fighting back the blush she can feel creeping up her neck. She grins at his appalled expression.

“You’re so right.”

“How about you teach me to cook for our first date?”

Percy brightens. “Now that I can do.”

And so she grabs her stuff, and he grabs his. He ends up dismissing her check, and when she tries to protest and put some cash down, he takes her hand in his and laces their fingers together instead. He had a gleam in his eyes, and Annabeth would be lying if she said she wasn’t excited.

They spend hours together in the kitchen, cooking everything Percy could think of. She almost burns his apartment down a few times, but he takes it in stride. The cookies come out warm and gooey, and it might be the best thing she’s ever made. By the time it reaches midnight, Annabeth is covered head to toe in flour and his lips are against hers. She doesn’t mind one bit.

[stxrrywildflower]

for better or for worse (1)

pairing - spencer reid x reader

summary - when the people they love the most are kidnapped and ripped out of their hands, the bau does everything they can to get them back before it turns dire

warnings - mentions of case, angst

series masterlist

“please head home and get some rest! we’ve had a long couple of weeks and you all deserve a night off,” emily called from the catwalk.

it was one of the rare days the bau team worked an actual 9 to 5. they would be able to go home at night to their respective families at a fairly normal hour instead of the messed up ones due to traveling.

the bullpen was a rush, everyone packing up quickly so they could leave as soon as possible.

“j.j.! any plans for tonight?” coverstion between the agents bounced around easily.

“homework duty and just sitting back and relaxing with my boys,” the blonde agent replied, “how about you rossi?”

“cooking lesson,” the italian man spoke.

the team all looked towards the senior agent. “and we weren’t invited?”

rossi threw his hands up in defense. “hey, there’s always a spot open at my table,” he offered. luke huffed, the thought of italian food already making him hungry.

“alright luke. since you seem to be complaining a lot, what are you doing?”

luke grinned, leaning into garcia slightly. “just relaxing with my two favorite girls,” he answered.

“aw luke! we’re not going to be there tonight,” tara grinned. “sorry ladies, penelope and roxy are all i’ll be with tonight.”

“well leslie and i are just going to watch reruns of jeopardy and nurse a bottle of wine,” tara announced.

“same with me and kristy,” matt agreed.

“spencer?”

“date night,” the genius smiled. matt made mock kissy faces towards spencer. “have fun with y/n,” emily quickly butted in.

“how about you em? you’ve been working extra hard recently. how are you unwinding?”

the unit chief laughed. “i’m taking keely shopping. i promised we would go and tonight just happens to work.”

garcia scoffed, “ugh i’m so jealous.” luke huffed at that. “what? me and roxy aren’t good enough?”

laughter echoed through the room. the team bid their final goodbyes to each other, all eager to head home before they would have to be back again early the next morning. it was incredibly relieving to have the night off for once.

you looked up from your desk to see spencer walk in, suit jacket tossed over his shoulder and bag in hand. his sleeves were rolled up to his elbow too, curls falling on his forehead. “hi sweetheart,” he mused.

“oh my god you’re actually home,” you exclaimed, jumping up to greet him with a kiss to the cheek.

the two of you didn’t pull away, his hands holding your middle while yours rested in the crook of his arm. “i made you a promise didn’t i? i was going to be home so we could actually have a night to ourselves and i promised to follow through.”

“yeah you did,” you replied with a grin. “i was just afraid you were going to get an emergency case and have to leave immediately.”

“i’m guessing that explains why you aren’t ready yet,” spencer commented, motioning down to your outfit of leggings and a sweatshirt. “hey last time i got dolled up you were called out to tennessee. can you blame me for not wanting to waste an hour getting ready?” spencer chuckled at that. “well tonight we can actually go out, no interruptions.”

with one final kiss to your lips, spencer pushed you towards your room to get ready for your date.

you were ready pretty soon if that, clothes were already layed out and hair and makeup didn’t take long. spencer remained in his work clothes as they were formal enough.

“well let me just say it was worth the wait,” spencer spoke when you appeared once again in the living room, heels clicking on the hardwood floor. you scrunched your nose at the compliment, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “thank you.”

“i’m ready to go when you are,” you announced. spencer finished slipping the final things, just his wallet and phone, into his pockets before taking your hand in his. “let’s head out, i really don’t want to miss our reservations.”

at the restaurant, you were shown to your table almost immediately. after ordering drinks, you decided what to order on the menu before setting it down.

conversation eased easily between the two of you. thankfully, you kept the topic off of work. spencer’s phone buzzed on the able and for a split second, you panicked thinking it was work. thankfully, it was just the team in their groupchat.

“hey look, the team is all sending pictures of their night off,” spencer spoke, handing you his phone. you, in turn, scrolled through the messages.

there was garcia and roxy, all curled up on the couch in comfy clothes ready to watch a movie. leslie was in front of the tv, holding a glass of wine. kristy’s photo was almost the same, though the show was different. there was keely in front of a store, shopping bags in hand. will was next, michael situatiated on his lap as they worked through some homework. and finally was krystall who was cooking over the stove.

“alright now it’s your turn,” spencer held your his phone to take a picture. you smiled at the camera, the restaurant as your background. “and sent, no more distractions for the rest of the night.”

you took a sip out of your wine glass before raising it up. “amen to that,” you said as the two of you clinked glasses.

dinner was perfect, the restaurant never disappointing as it was one of your favorites. you took your time heading home, savoring the time you were together. but finally, you did arrive back at your apartment.

you kissed him goodnight, letting your lips linger for a little longer. “i love you,” you spoke.

spencer leaned down to kiss you once more. “i love you too,” he confirmed.

he went home with a smile on his face.

the following morning at work, the mood was a lot different.

“hey have any of you seen penelope?” luke asked. “i brought her lunch but i can’t find her anywhere. she’s not in her office either.”

“aw lukie! look at you being a good boyfriend,” j.j. mused, ruffling luke’s hair. a grin found its way to the agents face. “but no, i haven’t seen her yet. weren’t you two together last night?”

“yeah but she went back to her place,” luke explained.

emily’s phone was the first to ring.

the unit chief didn’t bother looking at the caller i.d. and instead hit answer right away. “hello?”

“emily? do you know where my dad is? he’s supposed to drive me to school today but isn’t in the house. i’ve tried his cell and he hasn’t answered but i don’t know if he had to go into work early and was just going to leave and get me,” keely rushed out.

all the blood seemed to rush out of emily’s face. first penelope and now andrew. it couldn’t be a coincidence that both of them weren’t where they should be.

“hey, i’m going to call you out of the school today. i’ll send an agent down to pick you up and bring you to the bau. can you pack a bag?” emily asked. keely replied with a simple, “yes” before the two hang up.

“anderson!” emily called.

as the agent was briefed on his mission, matt and j.j.’s phone rang at almost the exact same time, both from their individual schools. j.j. bit her knuckle, a sign that the news was less then good.

“will was supposed to drop the kids off at school today. neither of them showed up,” the blonde agent announced. matt ran his hand through his hair, similar results on his end as well. kristy was supposed to do the same as will, though she didn’t show up either.

emily stopped anderson from leaving, adding on new orders to stop by the jareau and simmons homes after getting keeli. anderson agreed, leaving with matt to go get the kids.

“leslie isn’t answering her phone,” tara stayed. rossi quickly added on, “‘neither is krystall.���

spencer desperately hoped that his own phone wouldn’t ring. but it did, the obnoxious ringtone blaring in his pocket. “hello?” he answered weakly.

your friend/boss was on the other line. he was down as your emergence contact, hence why she had his number. “hey spencer, y/n didn’t call out sick from work today and hasn’t showed up. do you know anything?”

“yeah y/n’s sick,” he lied, not quite sure what to say other then that. “i’m not quiet sure when she’ll be better though.”

“alright send her my best. she’s got a lot of sick days so just don’t rush her return. thanks again.”

spencer remained silent, trying to process that fact that your fate was matching the others.

“everyone go to their apartments or homes. there’s no way all seven of them just disappeared. j.j., you and i will stay here. anderson will let us know if anything is missing,” emily commanded. “we’ll regroup in thirty minutes.”

the team all left in a rush. a record could have been set for the number of traffic laws broken on their individual drives.

spencer parked his car as quickly as possible. he yanked the keys out of ignition, fumbling with them until your apartment key was in his hand.

inside your apartment was as clean as it was yesterday. the only thing out of place was your coffee mug in the sink, already finished and just waiting to be washed. other than that, almost nothing was different.

the table was what captivated spencer’s attention. a present was sitting in the center, looking extremely out of place in contrast to the rest of your home. spencer didn’t have time to investigate, needing to alert emily.

with the box in hand, he left the apartment once more to drive back to the bau.

anderson and matt arrived just minutes after the rest of the team. henry and keely were walking in the own, the older girl keeping an eye on him. michael was situated on anderson’s back, looking more then joyed to be getting a piggyback ride. matt has rosemary tucked firmly in his arms, baby carrier by his side while david, jake, chloe, and lily all followed.

rossi releaved the younger agent by taking the youngest out of his hands. “i’ll take the carrier and put her down in my office,” he offered. matt thanked him quietly, keeping his eyes in the other kids while the senior agent headed up to the catwalk.

emily and j.j. went up to her own office, letting keely and the two boys sit in there. “we’re going to find your dad,” emily reassured the young girl. keely managed to muster a smile, relaxing further into the plush chair behind the desk.

while anderson took matt’s kids down to morgan’s old office, the team headed up to the conference room.

“alright,” emily started. “did any of you find anything?”

the room was quiet as everyone dug through their individual bags. seven identical boxes were pulled out, white squares with red ribbon.

“i haven’t opened it yet,” spencer revealed. the others agreed, all to nervous to see what was inside. emily and j.j. frowned, anderson had given them the same two items upon return.

with shaky hands, spencer was the first one to tug at the string. the four sides fell back with ease, only the top remained. the genius pulled the top off, eyes brows immediately furrowing with confusion.

inside was a phone, more specifically your own cell phone. the screen was cracked, making the screen almost impossible to see. the greatest concern was the blood on the back.

spencer held down the power button for a moment, the white apple start up screen flashing back at him. your usual background, a photo of you and him at one of rossi’s dinner parties, was replaced with a black screen. upon further inspection, the word ‘love’ was in dark letters.

“mine says love,” luke announced, holding up penelope’s usual sparkly iphone. “mine too,” tara agreed. everyone else pushed the phones towards the center, all cracked, all with a bit of blood, and all with the word ‘love’ on the lock screen.

it was like you had all vanished.

you were gone. and the team had absolutely no idea where any of you went.

☆ ☆ ☆

tags - @zozoleesi @emilyxprentiss @spencerreidfanatic00 @mrs-dr-reid @irjuejjsaa @ogmilkis @sageellesworth05 @mortallythoughtfulgurl @brainyreid @ah-blossom @kissessforharryyy @ssareidbby @spencersglasses @spenciepoo338

[ificanthaveu]

Last Name || Calum Hood

Description: The bold line you’ve drawn between what you do and who you work for gets blurred when Calum Hood comes into the picture. Old habits die hard. 

A/N: Ahhh!! My first Calum fic! My first non-Shawn fic! I had this idea circulating for a while and finally committed to writing it and am absolutely in love with how it turned out. I hope you all love it!! also big shoutout to @cal-puddies​ because i’ve been binge reading her Calum fics which have been making me feel some typa way and ended up writing this because of it

Word Count: 6.8 k

These events were prime real estate for you. 

You bounced around from group to group of people dressed like they were CEOs. Pantsuits and business dresses, polished dress shoes, and stilettos that could kill. Looks that could do the same. 

The American Music Awards after-party was one of the few times of the year where you could meet the bodies behind the artists. The people that got them places on time, scheduled their tours, and recorded their music. 

Your goal, as always, was to get just a few more of them to add you on LinkedIn and remember your name when a new opportunity came up that was in your wheelhouse. 

The divide in the party was clear. A direct line between the faces and the nobodies. The artists and the personnel. 

This was typical, but tonight, something felt off. 

You felt the eyes burning in your back from across the room. You weren’t used to stares from the other side, only getting looks of acknowledgment from people near you. 

But you ignored it, knowing your goal was more important than some stuck up artist who thought your ass looked great in those pants and wanted to take you home tonight. 

So you introduced yourself to Camila Cabello’s manager and prayed whoever this was would give up and find someone else. 

He asked you about your current project, and you gladly explained it to him in detail, still trying to shake the chills down your back. 

When he turned to say a quick hello to someone who walked by, you took the opportunity to scan the room to find the culprit, but he was back to your conversation just when you thought you met someone’s eyes. 

“Excuse me,” you heard someone say as he brushed past you, his hand grazing across your back as he made his way to the bar.\

You turned around to watch his back as he walked away. You knew who it was. But you turned back to your current conversation and prayed he’d still be at the bar once you were done here. 

Once you excused yourself after he got distracted, you took the opportunity to go after the man who was sending chills down your body. 

He could hear the steady, incessant clicking of your heels from a mile away, and the smirk on his face only grew as he knew his risky stunt worked. 

“Mr. Hood,” you said as you leaned against the bar and signaled for the bartender before turning towards him. You smiled the same smile that got you jobs and said, “It’s great to finally meet you.”

“Ah, so you know me, but I’m afraid I don’t know you,” he said, looking at you as he took a sip of his drink. 

The bartender handed you a glass of white wine before you turned towards his lingering gaze. 

“I don’t expect you to,” you said before sitting on the stool. 

He followed suit and sat down as well. 

“I don’t expect those people to know me,” you said gesturing to the other side of the room. “However, I’d like to think a good chunk of these people do.”

You crossed one leg over the other, turning your stool to face him as he gave you a confused look. 

“That didn’t really answer my question.”

“You didn’t ask a question. You just stated you didn’t know who I was.”

“I guess so,” he said, your confidence only making him more intrigued. 

“I’m [Y/N],” you said, sticking your hand out like a business deal. 

He shook it, and you felt shocks shoot up your arm. 

“Great to meet you,” he said. 

“You as well.”

“So, how do you know me?” He pried. 

“Well, I’ve been a fan for a while, since before I ended up doing this,” you said, gesturing to the crowd. 

“Was I your favorite?” He asked, a smirk adorning his face again. 

You laughed before taking a sip, your reaction leaving him on the edge of his seat. 

“I’ve always been an Ashton girl,” you said, a small smile breaking through. 

“Ouch,” he said, his hand resting on his chest. “He does have a girlfriend.”

“Didn’t think I had a chance anyway,” you said through a laugh. 

“I may know another member though that might be interested,” he tested. 

“Hm,” you started. “I thought Luke also had a girlfriend?”

He shook his head at you, downing the rest of his drink. 

You glanced around the room quickly, noticing the signs of many of these people attempting to leave. 

“You’re good, I’ll give you that,” he said softly. 

“I know,” you said through a smirk. “Well, Mr. Hood, I should be going.”

“Can I get your number? And perhaps a last name?” He asked before you turned away. 

“You can get one of those things,” you said as you took the phone out of his outstretched hand, typing your number in, leaving just your first name as the contact. 

“Well, [Y/N], you’ll hear from Michael soon, he might be looking for a side chick,” Calum said, tucking his phone away. 

You let yourself laugh at that one, shaking your head before pushing yourself off the stool. 

“Perfect, he was always my second favorite.”

“Are you saying I’m in the bottom half?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

With that, you walked away, feeling his eyes burn on your back once again as you beelined it towards Kelsea Ballerini’s newest manager. 

It wasn’t even twelve hours later when a text from an unknown number popped up on your screen. 

Your roommate Tayshia grabbed it before you had a chance. 

“‘Can I take you out tonight?’ Who the hell is this?” She said, turning the screen towards you. 

You snatched it out of her hands and tucked it in your bag. 

“It’s nothing,” you said quickly. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re doing this again,” she said, rubbing her forehead. 

“I’m not doing anything,” you called from the kitchen as you grabbed a granola bar and a protein shake before you had to go to your meeting. 

You looked up, and she was leaning against the doorframe, a knowing look on you face.

“Who is it this time?” She asked. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” you said through a sigh, throwing your bag over your shoulder and walking to the door. 

You opened it and leaned in once more, looking at her. 

“It’s Calum Hood,” you rushed out. 

“What? Are you joking?” She yelled. 

“I really wish I was,” you said, resting your head on the open door. 

“You’re blurring a very bold line here,” she reminded you. “This could destroy your career if you aren’t careful.”

“Don’t worry, it’ll last two dates max. You know me. I have things to do. See you later,” you rushed out before shutting the door. 

You pulled out your phone once in the elevator, staring at the text. 

Before you had a chance to respond another text popped up. 

This is Calum by the way. I assumed you’d know, but maybe you have other guys also trying to win your affection? I would never know since all I know is your first name. 

You shook your head and fought the smile as the elevator opened, and you tucked your phone away once again. 

You made it to your meeting with a minute to spare, taking out your things before typing a quick response to Calum, sending him your address. 

And now you have my address, pick me up at 7. 

— 

Your new floral dress flowed as you looked frantically around your apartment for your favorite heels. 

“Tay,” you yelled. “Where are my light blue heels?”

Her hand shot out of her room with the pair dangling from her hands. 

You grabbed them just as a knock came from the door. 

Tayshia peaked out of her room and looked at the door. 

“Your latest mistake awaits,” she said as she gestured dramatically to the door. 

“Save it,” you said before shutting her in her room. 

You opened the door to see Calum standing there with his hands tucked into his pockets. 

To say you took his breath away was an understatement. 

The dress you were wearing and the sparkling smile on your face were a stark contrast to the dark blue pantsuit and fake smile you had on the night before. 

“Come in,” you said before shutting the door behind him. 

You leaned against the fridge as you pulled your shoes on and grabbed your purse. 

“What’s the plan, Hood?” You asked as you looked at him. 

He shrugged, leaning against the island. 

“There’s a small open-air wine bar downtown that has live music tonight,” he said. “However, you can’t use it as a networking event.”

You rolled your eyes at him before following him out the door. 

“I only network at work events, and last night was a work event,” you reminded him. 

“And where do you work again?” He asked, leading you out to his car. 

“Not important,” you said, climbing into the front seat. 

He shut the door behind you, shaking his head in confusion. 

His hand found his way to the bottom of your back as you walked into the bar, leading you towards a standing table near the edge. 

You waited there, responding to frantic texts from Tayshia as Calum grabbed drinks. 

He set your wine in front of you, taking a sip of his own. 

“Didn’t see you as a wine guy?” You pointed out. 

“Well, this is a wine bar, so they have approximately two different beers. I also felt like they’d judge me if I ordered anything but wine,” he said.

“I believe it. We have a place like this back home, just a few blocks from my parents’ house, and I asked for a beer. If looks could kill…” you trailed off. 

“Where’s home?” He asked. 

“New York,” you said. “As in New York, New York, middle of the city, New York.”

“Ah,” he said with a nod of his head. “Had to clarify?” He questioned, a smirk appearing on his face again. 

You shrugged while taking a drink. 

“Some people say New York and mean some suburb four hours away. It’s not the same,” you explained. 

He didn’t have time to respond as the first band introduced themselves. He took this opportunity to join you on your side of the table with the excuse that he wanted to see better. 

His arm brushed against yours, and goosebumps rose instantly. 

This wasn’t supposed to be happening. 

You pushed that thought to the back of your head as you let yourself lean into him just enough for him to notice. 

He didn’t move from that spot for the rest of the night, even when the bands were done. 

Your hand grazed his arm along the table as you told him about your first college party. 

The look he gave you while you spoke, the complete intrigue and adoration in his eyes, would stick with you far longer than you were willing to admit. 

As it got darker outside and you started getting looks as the waitresses were trying to close up, Calum’s eyes met yours and gestured with his head to the door. 

You followed him out, this time with your hand tangled in his. 

“I’ll be honest, I don’t want tonight to end just yet,” he said as you walked to the car. 

“Looks like we can agree,” you replied. 

He squeezed your hand before dropping it as you both got into his car. 

“Where to?” You asked, leaning your elbow on the center council. 

He leaned back in his seat as he started the car. 

“I’m trying to not have this sound suggestive, but would you like to come back to my place?” He asked. 

By the soft look on his face, you knew he was being honest, so you nodded your head. 

You didn’t expect to fall asleep on his couch, limbs tangled together after talking all night. 

Your phone ringing snapped you out of your sleep, the arm around your waist weighing heavier than just the body weight. 

You glanced at the contact displayed across your screen and stood up quickly, hitting answer and stepping outside on his balcony. 

You paced back and forth as you spoke to your client on the other line, the sweatpants of Calum’s dragging along the cement. 

Calum woke up moments later, rubbing his eyes and glancing around. 

The panic left him as he saw you on the balcony. Your eyes met his through the glass, and you sent him a smile of reassurance and a mouthed “sorry.”

He waved you off before going to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. 

He heard your feet patter across the floor before you came through the doorway and joined him in the kitchen, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“Sorry about that,” you apologized before grabbing the mug waiting for you. 

“Work?” He asked. 

You simply nodded your head, checking the time before shaking your head. 

“I have to meet with him earlier than expected, so I do have to get going,” you said as his arm wrapped around your waist. 

“Leaving so soon?” He asked with a puffed out lip. 

You took the opportunity to press a long kiss to his lips before pulling away and collecting your things. 

“I’ll take you home,” he said as he handed you your shoes. “When can I see you again?”

“Whenever you want to,” you said, pulling on your dress and slipping on your shoes. 

“Tonight?” he asked with a sleepy smile. 

You ignored the butterflies and nodded your head. 

“I have an event, but I should be done by 10:00. We can just hang out at my place if that’s ok?” You suggested. 

“Sounds perfect.”

He dropped you off in front of your apartment complex after a quick kiss and a promise to see him tonight. 

You leaned against your door after you shut it, closing your eyes for a moment and living in the post-date bliss. 

“What are you getting yourself in to?” You whispered to yourself. 

“I second that,” Tayshia said as she appeared out of nowhere. “Not very you to stay over on the first date.”

“I know,”  you said through a sigh. 

“[Y/N], what are you doing?” she asked for what felt like the millionth time. “You’re going to hurt the poor guy.”

“I’m not going to hurt him, maybe this one won’t be like the others,” you defended. 

“You can’t promise me that.”

You paused, leaning against the wall. 

“You’re right. I can’t.”

As promised, you saw Calum that night. And the next night. And the one after that. 

You ignored all of Tayshia’s warnings as well as the ones in the pit of your own stomach. 

The minutes ticked by quickly and with every moment you spent with him, you forgot about any responsibilities you had. 

Your meetings grew more often, your bags beginning to be packed, and flights and hotel rooms booked. 

You dodged every question he had about the ample amount of meetings you were in. 

You sat on your couch, alone with a glass of wine, staring at your suitcases hidden in the alcove by your front door, a plant and a prayer placed in front of them that he wouldn’t notice.

Before you thought too much, a knock sounded, and you greeted Calum with a kiss, tugging him in to join you on the couch. 

You spent the night entangled in his arms for the twelfth night straight. You ignored every call, text, and email as you tried to forget your obligations, instead losing yourself in the way Calum kissed the top of your head and whispered in your ear.  

With the excuse that you had an early morning meeting, you managed to get him out of your apartment without spending the night. 

You walked him out to his car, and when he kissed you goodbye, you kissed him a moment longer than usual, holding him a little tighter. 

“See you tomorrow?” He questioned as he got in. 

You swallowed hard and nodded your head.

“Tomorrow,” you said with a soft smile. 

You leaned in his car, pressing one more kiss to his lips before watching him pull away. 

You sat on the ledge outside your complex and begged your tears not to fall. 

You’ve done this before. You’ve done this many times before. You’ll get over it. 

Tayshia was waiting for you when you got back inside. 

“Did you tell him?” She asked, her arms crossed sternly across her chest. 

“I never do,” you said quietly. 

“I thought this one was different.”

“He is,” you choked out. “That’s what makes this so hard.”

Tayshia softened immediately and pulled you into a hug as you cried against her shoulder. 

“Whatever is meant to be, will be,” she reminded you. “Time and distance don’t really matter.”

And that’s what you kept repeating to yourself as you boarded your flight, ignoring Calum’s text asking you what time he could pick you up.

Calum checked his phone periodically throughout the day, expecting a response as quickly as you usually did. 

After spending some time in the studio, he had a rare moment alone. 

And he thought about you. 

He hadn’t felt this way about someone in forever, and he couldn’t think about you without smiling. 

He absolutely adored you. 

So when you didn’t respond all day, he brushed it off. You’d been busy lately, and he understood that. 

Granted he didn’t know why. 

Granted he knew almost everything about you except anything about your job or your last name. Which he thought was weird since those were the two things you told someone. 

But he brushed it off. 

As you watched the final rehearsal, you looked down at your phone to see a second text from Calum. 

It’s ok if tonight doesn’t work, I know you’ve been busy. Keep kicking ass, sweetheart. 

You took a deep breath, trying to forget about him as you focused on your task at hand. 

“You good?” Louis asked as he sat on the edge of the stage, taking a drink of water. 

You nodded your head, leaning against the stage next to him.

“Yeah, what about you? Feeling good about all of this?” You asked. 

“It’s perfect. You’ve outdone yourself again,” he said as he patted your shoulder before standing up and walking away. 

You released your breath and shook out your tense arms. 

You’d forget about him soon. 

Calum woke up the next morning alone for the first time in nearly two weeks. He checked his phone immediately with still no word from you. 

He clicked over to Instagram, scrolling mindlessly as you were the only thing he could think of. 

Which is why he was sure he imagined you in the picture he scrolled past. 

But he paused, scrolled back up, and looked again. 

It was a basic picture, a woman leaning against the stage and a man sitting on the edge talking to her. 

Except the woman was you. 

And the man was Louis Tomlinson. 

And the caption was “Tour starts tonight! Another perfect one put together by my amazing team, but especially this one right here, @yourusername.”

He stared at the post far longer than he probably should have, but still not long enough for everything to fully click. 

You just left on tour. 

You didn’t even say goodbye. 

He clicked over to your profile, learning your last name and your occupation within half a second. 

[Y/N] [Y/L/N]. Tour manager. 

His eyes wandered down farther to read your short and sweet bio. 

“Always on tour.”

It was that simple sentence that sent him over the edge, throwing his phone across the room and ignoring the cracking sound in favor of tugging at his hair and praying he didn’t see what he just did. Praying he didn’t actually see glimpses of pictures of you with artists on tour and that dazzling smile on your face that he thought only he knew. 

The next two weeks went by in a hazy blur as he spent most of his time in the studio trying to channel what he felt into something useful but with little luck.

He sat in the same spot, plucking the same three chords and thinking about you.

“Alright, what the hell is up with you?” Ashton snapped. 

Calum glanced up at him and sighed, setting his bass to the side. 

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s clearly not nothing, you’ve said five words in the past two weeks,” Ashton pointed out. 

“I was seeing someone,” he said softly.

“And you didn’t tell us?” Luke said, the confusion evident.

“I just felt really good about this one, and I didn’t wanna jinx it,” he mumbled as he ran his hands over his face.

“Clearly that didn’t work,” Michael chimed in. 

“Yeah, no shit,” he snapped.

“Who was she?” Ashton asked.

“Her name’s [Y/N],” he paused. “[Y/N] [Y/L/N].”

“That sounds familiar,” Luke said slowly.

“She’s Louis Tomlinson’s tour manager. Along with like a million other artists.”

They all went silent, well aware that Louis just left on tour a few weeks ago.

“Yeah, but you knew that was coming right?” Ashton tried to reason.

“No, I didn’t,” Calum snapped. “She never told me her last name. Never told me her occupation. Never told me where she worked. Never told me why she was really at the AMAs that night. And then she left. She just fucking left. Without telling me. Without saying goodbye. And I haven’t heard from her since.”

The room went silent again as no one knew what to say. Calum leaned forward and ran his hands over his face and sighed. 

Someone began a different conversation, back to the song they’d been working on as Calum continued to wallow. 

“Just go see her if you’re going to keep doing this,” Ashton snapped. “You can find out where she is with a Google search.”

Calum stayed silent and just stared at him. 

“Ok,” Calum said as he stood up and started grabbing his things. 

“You’re serious?” Luke said.

“Dead serious, see you guys soon,” he said before leaving. 

A quick Instagram search told him Louis had a show tonight in Denver, and he was on the first flight there, despite protests from every person who found out he was going. 

He stood outside the arena for longer than initially intended. He glanced at his phone to see that people would be let in in thirty minutes. He was able to pull some strings and get in before then. 

He went in through a back door and wandered into the empty arena. The general admission area was bustling with stagehands and security as they prepared. 

He stood near the back as he watched multiple people sprint around before he heard the obvious clicking of your heels.

You walked right past him, jogging towards someone in the booth with a tablet in your hand, talking quickly and pointing at different things. 

The soft version of you he fell for a few weeks ago seemed to be long gone in replace for the woman he met at the AMAs. 

You had a blazer on and skinny black pants that hugged you in all the right ways. Your black stilettos looked like they could kill him if you wanted to. 

The concert shirt underneath the blazer was different but expected. 

As he watched you interact with multiple people on your team with a stark smile and too much pointing, he felt himself hesitate. 

What was he even doing here?

You left. 

You left him without a goodbye. There could be a reason, but frankly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear it, scared it would only hurt more. 

So he turned quickly and walked out the same way he came in. 

As you finished talking to the person in charge of one of the cameras, you heard the patter of feet walking away relatively quickly. 

You turned around to see someone with dark hair and hunched shoulders in the distance walking out, but you brushed it off to just be someone from the arena and went back to your task at hand. 

You’d been on tour for two weeks now and had everything down to a science. Everyone knew what they were doing and there were even rare moments where you just got to sit and watch for a song or two. 

You admired how passionate so many of the fans were as they belted out every word to every song without missing a beat. 

You stood backstage and waited for Louis to come running off. The same as every show, he gave you a big hug before high fiving everyone else near. You joined him in his dressing room as always to go over anything that went wrong. 

You sat on the chair in the corner of his room with some notes on your tablet, before you could say anything, he spoke up. 

“Do you know who I heard was here?” He said. 

You didn’t bother looking up at him as you said, “Who?”

“Calum Hood.”

You felt your heart drop to your feet as you looked up at him, knowing he knew nothing of what happened just weeks ago. 

“I’m just confused why he didn’t come to say hi or even stay for the show. Stacey said she saw him hang around for a little bit before the show and then suddenly just leave,” Louis said with a shrug. 

You wiped your hands over your face and took a deep breath, knowing you couldn’t keep avoiding this. 

But you were going to keep trying. 

So you swallowed hard before reading your notes. 

Calum was on the first flight back to LA, but he was in no hurry to see anyone. He sat in his car in the airport parking lot for a lot longer than necessary, occasionally resting his head on the steering wheel. 

He shouldn’t have gone in the first place, but now he was regretting why he left when you were just feet away from him. 

He found himself driving the familiar route to your apartment and banging on the door. 

Tayshia swung the door open and her eyes went wide at the person standing there. 

“Calum,” she said softly. “Uh, come in.”

He came inside, leaning against their kitchen counter with his head in his hands. 

“Why are you here?” She said carefully. 

“Why did she leave?” Calum snapped. 

Tayshia took a step back and went to sit on a stool against the island. 

“I went to see her,” he said as he looked up at her. 

Tayshia’s eyes went wide again before he continued. 

“I flew to fucking Denver. I was in the arena, and I saw her and I froze,” he paused to take a deep breath. “Because if she left without saying goodbye, then there must have been a reason, and I didn’t want to hear it.”

“Then why are you here?” Tayshia asked. 

“I don’t know,” he replied. 

She didn’t reply that time as she let him sit with his thoughts. 

He sat next to her on a stool and leaned his head in his hands as she rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“This isn’t the first time she’s done this,” Tayshia confessed. 

Calum’s head snapped up to look at her. 

“She gets really anxious before these tours. She drives herself absolutely insane. But if there’s a guy around who will hold her at the end of the day, it’s easier. But she knows it’s hard to maintain once she leaves, so she does it without saying goodbye,” she explained. “I’ve been begging her to stop, and she said she would go and see a fucking therapist for once…” she trailed off and met his eyes. 

“And then she met you.”

He felt stupid. He was just a game to you. 

“And she told me you were different,” she continued. “And she says that every time, but I think she meant it this time.”

“Why?” He asked, his voice sounding hoarse. 

“She cried,” Tayshia said simply. “In the four years I have lived with her, I have never seen her cry over a guy. But when she said goodbye to you that last night, she came inside and cried.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you are different,” she said. “[Y/N] is going to try to forget you like she always does, but I know it won’t work with you. She was different when she was around you. She had a different walk. A different smile. A different glow. You weren’t just a pair of arms to her.”

Calum went silent as he tried to figure out how to handle this. He went back and forth between thinking he actually was different for you or if he was just another chess piece in your game. 

He stood up without saying anything else and walked out. 

Tayshia’s phone was ringing thirty seconds later. 

You waited patiently on the other end for her to answer as you stood right outside Louis’s dressing room. 

“Hey,” Tayshia said as she picked it up. 

“Cal was here,” you rushed out. “He left without saying anything to anyone.”

“Wow,” she said silently. 

“What the fuck do I do, Tay?” You asked frantically. 

“You have to figure this one out on your own,” she explained. “You clearly really have something with him, so call him.”

“I can’t,” you choked out, willing yourself not to cry over him again. “I’m on tour. I can’t just maintain something like this.”

“I think that boy would do anything for you,” Tayshia said. 

You nodded along, even if she couldn’t see. 

“Just talk to him. The worst he can say is no,” she said before hanging up.

You leaned against the wall behind you, hitting your head against it twice. You stared down at his contact in your phone, and your thumb almost pressed it. 

“Ready to go?” Louis said as he popped out of his room. 

“Yeah, let’s head out,” you said through a breath before tucking your phone away and trying to forget. 

You laid on your hotel bed and stared at the ceiling, the thoughts in your head running wild. Every few moments, you’d look at his contact on your phone or a picture you had snapped of him. You’d almost pressed the call button seventeen times, but every time, you didn’t do it. 

You didn’t want to hear his voice. You were so scared he hated you. 

You were terrified you’d just get sent to voicemail. 

So you just didn’t do it. 

For the next few weeks, you did everything in your power to forget about him. It had been just over a month since you left which was double the time you had been seeing him, but you were still thinking about him constantly. People started noticing, but you always brushed it off as stress. 

Tayshia visited one night, and you felt the weight fall from your shoulders as you could finally talk to someone about it. 

The two of you laid on the bed in your room and faced the ceiling. 

“Calum came to our apartment,” Tayshia said out of nowhere. 

You shot up and turned around to look at her. 

“When?”

“The same night he went to the show in Denver,” she said quietly. “He told me everything.”

You ran your hands over your face and tried to calm your breathing. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because you created this mess, and you need to get yourself out of it,” she snapped. “You’ve done this to so many guys, and I just let it go because I get it. I really do. But Calum is a really great guy who is head over heels for you, and you can’t get your head out of your ass to realize that.”

“What did he say?”

“That’s between me and him.”

You pulled your legs underneath you as Tayshia wrapped an arm around you, running her hand up and down your arm. 

“His tour started a week ago,” Tayshia said after a few moments. 

“I know,” you replied. 

“You always say that no one understands, but he does,” she said. “He lives the same life you do.”

“That’s why it would never work,” you choke out. 

“You don’t know that.”

You sniffled before pulling out your phone to look at their tour schedule. 

“They’re in Chicago,” you said. “Where the hell am I right now?”

“Minneapolis,” she reminded you. 

“I have the next two days off,” you said as you looked at her. “That’s a short flight.”

Her eyebrows shot up as she looked at you, waiting for you to say you were joking. 

“You’re just going to show up?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. 

The team had a quick meeting the next morning before everyone dispersed to head to the next city or spend the next two days back home. 

You hugged Tayshia tightly in the terminal before she left to go back to LA. 

You waited around as your flight got delayed three different times. You went between checking the current time to checking the concert time and verifying you had a badge to get in. 

You finally boarded the plane and stared anxiously out the window the entire time. 

Meanwhile, Calum went on like he always did. 

He was finally shaking the feeling of you, but you still lingered. 

Anytime he heard heels click he couldn’t help but hope he’d turn around and see you. 

But he was two weeks into this tour, and he was trying his hardest to not show how this was killing him. 

He ran out on stage, playing everything like he always would. 

He took a moment during a song near the middle to scan the outskirts of the crows like he always did. He found it funny watching the parents and boyfriends on the edges with their arms crossed and uninterested stares. 

And then he saw you. 

You had your arms crossed and your eyes locked with his. You had no expression on your face, hoping he didn’t actually notice you. 

He looked away before looking back and squinting, knowing it was you standing right there. 

You felt the familiar chills run down your spine before you tore your eyes away from his. 

They had started a new song, but Calum still wasn’t playing. A few concerned glanced and a head shake, and he was back to playing. 

He found himself glancing at you every few minutes just to reassure himself that you were there. 

His heart beat out of his chest and yours did too as the concert came to its end. 

You watched people clear out of the arena as you slowly made your way to get backstage. You flashed them your badge and walked down the hallway to find him. 

His back was turned to you as he drank a bottle of water. 

“Hey,” you said softly. 

He turned around quickly, swallowing hard before sending you a sad smile. He glanced down at your feet, knowing he usually heard you coming from a mile away. 

But you were wearing sneakers. 

“Hey,” he choked out. 

He gestured to an empty room right next to him, and you walked in and sat on the arm of the couch in the corner as he stood on the opposite side, leaning against a wall. 

“Word got around,” you started. “I know you were there in Denver.”

He simply nodded his head, not meeting your eyes. 

“Tayshia tell you?”

“No, actually,” you said with a shrug. “She only told me yesterday that she knew. Someone in the crew recognized you. Louis told me.”

“Ah,” he said in acknowledgment. 

“Why didn’t you say something?” You asked. 

He sighed and finally looked at you. 

“Because you left without goodbye, and I knew there had to be a reason. I wasn’t sure anymore if I wanted to hear it,” he said with a slight nod of his head. 

“My reason kind of sucks,” you admitted. “But I have a feeling Tay told you.”

He nodded his head. 

“I just…” you trailed off, running your hands over your face. “These things are hard. I work for months to get it perfect and then I’m there for every show and something always goes wrong. I barely have time to call my parents.”

“I know,” Calum said. “I do the same fucking thing,” he said a little louder than intended. 

You ignored the snap in his voice and said, “I get so stressed, and it’s easier to just be with someone who doesn’t know about any of it for a little bit before I have to deal with it 24/7.”

“But I understand,” he reminded you. “I get what it’s like to leave everything behind for upwards of a year. And you know that. We’re in the same damn business, and I didn’t know that until Louis posted a picture of you.”

You stayed silent, staring at your feet. 

“Why are you here?” He asked. 

“You’re not just another guy to fill the space,” you admitted. “I thought you would be, but you’re not. And I shouldn’t have left without telling you what was going on and saying goodbye. It’s the only thing I’ve thought about for the past month.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he admitted, finally meeting your eyes. “And I hate it. I hate that you could up and leave and not say goodbye and that still all I do is think about you.”

“I regret it, Cal. I do,” you said as you stood up. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. I haven’t had an actual relationship since high school because I’ve been so damn busy that nothing goes past two weeks. But I’m trying to fix that.” 

Your voice sounded hoarse as you waited for him to say something. 

“You cried the night before you left?”

“Like a baby,” you said through a forced laugh. 

He smiled back at you, the sad look on his face slowly dissipating. 

“Look, I don’t know what I’m doing or how this works, but I don’t care,” you said, slowly making your way closer to him. “I don’t care if the only time we can talk is at 2:00 in the morning for five minutes or the only time we can see each other is in passing at an airport. Because I’m fucking crazy about you, and I don’t want to keep pretending I’m not.”

He reached out and grazed his fingertips along the side of your hand before hooking his fingers in between your own. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m really sorry.”

He simply nodded his head, pulling you close to him and pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your body molded against his as your arms wrapped around his middle. You could hear his heartbeat as you closed your eyes and rested your head on his chest. 

“I don’t have to fly back for another 36 hours,” you whispered. “That might be the longest we have for a while.”

He pulled away and rested his hand on your cheek, pressing a kiss to your lips. 

You stood on your tiptoes and wrapped your arms tightly around his neck before he pecked your lips a few times. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he whispered. 

And 36 hours later, after a day of watching Calum in his element, you were at the airport, wrapped tightly in his arms and ignoring the speaker telling you your flight started boarding. 

“I’ll see you soon,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“Three weeks,” you said through a sigh. “That’s nothing.”

“You left me for over a month, so I think you can do it,” he said through a smile. 

You rolled your eyes and pushed him away, tossing your backpack over your shoulder before pressing one last kiss to his lips. 

He watched your back as you walked quickly to security. He watched you pull off your pristine white sneakers and your denim jacket, throwing them in a bin with your phone. 

When you got through the final check, you turned around and locked eyes with him before blowing him a kiss. 

He caught it and returned it before watching you again as you disappeared around the corner. 

You didn’t cry. 

Instead, you texted the team that your flight was on time and told Tayshia that everything was perfect. 

You found your seat near the back of the plane and went to turn your phone on airplane mode until a notification popped up that made you smile in a way no one would really understand. 

[Instagram] New Follower: Calum Hood

--- 

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(ok not tagging anyone on my taglist bc y’all signed up for shawn but if you wanna be tagged in future 5sos fics, shawn fics or both, please send me an ASK and specify which one!!)

[generalfoolish]

Mavar

Rating: 18+ (minors take a hike)

Warnings: helmet less!Din

Word count: ~1.8K

Pairing: (eventually!!!) Din Djarin x F!reader

Summary: Two Mandalorians go to the grocery store (restock)

A/N: Hey babes! This is number eight of the #mandomay2021 prompt list. Sorry it's a little late! I definitely hit a bump. It's pretty much all fluff. I will continue be taking Din's helmet off as often as I can, I'm a sucker for that face! Feel free to send me hate for the last few lines! Enjoy 💕

Masterlist | Partaylir | Ori'vod

Let me know if you want to be tagged!

Hyperspace was always cold. An experienced pilot, like yourself, knew that. You were expecting the cold, but what Mando gave you was a freeze. No, not Mando, Djarin or Din? You tucked it away, he hadn’t given you his name yet, and Skywalker had interesting ideas of what a “good” nickname made.

You had hid yourself away in the hull, and that afforded you some reprieve from the tundra in the cockpit. Mando’s helmet was fitted snugly back on his head, and you had just skulked downstairs to wait. The jump to Naboo would be short, and Mando could pilot his ship without your company.

You had scoffed when he had suggested Naboo for the refuel. A Mid Rim planet? For a fuel-up, no less. You had just about bit through your tongue, when he punched the coordinates in. Whatever, you had told yourself, a temperate climate would be nice after the stifling, muggy swamps of Dagobah. You had to remind yourself, though, that it was just another step to what you wanted.

Except, what you wanted might be changing. Or had already changed. You picked at the peeling black paint, and eyed the untarnished silver below. The children on Jelucan, and Mando’s child on Dagobah, had you considering a different path. One you find yourself craving for in the dim, red-washed lights of the hull. A youngling of your own? Or maybe not even that complicated, just a...family. Someone to keep fighting for. You had a creed and a plan, but between you and the storage crates you were perched on, you didn’t think you cared to uphold that creed any longer.

Who was it for? Your kin were all dead. You thought of Mando, the man of ice upstairs, and assumed his kin were likely dead too. It was a common side-effect of living on the Outer Rim. It was an even bigger side-effect of being a mandalorian. You wondered, not unkindly, if he was lonely. If he simply had forgotten how to be.

Then your rising stomach acid, the familiar burn hot on your throat, reminded you that he was plenty friendly to Cara and Luke. Loving to Grogu. You assumed he would be kind to Karga, too. Anyone in the galaxy, except for you it seemed.

You groaned, knowing that wasn’t entirely true. Or, if it was, it was because you had thought he was going to murder you. For the record, you thought, it’s unlikely.

He cleared his throat twice before you noticed, teetering dangerously close to falling from your crate from the startle. He titled his helmet, and you decided it was an apology.

“We’re dropping from hyperspace, and docking, so, if you want to strap in somewhere…” He trailed off, but was vaguely gesturing to your impeccable balance. You snorted in response, but followed him back up the stairs.

He seemed to have thawed in your time apart.

~~

“It is beautiful here, isn’t it?” You mused, your modulated tone not carrying the wonder you felt. Mando only nodded in response, and paid to be refueled. You shrugged and stepped off the ramp. You wished you could deeply inhale, the air seemed clean, even at the Kwilaan spaceport.

You followed the crowd, the intermingling of species a stark contrast to any covert you’d been in. You had always loved the variety of life, and found it lacking in mandalorian culture. Not that it was strictly humans, like you and Mando. It was quite the opposite, as far as you knew. A misread text, a few generations of stuffy “believers,” and a civil war, kept most mandalorians beneath their beskar. Even painted beskar sang of mundanity. Even the light of Naboo reflected off of Mando’s pauldron paled in comparison to the stormy eyes you knew were just below the visor.

Yelling brought your attention back to the market, and you smiled when you saw the bountiful fruit selection. Jelucan and Nevarro had their charms, you were sure, but a selection of fresh fruit wasn’t one. Understandably, Mando’s ship wasn’t stocked with any, and yours hadn’t been either. Luke had shared his meals with you, but Dagobah seemed treacherous. You hoped he would take his X-Wing and Grogu and fly somewhere nicer. A beach planet, hopefully.

Mando gently squeezed your arm, and it brought you back again. You felt heat creep up your neck, and wondered when you had gotten so airheaded. You motioned to the fruit, and paid the merchant for a heavy bag. You tugged Mando’s arm with you to the next stall, and so it went. You flitting around, stocking up for the journey, and pulling Mando along. He stood beside you, not possessively or threateningly, just there. Not that you needed help looking intimidating. The chipped black paint gave you the look of a seasoned warrior.

It was far from the truth, but it helped keep the pickpockets away. When you had finished your shopping, and pulled Mando back to the flow of the crowd heading into the station, he seemed to deflate a bit. You smiled at his hesitancy. When you got to the ship, you watched as Mando toggled his vambrace to shut the door.

“Want to camp out by a lake tonight? We have a long trip ahead, and this planet is too good to pass up.” You spoke confidently, but you flexed your fingers at your side to stop their shaking. He tilted his helmet dramatically to the side, and you waited for the disapproving verbiage. It didn’t come.

“It is getting pretty late…” He told you quietly, and motioned towards the cockpit. You followed, setting the few bags down, and taking the rungs two at a time.

You sat down behind him, and he punched in some coordinates. The ship lifted easily, and you watched the city die down until there was nothing but mountains beneath you. You sucked in a sharp breath when the mountains broke away and revealed a beautiful lake vista. Mando surprised you by setting the ship down, right in the field. You looked at him, sure your helmet betrayed your shock, and he chuckled.

“I thought you might ask, so I checked a few places.” He shrugged, not knowing that the gesture was too much. Too big. Just a few hours ago, you had resigned to never talk to him again. And here he had found you a gorgeous campsite. You rested your hand on his, for a moment, and then took it away. You hoped it conveyed the right message, but you weren’t sure what you wanted that message to be anymore.

You stood slowly, and eased your helmet off. You paused for a minute, and then decided to go all the way. You took each piece of armor off, casting it aside, until you were down to the under clothes. Mando watched silently, and you wondered if it felt sacrilegious to him. Until, he reached up under his helmet, and slipped it off. His hair was messy from the helmet, but the curls still plopped around his face. He was less hesitant in removing the rest. Soon, he was in his dark under clothes. His slight smile was a delicious sight.

“You can bring the blaster.” You joked, as you made your way to the ladder. He fixed you with a glare, and then smirked.

“Of course. Weapons are my religion.” You giggled as you picked the bag of fruit up, and walked down the ramp. Mando was two steps behind you, controlling the ship with his vambrace. You liked that feature, you’d have to have him set yours up. If you ever made it back to your ship.

More and more, you were hopeful you would. You watched as he spread a small blanket out on the soft grass, and you joined him when he clumsily sat down. He laughed, a sharp, barking laugh. An unpracticed laugh, you realized.

“I can’t remember the last time I sat down with the suit.” He explained, grabbing the muja fruit from your hand. You glared, but grabbed a new one, anyway.

“That’s incredible. I can’t wait to have mine off.” You muttered into the skin of the fruit, before taking a bite. You felt his eyes, so you met them. He looked amazed. Or maybe, curious.

“Doesn’t your armor feel natural to you? Like a second skin. Or even your only skin? I feel so exposed right now.” He confessed, taking a bite. You considered it for a moment.

“I...I never felt like I really belonged in the suit at all. It’s stifling to me.”

“Probably because you painted it black.” He told you, his usual deadpan tone ruined by his loping grin.

“Well, I only just did that. It was part of my death rite, I guess.” He lifted an eyebrow, so you continued. “I didn’t think I would still be alive. I had big plans, but then...the Force? No, not for me. Whatever controls the universe, reminded me what life was actually like. My clan was wiped out, and for a while, I couldn’t breathe.”

“I was orphaned when I was young. It was a war. I was rescued. Were you born in?” You nodded, stealing another glance at him. His brow was furrowed, and you wanted to smooth it.

“I’ve never known anything else...but it doesn’t feel right to me. I don’t know, Mando-”

“Mando?” He interrupted, looking bemused.

“Yeah, I don’t know your name.” You took a bite to cover how awkward you felt.

“Yes, you do? Luke said it back on Dagobah.” He reminded you. As if you had forgotten, what the most beautiful man you’ve seen was named.

“Well, you hadn't told me. It seemed too...personal. And you were mad at me.” You told him, matter-of-factly.

“I wasn’t mad at you, ridiculous girl. I was amazed. You just…” He mimicked taking his helmet off. “Without any hesitation. You let me in, just like that.” You felt your ears start to get hot.

“You saw me without my helmet in the covert?”

“That wasn’t deliberate.”

“It could have been.”

“I don’t think it was.” He murmured. It was only then you realized how close you had gotted. Both of you gravitating toward the other, the blanket bunched by your legs, his breath hot and sweet in your nose.

“Din.” He told you, his nose grazing yours, before he pulled back completely.

“Nice to meet you, Din.” You whispered, your mind not as sharp as it was, drunk on his smell. He lifted his fruit to yours, and met your eyes again.

“To names and faces.” He smiled as he waited for your cheers, and you couldn’t string together a thought, let alone a joke.

“To...mavar.” You said plainly, taking a bite of your fruit.

**Mavar: freedom.

[wontlastimokwiththat]

Hi could you write some smut with angel cal?

I loved the luna blurb, it was really good! Thank you if you do🥰🥰

Hey hun! Sorry it’s taken so long to get done. It was strange to write angel!Cal because I feel that’s the opposite of how I normally write him but I tried. Also thank you for your kind words. That’s so sweet. I hope you enjoy!!

Warnings: Smut (very badly written smut)

MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY

You’d known Calum for three years, since his Fall to earth. He has landed in your pastor in the middle of the night. You found him in your hay loft the next morning, and after initial panic, you rushed to his aid.

When he told you who-what- he was, you didn’t argue. There was no point as you could see the wings protruding from his back.

His body wasn’t harmed in the Fall, other than a few cuts and bruises. His wings, however, were. He talked you through fixing them up, getting the dirt and grime out of them. Once they were clean, they were a beautiful white color, a sharp contrast to his dark hair and eyes.

A few days after Calum’s Fall, you stopped asking about Heaven. You could tell every time you mentioned it, he got tense and uneasy. So, you decided to stop pushing him.

Once Calum was fully healed, he started helping you on your family’s farm, which is where you were living at the time. Your brother,  Ashton, who typically cared for it, had went to Australia to be with his boyfriend.

Ashton had come home a year after Calum’s Fall so you and Calum moved to the city. Calum didn’t care for it. He didn’t like the quick pace that came with New York City. He didn’t like the small apartment. He didn’t like not having a place to spread his wings.

After a year and a half in the city, you moved back to the farm. Ashton had decided to move in with Luke and was going to sell the farm. You couldn’t bare to see the farm go. You had grown up there, had met Calum there. You told Ashton you’d take care of the farm and surprised Calum with the news of moving back.

You thought moving back would be best for him and you. In the beginning, it was. He was happier than you’d ever seen him. Then, he started distancing himself from you.

Calum often worried that he was interfering your life, but you always assured the angel that you enjoyed his company.

You hadn’t seen him for almost a week now. He wouldn’t come down to eat with you. He wouldn’t go outside and spread his wings as he walked the property. He wouldn’t help you with the animals or get fire wood.

You were sitting comfortably in front of the fireplace with a book in your hands, snuggled up under a cover as you read. You looked up when you heard Calum’s feet against the hard wood floors, locking eyes with the messy haired angel.

“Hey,” you smiled softly.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be up,” he mumbled, glancing at the clock that read 1 A.M.

“Can’t sleep,” you shrugged, turning your attention back to your book. You could tell he didn’t want to entertain a conversation. A few minutes later, you felt him sit beside your bean bag in the floor. You glanced at him, seeing he was holding out a steaming mug to you. You took it, smiling when the familiar scent of chocolate hit your nose. “Thank you, Angel.” He hummed as you took a sip.

“I need your help,” he told you. You raised an eyebrow, staying quiet and sipping on your hot chocolate until he decided to continue. He didn’t.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you need help with,” you said. He looked at the floor, not daring to meet your eyes.

“My wings,” he mumbled. It was then you realized you couldn’t see the beautiful, fluffy, white wings that you’d fallen in love with. He was using his powers to hide them from you, something he’d never done when the two of you were alone.

“Are they alright?” you asked softly, trying to stay calm and sound comforting.

“T-They need to be groomed. I can’t do it alone,” he whispered so low you almost couldn’t hear him. Calum hadn’t let you touch his wings since you helped him after he’d Fallen. You had asked once and he told you it wasn’t allowed because you were a human.

“Can I? I mean-“ He cut you off as he looked up at you.

“I’m not going back, Y/N, I’m Fallen. I-I don’t have to follow the rules anymore.”

“But you’ve been trying to get back in-“

“They hurt, Y/N. Please, I need you’re help,” he almost whimpered. You were on your feet in a second, throwing your book onto the bean bag and sitting the mug on the hearth, before offering your hand out to him.

“We’ll go to your room, where you’re comfortable,” you told him. He took your hand as he stood to his feet, allowing you to lead him upstairs to his room.

When he was settled on his bed and you were standing behind him, he revealed his wings to you. He didn’t hold them proudly, like normal, instead he let them sag. The feathers were pointing in every direction, which had to have been why they were hurting.

“Calum, did this happen because you couldn’t stretch out in the city?” you asked softly as you began to rearrange the soft feathers. He shivered under your touch.

“Yes,” he muttered.

“Oh, Angel, I am so sorry.” You fingers worked gently against his feathers. You started at the tip of his wing and worked your way to the base, before doing the same with his other.

Once all the wayward feathers are in their place, you let your fingers give his wings a soft massage. You can’t help but notice the noise that escapes his mouth as you rub the skin between where his wings meet.

“T-That’s enough,” he stuttered, quickly spinning around to face you. By some miracle, he didn’t hit you in the face with his wings.

“Do they feel better?” you asked, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes,” he nodded. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” you smiled softly. “Anything for my angel.” You leaned in to kiss his cheek but he turned his head and caught his lips in yours. It took you a minute to register his lips moving against yours but once you did, your lips moved in sync with his. When you both pulled away for air, he rested his forehead against yours. “What was that, Calum?”

“Something I’ve wanted to do for a while,” he admitted, bringing one hand up to caress your cheek. You pushed him back on the bed, crawling over him before reattaching your lips. His hands held your waist tightly as your fingers tangled themselves in his hair.

Your hips began rocking against his and he let out a strangled moan. You froze, pulling away.

“Don’t stop,” he begged, using one hand to pull your lips back to his as the one on your waist helped you start moving again.

“Angel,” you breathed, pulling back.

“I’m already going to Hell, Y/N,” he frowned and you saw the pain in his eyes. “Might as well break all the rules.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded.

“Just a sec.” You jumped off of him and left his room, all but running down the hall to yours. You grabbed a condom from your nightstand and ran back to his room.

“Is everything okay?” he quizzed, standing up from his bed.

“Perfect,” you smiled, holding up the condom. You swear he blushed, though you were certain angels couldn’t. You grinned as you walked over to him. You kissed his lips softly before kneeling down and slipping his sleep pants and boxers down his legs. Your eyes widened at his size as his hard cock slapped his stomach. “Wow.”

“What?” You could hear the worry in his voice.

“Relax, Angel,” you hummed, rubbing his thigh. “Wasn’t expecting you to be so big is all.” You placed a soft kiss on his tip and kitten licked away the precum, causing a moan to escape his lips. You decided you loved his moans, they sounded as angelic as he looked. You ripped the package open with your teeth and pumped his cock a few times, earning more moans, before slipping the condom on and standing to your feet.

“This isn’t fair,” he mumbled. “I’m wearing nothing and you’re fully clothed.”

“Why don’t you do something about it?” you teased. He quickly pulled your shirt over your head before staring at your bare chest. “What are you waiting for? Touch me, Angel.” His lips attached to yours as he palmed your breasts, pinching and twisting your nipples. You moaned into his mouth as your body arched into his touch.

His fingers danced across your skin towards your legging, pulling them and your panties off in one swift move. His finger slipped through your folds and you moaned as you watched him suck your juices off his fingers.

“No teasing, Angel,” you muttered. “Just fuck me.” He smirked, something that looked so strange on the angel’s face but you loved it, and pressed his lips back to yours. He pushed himself all the way in with no warning, causing you to gasp into his mouth at the stretch. He was definitely the biggest you’d been with and you loved it.

His thrusts were slow and gentle, hitting that perfect spot inside you every single time. You were a moaning mess beneath him as his lips worked the sweet spot just below your ear, letting moans of his own slip out occasionally.

“Feel so good, Angel,” you moaned, tangling one hand in his hair as the other clawed at the skin between his wings. He hissed, his thrusts faltering as he nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “Like that?”

“Yes,” he moaned, beginning to pick up the pace. You let your fingers leave his hair and meet with the others at the base of his wings. Pushing against the skin, he moaned again and sped up his thrusts until he was at a brutal pace. You whimpered, arching into him as you kept putting pressure on the skin between his wings.

“C-Close,” you whined, wrapping you legs around his waist. He continued to hit your g-spot perfectly as he fucked into you mercilessly.

“Cum for me,” he groaned into your neck. His words made you unravel. You came hard, harder than you ever had before, around his cock, digging your nails into his skin. His moan was deep and almost animalistic as he came inside the condom. He rode out his high with a few slower thrusts before collapsing on top of you.

“Amazing, Angel,” you hummed, kissing the top of his head. He looked up at you with a loopy smile that made your heart flutter. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up and go to bed.”

Once you were both cleaned up, you and Calum retired to your room, deciding to change his sheets tomorrow. The two of you cuddled up under your covers. You were laid on top of him with your head on his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around you, along with his fluffy white wings.

“Sleep well, Angel,” you mumbled before drifting to sleep.

You woke up before him the next morning. Yawning, you opened your eyes to be met with black feathers. You gasped, running your fingers through them. They felt silky under your touch.

“You okay?” Calum’s groggy morning voice asked.

“Your wings, Cal,” you all but whispered as you glanced at his face. He opened his eyes and they landed on the black feathers. “I-Is this because of what we did last night?”

“Yeah,” he nodded before a smirk crossed his face. You were beginning to like the devious look on the angel. “But it’s worth it.” He kissed your lips passionately. “So worth it.”

[val-aquenta]

So hey y’all. Remember me talking about that au yesterday where Anakin leaves the order and Obi-Wan and Anakin just drift apart. Well it’s here for the prompt: “I’m right here where you left me.” Anyways. This will be my last piece for angstpril for this year as I want some kind of break before Mace Windu appreciation to plan or stuff. So yeah. Thank you for coming on this journey, it’s been fun.

Here on ao3

Obi-Wan watched him walk away just like Anakin had once watched Ahsoka walk away and down. His heart broke just a bit then, seeing the broad, robed shoulders dip past the line of the stairs, the blonde curls disappearing as he walked down. Mace, strong and unmoving, laid a hand against his shoulder as he swallowed, a suspicious lump in his throat. He inhaled sharply, standing straight. The hand remained, a warm pillar that he could lean on should he wish. He didn’t.

The quarters were empty. Just him and the remnants of the past. He sighed, he should probably get to cleaning. Mace, he’d almost forgotten. He turned around, facing the taller man. “Mace, I should…”

“Take a break, Obi-Wan.” He said, a grim sort of smile on his face. “Force knows you deserve it.” 

Obi-Wan nodded and bowed. “I will.” He promised softly, not fully trusting his voice not to break. “May the Force be with you.” 

Mace bowed back, “And with you, Obi-Wan.” He turned and began walking away down the hallway, just like everyone else did. However, Mace turned around at some point, something desperate shining in his eyes and bleeding into the Force. He wanted to help. Obi-Wan just didn’t know how to accept it. “You ask if you need anything, alright? We’re all here for you.” Obi-Wan could only find it in himself to nod shakily, thanking the Force for blessing him with Mace. Mace seemed to want to say something before smiling ruefully and turning down a corner, waving behind in farewell.

He closed the door behind him, hand raising to his beard, absently stroking it. There was… too much here. A Temple room which had housed Qui-Gon and him, then Anakin and him, then Anakin, Ahsoka and him, and now finally just him. It was large, enough room to have two and a half people living comfortably. Anakin only stayed with them half the time. It felt strangely empty. Four generations of Jedi growing up here and now the only remainder of this lineage, just him, still lived there. The throw blanket, Anakin’s because he had simply been too unused to Coruscant’s climate, still laid half open from where Anakin had used it recently. His belongings, at least what little remained in the quarters after spending half his time apparently married to Senator Amidala, had been hastily packed away and taken to her apartments, Anakin’s new one. No doubt, he would have left a few things which he would either comm for or would simply be returned to him. 

Obi-Wan sighed, folding the blanket and throwing it over the back of the couch. It was ridiculously soft, comfortable for curling up with. He made his way to the kitchen, opening the cooling unit and seeing it still filled with Anakin’s favourite sauce, Anakin’s special juice (probably with alcohol. Obi-Wan hated it with a passion,) Anakin’s favourite everything. He sighed and shut the door quickly. Tea, he decided, would be able to be made with little memories of Anakin. Ever the odd one out, he had not enjoyed the intricacies of tea like Yoda, Dooku, Qui-Gon, Ahsoka, and himself had. Instead he had drunk caff, violently sweetened and strong enough to rouse a slumbering Krayt dragon with solely it’s scent. Cup fresh in hand, he moved to Anakin’s rooms where he could begin cleaning the reminders of Anakin away. Begin the process of truly becoming himself once more. 

He sees Anakin three weeks later. Predictably, there had been quite a few things left over. Obi-Wan, whenever he found one had placed it in a box, waiting for Anakin. “Hey Master!” Anakin greeted, dressed in fancy garments, very different from the leather tabards, perhaps not as traditional as Obi-Wan’s cream robes, but still rather traditional. They suited him. Perhaps more than Jedi robes ever did, Obi-Wan mused quietly in the pits of his mind.

“Hello Anakin. Come to retrieve your items?” He raised an eyebrow as he noticed the haircut, more like a trim. Anakin had been growing it out, ends raggedly poking out where they wished. It looked tamed, coiffed in a fashion that Obi-Wan began to recognise as Nabooan. He moved from the corner, inviting him in. He’d never done that before. Anakin entered awkwardly, quickly making a beeline from the rather full box of assorted materials. “You left behind quite a few items. Tea?” He offered, hands tucked into his robe sleeves.

“No thank you… unless it’s floral.” Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows in surprise, sending a silent question at Anakin. “Oh. Padmè, she’s got this blend in her rooms from Naboo. Really delicate and sweet.”

“Interesting.” Obi-Wan tried not to be bitter over the fact that despite over a decade of his efforts to get Anakin into some kind of tea, Senator Amidala had done it in less than a month. “I did not think you would ever willingly drink tea.” He murmured, somewhat idly bustling away to prepare his most floral, and sweet tea. 

Anakin chuckled, hoisting the box in his hands. “Yeah… er, Master? I know I said yes to tea, but Padmè has this function thing she wanted me to go to soon. So…” He trailed off apologetically. Obi-Wan stopped where he was rifling through his canisters of tea, plastering an easy but false smile onto his face. Anakin could only tell the difference sometimes. Hopefully he was distracted enough not to. 

“Of course. No worries. I’m sure you’re busy.” Anakin did not notice it. That stung. “I’ll just…” He bustled to the door, clicking it open. Anakin followed, box easily balanced with liberal use of the Force. 

“Well…” There is a silence, pregnant and uncomfortable. Obi-Wan shifts slightly. “Are you busy too? With relief missions and stuff?” Obi-Wan wonders what he can say and what is confidential. Once, he would have shared almost everything, but Anakin isn’t a Jedi anymore, isn’t here… with him. 

“A lot to do, as I thought, but it is relieving to do something that is not fighting anymore.” Obi-Wan admits easily. No specifics, just vague truths. “Being at peace, it is a good feeling.” Indeed. There is a lightness in the Force that he hasn’t felt in a while.

“Yeah. The Force is… warm. Light.” Anakin nods in agreement, items in the box clinking as they move against each other. There is another silence, deeply uncomfortable. Obi-Wan’s cheeks colour. He has been coined the Negotiator but he can not even speak with his own former Padawan now. The rift is just… wide now, in ways it was not before. 

“Yes. Well… your function?” 

Anakin startles, as though he’s forgotten which… is not exactly unlikely. “Oh yeah. Sorry Master, gotta go.” And, just like before, Anakin moves away, walking down the hallways for the exit. Instead of robes shoulders and unruly hair, Anakin is now all fancy fashionable clothing and perfectly done hair. Obi-Wan slumps against the doorframe, waiting until Anakin turns a corner before returning back to his quarters. It feels like a cruel mirror of the day Anakin first left, except Mace is not there and his room is even emptier, the few knick knacks of Anakin now gone. He sighs. He’s prepared water for tea, might as well use it and make himself a cup of tea. 

There is a long period before he sees Anakin again, just a glimpse of him in the corner of his eyes as he steps out of the Senate and into a speeder, Senator Amidala visibly pregnant. They don’t notice him, but he supposes that it is only a short moment, hardly their fault. The speeder emits a low hum before pulling away and racing for the speeder lanes. He hopes that Anakin is driving more cautiously with Padmè because of her pregnancy.

He sees Anakin a handful of times as Padmè's pregnancy continues, standing next to Senator Amidala in holo’s, Ahsoka sometimes with him, or on the other side of a function he’s been invited, or in the Senate pod for Naboo. There is no real talk, and their meetings become few and far between. The distance, not consciously done by either of then, begins to feel insurmountable. The handful of moments grow further apart. 

Obi-Wan catches him with Senator Amidala as they leave a function, no doubt returning to the newborn children they now have. The two are dressed wonderfully in a matching outfit, cool blue and green. Their hair is done up. Obi-Wan notes how sharply they contrast him and his cream robes and short hair.  “Congratulations. I heard you had twins.”

“Master Kenobi, what a surprise!” Padmè says, smiling at him. “Yes. Luke and Leia. Ani named them.” She tugs Anakin’s arm a bit, adoring eyes turning in his direction, a wide smile on her face. 

“Yeah, Master. They’re the cutest. You should see them!” Anakin says excitedly. “Padmè can he…?” He trails off questioningly, eyes pleading with her. 

“Of course, of course.” She says. “I know how important he is to you.” Her voice is soft, only loud enough for Anakin. She looks at Anakin before turning to Obi-Wan. “Of course, only if you want to.”

“I would love to, but I… actually have something to do.” He says sadly. “I only came to offer congratulations.” He feels guilty at their twin expressions falling into a light dejection before Padmè is tugging at Anakin’s sleeve. 

“Well, Ani, we just have to invite him when he’s not busy. In… two years? Three?” She jokes lightly. The three chuckle softly before there is a pause, awkward and full of the gentle rustles of fabric as they shift a bit. 

“Indeed.” Obi-Wan finally responds, an easy smile lighting his face. “I’ll just call you when I have free time. I would like to see them.” He leaves soon after, the two bidding him a fond farewell. He never has time to make that call, he hardly ever has free time with all the relief missions going on. Mace says that he’s drowning in work to avoid his problems, but Obi-Wan would disagree. By the time he thinks he’s free enough to visit them, Obi-Wan spends ten minutes staring at the contact on his comm. Shame rises, it has been years since the function and it feels too late to call them to ask to see the twins. The meetings between then and now have been formal, in events where Obi-Wan wore dress robes and represented the Order officially, or they have been fleeting, glimpses across the Senate or on opposite ends of a transport.

Obi-Wan and Anakin meet in the hangar of some backwater planet by pure coincidence. It is one of the first times he’s seen Anakin without Padmè at his side. Obi-Wan is leaving his ship as he spots Anakin walking up, his back turned away. Anakin feels him in the Force and turns instinctively, eyes locking with his. They stare for a moment, just a second, before Anakin turns, not even waving or acknowledging him, and climbs up the ship. Obi-Wan finds himself watching the ship lift off and disappear into a small pinprick of light amongst millions, feeling an acute piercing sense of loss. His mind replays sparse moments of connections. He does not know exactly when, but Anakin’s been slipping away for a while. It is only now that Obi-Wan is realising it. 

Obi-Wan and Anakin. Kenobi and Skywalker. The names once only ever used in tandem. Each one following the other into battle and in space, to the ends of the world. Once as close as brothers, so in tune with each other. Some starships still bear the symbol that would showcase their connection to each other. Two halves of a whole. Now… little connects them. Obi-Wan has not even seen Anakin’s children save for small snapshots of their lives from the other end of a fancy dress party, and some footage of them on a holonews report about a break in. He had not even messaged or called Anakin to ask about his health after that. Simply looking at the contact made him almost want to throw the device at the wall, but that would not help. The problem wasn't the device, it was just them and their lives falling apart from each other. No, they are not close. Not at all. Obi-Wan looks at Anakin no. the new Anakin. He’s changed a lot. The scar still cuts his face roguishly, accentuated by subtle makeup. His hair is long, braided and pinned into an elegant style on his head. His robes, a riot of colour, mostly warm orange tones. Little reminds Obi-Wan of the Jedi knight, recklessly driving forwards with his blue blade raised high, let alone the young Padawan he had once held so dearly by his side. He has let Anakin walk away and Anakin is not his Anakin anymore. The lump of emotion, a solid block laying in his throat threatens to choke him. 

“Hey Master, or should I say Grandmaster Kenobi?” There is that teasing tone, strangely stiff yet still familiar. The motion is familiar, ingrained after there decade of companionship, but rusty with disuse. Yoda had stepped down, age forcing the green troll to spend it in easy meditation with younglings and Masters alike. Obi-Wan finds Yoda’s shared meditations a highlight of his week. Lately, though, he has an inkling that the little Master is falling asleep during meditation. He doesn’t have a heart to point it out, not when the wrinkled clawed hand will reach for his after and lightly squeeze, a soft smile curving the wrinkled face when Obi-Wan responds similarly. He’s also pretty sure Yoda knows he knows.

Obi-Wan quirks a smile at Anakin’s quip. The smile feels formal and stiff. When had their easy camaraderie turned to… this. “Hello Anakin, or should I say Senator Skywalker.” Anakin had become Tatooine’s first Senator, notorious for starting revolutions and rebellions on planets as well as causing problems in the Senate. There is silence, not the easy silence they had in the calm before a battle. It is uncomfortable, glances shared between them awkwardly. Obi-Wan both wishes and does not for those times before Anakin left. “Well, perhaps I should g-”

Anakin speaks in tandem, “Master I-”

“Oh… sorry, go on.” Obi-Wan gestures a bit with his hand in a waving motion. 

Anakin pauses for a moment, hesitating before speaking, something flashing in his eyes and in the Force, some kind of desperation for something. Closure, perhaps. “Obi-Wan… we hardly ever talk. Like we used to, you know?” Obi-Wan nods, his hands clasped respectfully in front of him under his robe sleeves. “We almost never see each other. I never see you around anymore.” There is a hint of accusation as if it is Obi-Wan’s fault that they never see each other. Anger flares softly before it is controlled, accepted and let go. It is not his fault, nor is it Anakin’s. They have simply… drifted apart. It has happened naturally over the course of years. The bonds that had once bound them tightly together had loosened with distance before fraying completely. 

Obi-Wan feels obligated to answer, though. “I’m still here. Right where you left me.” He says, softly, feeling his eyes sting. “I never left really, just tried to move on.” He tacks on after a moment. “You left. I let you go, and you bloomed far away.” His hand gestures absently at Anakin’s getup. Anakin makes an aborted move to speak, stopping as Obi-Wan lifts a palm, asking for silence. He needs to say this. “You’ve changed. It’s not bad, but you have. You’re not the Anakin Skywalker I knew, and I don’t think I’m really the Obi-Wan you knew.” The tear slips and falls, cleaving a warm trail down his face to his beard. He sniffs, wiping it away absently. “We’re not the same as we were before you left. This… rift, it is not your making or mine, it just happened over time. A product of it.”

“But I don’t want it to change!” Anakin protests loudly, voice raising. Even his voice has changed. It  is no longer just an outer rim accent, but it’s also mixed with the formal tinges of Coruscanti “I wish it wouldn’t.” His voice is a bit softer, but the vindication is still evident.

“And I wish I still knew you the way I did.” Obi-Wan agrees easily. The tears fall easily, mourning the man he’d known before, lost to the sands of time. He misses his Anakin like a limb cut off, but he knows better than to think it can still come back. He will take what the Force gives him and will accept what it takes.

“You do!” Anakin said, moving forwards slightly. "You do know me." Obi-Wan steps back and blink up at the perfectly coiffed hair and colourful intricate robes. “You do.” He repeats again, softer and less certain.

“Do I?” Obi-Wan inhales sharply, his chest hitching. The tears fall quite freely now, wamr trails sinking into his beard. He doesn't sob, it is not his way, but his hcest does rise in aborted sobs. “I don’t think I do.” He looks up at Anakin. “I knew you in one chapter of your life, Anakin, but now you are not him.” His face turns to the ground, hiding the fact that he’s desperately scrubbing at his face. “I miss him.” Obi-Wan admits readily, letting out a tired breath. “I miss the Anakin I used to know, but I’ve let him go. Long ago I watched him walk away forever. I know he’s not coming back.” He finishes softly, tiredly.

“Master…” Anakin doesn’t say anything. Anakin doesn’t sob, not anymore. HIs tears are silent little streaks of water glinting in the light as they fall down his face, still smooth like it was before. They take some time to compose themselves, Anakin bringing out a tissue to dab his eyes while Obi-Wan simply uses his robe sleeve. “I don’t think you changed. Not really. Already too old and set in your ways.” Anakin smiles grimly at Obi-Wan’s wet chuckle. “I think it’s just me.” Obi-Wan’s silence is almost an answer by itself. Obi-Wan’s silent sobs start disappearing, replaced by a numb, emptiness. He finally looks up at Anakin. “I just wish things were different. If I’d visited…” He trails off.

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I don’t think that would have changed much.” He swallows, smiling softly. It juxtaposes the tears that still run freely down his cheeks. He mourns the Anakin that was a Jedi Knight, the Padawan who had eagerly asked him for answers to his infinite questions. This Senator Skywalker is little more than a stranger. The realisation hurts. “I’m sorry. For taking your time and all that.” The smile is hesitant, soft and unsure of how it will be received by his once-brother. 

“No, no. I’m sorry.” Anakin smiles, the response thawing Obi-Wan’s heart just a bit. Anakin looks down at his wrist, a hum going off. “Oh, Force, the time. I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, but I have to go.” 

“No worries. Just… stay safe, Senator.” Anakin nods in acquiescence before bowing respectfully and turning around. Obi-Wan watches him go, the sun lighting his back and, for the first time since Anakin left the Jedi, Obi-Wan does not exactly feel the rift between them grow as Anakin walks away.

[buckley-diassz]

b r o k e n  h o m e

So, I have had an obsession with this goddamn song and these boys and I finally wrote a fic rec. It’s a l i t t l e angsty and I apologise but they have a cuddle pile so that makes it a littleee better. 

t.w. mentions of abuse / mentions of homophobia / mentions of anger (if i forgot any please don’t be afraid to tell me and I’ll add it)

Any feedback would be greatly appreciated (: - Eli x

Link to AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/30240900

b r o k e n  h o m e

When the boys first heard Broken Home, the emotions were fleeting not really hearing what the lyrics were saying, too distracted with catching up on twenty-five years of music and exploring different genres and vibes.

So the second time they heard it, they heard it. Alex, Luke and Reggie were sat in the studio, flicking between albums when the opening notes rung out.

They would yell, they would scream, they were fighting it out. They would hope they would pray, they were waiting it out.

It struck a nerve with Reggie, remembering all the nights he’d be curled up on his windowsill in his room, head between his knees willing, praying, hoping it would stop. The three of them were miserable and his parents were dancing around the word divorce. It was like they got a kick out of fighting, throwing the nearest object at each other, the wall, the floor and hell even Reggie if he got in the way. It was exhausting.

Holding onto a dream whilst they’re watching these walls fall down.

Reggie scoffed to himself, it’s ironic really. What was his dream? The band succeeding was his dream but also his parents finally acknowledging that they need out? Him finally getting his out, packing his bag and running and feeling at peace? Reggie just wanted a safe haven of his own, the boys made him feel safe of course they did, they were his family in every way but blood (despite Luke’s insistence on becoming blood brothers). His own bedroom just made him feel trapped, suffocated and alone. He found no comfort in a place that should have been strictly his own.

Sharp words like knives, they were cutting them down. Shattered glass like the past it’s a memory now.

Alex. Alex was taken right back to the moment he blurted out he was gay. That night he had had enough. School was ramming up the pressure with exams nearing, the band was practicing relentlessly and then his parents were on his back about brining home a nice girl and he, quite simply, snapped. The silence that followed was deafening. His mother’s fork clattered against the porcelain plate and she looked at him like he was a stranger. Alex’s dad, well, he’d never seen his father look so angry. The grip on his glass of whisky tight, the whites of his knuckles a stark contrast against his flushed skin. His eyes no longer had a warmth to them, they were stone cold and unfamiliar. The moment broke when his father smashed his glass against the freshly polished table and stood abruptly from his chair sneering at Alex. Now Alex wasn’t delusional, he knew that him coming out wasn’t going to be a fairy tale moment but he would’ve never expected it to be like this. His father cursing him, calling him every slur he knew whilst clutching onto the gold cross hanging from his neck. His mother not moving a muscle but her face was a picture of a thousand words. Her red lined lips agape, blue eyes glistening with tears, and an incredulous expression etched on her features. His father’s fist slammed on the table “Look at me when I’m talking to you Alexander,” a gulp, “there will be no more talk of what happened here tonight, you will finish your dinner, you will help your mother clean up and we will be going to church first thing in the morning.” It’s safe to say, Alex did finish his dinner, he did help his mother but he did not stick around to go to church the next morning.

Holding onto a dream. Whilst they’re watching these walls fall down.

Whilst the chorus rung out, the boys wordlessly gravitated towards one another seeking comfort, touch, familiarity. It’s quite something. They didn’t have it good but listening to this song, right here, in this moment solidified that they were never alone. Never.

Wrote it down on the walls, they were screaming it out.

From the moment Luke could hold a pen he was scribbling on walls – the lounge, the kitchen, the bathroom. Emily wasn’t amused but he was just a child and who could resist those big doe eyes, even then. But as he got older, there’d be notes pinned to the fridge or his bedroom door. There’d be pieces of screwed up paper littered around the house with chord progressions or lyrics. And his bedroom wall was covered in records, lyrics and posters of his favourite artists. Music was streaming through his veins. So this line really hit Luke. His parents regretted buying him that guitar because there was a constant reminder that they could have prevented this. They could have stopped this nonsense. The sheets of paper everywhere with words scribbled on them, the late night strumming when Luke should have definitely been asleep and, ultimately, Luke running away and never coming back. Music was Luke’s reason to live (and the boys), every fibre of his being screamed it he put every ounce of himself into each lyric he wrote, song he sung and chord he played. But Mitch and Emily. They didn’t understand.

Made it clear, they’re still here, are you listening now? Just a ghost in the halls. Feeling empty, they’re vacant now.

Luke felt light he’d just been sucker punched straight in the stomach. Unsaid Emily. When Julie took that to his parents, for the first time, he was heard. He was valid and it was clear. It was laughable really, stood with Julie, pouring every emotion into that song but they couldn’t hear him. Just a ghost in the halls.

All the battles, all the wars, all the times that you’ve fought. They’re the scar, they’re the bruises, they’re the pain that you brought.

Those lyrics echoed in Reggie’s mind. He remembers what his grandma told him before she passed about how his parents were never in a good place and believed that by having Reggie, it would help. So that no, it wasn’t Reggie’s fault that his parents were the way they were. Reggie could count on both hands how many nights through high school his parents either didn’t fight or didn’t know if they fought because he wasn’t home. They’re the scar – Reggie is a constant reminder that having him wasn’t going to fix anything, it wasn’t going to make any anger or resentment fade away. They’re the bruises – temporary but painful to touch and look at. Another synonym for Reggie’s relationship with his parents as he got older. They’re the pain that you brought – the pain of their marriage falling apart at the seams day by day and hoping a child would somehow fix that. Except now Reggie is all of that pain.

There was life, there was love. Like a light and it’s fading out.

When Reggie was younger he was loved differently. His every need was doted on and when his parents fought, he wasn’t around for it, his grandma would swoop in and take him or ice cream or to make sandcastles on the beach. But as he got older, he became more independent. When things got tense, he’d take himself out for ice cream and a walk along the beach. He’d lock himself in his bedroom with his journal and a box full of memories of his time with his grandma. As Reggie got older, the love faded. It was there, but the love wasn’t the same.

Hey mom, hey dad. When did this end? Where did you lose your happiness?

Reggie’s parents were never happy, not truly. Their happiness was lost way before Reggie came along.

Luke’s parents, on the contrary, were happy. They didn’t lose their happiness with one another but, instead, they lost it with Luke and his ‘unambitious and silly little dreams’.

Alex’s parents, they were a little more complex. Were they happy? Perhaps. Where did they lose their happiness, the night Alex came out as gay.

I’m here alone inside of this broken home.

And they were. None of them had siblings that they knew about. When they parted ways after school or band rehearsal they’d be on their own, inside of their broken homes.

Who’s right, who’s wrong. Who really cares? The fault, the blame, the pain’s still there.

In Luke’s mind it was so messed up. He thought about his family and how’d they wanted better for him, better than ‘some rockstar Luke, you know what it’s like the drugs, the drink, who knows what you could get messed up in’. He thought of Reggie’s parents, who fought about anything and everything just because. And he thought of Alex, Alex who never really had a relationship with his parents after that night.

I’m here alone inside of this broken home.

The boys clutched to each other tighter. Tears were falling, sniffles could be heard, and shoulders were shaking. They knew in an instant that any one of them could reach for the remote and just turn it off and stop this entire thing. But none of them wanted to. It was strangely cathartic and almost necessary. All of these emotions were raw and to them it hadn’t been twenty-five years since they went off to Hollywood to chase their dreams, it was mere weeks. They’d never actually spoken properly about these things. There was the fleeting comment or remark but nothing substantial. Nothing like this. Not for a long time.

You’ve gotta let it go, you’re losing all your hope. Nothing left to hold, locked out in the cold. You painted memories then washed out all the scenes. I’m stuck in between a nightmare and lost dreams.

And that was it wasn’t it. They’d been holding onto these toxic and damaging thoughts for years. Alex had to leave behind the fact that he couldn’t hide himself anymore that even though his own parents didn’t accept him, his brothers did. Luke had to just accept his family were never going to realise that this wasn’t just some silly little dream, this was his choice and he thanked Julie every day that she was able to give his parents a piece of that. And Reggie, Reggie had to let go that it wasn’t his fault, that he wasn’t a burden but he was loved and cherished more than he’ll ever know or understand. A nightmare and lost dreams. Maybe at one point their lives felt like a nightmare they could never wake up from and that maybe they were never going to get their ‘big break’. But it was temporary, just like the scars, bruises and pain – it’d fade eventually, and they got their time.

Alex, Luke and Reggie sung the last chorus the best they could with their hoarse and scratchy voices – they poured every emotion they felt into that final chorus. The three of them huddled together on the armchair together. It took a long time for them to realise that home wasn’t a physical place but a feeling. And although their ‘physical home’ was broken. When they were together, that was home and it was far from broken, it was their constant. They could do anything because they were Sunset Curve. Tell your friends.

[scarlettatg]

The Handmaid’s Tale

Parallels in episode 506 Together

Episode 104 Nolite te Bastardes Carborundorum:

Look, I'm sorry this is happening to you. I wish.

You wish what? What do you wish?

Episode 506 Together:

I'm sorry. Sorry. I just... it's just when I... When I think of you in places like this, by yourself, I just wish... I wish I could've been the kinda guy that could've come and got ya. And I know how that sounds, I just... I just wish I could've been with you through that.

You were with me. You were.

It’s interesting to me how both men tell June I wish, implying they wished they could do more. Nick doesn’t finish his statement maybe because he knows he can’t do much but he apologizes for the situation June is in showing empathy and understanding to what she’s going through; especially after her emotional meltdown in the car minutes before. Nick tried to protect her, he tired to get her out of Gilead; he gave her love and he made her feel safe enough to be vulnerable. Helping June had risks and he paid for them, but he also had to stand by unable to do anything, knowing there were times she was being mistreated and times where he had to make horrible choices. Nick was completely selfless, letting her and his daughter go believing the right place for her was to be out of Gilead always assuming she would go back to Luke. By contrast Luke couldn’t do any of the things Nick was able to do so he waited, expecting and needing her to come back to him. Expecting things to be the way they were before. Luke wants June to be ok and safe but he believes the way June is ok is by being who she was before. In season 4 we really see how he he’s unable to understand. This season we can see him trying and accepting this new version of June, but for the wrong reasons. He simply doesn’t want to lose her so he’ll accept things he wouldn’t have before and he will try to mold himself to her; just like she has had to mold herself to him. He feels inadequate for not being able to take care of June like Serena implied Nick did in episode 504. Luke is experiencing for the first time what June experienced for 7 years and he makes it about how he feels, so she feels she has to make him feel better. When she says that he was with her it appears her expression doesn’t match her words and there’s a sadness between them. It’s like they appear to be Together while being miles apart. June thought about Luke in terms of her family and what she lost. The one that was able to be with her and be that kind of guy, was Nick.

I also think it’s interesting that in that moment with Nick, without really knowing anything about him other than he’s a guardian, she was extremely vulnerable in the car. Then after he apologizes she was defiant. His mask slips when he tells her that he wished showing vulnerability. For June that wasn’t enough so she left him there with his hand outstretched and got out of the car on her own. She didn’t cater to him, she didn’t feel threatened or scared by his presence and the fact that he is a guardian. There was a level of trust there because he could’ve had her arrested and so could she. Throughout season 5 we still haven’t seen June feel comfortable enough to be this way with Luke.

Episode 104 Nolite te Bastardes Carborundorum:

I can help you. It could be the only way for you. If Waterford can't get you pregnant, they won't blame him. It'll be your fault. It'll only take a few minutes, honey.

Episode 506 Together:

I was just wondering... I, of course, have spoken to Ryan and Al an is about this, who encouraged me.

Encouraged you to do what?

To ask if you would like to have dinner with me...

Episode 104 Nolite te Bastardes Carborundorum:

It has been so hard. Being alone in that room all the time. I know Mrs. Waterford is, is trying to teach me a lesson. I know. I know she's right. I have so many flaws. But it has been so long. I'm afraid I'm starting to give up. I certainly wouldn't want to give up. Like my friend.

Episode 506 Together:

Bear witness. She's taken so much away from me. I need to see it. I need to see the end. I want to tell my son that I know what happened to his father's killer. That she's gone from the Earth.

Episode 104 Nolite te Bastardes Carborundorum:

There was an Offred before me. She helped me find my way out. She's dead. She's alive. She is me. We are Handmaids. Nolite te bastardes carborundorum, bitches.

Episode 506 Together:

Even if it is the slightest discomfort, Ezra will bring you home immediately.

Oh, I know

Episode 101 Offred

Someone is watching. Here, someone is always watching. Nothing can change. It all has to look the same. Because I intend to survive for her. Her name is Hannah. My husband was Luke. My name is June

Episode 506 Together

I'm going for a walk.

Well, no, it's too cold. And Dr. Landers said you need to rest.

Perhaps we need to organize a conversation between you and Commander Lawrence... Absolutely not. You need to rest. Your baby needs to rest. That's final.

Al an is.

Go to your room.

Episode 103 Late: A rose is a rose, except here. Here it has to mean something.

Episode 208 A Woman’s Work: And thank you for the flower.

Episode 506 Together: I just love that the more you cut back some flowers, the more they bloom.