#the we instead of i so it doesn’t sound too personal mhm

[mulderiloveyou]

hellooooo??? what’s going on here?? JJ looking all over his face, same girl same.

[rottingghosty]

Little Talks | DC X DP

part second part to the ghostling au !! this is just something to give you guys food while i write the fic

also usual errors will be made im only one person blah blah. hope you enjoy, as usual this is scheduled to post at 7am

☁️☁️☁️☁️

Danny lazily blinked at the person in front of him, his brain slowly rebooting itself as he released a small yawn. The person was green. A green person. Huh. Alien? He was exhausted, he spent so long aiding new systems and cradling stars that died and spread their dust around so they would be reborn again. He wanted to sleep but this person was in front of him and it’d be rude to ignore him. Pandora taught him better than that.

“Mrrp?” Danny felt his ears twitch, he wanted to feel mortified at the fact he made a sound like a cat in his own head but he really can’t be blamed because the moon he was around was really comfortable and he had no shame. He lazily tilted his head as the person’s shoulders seemed to loosen? A shake in his body. Weird.

Oh. He’s trying not to laugh at Danny’s response. Can Clockwork rewind so that didn’t happen. Of course CW ignored him like usual when it came to embarrassments like these.

“I do not mean any harm friend.”

The voice in his head echoed and it made Danny shiver in response, it was odd sharing a head space with someone else. He didn’t retaliate or cause any harm. His core could feel that this person was friendly, curious and respectful. He gives a head tilt in response.

Friend. Safe. Okay.

Danny gave another yawn, feeling his jaw open a tad wider than it should in normal human circumstances but who could care less when he has a Martian— an actual martian in front of him even if he’s too sleepy to actively be excited! He’s tired okay, it’s not everyday he gets to indulge on his obsession heavily on an everyday basis. He’d been so deprived that he’d gotten sick and it’s what made the others decide to give him the boot so he could enjoy his time before he got the crown.

“What is your name, little one?” Martian Manhunter softly asked in Danny’s head after the younger one winced from the volume earlier after he began to wake up.

“Danny.”

“Why are you out here?”

“Old man said I needed my enrichment.”

“One of my allies called you a baby ghost of the Infinite Realms, is this true?”

Danny released another cat like sound, this one more curious than the other when he had just barely woke up. Someone knew what he was? How curious, it wasn’t often Danny stumbled in dimensions that knew he was from the Infinite Realms… much less the fact that he’s even a ghostling.

“Mhm, ghostling is the proper term. We usually calculate age by how long we’ve been dead. In ghost terms I’m like three.”

Martian Manhunter seemed to pause, as if listening to something. Danny gave another yawn before he finally decided to change into a more normal size instead of the large form he had used to travel through the void easier. His form shifted in a bright light before he floated over to Martian Manhunter.

He quickly realized he was a lot smaller than he’d been and he supposes this is what CW meant when changing forms, he’d most likely reflect the age he’s in ghost terms. He doesn’t think he’d handle if Martian Manhunter treated him like a kid.

“When you said enrichment…?”

“Oh! Clocky said to play nice with my cousin? I think her name is Wonder Woman? Um he’s ah known as Chronos?”

[obsesssedblerd]

Shut me up

“No, no, please, you don’t understand—we need to have a room with two beds instead of one.” 

From the middle of the bed, Satoru scoffs at the sound of your desperate pleas to the receptionist over the phone. You pace back and forth, groaning when you’re told that it was the last room. “I know that we booked last minute, but— Oh…. this is the only room available? …I see. Goodnight.” 

When you hang up, Satoru doesn’t stop his laugh, and the sound of it immensely amplifies your frustration. “You’re so pissed off,” he says as you cross your arms and glare at him. “It’s hilarious. Well, princess, looks like we’re here for the night. Get comfortable.” 

“Hell no,” you say, reaching into your bag to grab your phone. “I’m gonna ask Yaga for another place. There has to be another inn that’s close to the curse we’re tracking, and has two beds.” 

Satoru gets up from the bed and walks over to you, gently plucking your phone out of your hands and placing it on the dresser. “Yaga is asleep right now, and he worked his ass off to get this place for us at the very last minute.”

Good point. “Fine, I’ll sleep on the floor.” 

“Quit being ridiculous.” The asshole smirks, his blue eyes sparkling mischievously. “So flustered at the idea of sharing a bed with me. We’re just sleeping. You’re not thinking about anything dirty, are you?” 

“Huh?! No,” you hiss. “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

He doesn’t stop his teasing. “Hm. Sounds like you’re lying.” 

“Fuck you, Satoru,” you say, walking over to your bag and grabbing some clothes comfortable to sleep in. “And I’m not flustered. Just hate the idea of being so close to someone I can’t stand.” You head into the bathroom to shower and change before he can say anything else. “If you snore tonight, I’m kicking you.”

—

You can’t sleep. How could you? The room is quiet, and all you can think about is the man beside you. Speaking of, you hear Satoru shift, and the faint aroma of the expensive body wash he used while showering fills your nose. You hate to think it, but he does smell good. You look at the clock on the nightstand, and sigh quietly. Almost midnight. 

“Are you awake?” Satoru asks, and you pretend that you don’t hear him. 

You feel a poke in your ribs, and you shriek. “What the hell?!” 

“Pfft. Knew you were up.” He chuckles. “Ticklish?” 

“Do you need something?” 

“Nah, I just wanted to bother you.” 

You inhale sharply in an attempt to calm yourself, then turn around to face him. Though the room was mostly dark, you can still see him due to the moonlight shining through the window of the room. He’s lying on his side with his head resting against his arm, which was propped up on his pillow. 

“You’re like a child,” you say flatly as you roll your eyes. 

The corner of his mouth lifts in amusement. “Mhm.” 

“And you talk too much.”

“Tell me more.” 

“Extremely annoying, I can’t stand when you show up to missions late sometimes because you want sugar, and you joke around way too much when we’re supposed to be serious. Yaga, Suguru, and Shoko think that, too.”

He chuckles again, and you ignore the way your stomach flutters at the sound of it. “Aw, come on. You tell me that almost everyday. Give me something new.” 

“And give you that satisfaction? Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’ as you turn back around to face the wall. “I think you’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever worked with,” you conclude. 

“Well, you know what I think?” He asks, and you hum in question. You hear the bed creak as he moves, and your heart begins to pound when you sense him directly behind you. If you were to shift back even just a tiny bit, your back would be against his chest. 

“I think you’re full of shit,” he says near your ear, his voice dropping an octave lower. You feel his hand gently rest on your shoulder. 

“How so?” You whisper.

His hand begins to slowly slide down your arm, goosebumps rising on your skin. “You think I’m the most ridiculous person you’ve ever worked with, but you keep working with me,” he purrs, his breath fanning the shell of your ear. “At any moment, you can tell Yaga to quit having us do missions together, but you don’t. I always end up seeing you even though you say you hate looking at me.”

You feel his hand softly drift across your hip, then rest there, his fingers lightly playing with the hem of your shirt. Then, they slip underneath, drawing light, teasing patterns on your skin. Your breath hitches. 

You feel warm. 

“Saw how you looked at me when I got out of the shower earlier,” he says, and your stomach twists. Of course he did. Nothing ever gets past Satoru Gojo. “You were practically drooling while watching me put a shirt on.” 

“I-” You clear your throat. “I wasn’t.”

“You’re such a liar.” 

His lips press a feather-light kiss to your neck—on a spot where you’re very sensitive, and you gasp, but instinctively tilt your head to give him a bit more access. When you catch yourself, you straighten, and Satoru only scoffs. “See? It’s obvious.” 

“...What’s obvious?” 

“You want me.” 

You turn around again, ready to tell him that this was the dumbest thing you’ve heard him say all night, but he puts a finger to your lips, effectively stopping your words before you can get them out. “You want me,” he says again, “but you don’t know how to deal with that. So, you pretend that you hate me when you and I both know that it’s not true.” He then smiles again, his eyes dark with want. “But I see right through it. You’re not subtle. Anyway, you have a choice. You can either continue with your lying, or you can actually do something about it.” 

It takes a lot out of you to keep your hands out of the way so you don’t strangle him and then pull him closer. “Something like what?” You ask.

“You think I talk too much.” He leans closer to you; your faces nearly touching. You swallow once, his eyes tracking the movement of your throat as you do. Then his smile grows, inviting—no, daring you to make a move. 

“So shut me up.”

[notlongtolove]

the earth was made for lovers

they say paris is the city of love. quantico, virginia? not so much. a smattering of cafés, the occasional pop-up museum if the season feels generous. it’s all routine, really, carved out of the ordinary.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: fluff

content: day in the life of bau!reader and bf spencer on a day off, just domestic fluff... spencer reid best bf ever agenda

word count: 2.3k

note: not even gonna lie this has almost nothing to do with the linked poem other than it being romance related i just read that line and my brain ran wild with it n e ways happy end of year everyone <3

a line: It’s where you met a boy too kind for his own good, love spilling from him at the edges.

Oh the Earth was made for lovers, for damsel, and hopeless swain, For sighing, and gentle whispering, and unity made of twain. - emily dickinson

They say Paris is the city of love. Quantico, Virginia? Not so much. A smattering of cafés, the occasional pop-up museum if the season feels generous. It’s all routine, really, carved out of the ordinary.

Even the way you and Spencer met was decidedly unremarkable. A simple, predictable statistic—Work. No serendipitous meeting in a dusty bookshop or a fateful grab for the last box of cereal. Just proximity, shared interests, and time. Not exactly the makings of a Nicholas Sparks screenplay.

Your first date—if you could even call it that—A stakeout for the Reynolds case, which, in Spencer’s mind, seamlessly doubled as an outing, though you’d argued against it. It eventually evolved into coffee at a quiet café, a stroll through the park, and a chaste kiss on your doorstep. The weeks that followed had brought more kisses, more quiet moments, till it all became wonderfully familiar.

Now, you’re walking hand in hand, the crisp sound of leaves crunching beneath your steps.

“We should go to Venice this summer,” you say, your fingers laced with his.

“Venice?” he echoes, tilting his head.

“Mhm. The city of love,” you muse fondly. 

“That’s Paris, sweetheart.” 

“Yeah, for the unimaginative and basic. Think prosecco on gondolas, Spence.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow, amused. “Did you get a pay raise I didn’t hear about?”

You turn to meet him with a deadpan stare, leaning back against the cold metal pole of the bus stop. Spencer shifts, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against his chest instead. To anyone else, it’s a sweet, tender, gesture of affection. And it is, mostly. But you of all people know Spencer likes having you close just as much as he likes keeping you from resting against questionable surfaces.

“Kidding honey,” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head. “Just let’s run it by Hotch before we start packing hm?”

A breeze cuts through the air, eliciting a shiver from you. Without missing a beat, Spencer shrugs off his coat and drapes it over your shoulders. If this had been your third date, you might have flushed, awkwardly protesting that you didn’t need it. But after two years, you’ve come to learn that Spencer Reid’s intelligence rivals his stubbornness when it comes to taking care of you. So you accept it without a word.

You accept the scarf, too, when he wraps it around your neck, tucking the ends neatly beneath the lapels of his coat. Your willing acceptance earns you a kiss on the tip of your nose, followed by one to your lips, soft and lingering.

When the bus arrives, you board first—always. There’s one seat left but you decline it, offering it to someone else instead. You’re both content standing, his arm steady as it holds the rail, yours slipping around his waist. You lean into him ever so slightly, your head resting just below his shoulder.

“Aw, we should’ve stopped by the bakery,” you sigh, eyes looking longingly out the window as the bus takes a slow turn past it.

Spencer leans across you, his hand already pressing the stop button. “We can walk back,” he says, his tone casual, though he doesn’t miss the way your eyes brighten instantly.

The bus comes to a gentle halt eventually, and his hand finds yours as you step off together. The sidewalk is narrow, but Spencer doesn’t seem to mind. Up ahead, the intersection is quiet, and with no cars in sight, he instinctively steps onto the road, letting you take the sidewalk to yourself, his hand never leaving yours.

As you walk, your hand dips into your bag, fingers sifting through an assortment of small objects before pulling out a wired earpiece. With one hand, you do your best to unravel it, then hand one side to Spencer.

“S’not that long of a walk, honey,” Spencer says, though he takes his side of the earpiece anyway. 

“I know,” you reply, slipping the other side into your ear. “But the weather’s so nice.”

“Says the one in two coats and my scarf.” You nudge him lightly, elbow brushing his arm as you move to select a song from your shared playlist. Spencer nods approvingly when a Turnover song starts playing. “I like this one.” 

“Me too,” you murmur, letting out a contented sigh as you slip your phone back into your bag, your hands swinging gently between you. Spencer considers telling you about Turnover’s musical evolution—their shift away from emo and punk rock roots. But the thought fades when he sees you quietly humming along, smiling to himself at the sight. 

The aroma of fresh pastries wafts toward you from a block away, the bakery coming into view soon after. Your steps quicken instinctively, with Spencer keeping pace. “Inside or outside?” He asks as you approach.

Normally, you’d both opt for the cozy outdoor seating, but the earlier chill has thickened, and the sky is now overcast with a looming promise of rain. You sigh dramatically as you begin to coil the earpiece in your hand, “Don’t think we have much of a choice, honey.” Spencer meets your exaggerated pout with an equally exaggerated sad smile before pulling the door open for you.

It’s quiet inside, save for the soft clinking of cutlery from a table where two elderly women chat over tea. Spencer moves behind you, helping you shrug out of his coat and scarf before draping them neatly over the back of a chair. You make your way to the counter, eyes scanning the rows of baked goods lined up. 

“Three for $10 on cupcakes today,” the cashier offers warmly. 

“Ooh, one chocolate please,” you say, without hesitation. Spencer’s favourite. 

“And one blueberry,” Spencer says. Your favourite, of course. 

His eyes flick to you, a subtle tilt of his head, and you know exactly what he’s waiting for. Banana—a close second on your list, almost guaranteed to make the cut.

You pause, pretending to deliberate, “We’ll take a red velvet,” you declare finally, and Spencer’s lips quirk upward. His other favorite.

After a small debate over who’s paying—Spencer, of course; he’d sooner recite the entirety of The Canterbury Tales backward than let you pay while he’s around—you shuffle back to your table, cupcakes in your hand and the faintest hint of triumph in his grin.

“You know where else has really good cupcakes?” you say as you set the box down between you, already digging in. 

He arches a brow, “Enlighten me.”

“Venice.”

Spencer snorts, barely stifling a laugh. “Ah yes, Venice, La Serenissima, renowned across the globe for its cupcakes.”

“You mock me Spencer Reid, but seriously,” you say with indignation, wagging your finger at him for emphasis. “I was looking at flights last night and—”

“You were looking at flights?” he cuts in, leaning across the table. His hand brushes your cheek, his thumb gently swiping away a smudge of blueberry frosting you hadn't noticed. You shift, instinctively leaning into his touch.

“They’ve got some really good deals right now,” you press on, undeterred, as you tear your blueberry cupcake neatly in half, holding out the piece to him. 

“I mean, I guess we could,” Spencer says thoughtfully, handing you half of his chocolate cupcake in return.

“Really?” Your face lights up.

“But,” he adds, pausing for effect as he takes a bite, “we’d have to talk to Hotch first.”

You huff theatrically as you make a point of finishing the rest of your cupcake in one exaggerated bite. 

Not long after, the cupcakes are gone, their crumbs swept aside, and the first light drizzle begins to spatter against the bakery window. Spencer is quick to help you into your coat, though this time you insist you don’t need his as well. He eyes you, clearly skeptical before relents and shrugs on his own coat.

“Not that cold anymore,” you insist, but he doesn’t let you fight him when he wraps his scarf around your neck, tucking it in once more. You can’t help but smile at the gesture.

Having Spencer Reid as a boyfriend means being over-prepared for every possible scenario, a fact proven moments later when you pull an umbrella from your bag—the very one he had slipped in earlier that morning.

Outside, the rain is light but persistent, it’s raindrops dotting the pavement in tiny patterns. You wait under the awning as Spencer opens the umbrella, holding his arm out for you to take. Truthfully, you are cold, colder than you’d like to admit, but you know Spencer too well. Whenever you share an umbrella, he always overcompensates, always angling it just so to keep you entirely dry. By the time you get home, one side of his coat is perpetually a shade darker, soaked from the rain, while you remain dry to the touch.

You hook your arm through his, leaning into him as you walk. 

“So, you’ll talk to Hotch on Monday?” you prompt, glancing up at him with a hopeful smile.

“Me? You’re the one itching to cruise around on gondolas.”

“Yeah, but he likes you more,” you counter, “you’ve known him for ages,” drawing out the last word dramatically.

“You joined the team four months after me.”

“Please?” You know full well he’s already on the verge of giving in.

“Fine,” he sighs, relenting, though the smile on his lips betrays him. 

You press a delighted kiss to his shoulder. “Best boyfriend ever.”

The walk home is peaceful, the quiet only broken by one brief moment of excitement when you swore you saw a kitten dart under the hood of a parked car. Spencer humoured you, standing and holding the umbrella patiently over you as you crouched to peek under the vehicle, only to find nothing but shadows. 

At your building, he shakes the umbrella off before closing it, careful not to drip water on the lobby floor. You trail behind him up the stairs, your pace slowed by the stiffness of your boots. By the time you reach your door, you’re already leaning against the frame, tugging fruitlessly at the zipper on one of them.

“I can’t wait until we’re in Venice and out of this shitty weather,” you huff, fiddling with the stubborn zip.

Spencer chuckles softly, bemused. “Uh-huh,” he says, kneeling without a second thought. His fingers find the zipper, pulling it smoothly downward in one practised motion. “Up,” he prompts, tapping your ankle lightly. You shift your weight, lifting your foot so he can slide the boot off. The moment it’s free, his hands move to the other boot, tugging at the zipper while you steady yourself with a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’d think for $80, they’d have mastered the art of waterproof footwear,” he quips, straightening up and setting your boots neatly by the door. His coat follows a moment later, draped on the hook in your living room.

The opening is too good to pass up. “You know where they make the best boots?”

Spencer glances at you, already catching on, “Touché darling”. He shakes his head in amused resignation. “Tea?” he offers, moving toward the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

“Yes, please,” you reply, kicking off your socks and padding after him. You hop onto the counter, your favourite perch, and swing your legs idly as he sets the kettle on the stove.

“Venice actually has surprisingly good tea,” he says, pulling open the cabinet to grab the mugs—yours with a faint crack along the rim that you refuse to part with, (despite his repeated, that’s really dangerous, honey, warnings) and his, adorned with a fading illustration of the periodic table. 

“You’re joking,” you laugh as he sets the mugs on the counter beside you before his arms cage you in, one on either side.

“I’m serious, the first Western record of tea? Venice. Everybody knows Italy’s famous for its coffee, but tea has its place too.” 

You hum in faux contemplation as your arms loop around his neck. “How very fascinating,” you reply, punctuating your words with light kisses along his jaw. You can feel him smile against your cheek as he continues his impromptu lecture, but his words falter when your hands slide up to brush the damp curls from his forehead.

His lips find the curve of your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses that send you into a fit of giggles. “Spence,” you squeal, half-protesting as he nuzzles into your skin, his stubble tickling in just the right way. In your laughter, your arm brushes the counter, sending your mug tumbling to the floor with a sharp crash.

Both of you startle at the sound, Spencer’s reflexes kicking in as he immediately pulls you closer. “Shit. I’m sorry, honey.” Spencer’s eyes dart from you to the shattered ceramic on the floor. “Are you hurt?”

“M’fine,” you assure him, shaking your head. “Are you?”

He exhales, relieved, brushing his hands gently over your legs checking as if to make sure. “I’m fine, too. Just... don’t move, okay? It’s really sharp.”

You glance down at the scattered remains of your beloved mug, shoulders sagging slightly, the disappointment evident.

Spencer’s hand finds yours again, squeezing lightly as he flashes you a soft, reassuring smile. “S’okay, baby. You know where else they make really good mugs?” And you’re in a fit of laughter again. 

Unfortunately, as it turns out, Hotch isn’t exactly thrilled about any PTO requests longer than two weeks—especially when it means losing two of his agents, and for an entire summer at that. 

So, the summer doesn’t take you far after all. There’s no lovelock bridge, no prosecco sipped by moonlit canals. But there are cramped buses with too few seats, where you’d rather stand pressed together than sit apart. There are rain-soaked evenings, huddled close under an umbrella that never quite does its job of keeping both of you dry—though you’d argue that’s more on Spencer. 

Quantico, Virginia, might not be the Eiffel Tower or a gondola gliding along a Venetian canal, but it is where Spencer first held your hand in a coffee breakroom after a scolding that left you blinking back tears, where you spent an entire evening sorting his books into new shelves after you got your own place together.

All in all, you’ve come to find that you quite like it here. It’s where you met a boy too kind for his own good, love spilling from him at the edges.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: humming by turnover pretty boy by the neighbourhood

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire part nine

firefighter!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist

synopsis: inevitable trials and tribulations ensue with joel and tommy’s return from san angelo.

rating: 18+, minors do not interact

word count: 9.2k

warnings: lots of angst and emotions, trauma responses, mentions and descriptions of death, mentions of burns on a body, mentions of cause of death, funeral, family fluff, mentions of pregnancy (reader’s sister), no use of y/n.

a/n: this is my first real crack at writing angst like this, so i hope i did a decent job. hope you enjoy <3

You: Hey, are you free tonight after work by any chance?

Maria: Absolutely. What’s up?

You: I want to take you on a drive. I have a plan and I want to tell you all about it.

-

You’re grateful Maria doesn’t ask too many questions, because she agreed to your proposal and left it at that. 

It’s Friday, and since Sarah will be with her friends from the soccer team, it’ll just be you and Maria in the house. 

It’s a day shy of a month since Joel and Tommy left, and your heart aches at the empty spot beside you in the bed when you wake up and go to sleep. You never consider yourself to be a clingy person, but since Joel’s accident months ago, the worry in you clings to your body like Saran Wrap. 

He still checks in every night as promised, but seeing him over a screen instead of having him physically by your side is a vastly different thing. 

Maria comes home around four and she’s by your side ready to go an hour later. 

You both enjoy the late golden afternoon sun and music softly playing in the background for fifteen minutes before Maria asks you the burning question. 

“So what’s this about?” She asks, the warm air whipping through the rolled down windows of your car. It’s early May, and summer is quickly approaching. 

“So you know that car accident I got into nine months ago?” You ask, taking the exit off the highway, beginning to head into the countryside. 

She nods. “Mhm.” 

“So it turns out, whoever hit me is some big wig’s kid. The parents cut me a check and it’s sitting in my underwear drawer as we speak,” you explain. 

“Oh shit. How much is the check? If you don’t mind me asking.” 

You shake your head and wave a hand. “Not at all. But that’s the fucking insane part. They wrote me a check for half a million fucking dollars, Maria.” 

Her jaw pops open. She stares at you from the passenger seat in utter disbelief, and you roll your lips into your mouth to keep from laughing, because you know just how insane this all sounds. It’s exactly how you felt when you opened the envelope. 

“What the fuck?” Is all she responds, and you nod. 

“I said the same thing.” 

“Have you told anyone about this?” 

You shake your head. “You’re the first person.” 

“Well shit,” she laughs breathlessly, “I’m honored.” 

A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth before you puff a breath of air. 

You pull down the ranch road a few minutes later, and the familiar crunch of gravel underneath tires fills the air before you come to a stop, putting the car in park. 

You turn off your car and face her, and she’s looking at you like everything you’ve said is just batshit crazy and unreal. 

Because, in all honesty, it is. 

She finally takes in the surroundings, and furrows her brows. “What is this place?” 

“It’s their uncle’s ranch. Joel took me here in January for a horseback riding date and we’ve been coming back whenever we just need a tiny break from everything.” 

“You two are so in love it makes me sick,” she teases, and you wag your finger at her before pointing to the beautiful engagement ring on her left hand. 

“Don’t even start with me. Tommy looks at you like you’ve hung the moon and stars. He loves you more than life itself.” 

Maria smiles bashfully as she studies the ring that fits perfectly on her finger. 

“Who knew that we’d go from being in cubicles talking about boy troubles to finding our men that would lead us here years later,” she laughs. “Happy and with the loves of our lives. Isn’t that crazy?” 

“It really is. I’m so happy you’ve found someone who treats you with love and respect. Tommy is so infatuated with you. Rightfully so.” 

“And Joel with you. I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at you. The eyes never lie.” 

You huff a laugh and shake your head, heart clenching in your chest at how much you miss him. 

“I’m sure you won’t be too far behind either,” she says, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion. She lifts her left hand, sun reflecting off the oval-shaped diamond sitting on her finger. It sparkles brilliantly and you can’t help but smile. 

“Thank you for encouraging me throughout the months. I really appreciate you validating my feelings and understanding my hesitancy with my relationship with Joel when it was brand new. My ex was—is—a piece of shit who destroyed my confidence and made me truly believe I’d never find true love.” 

Maria clasps her hands over yours, giving them a squeeze of reassurance. 

“I don’t know what came over me at the coffee shop that first day Joel and I met. It wasn’t even the uniform. I paid for his coffee as a small thank you for what he does, but it was his kind eyes and smile that did me in. I’ve been a goner since then.” 

Maria smiles at you adoringly, and you nod your head toward the ranch. “Joel told me his uncle was thinking of selling the ranch,” you start, and Maria gasps. 

“No way. No freaking way,” she says, and you actively see the wheels turning in her head, putting the pieces of the puzzle together. 

“You’re going to see about buying it, aren’t you?” 

You nod. 

“I am. This place means so much to Joel and Tommy and I can’t bear the thought of not allowing them the chance of carrying it on in their family. This is the perfect place to raise a family, to make new memories to add to the ones they both have as little boys here.” 

“My god, woman. Joel is going to lose his mind. He’ll love this.” 

“You think so?” 

“Absolutely. This place is so near and dear to his heart. I don’t see why he wouldn’t love it.” 

“I just want him to be happy.” 

Maria moves a hand to your shoulder, dark brown eyes staring into yours with a fierceness. 

“He is happy, honey. You make him happy.” 

Your nose twitches to get rid of the burn, the threat of tears stinging behind your eyeballs. 

“Now c’mon,” she says, jutting her chin toward the beautiful two story home. 

You both make your way to the front door before you knock on it, and a couple of minutes later an older gentleman with a big white mustache and a black cowboy hat on his head answers the door. 

He looks between you and Maria and furrows his eyebrows, and you shoot him a big smile. 

“Hi, Robert Miller?” You ask, and he nods. 

“I’m sorry to have bothered you. We’re Joel and Tommy’s partners,” you explain, waving a hand between your body and Maria’s. 

“Ah, so you’re the young ladies who have my nephews all smitten,” he says, grinning at you both. 

You laugh and nod. 

“What can I do you ladies for?” He asks. 

“I wanted to talk to you and see if you were still thinking about selling the ranch.” 

-

The next day, you and Maria sit on the couch with a glass of wine in your palms as you discuss small details she’d want in her wedding. You’re both so lost in conversation that you don’t notice the front door unlocking. 

It swings open to reveal two very exhausted Miller brothers, and you almost drop your glass at the sight of them both. 

“Oh my god,” you cry, putting your cup down on the coaster in front of you, springing to your feet. Maria follows suit, and you both glance at each other in disbelief. 

“Miss us?” Tommy smirks, and Maria rolls her watery eyes while she pushes herself into his body. 

“Like hell,” you say, launching yourself into Joel’s arms. He hugs you so tightly, and you almost can’t believe he’s here. 

You breathe in his scent, tears stinging your eyes once again. 

“Fuck, I can’t believe you’re here,” you parrot your thoughts, sobbing into Joel’s neck. 

He runs his hand soothingly down your back, kissing your hair repeatedly. 

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel it in his body language—he needs to hold you right now. 

Your arms squeeze him tighter, one hand raking up to the curls at the base of his neck. You separate your head from his body with a lilting smile. 

“You need a haircut,” you tease, and you feel the way he huffs a laugh before cradling the back of your head. You look into his eyes and notice a sadness that wasn’t there before he left. There’s no familiar spark of joy.

He looks almost… haunted. 

It was evident that something happened while they were in San Angelo.

And with that realization, a gut wrenching, nauseating feeling permeates throughout your entire body. 

You scratch Joel’s scalp with your fingertips in a soothing motion, just the way he likes it. 

“Fuck. I’m ready to go home and take the longest nap of my life,” Tommy groans. 

Your lips twitch in slight amusement, and Maria laughs against his chest as she pulls apart from him. 

“Let’s get you home then, handsome.” 

You smile at them as they leave toward the guest bedroom where Maria’s stuff is. 

Your eyes shift back to Joel as soon as they’re out of sight. 

“Let’s get you settled in, hm?” You ask, kissing the tip of his nose. He manages a smile and nods, and you take his duffel bag from his hands. 

He opens his mouth to protest, but you put a finger to his lips to shush him. “No lip from you, Miller. You need your rest. Now get your fine ass upstairs,” you instruct. 

It pulls a genuine chuckle from Joel, and your heart fucking swoons at the noise. It’s so good to have him back in front of you. He’s tangible. Not behind a screen. 

“Where’s Sarah?” 

“She’s taking a nap in her room. She’s going to be so excited to see you.” 

Joel kisses your head before he treads upstairs and you take his duffel bag to the laundry room, sorting the clothes correctly before starting a load. You catch Tommy and Maria on their way out, hugging them and kissing them both on the cheek. 

Joel is halfway down the stairs again before you round the corner, and he stops in his tracks. 

“Come to bed with me. Please. I missed you so much,” he says. His voice is quiet. Solemn. 

You nod and head upstairs with him, getting comfortable under the lightweight comforter that adorns your shared bed. 

You’re facing each other, and you both lay there while looking into each other’s eyes. 

“Honey,” you coo, reaching a hand out to stroke his cheek. “What happened out there?” 

The look on his face is soul-crushing. His eyes instantly gloss over and he shakes his head, pulling you close as he rests his head on your chest. He takes a few deep breaths, inhaling your scent before kissing the skin there. 

You sigh and rub his back soothingly, not wanting to rush him or force him to talk about something he isn’t ready to vocalize. 

You also worry about him pushing you away, too. You promised him early on in your relationship that he could come to you with anything, especially if it was about work. 

You sigh and kiss his curls, worry slinking through your veins. 

Just give it time. 

-

They say time heals all wounds. 

You’re not so sure about that. 

It’s been a month since Joel and Tommy’s return, and Joel is…different. 

He still won’t talk about what happened out there, and he’s been pulling away more and more. He’s less talkative, less affectionate, more withdrawn. He doesn’t smile as much, either, and to see it all happening right before you absolutely obliterates your heart and crushes your soul.

You never want to see him hurting, but he simply won’t open up to you—or anyone, for that matter. Tommy tells you that they fought some gnarly fires out in San Angelo, and there were two unfortunate deaths in other firehouses, so that might be what’s shaken Joel up.

You try and make sense of it all, piecing the puzzle together for Joel’s behavior, and you can imagine he saw something that nobody should ever have to see in their lifetime. 

Today, he and Tommy are attending the funeral of one of the men who passed away. You and Maria were asked to go for moral support, which of course you two didn’t turn down. You watch Joel in the mirror as he fumbles with his collar, and you step up behind him to put your hands on his shoulders. 

He tenses under your touch and you immediately pull your hands away, a small frown forming on your lips. He’s never tensed at your touch. He turns around slowly, wordlessly, and looks at you with an apology clear as day in his eyes. 

You reach up again, hesitant this time, but Joel grabs your wrists and holds your hands on his chest. 

You slide your hands up to fix his collar, tucking it into his suit jacket. His Class A uniform adorns his body, and if it were under any other circumstance, you’d tell him how good he looks. 

But you resort to straightening his lapels and his badge that sits on the left side of his uniform. Your eyes drift down as you run your fingers over the gold buttons of his jacket. You step back from him, giving him a once-over. His gloves and hat lay on the bed, so you retrieve them for him before meeting his gaze once again. 

It kills you to see the man you love hurting so much, and you wish you could do more than offer your comfort. You know it’s not enough, but you really don’t want to stir the pot by asking him to open up to you and tell you how you can help him. 

Maybe it was him reverting to his old ways, staying closed off like he would with his ex. Except you’ve made it abundantly clear that he didn’t need to do that anymore.

His gaze softens the longer he looks at you, and he opens his mouth to say something, but it snaps shut as soon as he hears the front door open. You clear your throat and give him a forced smile, turning to walk downstairs. You greet Tommy and Maria at the door, and immediately Maria clocks that something’s incredibly wrong. 

Her eyebrows furrow as she looks at you, and your lips wobble a little before sighing, holding back the tears. She links her arm with yours and steps outside with you, walking toward Tommy’s truck. 

“Talk to me, honey,” she coos, and a single tear slips from your eyes as you look up at the bright blue sky. 

“He still won’t talk to me about it, Maria. He’s shutting me out and it’s fucking killing me. I don’t want to force him to talk about it, but I don’t know what to do.” The column of your throat works as you swallow harshly, sniffling as you try and will away the rest of the tears that want to escape. 

“He’s been distant in general, too. He tensed up at my touch today. Usually he’s all over me, but for the past month, he’s barely even put his hands on me. I don’t know if this is his way of shutting down, but I want to do something to help him before he completely spirals.” 

“Fuck,” she sighs under her breath, pulling you into a hug. 

“Well I wanna distract your mind right now. Have you heard from Robert yet about the ranch?” She keeps her voice low as she watches for Tommy and Joel. They’re still inside, probably talking. 

You blink. “Oh, yeah,” you start, “He agreed. It’s thirty acres of land. He said seventy five was good, and I tried to offer him a full one hundred but he refused me and said it was too much and that he was happy to sell it so it could stay in the family.” 

“Oh wow, that’s amazing. So how long is the process going to take?” 

“I’m not sure, actually, but I got his phone number before we left so he and I could stay in touch.”

Tommy and Joel come out of the house, and their expressions—two complete opposites of each other—take you aback. 

Tommy looks pissed with a scowl on his face and Joel looks sad. Defeated, almost. 

“Everything all good here?” Maria asks, raising an eyebrow. You look between the two brothers, and Tommy unlocks his truck. 

“All good,” he grumbles. Joel opens the back door for you and you slide in, and he takes his seat next to you. Tommy’s truck roars to life and you’re all on your way. 

A few minutes after Tommy gets onto the freeway, Joel slides his hand over to yours and grabs it, giving it a soft squeeze. Your gaze snaps to him, forgetting all about the flatland that surrounds you outside the car that you were so intently staring at. 

He holds your hand the rest of the way there. You four make your way to the church, and Tommy and Joel sit with some of their coworkers and captain while you and Maria sit more toward the back, wanting to respect the attendees and the man’s whole firehouse. 

It’s a beautiful but devastating ceremony, and even from back where you’re sitting you can see Joel’s shoulders stiffen, body taut throughout the whole ceremony. 

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, and only when everyone goes into the next room to eat some food do you straighten out your worried expression. 

“I need a drink,” Joel mutters beside you, and you look at him with that same worried expression once again. Him drinking while he was in this mental state didn’t seem like the best combination. 

You’re not sure where the line is drawn between being a truly concerned girlfriend and telling him that probably isn’t the greatest idea, and coming off as too controlling or overbearing. 

Tommy shoots Joel a warning look. You try and wrap your hand gently around Joel’s forearm, and he flinches again. You sigh and let go of him, trying to puzzle together what’s going on in his mind and his actions that are quite frankly starting to give you whiplash. 

“Tommy, can I borrow the keys to your truck really quick?” You ask, and he gives you a small smile before fishing the keys out of his pocket and putting them into the palm of your hand. 

You mumble a small thank you before you head back to the parking lot, unlocking the truck before sliding into the backseat. You lean forward and stick the key into the ignition to crack the windows down a smidgen before fully slumping into the bench of the back seat. 

You scrub your hands over your face, mental exhaustion hitting you all at once. As much as you hate to admit it, you need an ounce of space. Maybe Joel does too, because he seems to be pushing you away more and more. 

You’re trying to be understanding and patient with him, but you’ve never seen this part of him—the part where he knows dark clouds are looming over his mind all day, and he chokes up on simply talking about what happened that made him curl in on himself. 

You slip your phone out of your purse, tapping on the family group chat. 

You: Hey guys. I know it’s last minute, but is anyone up for a family dinner tonight? 

Dad: Ok 

Mom: Hi sweetie. Absolutely. Our house? Six o’clock?

Emi: Heck yeah. One last family hoorah looking like a watermelon is in my tummy. 

Cole: I’m in. Just strictly family? 

Andy: Why? You wanna bring your new girlfriend? 

Cole: Not around you, jerk. 

Andy: Oh c’mon, she’s gotta meet the Brady Bunch, as Shadow called it, sooner or later. I’m in, btw. I miss mom’s cooking. 

Emi: You’re both airheads. But I agree, your cooking is missed, mama. 

Cole: That’s rude. Just know I’m rolling my eyes at all of you. Except Mom and Dad.

You: I didn’t even do anything. 

Cole: Doesn’t matter. You’re automatically affiliated with the other goons. Is Joel coming too? 

You: Nope, just me tonight. Sorry you can’t hang out with your boyfriend. 

Andy: What a shame. Guess I won’t get all dolled up for tonight after all. 

Mom: Enough, all of you. Can’t wait to see my babies tonight. <3

Andy: Who taught Mom the heart emoticon? 

A laugh turned sob evades your throat, and a tear slips down your cheek. You miss your family so much, and you know tonight will make you feel better. You let a few more tears slip before you gather your bearings, wiping the tears away and slipping out of the truck. 

You just needed a moment away. A moment where people couldn’t see you crying. You suppose it wouldn’t look too odd considering you’re at a funeral, but crying over someone you literally don’t even know would probably attract attention and garner more confusion than needed. 

You slip back into the crowd, easily finding Tommy and Joel before handing Tommy the keys back to his truck. 

“Everything okay?” Tommy asks. He cocks a concerned brow at your glassy eyes. 

Your sniffle is a dead giveaway. “Yeah,” you say softly, and Tommy glares at Joel because he knows you’re not telling the truth. 

“Wanna head out soon?” Tommy asks everyone, and Maria grabs your arm gently and nods, walking ahead of the brothers with you in tow. 

“I’m gonna give him a little bit of space tonight,” you say to her, and she looks at you understandingly. 

“If you need to crash at mine and Tommy’s, you’re always more than welcome,” she says. 

You give her a small smile and lightly squeeze her arm. 

“Thank you. I’m going over to my folks’ place tonight. We’re gonna have a family dinner.” 

“That sounds really nice. Tell them I say hi.” 

“Tell who you say hi?” Tommy asks. 

“Nosey,” Maria scolds him, making you laugh. 

“My family. We’re having dinner tonight at my parents' place. One last gathering before my sister has her baby.” 

“That’s so nice. Tell them I say hi too,” Tommy grins. You give him a nod and glance at Joel, and the sad look in his eyes fucking kills you. 

The ride back home is silent until you give Maria and Tommy a kiss on the cheek goodbye before heading inside, Joel hot on your trail. 

You make it into the kitchen before you hear the gravelly sound of his voice. 

“Baby,” Joel calls out, and your eyes close and at the sound of the pet name. 

You spin around, gripping onto the countertop to keep yourself steady. 

“I’m just having dinner with my family tonight, Joel. To give you some space.” 

“I don’t need—” He sighs, slumping down onto a chair at the dining table. “I don’t need space,” he finishes. 

“Then what do you need, Joel?” Your eyes sting once again and you look up at the ceiling.

“Listen. I’m trying to be patient and let you come to me on your own time, but you’re just pushing me further away. I’m so sorry for whatever happened out there. I know I can’t resonate with what you’re going through, and I wish I knew the right things to say. But I’m telling you I’m here for you, Joel. You don’t need to bottle up what you’re feeling around me. I want you to feel comfortable telling me these things, but I don’t want to force it out of you. So I’m giving you a little bit of space.” 

You scrub your hands over your face again, a lone tear falling down your cheek. 

“I love you so much, Joel. It kills me seeing you like this. I miss you. Sarah misses you.” 

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath. His head is hung low between his shoulder blades, elbows on his knees as he knots his hands together and fidgets them anxiously. 

You push yourself off of the counter and round it to kneel in front of him. You cover his hands with yours, bringing his knuckles up to your mouth to kiss them tenderly. 

“I promise I’m not trying to make you feel guilt or anything. I’m just being honest with you. I love you, Joel. I’m not going anywhere. I just want to know how to help you.” 

You give his knuckles one last kiss before standing up, making your way upstairs to get ready for dinner with your family. 

You come back downstairs half an hour later. Joel is still in the same spot, and you want to cry at the sight. 

You walk over to him and his head shoots up. You didn’t realize how tired he looks until now. Dark circles adorn the space underneath his eyes and his beautiful brown irises are still void of the light you wish you could put back in them. 

He reaches out for your hand, gently coaxing you to sit on one of his thighs. You lean into him, running a hand through his soft curls while kissing his temple repeatedly. 

You sit like that for a while, and this is what he might need, you think. To just sit in silence and physically be touching you while he sorts his thoughts. He turns his head to kiss your bare shoulder before leaning his forehead down on it. 

“I love you so much, sweet girl. I’m so sorry.” His voice is hoarse, a pang of guilt and disappointment laced into his tone. 

“I love you too, Joel. We’ll get through this. And I have every faith that you’ll get through this, too. Just please, please don’t shut me out. Let me be your escape. Tell me how I can help.”

”That’s just the thing, though. I don’t know how I can be helped, and I certainly don’t want to put that burden onto you. I don’t want to be a burden, even though I know I already am.” 

You sharply inhale at his words, pulling away from him as you search his eyes. His brows are furrowed and he’s frowning, almost like he’s frustrated. Not with you, though. With himself. 

“Joel Miller, you are not a burden, you hear me? This may be a rough time, but you’re allowed to feel what you’re feeling,” you sigh. You pause, rolling your lips into your mouth as you carefully contemplate your next words. 

“Everyone copes differently, and if you don’t ever want to talk about what happened, then I simply need to respect that. But I am your partner, Joel, which means you don’t need to go through this alone. I need you to know that and understand that I wouldn’t ever force you into talking about something you weren’t ready to speak about, nor would I belittle you if you choose to speak about it. It just hurts to see you pull away or flinch at my touch. I want to be your peace, your safe space. Please let me be that for you.”

You both stew in the silence afterwards, your words lingering in the air. 

”What did I do to deserve you?” He whispers, and you shake your head. 

You kiss his temple one more time before getting off of his lap, and this time, he’s hesitant to let you go. You feel like staying too, but you really need to do this—give each other space for a few hours. Plus, you miss your family a lot and you could really use a few laughs and positive energy right now. 

“I’ll be home in a few hours, okay?” Your voice is almost a whisper. He nods and you walk out of the front door without looking back at him, because you know if you do, those big brown eyes will lure you right back to him just like they have from day one. 

-

You walk in through the front door of your parents’ house, slipping off your sandals before making your way into the kitchen where you hear a couple of voices. 

“There she is!” Your mom says, and you can’t help but smile. 

“Hi Mama,” you say, hugging her and kissing her cheek. 

“Hey baby girl,” your dad says, giving you a hug. 

Your eyes lock on Emily, and she’s absolutely glowing. Her hand is rubbing her stomach soothingly, and you make your way around the counter to bend down and kiss her stomach. She chuckles before you envelope her in a hug. 

“Are you excited?” You ask. Her due date is in a couple of weeks, and you’re all waiting for the day you get to meet your nephew. 

“I am, but I want this baby out of me. Josh has been a saint taking care of me.” 

“As he should. You’re literally growing life inside you,” you deadpan. But you know Josh has and always will take care of your sister. 

“I know. Isn’t that crazy? It’s even weirder when he moves and kicks.” 

You smile at her, taking a seat next to her at the dining room table. 

Her voice drops an octave as she leans in, grabbing your hand. 

“Is everything okay?” 

Fuck, she knows you like the back of her hand. 

“Is it that obvious?” You reply, eyes meeting hers. 

“Maybe not to the others, but I know you better than anyone, and I can tell something is wrong. Something seems… off.” 

“Maybe it’s because I’m on the brink of insanity.” 

She laughs at that, giving your hand a squeeze. 

“Let’s go insane together. What’s on your mind?” She asks, keeping her voice low enough so nobody else can hear. 

“Joel and I are going through a rough patch, but we’re… handling it.” 

Emily’s eyebrows furrow before she sighs.

”I don’t want to pry and stick my nose where it doesn’t belong, but I hope whatever it is you’re going through gets better.” 

You’re thankful your sister isn’t prying, honestly. You really don’t think you have the energy to talk about this with another person anyway. Maria, and you presume Tommy, knowing about what’s going on is already enough. This is something you need to take care of on your own. 

The front door opens and your brothers walk through. “Ah, just in time. Dinner is ready,” your mom says, her and your dad setting everything on the table. 

“I could’ve helped with that, Ma,” you say, and she waves her hand. 

“It’s okay. I’m just happy you’re all here. I can’t remember the last time it was just us six,” she says. 

Andy and Cole sit across from you and Emi, while your mom and dad take each end of the table. 

“Hey sweet pea, how are Joel and Tommy doing? We have to get together soon and celebrate them being home now,” your mom says. 

You almost physically flinch at the idea. Emily finds your hand under the table again and squeezes it, and you squeeze right back. 

You really don’t know how to answer that question. You could tell the truth, or you could avoid putting Joel’s business out there. You choose Joel. 

“They’re alright, just settling back in. I know they’re happy to be home.” 

Your voice strangles around the lie, and your mom almost looks suspicious, but she lets it go… for now. 

“Well I’m glad they’re both home safe,” she says. 

You give her a small smile. “Me too.” 

Everyone jumps into conversation about what Emily and Josh’s plans are for when the baby is ready to make his official debut into the world. 

Emily doesn’t let go of your hand once. 

You zone out for a bit, missing some of the conversation until Emi’s stern voice catches your attention. 

“Word of advice. Don’t piss off a severely pregnant woman, Andy.” Emi glares at your brother while pointing her fork in his direction, and you and Cole look at each other, trying to suppress a laugh. 

“Men,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. Emily and your mom laugh at that while the other three give you a fake glare. 

“Anyway, it was really good to see all of you. We really should do this more often,” Andy says. 

“Going all soft on us now, brother?” You quirk an eyebrow. You honestly live for the way you can give your brothers shit and they throw it right back to you. It’s all jokes, and at the end of the day, you know they love you—even if they don’t like to admit it out loud. 

“Okay, everyone except Shadow,” Andy rephrases, and your jaw drops in fake offense. 

You shift to grin at him anyway and flip him off, and your mom calls your name in horror as your dad laughs. 

“Not at the table! I swear you four are impossible sometimes,” she huffs. You all laugh, and you reach over to grab her hand. 

“We love you, mama. Thanks for always dealing with our bullshit, even as adults,” you say. She grins and kisses your hand. 

“I’d do anything for my babies. I’m glad y’all still come around even though you’ve all got your own lives.” 

“Damn ma, don’t make us cry,” Andy jokes, and everyone laughs again.

“It’s just nice to do this. It reminds me of when y’all were little. And now you’re all grown, and our family is growing. It’s not very long before Emi and Josh welcome their baby boy into the world, and probably not far off from you and Joel getting engaged to be married and having kids of your own. Cole with his new beau, and Andy, whoever you meet, I hope they keep you in check.”

You bark out a laugh at the last words your mom says, because you told him the exact same thing. You point at him and shake your head. Andy looks at you and rolls his eyes, sighing before looking at your mom. 

“I know, ma. I just wanted to have fun for a little while, but I’m getting too old for that shit now and I really think I want to settle down with someone nice. I don’t want to force anything though, you know? I just want it to happen naturally.” 

You’re stunned by your brother’s words. He’s never been the type anyone can tie down. He’s always been free-spirited and wild, always partying and having fun. Not really giving a flying fuck for as far as the eye can see. 

Hearing him confess this to your mom, in front of everyone for that matter, is refreshing. He deserves to find that once-in-a-lifetime type partner; a true love. 

“And you’ll find them, baby. It’ll happen when you’re not even expecting anything at all. That’s how it happened for your dad and I,” she says, looking at your dad as she finishes. He shoots her a wink from across the table. You smile at the exchange, feeling extremely warm and lucky to have had such a great example of the type of love you’d hoped would find you one day. 

And now it has. And it makes you miss Joel, even though you saw him mere hours ago. You wish he was by your side right now. You’ll both get through this. You love him way too much to ever give up on him—not that that thought had ever crossed your mind in the first place. 

You just want him to be okay. 

-

You’re all stepping out of the front door of your mom and dad’s house, Tupperware in each of your hands as you kiss and hug your parents goodbye. 

“Please text us when you get home, all of you,” your mom says in her stern Mom Voice, and everyone promises they will. Before you can get into your car, Andy calls your name gently. He walks up to your car, and he eyes you conspicuously. 

“Is everything okay with you?” He asks. You furrow your brows, and worry your bottom lip between your teeth. You don’t know why, but your eyes sting terribly and before you know it, silent tears are cascading down your cheeks. You avert your gaze to the side, and Andy sighs before pulling you into a comforting hug. He kisses your hair before rubbing your back. 

You truly can’t say you saw this coming—him noticing something is off, him asking about it, him comforting you in a way you don’t think he ever has. It’s a nice change from the constant jokes, jabs and bickering, though. 

“Do I need to kick some ass?” He asks, and your shoulders shake as you laugh. 

You sniffle and pull apart from him. “No, not today. I’ll be okay. Promise.” 

He raises an eyebrow at you. “You sure? You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you? I know I’m not Emily and all, ‘cus I know how close you two are, but if you ever need anything—and I mean anything, don’t hesitate to call me, okay?” 

You nod at him, sniffling again before giving him another quick hug. You pull apart from him completely, lightly slugging him on the arm to break up the bit of tension. 

“Damn Andy, you really have gone soft,” you tease. He chuckles and rolls his eyes, giving your bicep a squeeze. 

“Shut up.” 

You both laugh, and once you settle down, you give him a serious look. 

“Hey, listen,” you start. “You’ll find your someone. And when you do, just know I’ll be the first to root for you. They’d be lucky to have you.” 

You smile at him, and he returns it before his eyes shoot to the ground. 

“I know I’m not the easiest person to be around sometimes, so this means a lot to me. Thanks, baby sis.” 

You nod and give him one more hug. “People who think you’re hard to be around just don’t know you like your family does, Andy. You’re a great guy. Maybe a pain in the ass sometimes,” you both chuckle at that, “But you’ve secretly got a big heart behind that ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ exterior that you have going on. Maybe it’s time you drop that façade and show the world how kindhearted you really are.” 

This time you give his arm a reassuring squeeze, and he smiles at you. 

“I needed to hear that. Thank you. I love you, okay? Tell Joel and Sarah I send my love.” 

You nod, opening your car door. “I love you too. And I will. Drive safe,” you say, before getting into your car to drive back home. 

-

You open the door and slip your sandals off once again, locking the lock before padding into the living room to see the TV playing the rolling credits to a movie. Joel and Sarah are on the couch, both knocked out cold. Her head rests on his shoulder and his head rests on top of hers. You smile at the sight, slinking into the kitchen to put the plentiful leftovers your mom sent home with you into the fridge, trying to be as quiet as possible. 

You send a quick text to your family group chat letting everyone know you got home safe, seeing your siblings texted the same thing a few minutes prior. 

You make your way back into the living room, maneuvering over between the coffee table and couch to pull up the blanket that had fallen down. You drape it over their bodies, giving them both a kiss on the forehead before you make your way upstairs. You do your night routine before slipping into Joel’s old Texas A&M shirt and some sleep shorts, getting comfortable in bed. 

You don’t know how long it is before you feel the other side of the bed—Joel’s side—dip with his weight, throwing the sheet you had over your body over his too. You stir a bit and blink your tired eyes open, turning to look at him as your eyes adjust to the darkness in the room. 

“Joel?” You murmur, voice thick with exhaustion. Your eyes glance over him to see the red blinking numbers on the alarm clock on his nightstand—4:36 a.m.

“Shh, go back to sleep honeybee,” he whispers, and you turn back around before he kisses your neck, pulling you into his body. Your heart bursts at the contact. It’s something you’ve missed terribly. You find it easier to fall asleep in his embrace, and before you know it, you’re out like a light once again. 

-

You wake the next day to the bed empty beside you. You frown before pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes, rubbing them to wake yourself up a bit more. You sit up before blinking, and your phone buzzing on your nightstand catches your attention. You go into the bathroom and quickly freshen up for the day before heading back to the nightstand to retrieve your phone. 

You pick it up, and gasp to see that it’s nearly twelve in the afternoon. You didn’t realize how late it was. 

You tap on the notification to see a text from Tommy, which makes your heart drop to your ass. 

Tommy: Hey there little lady. Is Joel at home with you?

You get out of bed to realize that there’s no sign of him. You check everywhere upstairs before making your way downstairs in a slight panic, looking through every room and space before realizing he’s not here. Wasn’t he supposed to be at work? 

You realize Sarah isn’t home, either. 

You: Hey Tommy. He isn’t here. I thought he was at work?

You shoot Sarah a quick text to see where she’s at too, and she replies that she’s spending a few days over at her friend Katie’s house. Partial relief floods through you that she’s safe, but you worry about Joel. 

Tommy: He left work early today. Told Cap he wasn’t feeling well. 

Fuck. 

You: How long ago was this?

Tommy: A couple of hours ago. 

Tommy: Fuck, don’t tell me my brother is missing. 

You sigh as you stare at the words on your screen, but ailment flees your body as realization dawns on you. 

You: I think I might know where he’s at. 

Tommy: Thank god. Please let me know if he’s safe. 

You: Will do.

You don’t even think about changing your clothes—you throw your phone into your purse, slip on your flip flops that are by the front door, and snag your car keys from the bowl on the entryway side table. 

You lock up before getting into your car, starting toward the ranch. You may be breaking a couple of laws by how fast you’re driving, but in this moment, you couldn’t give two fucks. All that mattered was getting to Joel. Making sure he’s okay. 

Well, okay in a physical sense. 

You silently hope that he’s actually where you think he is. Panic slinks through your bones at the thought of him not being there, but you trudge ahead anyway. Your pulse thrums quickly, music in your car drowned out by your thoughts and blood pounding in your ears. 

You turn down the ranch road, speeding up even more before the familiar sound of gravel crunches under your tires. 

Relief floods your body when you see Joel’s truck. You throw your car in park next to it, hopping out and scanning the area only to find him perched up underneath a tree in the shade facing the creek. You shoot Tommy a quick text letting him know Joel is okay, and you pause to stare at him for a second. 

You close your eyes and sigh, making your way over to him. You tread lightly, almost as if you’d startle him if you walked up too fast. 

You hear a soft melody, and as you get closer to him, you realize he’s strumming a familiar tune on his guitar. His eyes are closed and he’s tapping a foot to the rhythm of the song.

“Hey there, cowboy,” you say softly, and his eyes shoot open. He looks up at you in pure shock. 

“How’d you know I was over here?” He asks, and you take a seat beside him, leaning back against the large trunk of the tree. 

“Tommy said you left work early. Asked me if you were home. Pretty sure you can fill in the blanks.” 

“I can always count on my little brother to be in my business.” He rolls his eyes and sighs, propping the guitar up on the other side of him. 

“He’s just looking out for you, Joel. He loves you and wants to make sure you’re okay.” 

“Okay.” He scoffs at the word.

You roll your lips into your mouth and sigh, looking out at the creek. Silence falls between you both, and you feel Joel’s eyes take in your appearance, but you don’t look at him. You look at the glistening water, focus on the birds singing their songs, horses snorting and whinnying in the distance. 

There’s a closeness here—a familiarity that has settled in the land, everything it has to offer wrapping a comfort around you both like a weighted blanket. A nice, welcome sort of relaxation. 

You think about telling Joel about how you’re buying the land from his uncle. How this will someday be your everyday norm. How you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with him, have kids with him, create new memories here with him and your family. But you keep that little secret locked up for now. 

It’s silent for a little while longer, enjoying the sounds of nature before Joel’s gruff voice cuts through the air. 

“We were up in a helicopter to get an aerial view of the bigger fire,” he starts, and your gaze snaps to him. Your heart starts to pound against your ribcage as you realize he’s telling you what’s been ailing him the past several weeks. 

You’re deadly silent. As still as a statue. You freeze, because you don’t want to disrupt him in any way shape or form. 

“We got back down on the ground after assessing it, many of us were partnered up in groups of five to try and tackle the fire from multiple angles. We got it under control after a few hours, and our captains wanted us to switch teams. I was walkin’ back to base when Johnny—the man whose funeral we attended—collapsed right next to me. He had no heartbeat. We tried to resuscitate him, but we’d come to find burns on his chest and abdomen. He wasn’t wearin’ his gear properly. We don’t know if it was from exhaustion, from carelessness, or whatever the case may have been. Crazy part is, he didn’t die from the burns. He died from extensive smoke inhalation.” 

You swallow and reach for his hand, and he grips onto yours like a vice. You don’t say anything, silently urging him to continue.

“I was lookin’ into the eyes of this man—somebody’s son, somebody’s husband, somebody’s father,” he sighs, bringing his knees up toward his chest. He rests his elbows on his knees, letting go of your hand before digging the palms of his hands into his eyes before he continues.  “All I kept thinkin’ at that moment was that it could've been me.” 

He takes a few breaths before dangling his arms off of his knees, glossy eyes looking up at the bright blue sky. 

“When I first started this job, I didn’t have a kid or a partner to worry about. It was just Tommy and I against the world. Two reckless, young fools who love to help people,” a dry, crackled chuckle evades his throat. 

“But then we got older. And then Sarah came along. Maria came along for Tommy. You came along for me. And I just… I wanna be there for the milestones that life has to offer every single one of us. I wanna see my little brother get married to the love of his life. I wanna send my baby girl off to college. I wanna marry you someday soon and grow our family with you. I wanna get to grow old with you, and be by your side as our grandchildren surround us one day. I can’t have any of that if I’m doin’ a job that won’t guarantee me tomorrow.”

 A tear slips down his cheek, and you want so badly to reach over and wipe it away just as he does for you, but your limbs feel like steel and you’re finding it harder to breathe normally as you soak in every single one of his words. 

“It’s taken me nearly twenty years of doing this job to finally realize this. Sarah knocked a heap load of sense into me last night, and Tommy ripped me a new one the day of the funeral,” he says, and you raise your eyebrows in shock. Pride blooms in your chest at the fact that Sarah finally talked to Joel about how she really felt about all of this, but you wonder what Tommy must’ve told him. 

“Johnny was only twenty-eight. Had two beautiful kids and a wife and his whole fuckin’ life ahead of him. I saw the life leave his eyes as he collapsed right next to me, and the sickest part is that after I had called it in and we tried our best to revive him but to no avail, I had to carry on because I had a job I still needed to do. A duty I needed to fulfill. When we were at his funeral, and god, I know this sounds so fuckin’ twisted, all I could think about was that it could’ve been my picture being displayed. My body in the casket. My partner and daughter and my family, or fuck, even my firehouse in absolute shambles because I didn’t make it home. How does someone carry on like that, knowin’ it could’ve been them instead?” 

His voice cracks at the last words, and you’re quick to wrap your arms around him. You don’t know how long you stay like that, just holding him and almost rocking him soothingly while he lets out all of the pent up sadness and frustration that’s been wracking his body, mind and soul for far too long. 

Every time you think you have something to say to soothe him, the words die on your tongue. Because what is there to say to someone who’s experienced traumatizing things over and over again? How do you consolidate someone who’s seen more fatalities, more accidents, more devastation than a single person has seen in multiple lifetimes? 

“If I could take away all of your pain, I would in a heartbeat,” you finally say. He gives your body a light squeeze before pulling away from you, brown eyes full of sadness. 

“I wouldn’t wish this shit on anyone, baby.”

You nod in understanding. He sighs, maneuvering your body over his as he drops his legs to stretch out in front of him. You’re straddling him now, knees digging into the plush grass that surrounds the tree. 

You lean your forehead against his, hands landing on his strong chest—right where you can feel the strong beat of his heart. You roll your head right to left against his, sighing as your hands travel up to the sides of his neck. Your touch is gentle, and you swipe a thumb over the side of his throat, back down to where his warm, tan skin dips in at the base of the front of his throat. 

“Thank you for opening up to me, Joel. I know it isn’t easy for you to talk about these things, so you telling me all of this means the world to me,” you say, pulling your forehead away from his. “I love you so much.” 

The column of his throat works as he swallows, and his hands move to circle around your waist. He pulls you closer to his body, and your eyes flutter shut at the closeness. God, you’ve missed this so much. You’ve missed him so much. 

“I love you. I am so sorry I ever put you through any of that, baby. You didn’t deserve that, and believe me, I’m not proud of how I shut down and tried to handle this situation on my own. I keep forgettin’—no, forbidding that it’s okay to ask for help.” 

You gently grab his face in your hands, thumbs sweeping over the peaks of his cheekbones. “You don’t need to apologize, Joel. I’m sorry if I was too pushy or sounded ungrateful that you didn’t want to talk about this. I just worry about you and your wellbeing so much. I didn’t want you to lose yourself in all of this, but all of this clearly stems back further than I ever even knew.” 

You pause for a beat. Then, you kiss the tip of his nose. “I admire you, you know,” you start, and he leans back with a frown and furrowed brows. 

“Admire me?” 

You nod your head. “You’ve been through so much shit in your life, and you still manage to love the way you do. Look out for others the way you do. Care for people the way you do. You’re a resilient, brave man, Mr. Miller. And I admire the courage it takes to do a job as daunting as this one, showing up for every shift even after everything it’s put you through. And look, we can—we can find someone for you to talk to about all of this. Someone who’s trained and equipped to help you professionally, if that’s what you’d like. Just so you at least don’t need to carry the weight of…this… on your shoulders anymore,” you offer.

You kiss his cheek, and his eyes flutter shut at the feeling. 

He peels them open again, and Joel scans your face for a few silent minutes. You take the time to do the same. Your eyes roam over every freckle, every tiny scar, every beautiful feature that adorns him. There’s a slight sparkle back in his eyes, the one that you’ve silently hoped and wished would return again. It’s small, but it’s there. And it’s all yours to see at this very moment. He leans forward and kisses you softly, but there’s so much emotion behind it. An unspoken gratitude, a neediness, an unforgettable type of love. 

There’s that look of pure love and devotion stricken clear as day on his face once again as he seemingly admires you. It’s the look that you’ve been longing to see. 

The look that’s stronger than love. 

And then he goes and says something that knocks the air clean out of your lungs, flipping your world around completely. 

“Marry me.” 

taglist: @raspberrybesitos ; @nostalxgic ; @endlessthxxghts ; @punkshort ; @clawdee

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dividers by @.saradika-graphics

[driedrosesandcherry]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑 .ᐣ ⧽ ⠀ᛪ༙ stanford!sam ܸ﹙ s.w.﹚

ᶻz﹒₊ˎ SUM .ᐟ ⟣﹒ You and Sam are mentally suffering during exam week. What better way to blow off steam? Dinner comes first though.

cw ֪֪𓏼℘ 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 (𝟏𝟖+) ── MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. 𝜗 ˚ ∿ smut, a sprinkle of fluff, afab!reader, established relationship, explicit language, reverse cowgirl position, kisses almost anywhere he can reach, mentions of mirror sex, unprotected sex, third person omniscient, no use of y/n, use of gender neutral pronouns, sam says “good girl” endearingly. word count֢ ࣪ ݂ 1.8k

No distinct skin color, weight, etc for the reader, but they’re shorter than Sam. Requests, reblogs, and feedback are encouraged.

“You actually did that? God, you’re the worst, Sam.”

“The music sucked, babe. They also couldn’t sing.”

They chortled at his insistence and shook their head lightly after he blathered about how karaoke went yesterday with his friends. They began twirling their wooden yellow pencil skillfully over their knuckles and the length of their fingers. Their leg bounced while now looking over an open page of a textbook as their plump lower lip was lightly tucked between their teeth—a sign they were focused and wracking their brain more than usual like for an assignment here and there. Sam noticed when he looked up from his and rested his veiny hand upon their thigh, smoothing over the fabric of their pants with his thumb to soothe them. “You okay?” He inquired.

“Mhm,” they curtly responded, even whilst that familiar wrinkle takes place between their brows. Sam wasn’t buying their hum of yes for a moment. He politely cleared his throat and gently squeezed their thigh to get their attention. “Wanna get some dinner? We could always hit the books later.”

“Sam–”

“Baby,” He tersely responded.

And it worked like a charm everytime. That maintained eye contact and smooth timbre with the convincing slight cant of his head to the side. It didn’t take long for them to end up at the diner they’d always frequent. The great service and decent meal helped with the experience. Sam just couldn’t help himself as he held onto their hand to help them out of the passenger seat, kissed upon their temple and then their cheek as they headed inside. A random vintage car model, a jukebox, and the occasional elderly couple with a grandchild who was likely complaining.

A sigh filtered through their lips as they sat across from Sam who was already looking over the menu to order for them both. “I’ll get a, uh, tall sundae this time,” they murmured to which Sam softly nodded and set the plastic covered menu down wordlessly. As if on cue, the waitress with a mustered gentle smile on her red lipstick stained lips made her way over. “Hi, I’m Brandy. What could I get started for you two?” She had a classic New Jersey accent like from the films.

Sam rattled it off while they had time to pick at the plastic on the menu cover and stare off into what they could make out through the diner’s blinds before Sam took their hand. They hadn’t even realized the waitress had left to put their order ticket in the queue for the chef. “Sorry,” they murmured and Sam shook his head. “No, you’re fine. Just wanna make sure you’re okay.” And they simply nodded.

“…Studying kicking you in the ass too?”

“Of course.”

“Can I help you this time?”

Their eyes widened a fraction at him saying that, his words weren’t all sweet and innocent as they sounded. They knew that too well. Sam’s helped them study countless times, it’s how they started speaking to one another after all. He obviously meant stress relief sex instead. Sam blinked softly as he waited for anything as he gently rubbed his calloused thumb over their knuckles.

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Good girl,” He says that so warmly every time as a gentle smile crests the curves of his lips. He doesn’t mean anything sensual by it, but it never fails to make their stomach flutter and feel a little too warm. They squeeze their thighs together discreetly as if it’d quell the warmth blooming between their thighs and they politely clear their throat when the drinks are set down by the same waitress. “A tall sundae, for you. A black coffee, for you.”

“Thank you,” they synchronously answered as their respective drinks were given.

“Should we try the mirror thing again?” Sam casually asked after taking a swig of his coffee. Their eyes widen a fraction with recognition and they stop chewing on the stemless maraschino cherry they’d scooped from the pinnacle of the tall sundae. “What?” He responded, noting their surprise and giving them a confused look.

Yeah, about that.

The first time Sam had gotten into an argument with them? That was his way of apologizing once they finally started speaking to him again. But, he also repeated how sorry he was while staring back at them in the polished full length mirror a few feet from the bed. His hand pressed gently but firm, lithe fingers spread against the lower dip of their back, the other keeping their head up underneath their chin so they could look at him and themself the entire time. He was consistently thrusting against that delicious spongy spot deeply while he was whining or moaning right near their ear with his toned front pressed against their back or gritting his pearly molars.

When they started dating the guy, they didn’t expect him to be such a pervert. That’s not exactly a complaint though and they appreciated the desperate thorough apologies and “I love you’s” in their voicemail box they’d listened to on the drive there that day.

“Maybe something new.” They replied, a noncommittal shrug following. Feigning nonchalance as if they never froze at the mere memory of what they’d done before. The pads of his lengthy fingers tapped against the surface of the table in thought just when their orders were placed down and they said thanks again.

They spoke to each other causally during dinner like sex wasn’t the sole thing on both of their minds the entire time. More telltale signs from them than Sam though and Sam found himself smiling softly about it because he noticed every little thing about them.

A chuckle rumbled in his chest at some joke they’d told as they made it back into their shared apartment and he kissed their cheek and watched as they hummed and practically melted into the momentary intimacy. They slipped their shoes off at the door, their pair to the left and Sam’s on the right and evidently bigger.

“So, something new?” He asked as he shimmied his jacket off and helped them easily slip off his jacket that they’d borrowed.

“Can’t I surprise you?” they asked, turning to look up at him, to which he huffed out a breath of laughter with amusement laced upon his face. He stepped closer before resting a hand on the side of their face and maintaining eye contact again. He definitely wanted a kiss, and they melted into the touch of his hand with ease and rested their hand atop his. The kiss began gentle and slow, and then it kicked up a notch as they gripped onto the cotton fabric of his shirt.

He placed one hand on the back of their head and the other on their lower back as he carefully guided them to the bedroom through the medium sized halls of their apartment as they continued to kiss with soft laughter in between. He carefully twisted the knob and pushed open the door, steadying them when they nearly stumbled from the change then slamming it shut behind him, letting a cool draft of air in.

You’re both impatient, but once your lips part you’re helping one another take your clothing off. While they’re tugging his shirt off of his broad shoulders and over his head, he’s working at the metal button and zipper securing those denim shorts that cuff and hug their thighs at the hem. Their hands rest against his familiar torso as they kiss his lips for a moment before they continue until they’re both in a state of undress. Then they’re pushing him toward the bed slowly until he catches the memo to lay back on the comfort of their sheets.

He allows them to with no questions or complaint. They don’t make him wait, in sheer time they’re settling between his spread thighs on their knees with their hands planted flat on the bed in front of them to balance. Sam sits up to take in the sight, his earthy eyes dimmed with something carnal when he levels his gaze with them all ready for him. He grasped his girthy cock and pressed past their labia before dipping right in with a content sigh.

Their hips lower promptly to have him fully seated inside with near ease just as he moves his hand and he hisses out their name softly due to the stretch and warmth as his head cants rearward and lands on the assortment of pillows. Their hips roll slowly at first—it’s damn torturous, but he finds himself lifting his head to watch with soft pants and he even spreads his thighs a little more. It doesn’t quite beat the soft moans that start to filter through their lips once they finally bounce their hips. “Shit,” he curses breathily at the sounds they’re making and at the squelching feedback every time they sink down around him.

It doesn’t take long to gain a rhythm where they’re simultaneously moaning and the sound of their skin meeting is echoing off their bedroom walls as the bed lightly creaks beneath them. One sharp gasp, their hips stuttering, and their walls clenching is all it takes for him to know and he can’t help but rock his hips to further the stimulation as he grips onto the flesh of their ass. “You’re doing so good. You gonna cum?” He so fucking sly already knowing the answer. When they managed a nod with a shaky exhale, he hums lowly and slides one hand from around their ass, over their tummy, and down to the space between their legs.

He bit his lower lip for a moment as he pressed one of his fingers against their clit softly then traced lazy circles over their clit as they worked in tandem to climax. His cock twitches inside them and now they know he’s getting close, but neither stop just yet.

And then their hips stop just when the pressure near their navel snaps and they cry out his name while their nails cinch into the sheets, their walls fluttering around his length. He follows suit with a breathy groan, hips jerking once more, spilling while buried deep inside them as he finally lets up on rubbing their clit.

His hands rested against their thighs finally as he sat up and rubbed their thighs and then kissed their neck. “Wanna see your face,” he exhaled. They turned their head slightly before he leaned his head around and kissed their lips gently, sucking their tongue for a moment before pulling back with a soft slick noise.

When they lifted their hips with a soft gasp and turned to lay on top of him, he smiled softly watching them snuggle against him even with the minorly uncomfortable sweat waiting to slough off of their bodies with a nice bath. He wrapped one muscular arm around them while his free hand trailed along the bow of their spine.

“Let’s get cleaned up and pick up on the last set you needed help with. I’ll make you some hot tea.”

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘 I stress that you do not repost, translate, alter, or plagiarize my content on any platform, including—but not limited to—my theme. You are welcome to take inspiration as long as you ask me directly and have my explicit consent.

[featguler]

why do you do this to yourself ? ────── arda is not your boyfriend, but he sure gets jealous like he is.

♡ ────── pairing : arda güler x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. reader is a university student living in madrid. situtionship!arda güler lol. might have to mention that reader is a business major but it doesn't really matter. this one's a bit suggestive towards the end, folks. ♡ ────── wordcount : 757 ♡ ────── notes : i don't know why i keep on writing jealous fics... but debut arda fic! i love him sm ♡ this is lightly based on dial drunk by noah kahan and the bolter by taylor swift, just the vibes, not the actual drunk dialing. enjoy loves ♡ masterlist.

Arda’s friends think he’s stupid.

Hell.

He’ll give you one better: Arda thinks he’s stupid.

His friends think it’s stupid that he would move four-thousand kilos away just to fall in love with a person who doesn’t seem all that interested in getting into a relationship, with him or not.

But Arda? He thinks he’s stupid for staying anyway.

The distance between Ankara and Madrid intimidates his friends—scares them, even—but Arda has gone through it. Falling in love with someone is usually next on the list after settling into a new town; he’s used to this.

But staying?

No, no. Arda is quite the bolter. He leaves a room as quickly as he gets into it. He falls out of love as soon as he tastes a glimpse of their lips.

It’s not that he’s afraid of hurting. It’s just how he works—he moves here and there physically, and his heart cannot help but move along.

Which is why you are such an odd case.

Arda is not too sure that you are even in love with him. And he would ask you if you would want to be his, but he fears rejection more than he welcomes the possibility of change, so he is stuck in this strange, mindless limbo, swimming between self-deprecation and self-doubt. And he is not too sure either that you are stuck there with him.

“Mhm,” Arda closes his eyes, his strong grip around your waist as the sun dims just outside your apartment window. Madrid is beautiful all day, but to him, nothing beats the sunset Ankara would parade back in Türkiye.

Arda shifts, and instead of resting the side of his head on your chest, he turns his neck to place his chin on you. His eyes—sometimes brown, at times grey—flicker from one corner of your face to the other. He takes in the curves of your eyebrow, the way you breathe, and quietly scoffs.

“What?”

Without peeling your eyes from your phone, you raise an arm to run your fingers through the strands of his hair, now cut short to combat the summer heat.

“Who are you texting?”

“Some guy,” your reply irks him, “from my marketing class.”

Arda pushes air in his mouth to puff his cheeks, rolling his eyes.

“Sounds fun,” he grumbles.

“He is.”

Arda pushes himself off you, using one hand to support his body while the other softly grabs your chin, tugging you to look at him. He leans down, closes his eyes, and presses his lips against yours.

You drop your phone on the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

He likes this. He likes the way you kiss him back, the way your nails dig into his skin. He likes this, and he likes you.

Arda opens his eyes after a moment, drawing away from your lips to watch you breathe as he rests his forehead on yours.

“You gotta stop texting this guy,” he finally breathes, looking in your eyes for some kind of reciprocation.

You laugh. “Why?”

Arda shrugs. “‘Cause I said so.”

“Well,” you push a strand of his hair away from his brows only for it to return to its place, “we’re not exactly together, are we? I don’t have to listen to you.”

Arda pouts at that—his bottom lip juts out; his nose scrunches.

“Don’t look at me like that?” You laugh again, softly pushing face away from you, despite his insistence in staying still.

You smile up at him before turning to blindly reach for your phone, buzzing with Snapchat notifications from some fucking guy in marketing class. Arda slants his eyes, leaning down to press his nose against your neck, silently kissing your skin.

“You should send him a picture of us.”

“Of us?” You repeat, fingers already busy typing away. “Like this?”

“Sure,” he mumbles against you, “or you can be on top, if you want.”

“Of course,” he hates the sarcasm dripping from your words. “Should I go ahead and tag Arda Güler on Instagram too while I’m at it?”

“Why not?” He continues nibbling on your skin. “Next time I start, I’ll send a free ticket over.”

“Stop that,” you pull away from his lips, and Arda lets out a whine. “You’ll leave a mark.”

He pouts, and ends up placing the side of his head on your shoulder as you continue toying around with your phone, the low sun enhancing the features of your face.

Fuck.

Name a bigger idiot watching the Madrid sunset right now.

[bigmack2go]

Ok so it’s been two days so i think I’ve finally processed everything enough to talk abt it

(Lmao that sounds like trauma. It actually about meeting sky)

So

Yk he texted me to meet him infront of the bar. I read AT the bar so i didn’t see him for a while (i didnt realise this until today) and the. He came in instead. He was rly confused for a second and didn’t see me. He looked around and the other person other than me (besides the bartenders) was some rly old man. Mind you: i told him what i looked like and that was NOT it and he looked a little lost but in an abnormaly adorable way (he was fidgeting with his hands and ahh. Sometimes i forget he’s human/silly so that was a very beautiful reminder of that)

Anyway so i went to him and i he still didn’t notice me for another few seconds. My mind was blank though so i just stood there like 🧍 until he saw me. The next few seconds are just gone from my memory. (I have extreme memory loss and i didn’t take my meds that day so any second i wasnt hyper aware of what was happening, is just,,, gone. And since i have adhd too, that happens a lot)

well anyway so i said “i made something… well they’re not done yet but” and i took the shoes i made out. I asked if he could sign them and he was just like really in shock. He was really flashed by the shoes but also that i wanted him to sign them. He just looked at them for a while and kept complementing them (i died btw) and then at some point he just stopped mid sentence and was like “wait- hold up, did you say you want me to sign those?!” Like he was Not Prepared ForThat At All. Like bro was so flashed and then i think that thing that i wanted him to sign it hit him off guard idk. I magically had a pencil apear (i hid it in my sleeve before that bc for some reason i thought that was a good idea) and he was like doinh a double take at something he didn’t even look away from? Idk. Well so he signed them and he was like,,,, spelling it aloud and it was adorable and i wanna die. (He also really didn’t wanna sign anywhere he shouldn’t and he was rly unsure and askee a few times”

“Okay lets see where do i— where do you want me— there, i’ll sign there is that okay? Okay. Okay so….. there. S. Mhm. K… oh that’s a weird K. And Y. There. Sky. Thats my name” (thats word by word what he said) (how cute do u wanna be? Him: yes.) and then he gave them back to me and there was A LITTLE HEART BEHIND HIS NAME AND WHEN I TELL YOU I ALMOST SCREAMED IN HIS FACE. It doesn’t look like a heart. More like a defirmed triangle but the intention is clear…

Well the. I asked if we could take a foto. Mind you, my phone has one if thos protection thingys where you cant see the display when you lopl from the side. Anyway i dint remember what he said or when he put his arm around me but the next thing i remember his arm was around my shoulder and his face was like…. Touching mine(?) (that sounds creepy as hell wtf) i was really shaking and i couldn’t see the display i just say that he was frowning a little after not taking another foto. I didn’t think anything of it in the moment and just thought he was still suprised i wanted a foto.

Well now this part i remember VIVIDLY. We were tlking a bit more and i was shaking even more now on account of I WAS LITTERALY HAVING one of SKY FLAHERTYS ARMS AROUND ME TWO SECONDS EARLIER.

Well he noticed i was shaking and put a hand on my shoulder (i double died) and then he like hugged me. (I got revived) It wasn’t like a side hug but also not a face to chest hug, but something inbetween. It was slighty awkward but at the same time not at all and ig even felt sort of casua? This time i was caught of guard and i was just staring at the air. (The bardender saw it and she winked at me and i did like a little silent scream with my face and she chuckled) well that all happened in like three seconds tops. So when we pulled apart (sounds like we were kissing WTF) i was like, ‘ok this felt like a good bye hug, this is a good time to leave’ (i regret that with every part of me.) and i started to leave. (He looked a bit confused. He probably thought i was gonna stay a bit longer, conciddering how we talked earlier)

Now this is where the bad thing happened.

Okay so Sky like,,, realises i’m leaving and he’s like “oh okay, uhm well, again, rly like the shoes and… nice meeting you!”

Now what did i do? The logical thing would be (not to leave at all ever again ever. why did i do that???) to say “thanks, nice to meet you too!” But no. Brain-less little me walked backwards (almost tripped) nodded and said “Guten Appetit” IN GERMAN. (For the record sky does not soeak german. And if he did, what i said was “bon apetit” in german. He was NOT about to eat) he looks at me like the moron i am. Like he looks at me like a literal moron like i’m a crazy idiot or smt. He literally did the Albert face when Race says “I’m famous!”(but i’m pretty sure that was just pure confusion. It didn’t look like an action he had any control over)

Anyway so i blush. Turn around and just,,, get away as fast as possible. When he gained back his composure (which was a lot faster than me obviously) he was like “Wait i still have your magic— oh whatever” (i pretended i didn’t hear it cause i was so embarrassed ydek) well it turns out he still had my pencil.

Anyway so then i texted him like this that “what i meant was nice to meet you too. Sorry. Got nervous” and he said “your fineeeeee” and i didn’t know what to answer but i had already read the message. So i take a screen (no tume for copy paste) and send a message to everyone person i can think of with the question of what to say. (Shoutout to @chaosfairy18 who saved me from an actual breakdown there. She answered rly rly fast)

I ended up saying thanks again and that it was rly cool. Then for some reason i said “also my mom says hi” (she didn’t. Idk why i did that. I legitimately do not remember.)

And thats it. I’ve said most stuff before but you wanted to know what exactly happened so here it is ig

[jooheonspinky]

Trivia: Love Part 5 -Final

Characters: Namjoon x Female Reader

Genre: idol!au, angst, fluff, smut

Warnings: set during the COVID pandemic, mentions of mask-wearing and COVID tests, fluff, fingering, unprotected sex (both get STI tested before visits, as per contract. Not specified in story, but Y/N takes birth control).

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Part 5

Word Count: 5.3K

November 30, 2021

His day off turns out to be one of my favorite days ever with him. After Mr. Choi comes over to watch us complete our daily COVID test, we spend time reading on the couch. Well, he’s reading while his head rests in my lap and I’m studying for the exam I’ll have a week after I return home.

It’s peaceful and relaxing. Any time I have any dark thoughts about how we will probably never have a day like this ever again I push the negativity away doing my best to hold on to the present time.

We have lunch, and just like at breakfast, we talk. The two of us provide one another with glimpses into our personal lives. The information we’d kept to ourselves, afraid of oversharing in the past, now flows freely between us. The more he tells me, the more my heart warms. The more I want time to stop, to keep us locked in this day where it’s just the two of us and no worries of ruining careers or receiving hate and threats just because we want to be together.

“I have an idea,” he announces as we wrap up lunch and gather our dishes.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

He doesn’t say but grins instead as he leaves the food cart outside the suite’s door. I watch as he casts his phone to the TV and pulls up a website. I smile fondly at him as I see what loads. Namjoon beams at me before sweetly kissing my temple.

“I thought I’d share one of the places I love to spend time in.” He guides me closer to the screen, his arm snaking across my lower back to rest gently at my hip. “This is one of my favorite artists…”

I blink rapidly, willing away the moisture gathering in my eyes. The excitement in his eyes and voice makes me long for things I know I can’t have and it hurts. It feels wonderful, yes, but it hurts even more as I hear him explain each piece of art as we move through the virtual rooms of the various art exhibits. A few hours pass as he encourages me to share my interpretations of what I see and he does the same, the two of us grinning when our views synchronize. We laugh when what I get from the work is vastly different from what he does.

But it’s all perfect. Exactly how I imagined it would be if we were to attend a museum or exhibit out in the real world together.

I’m astonished when I see that night has fallen beyond the windows of our blissful oasis. Tomorrow the interviews, practice, and sound check begin again as we come upon the last two concert days. Soon Namjoon will have to go to bed to have enough sleep to get through the hectic schedule. The idea of wasting precious time sleeping has my stomach clenching. I clutch my abdomen and Namjoon looks down at me.

“Are you hungry?”

The thought of food doesn’t sit well with me and I shake my head, my nose scrunching.

“No, but if you are… that’s ok.”

“Why don’t I order us something light and we just chill the rest of the night?”

“Ok.”

I nod and wonder to myself if he’s trying to extend this day as long as possible as well. After tonight, we’ll only see each other for a few hours in the morning before he leaves and then again when he comes back after the concert where he would only have a few hours to catch some sleep before he has to get up again to prep for the last concert. 

Time is passing extremely fast, and my visit coming to an end much too quickly now that we know exactly how we feel about each other. 

“Food should be up in just a few minutes,” Namjoon informs me.

“Mhm,” I murmur.

I’d been so lost in my thoughts I hadn’t even heard him make the call. I smile at him as he approaches me, his knuckles coming to skim down my cheek.

“Are you ok?”

The low, deep tone of his voice rumbles in my chest and makes my smile widen. He’s so sweet and in tune with my emotional state. I don’t think I could lie to him, even if I wanted to. He would know.

“Not really.” I sigh. “My mind keeps drifting to the day I have to leave. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to do that.”

Namjoon’s eyebrows pinch together, his jaw clenching and unclenching. It’s difficult now not to see his feelings for me. How I could ever have been so blind is a testament to my own insecurities and I try not to dwell too much on all the wasted time because of it. 

“I’m not giving up on us,” he says firmly, tugging me by the hips so that I’m even closer to him. “We’re going to figure this out, so let’s not worry about it tonight.”

I want to share in the same hope; share in the belief that there actually could be a positive outcome to all this. I will that feeling into the smile I give him and lean up to peck his lips.

“Ok.”

“Ok.”

He returns the smile and urges me to the couch where we fall into it, cuddling and watching the baking show I’d had on the day before while we wait for the food to arrive.

December 1, 2021

My belongings lay scattered about the room—books, clothes, and fragments of the days I have spent here with Namjoon. He was at the venue, lost in the rhythm of practice and preparation for tonight’s concert. I wanted the hours to sprint by, each tick of the clock bringing me closer to him. Yet, on the other hand, I wish for time to slow, to savor these fleeting moments before our paths diverge.

I glance around, wondering where to start, but it’s not long before everything blurs as my mind wanders. I think of the contours of Namjoon’s face—the curve of his lips, the intensity in his eyes. How many times did we laugh here, argue there, and get lost in our passion in between? Our shared time here was etched into the walls, into the very air I breathe.

As the night deepens, I trace the outline of our story—the highs and lows, the crescendos and pauses. And I make a silent promise—to hold onto this thing we have, even when miles stretch between us. To remember Namjoon’s smile, the way he says my name and the constellation of moments that defined us.

The suitcase beckons, its emptiness echoing my heart. I close my eyes, willing time to bend—to linger, to stretch, to grant me one more stolen second. But the reality was unyielding. Tomorrow, I will board that plane, and Namjoon will go back to South Korea.

How does one prepare for goodbye? How does one fold deep feelings neatly into a suitcase, tuck it away, and carry on? And so, I pack not just clothes and books, but also the ache of longing—the bittersweet symphony of a farewell. Once everything is put away, I zip up the suitcase, set it by the bathroom door, and sit on the bed.

Outside, the world moves on, oblivious to my inner turmoil. Tomorrow, a driver would arrive—a silent accomplice in our farewell. The stadium would echo with music, and I would sit among the crowd, watching him perform. Applause would rise, but my heart would beat out of sync, knowing that it was quite possibly the final act.

I sigh softly, trying to shake off the sadness knowing Namjoon would be back soon. I climb out of bed and head to the living room to turn on the TV, wanting to be as close to the front door as possible for when he arrives.

The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the TV casting shadows on the walls. I stand the moment I hear the door beep as the lock disengages. Namjoon steps in already showered and changed, his hair still wet. His hair that just this morning had been a dirty blond now glistens a deep scarlet as he approaches me. He walks with purpose, coming straight to hug me without a word. His skin is still heated from his activities on stage.

“Your hair.”

I smile fondly up at him and he returns the gesture, dropping a quick peck on my lips. 

Carding a hand through his damp locks he asks, “You like it? The stylists thought it’d be a fun change for the last two days.”

I nod.

“I like it. It looks good on you.” I offer the compliment and his dimples deepen. The smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes though. “You ok?” I ask.

“Can I just hold you for a little while?”

My smile widens and I nod. He tugs my hand as he settles onto the couch. I start to sit next to him, but he redirects me to straddle his lap.

“Oh!” I breathe as I acquiesce. 

He rests one hand on my waist, and the other at my lower back. I tuck mine under his, pressing myself into him and lying my head on his shoulder. We sit quietly for some time, his hand absently rubbing my back as he loses himself in his thoughts. 

What must be going through his mind? Most likely the same things I had been pondering on earlier. The hug is as much for him as it is for me. I could sense he was trying to pull comfort from the act, strength to get through our last night together.

Our last night. How had it come so swiftly? This couldn’t be it… could it?

I nuzzle into his neck, pressing a kiss to the soft skin there. Namjoon’s fingers dig into my hip, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he fists my top, gently hugging me tighter to him. I palm his cheek, my thumb grazing his cheekbone as I nip, lick, and suck at his neck, taking care not to leave a mark. His rumble of satisfaction as he squirms beneath me heats my blood, and my heart begins to race in anticipation. 

I can already feel him hardening beneath me and my hips instinctively begin to roll along his covered length. Namjoon lifts my top from me, tossing it to the side, my bra following soon after. His hands skim across my skin, as if he is trying to touch every inch of my body one last time. I swallow thickly, trying to stay in the moment, even while sadness washes over me. He reaches up, his hand on my nape guiding me down to his awaiting lips. He kisses me deeply before releasing me.

“Take these off,” he orders, his voice gravelly.

I stand to take my shorts and underwear off and he does the same before sinking back down into the couch. He stretches his arms out to me, guiding me down onto his stiff cock. We both groan as he stretches me deliciously. His hands immediately caress over my ass as I lean forward. Arching my back, my breasts are shoved into his face and he wastes no time to latch onto one of my pebbled nipples.

His name leaves my lips on a moan as my hips grind into him. His mouth moves to give equal treatment to my other breast while his hands on my ass help to push me down onto him, bringing him deeper inside me. The movements are slow at first, my stomach tightening as pleasure begins to build, but as he begs for more kisses, I oblige, our lips locking again as he picks up the pace. His hands shift to my hips to help me match his pace. It’s difficult to keep the kiss going, but it’s with our lips joined that we find ourselves cumming at the same time, our mouths swallowing up each other's blissful exclamations.

 We remain seated, him still inside me though softening by the second. With our fingers intertwined, I relax into him as our breathing begins to slow. Namjoon is a man of few words, but his eyes speak volumes. I can see the conflict within him—the desire to stay, to hold what we have close, and yet the weight of duty pulls him away. His job demands sacrifices, and this was one of them. We had known this day would come, but knowing didn’t make it any easier.

I lean my head on his shoulder again, feeling the warmth of his body seeping into me. The TV plays in the background, a mindless distraction from the ache in our chests. The characters on screen laugh, love, and face their own trials. It’s a cruel juxtaposition—our love story unraveling while fictional ones flourish.

“It’s not fair,” I whisper, tears filling my eyes as I break the silence.

My heart hurts the most it has ever and I feel as if it will shatter in my chest at any moment. I sit up a little so I can see his face. 

His eyes meet mine, his gaze searching. “I know.”

“What are we gonna do?” I murmur despondently.

He cups my face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away the tears. “I don’t know,” he says softly. “But I’m not going to stop trying to figure this out.”

I nod, because that’s all I can do. 

“Come on. Let’s shower and then go to bed,” he urges as he begins to stand.

I slide off of his lap and let him pull me along to the bathroom. I feel numb as the warm water washes over us, his hands gentle as they glide over my skin, cleansing away the evidence of our lovemaking from moments ago. It takes all of my willpower to keep from crying again. I don’t want to make this any more difficult than it already is.

When I’m back home and by myself, I can let go then.

I help him shower as well and it’s not much longer before we’re done, dried off and lying beneath the covers. His arms envelop me, my body molding into his. 

With a kiss on my shoulder, Namjoon whispers, “Good night, my Nabi.”

“Good night, my Moonchild.”

December 2, 2021

Namjoon’s alarm cuts through my sleep and I jolt up in bed. 

“I’m sorry,” I hear him call from the bathroom as he rushes to the bedside table. “I forgot to turn it off when I woke up.”

“Couldn’t sleep?”

He shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Are you going to be ok to perform today?” I fret.

Namjoon shrugs, a small smile dancing on his lips. 

“Once the adrenaline kicks in, I’ll be fine.”

I nod and follow him to the bathroom. I wrap a robe around myself and then brush my teeth as he finishes getting dressed. He exits, and I follow, watching him lace up his shoes before standing and slipping his phone into his pocket.

“So this is it.”

He swallows thickly, taking my hand in his. We walk to the front door, pausing for a moment. 

“We’ll figure it out,” he says, his eyes locking on mine, the earnestness there bringing tears to my eyes. “It may not be tomorrow or a month from now, but I have to believe we are going to figure this out.” 

I hold back a sob as I press my lips to his, tasting the salt of my own tears. It’s a bittersweet kiss—a farewell and a promise rolled into one. 

Settling back down on my feet, I sniffle. “I love you.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen before pulling me to him. He hugs me tightly and our hearts beat in sync, as if trying to imprint this moment forever.

“I love you, too,” he murmurs into my hair.

We remain in each other's arms, both reluctant to let go. The buzzing of his phone breaks the moment. Pulling away, I rest my palm against his heart.

“I’ll see you at the concert.” I smile, through my tears. “I’ll be the one cheering extra hard.”

Namjoon chuckles, kissing me again. “I’ll look for you. Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Namjoon,” I whisper.

And then he’s gone, slipping out the door like a shadow. 

I stand there, the loss of his presence leaving me frozen in my spot. We were two souls caught in the crossfire of fate—a love that defied distance but couldn’t conquer it. And as the clock ticks away, I can only cling to the memory of his touch, the taste of his kiss, and the hope that someday, somehow, our paths will intersect again.

For now, I’m left with the echo of goodbye and the ache of a love that refuses to die.

The chauffeured car glides to a stop at the VIP entrance of the concert arena. As the driver confirms our post-concert rendezvous for the airport drop-off, a staff member approaches, her steps brisk and purposeful. After I step out, she closes the car door behind me, hands me a lanyard and a tote, then leads the way down a stark concrete corridor. My gaze flits about, seeking a fleeting glimpse of the guys before the curtain call. A pang of longing strikes me at the thought of seeing Namjoon one more time; yet, somewhere within, I know an encounter here woud best be left unfulfilled.

She points to the seat reserved for me by Namjoon and I join the sea of ARMY. I settle in, the weight of the moment settling with me. Delving into the tote, I unearthed an ARMY Bomb, a picket flaunting the group’s visage, a towel, shirt, and photo cards that whisper memories of melodies. I meet each of their faces, my gaze lingering on Namjoon’s photo. Within moments he grows blurry as emotions threaten to overtake me.

“Hi!” The chirp of a voice snaps me back to reality as a young woman nestles into the seat beside me. “Flying solo tonight?” she inquires, the smile in her eyes as warm as the stage lights.

A tear betrays me, but her kindness coaxes a smile in return. Though it’s hidden behind my face mask, I hope she can still sense I’m offering her one. 

“Yes, just me.”

She nods, understanding painting her features. “It’s super exciting and overwhelming, isn’t it?” she muses, offering a tissue with a motherly touch. “But hey, we’re seatmates now. Let’s make our cheers echo louder than the rest.” Her upbeat personality is infectious, a balm to the bittersweet symphony of the night. “My name’s Kyshanna.”

“I’m Y/N,” I introduce myself and we fist bump with a giggle.

As the lights dim, a raucous thunder of screaming and clapping fills the air. The stage, once bare, now thrums with the promise of the night’s enchantment. A VCR begins to play and there is a collective hum of anticipation as the video plays through. Suddenly, performers dressed in all white jumpers begin to get into formation on stage. The opening chords of ‘ON’ fill the arena, a melody that seems to resonate with the very beat of my heart.

The show unfolds like a dream, each performance a tapestry of sound and soul. I find myself getting lost in the rhythm, the lyrics a salve to the ache that had taken residence in my chest. The ARMY around me move as one, a sea of light and energy, and I let their joy buoy my spirits.

Interlude after interlude, the concert moves on, the time for me to have to go drawing ever closer. I watch as BTS split up between two orange motorized boxes filled with purple and white balloons, the clear plexiglass bearing their logo. They draw louder cheers from ARMY as they pass between the pit and level one seats, ‘Telepathy’ being sung collectively by ARMY and BTS. As the car approaches our area, my eyes lock on Namjoon and I watch him dance and hype up the crowd. I notice the instant he picks me out of the crowd. He looks down, but his hand clutches his heart before looking back up and nodding once. Jimin pats his shoulder, bringing Namjoon back to the moment.

Kyshanna elbows me gently, leaning in to muse, “Namjoon seems a little…I don’t know-” She shakes her head as she ponders what word best to describe what she’s sensing. “He seems really sad.”

I swallow thickly.

“Really?”

She nods. “I hope he’s ok. I know it’s been a while since they’ve performed at this large a scale. I just hope it’s not getting to him.”

“It’s the last day. He’s probably just bummed the tour is coming to an end,” I point out, guilt gnawing at me again.

“Hmm,” she hums pensively.

As ‘Telephathy’ comes to an end, the cart begins to bring the group back to either side of the stage, the music immediately going into ‘Stay’. Just as Jin completes his lines, the car drops them off and Namjoon makes his way across the stage, his rap carrying him towards the center pathway.

“Stay!”

Namjoon’s gaze finds mine again across the expanse of faces. It is fleeting, a mere heartbeat in time, but in that glance, a silent message is conveyed—this was not a goodbye that he wanted and he wished I could stay with him.

“Stay, stay, stay, stay (Always)!”

The words sounded like a plea and it breaks me with each exclamation. I decide in that moment I have to go. It is hurting too much to remain.

“Can you hold this for me?” I say to Kyshanna. “I gotta go to the bathroom.”

She’d told me she couldn’t afford an ARMY bomb, so I leave it with her along with the picket. I had others back at home. I did feel bad to leave without saying good-bye, but I can feel myself getting too close to bursting into full on tears. I leave then, my footsteps as quick as they can be in the crowded building. I flash my lanyard at the VIP doorway and a staff member helps escort me back to the awaiting car.

LAX is not far from the stadium and before I could relax enough, we were already arriving. The airport loomed like a threshold—a passage from one chapter to another. Security checks, boarding passes, and the hum of engines—the mechanics of departure. But emotions don’t follow schedules or protocols. They spill over, uncontainable. How could I step onto that plane, knowing that the sky could possibly separate us indefinitely?

An hour later I settle into my seat and imagine his voice—the timbre that makes my heart ache. His laughter, the way he holds me so gently when we kiss, as if he’s afraid to break me. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his skin. These memories were fragile, like paper birds caught in a storm. Was it too late to reach out and tell him we should keep the contract active? That I would rather have him a few times a year than never more?

The airplane begins to move up the runway and soon we are ascending. As I glance out of the window to the land below that is growing more and more miniature by the second, I can no longer keep the tears locked inside. They spill like rivulets down my cheeks as I make my way toward an uncertain future.

December 31, 2021

Curled up on the couch, the glow of my Christmas tree provides the right amount of lighting I need to read the words of the book I’ve chosen. Lo-Fi Hip-Hop plays softly in the background as I try to lose myself in the pages of the story, but if I am being honest, I couldn’t even tell you what I’d read so far. My mind just won’t turn off. Nothing is helping me get out of my thoughts this evening. Maybe I should have gone to a New Year’s party to ring in the upcoming year after all. Perhaps that would have proven a better distraction than staying home alone.

I snuggle deeper into my blanket and glance over at my tea and think, Nah, this is so much better than being out at a noisy party even if I can’t get out of my head.

I just am not in the mood to party, anyway. It’s been almost a month since I said my goodbyes to Namjoon. Aside from him checking in on me to make sure I made it back home ok, there had pretty much been no communication between us since then. And I didn’t blame him. I had seen the announcement from BigHit, letting ARMY know that BTS would be taking some personal time off in order to spend the holidays with their families, something they had not been able to do since their debut. Not wanting to impose on his family time, I have given him the space the company asked for.

It doesn’t mean I’m not a little sad.

This last visit with him had been a roller coaster of emotions. The two of us had definitely not played by the rules and were feeling the repercussions of it. Neither of us was willing to let this go, but neither of us really had figured out how we could make this work. 

I stare at the flickering lights of the Christmas tree, trying to lose myself in the gentle rhythm of their twinkle, when a soft knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. For a moment, I freeze, unsure if I imagined it. Who would be here at this hour, especially on New Year’s Eve? I reluctantly pull myself from the warmth of the couch, wrapping the blanket tighter around my shoulders as I shuffle to the door.

When I open it, my heart nearly stops.

Namjoon stands there, his eyes soft but intense, his breath visible in the cold night air. He’s holding a small bouquet of beautiful flowers in shades of purple, dusty rose and white, and his expression is one of determination mixed with vulnerability.

“Namjoon?” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper, the shock of seeing him here rooting me to the spot.

“Hey,” he says quietly, his voice deep and familiar, filled with something that makes my chest tighten. “Can I come in?”

I nod wordlessly, stepping aside to let him enter. He steps inside and sets the flowers on the entryway table before turning to face me, his eyes searching mine.

“I couldn’t stay away,” he says, the words tumbling out as if he’s been holding them in for far too long. “I couldn’t stand being apart from you and having you think that you don’t matter to me.”

I blink, trying to process what he’s saying, the words not quite sinking in. “But… your family, the break—”

He shakes his head, cutting me off gently. “My family understand. I needed to see you. To tell you that I want to be with you. I don’t care about the rules, the distance, any of it. I just… I need you to know that I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

My breath catches in my throat, tears welling up in my eyes as his words wash over me. I can see the sincerity in his eyes, the determination etched into every line of his face. He’s serious. This isn’t some fleeting impulse; it’s a promise, a declaration.

“You… you really mean that?” I ask, my voice trembling as I try to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to spill over.

Namjoon steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently cup my cheek. His thumb brushes away a stray tear, and his touch is so tender that it nearly breaks me. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I want to be with you, and I’m going to do everything I can to make this work. No matter what.”

In that moment, I realize that all the doubts, all the fears that have been gnawing at me since our last goodbye, don’t stand a chance against the strength of what we have. I drop the blanket and lean into his touch, letting the warmth of his hand melt away the last of my reservations.

“Ok,” I whisper, my voice barely audible as the tears spill over. “Ok.”

Namjoon smiles then, a brilliant, relieved smile that lights up his entire face. He pulls me into his arms, holding me close, and I feel the weight of the past few weeks lift off my shoulders. In his embrace, I find the peace I’ve been searching for, the answer to all the questions that have been swirling in my mind.

As we stand there, wrapped up in each other, the soft glow of the Christmas tree casting a warm light around us, I know that we’ll face whatever comes together. Because in this moment, nothing else matters. Not the distance, not the rules, not even the uncertainty of the future.

All that matters is us.

January 1, 2022

My phone pings and I groan, kicking myself mentally for forgetting to switch it to Do Not Disturb earlier. Namjoon shifts beside me, a soft huff leaving his lips. I toss my arm out, blindly searching for my phone to change it to silent mode, but curiosity gets the better of me and I peek at the notification that had woken me up. I gasp, causing Namjoon to perk up.

“What’s wrong?”

His deep voice rumbles up from his chest, the tone thick with worry as he sits up. I wordlessly turn the device towards him, simultaneously switching on my bedside lamp with my other hand. His teeth bite down on his bottom lip, trying to stop a smile from forming. I click the notification in order to see the entire message and Namjoon reads right along with me. 

“Hello.

This is BIGHIT MUSIC…”

There’s a flutter in my chest as the reality of the message sinks in. There is no going back now. The announcement stating Namjoon is currently in a relationship has been posted for all ARMY, and non-ARMY for that matter, to see. The fact that the company included a request to respect Namjoon and his partner’s privacy only helps to settle my nerves a smidge.

“What are you thinking?”

His concerned voice breaks me from my thoughts and I realize I’ve been staring blankly at my phone for a minute. Shifting my gaze to his, I take in the pinch of his brow and the attentive curiosity in his eyes. His hand reaches out for mine and I look down at our entwined fingers before looking back up at him.

“I’m thinking that there is no taking this back.”

The corner of his lip quirks up. “No. Definitely can’t take it back now,” he chuckles. “You still cool with that?”

“I mean, I knew you were serious about being together no matter what, but oof.” I shake my head, a heavy breath escaping my lips. “Now that it’s out there like that…I don’t know.” I shrug. “I’m excited, but I’m scared. I’m scared of how ARMY will react.”

Namjoon kisses the back of my hand. “Yes, it’s scary, but you don’t have to be afraid. We are in this together and just like my brothers, I will protect you from any of the negativity that might come of it.” 

“Yeah?” I gaze at him with adoration and hope. 

“I promise,” he nods earnestly. “Besides, if anyone sends hate your way, they are not a real ARMY, so their opinion means nothing to me. True ARMY are going to be happy for us and it’s their comments that I’m going to choose to acknowledge.”

“Ok,” I smile, trusting him fully.

“Ok,” he beams back, his dimples deepening endearingly. “Come here.”

A shaky giggle full of nerves bubbles up from me, but Namjoon cuts off the sound with a deep kiss as he presses my body into the mattress.

Credits:

Text Divider by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Moodboard by me.

For moodboard, used:

InCollage for layout, title, butterfly and photos.

Except Namjoon’s photo. Credit to RM x GQ Korea, Vogue Korea 2021

Motionleap was used for the movement within the moodboard.

We have come to the end. My heart feels so happy to finally post it after working on it for so long. Thank you for taking the time to read it. I appreciate it so much. Feel free to comment, like, and reblog. Until the next time!

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

[woooyeahbaby]

Can’t Forget Mammon!

warnings: mammon being jealous, mc is gender neutral (meaning i didn’t even use any pronouns for mc here i write in 2nd person), mammon may be out of character i’m so sorry, THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING FOR OBEY ME I’M ACTUALLY REALLY SCARED TO POST THIS HELP, mention of mc kissing asmo

a/n i think i’ll cry if i receive any negative feedback on this one guys you need to think of me as someone who is constantly on the verge of tears. also i wrote this at 5am with no sleep but i don’t think i made any errors! this is pretty short btw

you helped lucifer organize some documents this morning, no big deal. you played games with leviathan later, again, nothing important. read a book with satan, that took quite a while… went shopping with asmodeus after, okay… had lunch with beelzebub, didn’t take too long. and finally, cuddled with belphegor for a while.

where was mammon’s time with you?

don’t think mammon didn’t notice that you spent all day with his brothers instead of him! he couldn’t stop thinking about it. just as he thought he’d get a little attention from you, you’d be heading for another person.

so of course he had to have a conversation with you before you went to bed that night. he caught you in the kitchen, having a quick snack before bed. perfect.

“hey, mc! haven’t seen ya much today!” mammon grins, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“oh, hey mammon. sorry i didn’t get to hang out with you today, maybe tomorrow, alright?” you offer before walking away, letting his hand fall from your shoulder.

umm, no.

“hey now!” he nearly shouts. “get back here. i deserve my time with ya!”

“mammon, i’m tired. i wanna go to bed.” you sigh, walking back towards him. you take his hand. “i promise we can do something tomorrow.”

“i’ll just go to bed with ya!” mammon squeezes your hand.

“that might give the others the wrong idea…” you laugh softly after your sentence.

“i don’t care! they can think aaaall they want about it, all i wanna do is cuddle with ya, hm? how’s that sound? good? let’s go then!” he doesn’t even give you time to respond before he’s dragging you to your room.

you decide not to fight him on it, since you weren’t really opposed to the thought of cuddling him to sleep. plus, it’d save you from an even clingier mammon the next day.

you two reach your bedroom and mammon plops down on your bed, his grip on your hand sending you down with him. fortunately, you don’t land roughly. in fact, you land perfectly on your bed. you could sleep like this already. oh, right.

“mammon, i need to brush my teeth. just sit here for a couple minutes, okay?” you inform him as you stand up, and he lets your hand escape his. however you don’t expect him to follow you into your bathroom. “mammon.”

“mhm?” he hums as if he has no idea what he’s doing. typical mammon.

“you absolutely need to watch me brush my teeth?” despite your sarcasm, you’re already getting your toothbrush ready.

“you’d let lucifer watch ya, why can’t i?” he crosses his arms, leaning against the wall.

“..can we talk about this when i’m done, please?” you ask, not giving him time to say no before you’re shoving your toothbrush in your mouth.

mammon mumbles a ‘fine’, standing behind you as you brush your teeth. as he waits for a torturous two whole minutes, he mainly just fidgets with his hands and glances up at you. once you’re done, he’s walking to your bed, lying down on his back and patting the empty space next to him.

you face him when you lie down, and he just stares at you expectantly. it takes you a second to remember.

“oh, right. mammon, you know i didn’t mean to ignore you today. everyone else just kept me so busy.” you reach out a hand to caress his face lovingly.

“it coulda been me keepin’ ya busy, but nooo…” mammon rolls his eyes, leaning into your touch despite his rude attitude.

“remember that i can kick you out of here any time i’d like.” you threaten him jokingly. “i swear, mammon. i wanted to get to you but everybody just.. got in my way. i can dedicate my whole day to you tomorrow, i’ll even start it now.”

“i accept. you so much as even text someone that ain’t me though, i’ll be lockin’ ya in my room!” he replies with his own threat.

“okay. tomorrow is aaaall you, mammon.” you just smile at him and give him a kiss on the cheek, your hand moving to his hair.

he seems to enjoy it, letting you play with his hair as he just stares at you lovingly. then his facial expression changes back to the ‘i want to look angry at you, but i’m really not’ one. oh man.

“so asmo gets a kiss on the lips, but i—”

“oh, shut up, mammon.” you roll your eyes, kissing him on the lips to shut him up.

it definitely works! how could he complain?

mammon reaches a hand to your waist, pulling you closer to him. he doesn’t want to let you go, not even for a second. every time he feels you trying to pull away, he just chases after your lips with his own. this is usually how kissing mammon is, he is the avatar of greed after all.

it’s only until both of you can barely breathe that he pulls away, his grip on your waist tightening. you both just look at each other for a few seconds, until you both burst out laughing. as you laugh, you lean your head into mammon’s chest, and once his own laughter dies down he rests his chin atop your head.

mammon sighs softly, pulling your head back so you could look at each other. you see him admiring your facial features before he speaks.

“can you turn around? we can spoon, just like ya did with belphie… when it should’ve been me, but whatever.” the last part of his sentence is quieter, more of a mumble.

in response, you just scoff and turn around so you and mammon are facing the same way. he wraps his arm around you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. his breath tickles you at first, until you get used to it. your back is pressed tightly against his chest, so much so that you can feel his heartbeat.

he gently kisses your neck a few times, but not like the seductive ones you usually get from him. these have plenty of love behind them. it’s so comforting.

“all me tomorrow, yeah?”

quick after fic note! if you like my writing i take requests!!! please send me requests

[alezangona]

The Shadow of Khansar (Salaar Fic)

Part 5 - Declaration of Faith

Part 4 | Part 6

“Stop it.” Varadha refuses to look at Deva, forcing his attention to stay on the road ahead, even when his eyes strain to catch a glimpse of the man beside him.

“I’m not doing anything.” Deva responds, hand wrapped leisurely around the steering wheel.

“I can feel the smugness radiating off of you in waves. So, stop it.” Varadha rubs consciously at the gray scarf wrapped around his neck, still feeling the remnants of mortification from earlier in the day. “You’re the reason that Baachi has been pestering me all morning. The least you could do is be a little apologetic.”

“Mmm, not a big fan of lying” Deva laughs and Varadha can’t help but to turn his face towards him at the sound. He radiates an aura of serenity this morning, dressed in a worn, olive green shirt that is unbuttoned just enough to showcase his strong, athletic form. The strands of his hair, still wet from his shower, are splayed in different directions looking unbelievably soft as they flow in the morning breeze. An inexplicable urge to touch Deva rushes through Varadha, and so he finds himself leaning back and wrapping his arm across the backseat, lifting his fingers up just enough to playfully tug at the locks of hair located at the nape of his neck. Deva’s eyes close for a quick moment as he relishes the feeling before concentrating on the road once more. “It’s funny you’re pointing fingers when you don’t seem to be sorry either.”

“I’m more so annoyed at my brother’s antics,” He observes the black, leather string that rests against Deva’s neck, and follows the line of it down to the pendant that rests against his sternum. If he focuses hard enough, he can just make out the light red marks freckled against his sun-kissed skin. Satisfaction overtakes him as he examines his claiming bites on Deva’s body and he itches to be that close to him again. To explore and re-explore every inch of his body, to know what it is that makes him tick, to know what all he could do to push him over the edge. “But honestly I had a little too much fun last night. Denying that wouldn’t be fair of me now, would it?”

“Yeah?” Deva swallows, shifting slightly in his seat.

“Mhm. I’m glad you’re back Deva.” Varadha moves his hand down Deva’s arm, intertwining their fingers before resting them on his thigh. “Thank you for choosing to come back… for choosing me.”

~*~

“Varadha Rajamannar!” Mahit saunters into the room, a welcoming grin on his face. “And Devaratha! Don’t you two look nice today.”

“Long time no see,” Varadha mutters dryly as he takes a seat in his favorite armchair positioned next to the window overlooking Mahit’s elaborate garden. Mahit signals his footman with a flick of his chin and within seconds, a hot cup of filter coffee is placed in front of Varadha.

“What would you like to have?” Mahit gestures to Deva to sit down. “The filter coffee made by Rudramma is a popular delicacy in Khansar. It’s what I’d recommend. So would Varadha, it’s his personal favorite, you see. Of course we have other options, tea, soda, rum?”

Deva doesn’t speak, instead choosing to stand behind Varadha’s chair, arms crossing over his chest as he shakes his head.

“Very well, then.” Mahit shrugs, settling into the chair across from Varadha. “Let’s get down to business, shall we?”

“You understand our chances of winning the throne are slim to none right?” Varadha questions once the footmen clear the room.

“Are you trying to talk me out of helping you?” Mahit tilts his head, clearly surprised by the direction this conversation was taking.

“I don’t understand why you want to side with me in this conflict. All of Khansar is fighting for the throne and the rest of the doralu, the kaparlu even, have more resources than I do. Don’t get me wrong, I want to win Mahit. I’m sick of fighting for scraps when everyone else is feasting like kings.” Varadha leans forward, arms resting on his thighs as he intensifies his gaze. “But I am realistic enough to acknowledge that at the end of this all, if any of the others win, everyone else will be alright. They’ll reform alliances and continue just the way they do now. That same courtesy will not be extended to me or mine. Even now, you’re in danger if my father were to find out that you are plotting against the crown.”

“You think I haven’t considered all of this?” Mahit narrows his eyes, meeting Varadha’s gaze head on. “Please, I’m the Chief of Defense Staff. The youngest one in Khansar’s history at that. I wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“It would be wiser for you to side with anyone else, or for that matter, not side with anyone at all and wait out this battle. You could get out of this entire thing without a scratch, Mahit. You do know that?” He implores once more, a hint of worry making way to the forefront. Mahit stays quiet and studies Varadha. He pulls out a cigarette, lighting it and taking a quick drag as he stands before letting out a puff of smoke.

“Here,” He hands it over to Varadha, seating himself on the armrest and leaning into his space. “I know it’s been a couple years since we’ve been honest with each other, so let me rectify that. Frankly, your dad’s rule has been shit.” Varadha chokes around the cigarette, thrown by the sudden comment.

“What?”

“Don’t look so surprised. It’s nothing we haven’t complained about since we were kids. The doralu and kaparlu run amok, not caring for their citizens or the kingdom. There’s barely any unity between them, all their time spent on petty rivalries. Poverty and crime rates have increased over the years. There aren’t enough jobs or opportunities available despite the booming economy. We don’t have any international allies in a globalized world because your father is under the delusion that self-reliance is enough to hold us over. The only thing your father bothered to invest in over the years has been the military Varadha. Need I go on?

“I understand that we’ve grown apart over the years, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that I know you and you know me. There’s more to a leader than sitting in a position of power. In a kingdom such as ours, we need someone with a vision who cares for the people, not the authority he can wield over them. Despite everything, I believe that to be you. There is no one else I would rather put my faith in. And you know me,” A mischievous smile makes its way onto his face. “I’d rather go down fighting the good fight than work under incompetent leadership for the rest of my life.”

“Mahi…” Varadha looks up at him, overcome by the conviction in his voice. Mahit smiles down at him fondly, snatching the cigarette back and crushing it in the ashtray.

“Of course, in the spirit of honesty, your friend here is also a reason for my leap of faith. Not all of my allies were willing to side with you till he came into the picture. The sheer power he possesses? It’s enough to give them hope.” His grin sharpens as he flicks his gaze to Deva, his eyes drinking in the image of him. “Ae maataki aa maata kani, vajrayudhame ra.”

“That’s enough of that,” Varadha rolls his eyes, standing up and blocking Mahit’s view of Deva.

“What’s the harm in a little flirting,” Mahit pouts. “Deva doesn’t seem to mind.” Both men snap their gaze to the man in question, who reacts by looking away as he shifts his position slightly.

“Leave him alone Mahi.” Varadha emphasizes sharply. Then he softens, stepping forward to wrap his arms around him into a tight hug. “Thank you for all of this. I don’t think there’s anything I could ever do to repay you.”

“Well, never say never.” Mahit’s arms clasp harder around him. “Once you win, you’ll need an advisor or two on hand to oversee the policy implementations. Keep me in mind when we get to that stage, eh?”

~*~

“Well?” Baba asks when they arrive home for lunch. Varadha flips his plate over letting Satti serve him. He digs into the meal immediately, the events of the day finally catching up to him.

“Satti, godu karam edhi ra?” He turns to Deva when Satti disappears from the room. “Lekkalenanni sarlu vadiki chepa, karam saripokapithe nuvvu thinavani. Ayina marchipothu untadu.”

“So I was right then?”

“Do I have to verbalize it?”

“I’d appreciate it if you did.”

“You were right. I still think he’s insane for wanting to fight on our side, but I’m grateful too. We’ll need all the help we can get after all.”

Bilal interjects, tapping a bone against his plate to draw out the flavor. “Rhinda’s contact discovered that Vaali ordered a shipment of weapons earlier this month, just enough arms to fill the eastern Shirawa warehouses. His men are planning to shift them to different locations tonight, most likely to bunkers located in the other Ghaniyaar territories. If we can get our hands on even one of the shipments…”

“Do you know the shipment schedule?” Baachi asks and Bilal nods.

“Rhinda revised the itemized lists, schedules, and routes to see which vehicle we could best use our resources to capture. All the trucks will be heavily guarded, but one of the shipments will be traveling from Shirawa through the outskirts of Gonda. If we can hit them at the right moment, we can transport the weapons to our bunker without being caught. Vaali won’t suspect that it’s us and even if he does, it’ll be a waste of his resources to scour for a singular shipment.”

“Bilal and I are ready to handle it ourselves. If we keep the team small, we should be more efficient than if we took more men this last minute.” Rhinda beckons towards Deva. “Him excluded. The three of us should be more than enough.”

Varadha nods, pushing his plate to the center of the table as he finishes his meal. “Fine. You three handle that and take whatever you need from the armory. If anything starts to go awry, you retreat, do you hear me?”

~*~

“You don’t talk much do you?” Bilal looks back at Deva through the rearview mirror.

“Rey,” Rhinda objects looking mortified. “You can’t just say that.”

“Why not? It’s true!” Deva shrugs in the back.

“I just don’t think I have much to say.”

“That can’t be true. I’ve listened in on enough of your conversations with Varadha to know that you’re quite the talker when you want to be.”

“That- that’s different.” Deva runs a hand through his hair, looking away.

“Yeah, I bet.” Bilal teases, the implication clear.

“Pull over to that side, you can park inside the shed.” Rhinda cuts in, trying to save Deva from Bilal’s invasive comments.

“Where does Rihaan find all of these locations for us to use?” Bilal asks, lips shaping into a frown as they step out of the car into the spacious shed. In front of them stands an abandoned house, its crumbling facade noticeable despite the inky night sky above them. He hears the trunk open from behind and then a sleek sniper is handed to him.

“Most buildings on this side of town have been abandoned since the forest fires last year. A few people moved deeper into the city. Most people couldn’t afford to do that, or to fix up their homes, so they’ve shifted to the eastern territories.” Rhinda informs them as he adjusts his weapons.

“What was the Kapari doing? Twiddling his thumbs?” Deva closes the trunk, brows drawn together.

“Please,” Rhinda scoffs. “He’s tearing down whatever foundations are left over and selling the land to the highest bidder. Last I heard, their goal is to convert this place into a resort city.”

“Yeah, yeah. We can discuss city and regional planning later. For now, it’s time to take up positions.” Bilal leads the way to the winding road, keeping an eye out for any movement. “We only have one chance at this, and I’d prefer it if we didn’t mess it up.”

~*~

“Shit, shit, shit!” Bilal speeds through the road, taking a sharp left as the vehicle’s headlights make their way closer to the truck. “Vaali couldn’t have possibly found out about our plan!” Rhinda holds onto the dashboard, desperately trying to stay in place despite the questionable driving skills of his friend.

“Trust me, there’s no way Vaali knew. If anything, Urmila must have slipped the information she gave us to another contact.” Rhinda grits his teeth as he studies the side mirror. The headlights that were approaching rapidly behind them seemed to have slowed to a halt. “I think- I think Deva’s handling them.”

“Should we go back to help him?” Bilal glances towards him, concerned.

“Are you kidding? He can handle himself just fine. He’ll meet us back at Pathran once this is over. Let’s just get this shipment to the bunker before anything else goes wrong.”

~*~

Bilal yawns loudly as he steps out of the jeep, not bothering to wait for Rhinda as he makes his way up the stairs of the mansion. All he can think about is how much he needs a hot shower to wash the grime off of his body and a warm bed to fall into as a reprieve from the fog surrounding his brain.

“What took you so long?” Through sleep deprived eyes, Bilal can make out the blurry shape of Varadha approaching him with purposeful strides. He rubs his eyes, holding back another yawn.

“We camped out at the bunker last night. We figured we might as well log all the weapons into the system while we were there.” Varadha nods, looking over his shoulder as Rhinda approaches.

“Where’s Deva?” Varadha focuses on the entrance, waiting for the man to approach. 

“He isn’t back yet?” Rhinda asks wearily.

“No, he isn’t.” Varadha takes a step closer, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Why isn’t he with you?”

“We got separated last night when a vehicle we didn’t account for started following us. Deva said he could handle it on his own and told us to head to the bunker. So, we did. He told us he’d meet us back here. I–”

Varadha inhales sharply, his body winding up tightly, suddenly on high alert. He pinches the bridge of his nose as he paces across the length of the hall, cursing under his breath.

“Bilal! Tell Rihaan to start the search for Deva”

“But, Dora. It’s still early in the day, maybe he’s on his way back.”

“No. No he would’ve been back here by now. It’s been hours Bilal. I was fine waiting when I thought he was with you, but if he’s been separated… I’m not going to take any chances. Not when I need him back here. So, go. Go!” Varadha hisses and Bilal hurries out of the room, silently thanking Kateramma for gifting him with a strong sense of self preservation that prevented him from asking any more questions.

[junikicker]

Under Her Spell Part 3 - Lady Bellaston x fem!reader

Under Her Spell - Lady Bellaston x fem!reader

warnings: smut, mention of scars

note: I hc her first name is Clarissa don't ask why I just do

word count: 2.3k

You woke up in the morning to the birds tweeting outside as the sun tickled your scarred skin. You were about to sit up when you noticed a weight on your chest. You smiled at the sight. Lady Bellaston looked so peaceful asleep.

You brought your hand up, gently running your fingers through her soft hair. This had been the first night in months you had slept through. Her presence seemed to soothe something inside of you, seemed to soothe your soul.

You felt her breathing change, indicating she was starting to stir awake. You smiled as a soft frown made its way to her face, eyes starting to flutter open. “Good morning, my lady.” You spoke softly, your voice raspy from sleep.

“Mhm.” She mumbled in response, too lazy to mutter out more words. “Did you sleep well?” You asked her, your hand traveling from her hair to her neck, drawing patterns on her pale skin.

“Would you like some breakfast, Lady Bellaston?” You asked, going back to running your hands through her hair. She smiled. “I believe we are far enough into whatever this is for you to stop calling me that.” She gently spoke.

“What should I call you instead, Lady Bellaston?” You teased, looking down at her adoringly. “Call me Clarissa.” She replied. It was only now that you noticed the rasp in her voice. Immediately, it became your new favorite sound. “Clarissa...” You said, smiling. “That’s a lovely name.” You decided, looking at the ceiling.

“Only when you say it.” Clarissa smiled.

“So, Clarissa. Breakfast?” You asked, getting back to the initial conversation topic. “That sounds very appealing.” She hummed. “I shall be back then.” You said, starting to get up. “You don’t have people for that?” Clarissa asked, sitting up, not bothering to cover her chest. You had a hard time not to look at it.

“Darling, no one knows about this place other than me and my friend Charles. How am I to hire people if this place doesn’t even exist on the papers?” You explained to her. You saw the hint of a blush on her cheeks as the word ‘darling’ left your lips.

“In that case, I might as well accompany you.” She decided and you smiled, watching her get out of bed, completely bare. “Would you like a robe, my lady?” You asked her, seeing goosebumps appear on her skin as the cold air hit her body completely. “Mhm.” She hummed, stretching her arms above her head, hands almost reaching to the ceiling. You went over to the wardrobe next to the window and pulled out a dark blue, silken robe, draping it over your left arm before walking back up to her.

“Thank you, dear.” She smiled and slipped on the robe. “Looks much better on you than it does on me.” You smiled back at her, placing a kiss on her cheek. “I highly doubt that, Y/n.” She whispered back.

When you heard your own name, it usually made you cringe. You were rarely called by that name, it somewhat sounded like another person’s name. But when she said it. When she said your name, it made you feel like it was your own.

You were pulled out of your small trance when Clarissa pulled you in for a kiss, one hand holding onto your chin, while the other lingered against your bare chest, nails gently tracing your scars. You had felt a bit vulnerable, falling asleep next to her like this, showing your scars. But she seemed to cherish them like they were some kind of treasure.

You prepared breakfast for her in the kitchen, she sat on a chair across the stove, observing you carefully, following your movements. “Who taught you to cook?” She inquired, leaning onto the counter, one arm holding up her head.

“Charles’ wife, Clorinda Morrissey. She owns a tea room just outside of London. I spent some time at their place for a change of place. Finding a new perspective to look upon a book that I was writing.” You shared, cutting up some vegetables.”You’re a writer?” Lady Bellaston inquired further, still carefully observing your movements.

“Ah, yes. Well, I suppose not really?” You said. “Why the change of scenery?” She asked, truly intrigued by the topic. “They live closer to the countryside, you see. No greater place to find poetry than in nature, is there?” You explained as you finished preparing the meal.

“A poet, huh? I wonder what the Viscount has to say about that.” She asked you in a teasing manner. “It is more of a hobby to him. God forbid if I actually sell them for good money someday. Other than that he believes nothing will ever come close to the works of William Shakespeare.” You explained and she nodded in response. “Although Shakespeare is indeed a very skilled writer.” You admitted.

“I shall be the judge of that.” Clarissa decided. “I own loads of Shakespeare. Have read even more.”

“What would you like to hear?” You asked, plating the meal. “Surprise me.” She requested, smiling. You thought for a moment before starting to recite a work that you had started a few weeks ago.

“Midnight. Not a sound from the pavement. Has the moon lost her memory? She is smiling alone.” You started, looking into Clarissa’s captivating green eyes. “In the lamplight, the withered leaves collect at my feet. And the wind begins to moan.” Your voice was soft but clear. A bit of a rasp was noticeable, still a bit tired. “Memory. All alone in the moonlight. I can dream of the old days. Life was beautiful then. I remember the time I knew what happiness was. Let the memory love again.” You delivered the poem more song-like. It had always been more of a sonnet in your mind.

“Hmm.” Clarissa hummed, eyes closed as she absorbed the soft sound of your voice. “Melancholic. Something about time passing and the transience of life. Forgotten by the people around you while longing to feel loved again. Perhaps for the first time.” Clarissa interpreted your words, getting up from her seat across from you. “The importance of the past in regards of shaping the future.” She smiled and kissed your lips. “You have a wonderful voice, dear.” She complimented you and you blushed a bit. “Thank you, Clarissa.” You smiled back and handed her one of the two plates.

“You are very skilled with your tongue,” She said smirking, “Handling words so well… Shakespearean, one might say.” She teased you. “And you, my dear Clarissa. Are a very skilled interpreter.” You teased her back. “And judging by last night, I do agree on the matter of my skilled tongue.”

The two of you enjoyed your meal in comfortable silence. Both of you could sense the electricity in the air, knowing it would only be a matter of time until Lady Bellaston’s robe and your pants would be on the floor.

And sure enough, a good fifteen minutes later, the empty plates were long forgotten as you undid her robe, as you had her trapped against the counter.

You slid your hands up her thighs, picking her up easily, and placed her down on the counter. Her hands instinctively wrapped around your neck, pulling you in as close as possible.

Her hand in your hair was sending shivers down your spine as you started pressing kisses to her neck. The next kiss was both long and short lasting. You both longed for it to be longer but you both suffered from the lack of oxygen. You moaned into her mouth as you rejoined your lips with hers and her tongue slipped into your mouth. She was intoxicating.

“You’ve learned a lot.” You teased her, leaving soft kisses along the line of her knife-sharp jaw. “Tell me you want me, Clarissa.” You whispered into her ear.

“I don’t want you.” She said, pushing you off her neck. “I need you. Really, really bad.” She said a smug smile on her face.

Immediately, you pushed her thighs apart, standing between them. She looked down at you with lust-blown eyes.

She arched her back into you, just for the sake of being as close to you as possible. You couldn’t get enough of her, she was like some kind of drug. So addicting, but making you feel so much joy inside.

Your eyes flickered up to her as you smirked. “Let me take care of you, darling.” You whispered, hands running up and down her luscious thighs. You started kissing her again, softer this time. As if you were trying to tell her something.

The blonde’s head fell back suddenly as you watched her eyes roll into the back of her head as you pushed two fingers inside her, curling them gently as you started at a slow, steady pace. Moans spilled from her mouth like a waterfall. You couldn’t help but look at the woman’s face, eyes falling close as she let the pleasure you were providing her with wash over herself.

“Dear lord, Y/n. I-” She couldn’t even finish her sentence properly, but you already knew what she was going to say as you felt her starting to clench around your fingers.

You added a bit more pressure onto her sensitive bundle of nerves, getting her even closer to the edge. She cried out as she tightened around your fingers even more. “Please, can I-” You didn’t let her finish her sentence. Instead, you hungrily pressed your lips onto hers.

You increased the pace once again, that seemed to have been it for her. She arched her back and her front was pressed to yours as her high overcame her. Her eyes were shut tight as she tried to catch her breath afterward.

You pulled her into a deep and loving kiss.

“Can you show me how to…?” Clarissa asked once she had fully calmed down while you pressed soft kisses all over her body.

“I would love to.” You smiled and helped her down the counter. Easily, you picked her up and carried her up the stairs, back into the bedroom where things had started last night.

You instructed her to sit on the edge of the bed, before walking up to her, coming to a halt between her legs. “Help me with these, darling?” You asked her, referring to your pants.

Instinctively, she followed your request and undid your pants, hands slightly shaking with nervousness. “Don’t be nervous, Rissa. It’s just me.” You smiled at her softly. A warmth overcame the older woman at the new nickname. As soon as your pants were on the floor, Clarissa started eyeing you up as if you were raw meat. “Like what you see?” You asked her teasingly, a blush crept up her cheeks at the thought of being caught staring. But she couldn’t help it. Even if she tried. She found herself so captivated by your uniqueness and beauty, that she wouldn’t dare tear her eyes off you even for a moment.

You came around the bed, placing yourself against the headboard, patting the opening between your legs for her to fill. Immediately, she complied, rushing to plant herself between your thighs. Then you felt her lips on yours. At first, the kiss was calm and caring, but it developed into rushed and heated rather quickly.

“Explore me. Mark me up, darling.” You instructed her. “Start with my lips and move down south.”

She immediately obliged, eager to please you for the first time. She began peppering kisses all over your face, coming back to your lips every now and then. She then moved down to your neck and collar bone. When she hit your pulse point, you gasped slightly and she immediately drew back, only to be met by your lust-blown eyes.

“Don’t stop, darling.” You breathed. “Bite down on that spot, beautiful.” And she did as you told her, teeth grazing your pulse point, eventually gently biting down on it, retrieving a strangled moan in return. She could feel the vibration on her face.

She continued to explore your body, hands roaming all over your body as she caressed the scars from your surgery with gentle kisses, your hand was tangled in her hair now, holding a firm grip. “Hmm. I need you.” You hummed out as her kisses traveled to your stomach, hips bucking when she dips her tongue into your belly button.

“Come straddle my lap, darling...” You husked and she came right up, trapping you against the headboard. “Let’s start easy, shall we?” You asked her, caressing her cheek gently, she nodded barely. You gently got a hold of her hand, guiding it down to your throbbing heat.

On her own, she dragged a finger through your folds, making your head fall back in a silent scream. “Inside.” You whimpered, trying to contain your moans and she easily slipped one finger inside your core, her lips leaving hot kisses on your neck.

She added another finger and quickened her pace, leaving you gasping before a low moan escapes your mouth when she hist a special spot inside you. She smirked and curled her fingers inside you, sending a wave of pleasure rippling through your body. You were barely able to kiss her back at that point, your mouth becoming useless against hers.

“Oh, God!” You moaned when she pushed her thump against your bundle of nerves, thighs starting to close. “Don’t you dare.” She whispered, using her knee to keep your legs open. With one last curl of her fingers, your legs started to shake and your body started quaking with pleasure.

“Dear god, I don’t even know what more to teach you.” You chuckled as she fell down next to you, once you had recovered. “I have learned form the best.” She chuckled back.

You would love to stay like this with her for eternity. But something inside you told you that it would be pure luck if you could.

[twilightmalachite]

Love Letter - Interval

Author: Umeda Chitose

Characters: Yuuta, Hinata

Translator: Mika Enstars

"Why do you always have to one-up me…"

[Read on my blog for the best viewing experience with Oi~ssu ♪]

Season: Winter

Location: TV Station Lounge

A couple days later, backstage after recording a program with 2wink…

Yuuta: Great work today, Aniki. I feel our performance today was perfect as usual!

Hinata: We’ve been practicing so often that performing each of our songs have become ingrained into our bodies! It all paid off today, didn’t it!

Yuuta: But what does that mean for us, then? Since, y’know, we sell ourselves as idols who excel at improvisation…

What if we’re suddenly requested to do two separate performances to the same song, and we don’t know how to react, or something?

Hinata: Uh, in what circumstance would that happen… Do you think our performance for the improv performance corner of this show got worse, or something?

Yuuta: I guess I do keep feeling that there was something lacking from our performance as boke and tsukkomi today, but…

I’m really just simply questioning how much we’re currently reliant on an array of ingrained habits and routines.

Hinata: If we were asked to do separate performances huh…? I think my body would end up moving reflexively once the song came on.

Well, then we could look at each other all dumbfounded, in sync! Then it could be explained with the fact that well, we’re twins, right?

Yuuta: Hmm, that’s a bleak projection of our future. Personally, I’d rather avoid a scenario like that, and instead learn and perfect how to smoothly deal with situations like those on an individual basis.

Hinata: Wha~, what are you saying, Yuuta-kun! Saying things with such vague implications is bad for your big brother’s heart, you know!!

Yuuta: You looked like you had wanted to say something about it to me today, though, Aniki. That’s why I brought it up.

Hinata: Badump! To think that Yuuta-kun had been watching me so closely…!

Yuuta: Well, if our gestures and such don’t match up, then the quality of 2wink’s performances will go down. I had to watch closely to keep in order.

Hinata: I’m a lil’ sad I didn’t get a funny comeback, but I was doing that too.

Or more like, we’ve had to do that for a while now, like it’s just part of getting ready for the job.

We have to think about how to move to match one another. In order to become the two-in-one 2wink.

Yuuta: …Yeah. So then, you and I both are aware of what’s going on.

So that’s why I’ll be making a suggestion before you can say anything, Aniki… How about we take the plunge and try doing things separately?

Hinata: Separate things, as in…?

Yuuta: You know, the last time we talked, it ended all strangely. I think I really messed things up then, and I’m really really sorry about that.

Hinata: …Mhm.

Yuuta: It doesn’t have to be on stage—If we try to do something together elsewhere, it all goes south…

So I thought; how about we try leveling up individually? What if we got better at being apart?

Hinata: Hm. Can you be more specific?

Yuuta: I think… Just up until Chocolat Fes begins should be good. ‘Til then, we can train to level up as individuals in different places, martial-artist-style.

And when Chocolat Fes finally arrives, we can show each other how we’ve leveled up and make the best of it for our performance.

We’ve always been showing off to each other how much we’ve grown as competition, haven’t we? This is just a long-term version of that, like an advanced level?

Hinata: …Hmm~. In order for us to properly grow as individuals, huh…

Hinata: Sounds good to me! To be honest, I thought something like that too, and had been in the process of figuring out something too. I give my approval!

Yuuta: Why do you always have to one-up me…

That aside. Does that mean we’re in agreement here?

Hinata: Doesn’t this just prove how we’re thinking about ourselves individually? We’ve tried to figure out what we’re missing/what we need, and take action.

Yuuta: I dunno. I feel like we’ve just been driven to the point where we have no choice but to find a way to survive.

Hinata: Still, what we’re trying to do is “grow”,

Myself as Aoi Hinata. And yourself as Aoi Yuuta. And growing individually will lead to 2wink’s future.

Yuuta: …Sounds like something a leader would say, doesn’t it?

Hinata: Well, I am the leader, aren't I?

Yuuta: Alright, now I can devote myself to my martial-arts-style training without any worries. It’s been ages since we’ve agreed on something together, Aniki~!

Yuuta: Well then, I'll see ya then!

Hinata: Talk about a fast close! There are a few more things we gotta talk about, like what now!

Yuuta: Y’know, while I described it as training separately martial-arts-style, we’ll still have stuff like school and our usual work, but… I wonder if we’ll have enough time to talk face-to-face.

Hinata: Wha~!? I’ll run Yuuta-kun-deficient with just school and work alone! At least let me fully recharge at least once a week!

My chronic Yuuta-kun shortage hasn’t fully recovered since the preliminaries! This is a legitimate request I'm making here!

Yuuta: …Hmm. Well, I don’t want to cause others to worry or have them fuss over us because they think we’re fighting…

So, I’ll usually at least try not to have it seem like I'm weirdly distant.

Hinata: And my full charge...?

Yuuta: Yeah, yeah. Once a week only.

Hinata: Alright, I’ll take your word…♪

Yuuta: So, starting now, it’ll be a period of mutual devotion to martial-arts-style training for the both of us, for real.

Hinata: …I can’t help feeling like you’re somehow all set to head out to training already. Like you already know where you’re going. You’ve already started your training, haven’t you?

Just what kind of training are you doing, I wonder~?

Yuuta: Tellin’ you would spoil the fun so it’s a secret~! I’ll be doing my very best to surprise you, though!

Hinata: Ooh, aren’t you motivated… I’ll have to do my best too so I don’t lose to you, I gotta be sure to surprise you too, Yuuta-kun! ♪

Yuuta: The match is up ‘til Chocolat Fes. No, up until Chocolat Fes, it's our match!

Hinata: Yep. Up ‘til Chocolat Fes, I’ll grow more than you—

Yuuta & Hinata: I’ll definitely knock you off your feet…!

[ ☆ ]

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[ticklystuff]

Profile Tag Game~

Hello - Why, hello there! I apologize for the disturbance; my fanbase (@lovelynim, @ticklygiggles, @xsezzie, @keru0, @mythiczer0) can be quite noisy at times. Hopefully playing this little game can quell their enthusiasm for the time being.

Chat: Tickling - Don’t.

Chat: Health - Eat well, sleep well, poop well~ Three easy steps to bettering one’s health! You only have one body; it’s important to take care of it.

When It Rains - Perfect timing! I’ve been blessed with the minor inconvenience needed to cancel today’s obligations~

When It Snows - Yes, I’m perfectly fine wearing shorts in the snow. No, I’m not cold. Please stop staring at my legs..

When the Sun is Out - Ugh, too bright..

Good Morning - … … ………

Good Afternoon - Mind keeping it down? My nap time requires absolute silence.

Good Evening - Ah, I’m just going for one of my nighttime strolls. … Err, I suppose you can tag along, but I really prefer my alone time… Just keep talking to a minimum, okay?

Good Night - Hm? Can’t sleep? Well, I have the perfect advice for you, ehehe. Wanna sleep like the dead? Try a shot before bed! Cheers!~

About Me: Color - The term “colorblind” is a misleading one, as it perpetuates the belief that individuals, such as myself, possess the inability to see color, but that is simply not true. Instead, I often mistake certain colors for others. Red and green are the usual cases, but blue and purple are tricky for me to differentiate as well. Most people view this as a disadvantage, but personally, I disagree. Being colorblind just means that all stoplights are green to me, ehe~

Something to Share: Jobs - If you had all the money, time, and skills in the world, but still needed to work, which career would you choose? This is a question I often enjoy asking people because not only are the answers creative, but they can really give you insight into the person that’s answering. As for myself, I’d personally enjoy being a judge for a cooking show. I’d get to enjoy so many tasty foods, without having to actually be the center of attention. Also, people would have to serve me under my scrutiny, ohohoho~ Sounds fun, doesn’t it? Anyway, since I’ve shared mine, it’s only fair you share yours, no?

My Hobbies - Sleeping is great because I don’t have to talk to anyone while unconscious, mhm~

My Troubles - Ah, I’m sorry, but I can’t hang out today. I already visited another friend last week and I’m still burnt out.. We’ll see how I’m feeling in the next week or two, yeah?

Favorite Food - Rice due to its unmatched versatility. It can be enjoyed as a side dish, a main dish, a dessert, even a beverage, and can be presented in many flavors. Tofu, likewise, is of similar caliber.

Least Favorite Food - I’m not a picky person and enjoy most foods. However, my intolerance to lactose does create some…. potential problems when consuming dairy products. This does not stop me from enjoying them, though, as these issues are for future me to address.

About @fuwahua - Not only is she a fellow ChiLi enthusiast, but a fantastic writer as well! I was so happy when she agreed to doing a collab with me and I can only hope we find another chance in the future~

About @otomiyaa - I still remember reading her fics all the way back in 2016 and, despite not being familiar with most of the fandoms, I still enjoyed them all the same. Oh, and we can’t forget to thank her for all fun games she’s created, including this one!

Birthday - Happy birthday! Your present this year is a shopping trip on my dime~ I know, I know, so generous! … Wait, what do you mean “no thank you”? Ugh, accepting the offer won’t make you greedy or selfish, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Likewise, turning it down doesn’t make you any more humble and if anything, I personally think it’s quite foolish. Now, come on and get dressed; a long day of food and gifts await you!

—

thanks for reading lol that was fun~ most of my mutuals have already been tagged or did the game so my victim list will be @fuwahua @ppystkposts @skayleay but feel free to say i tagged you if you feel like playing!

[themonsterandhismuse]

“Me too,” I nod quickly, “he’s so precious.” I kiss Luca’s cheek again.

Anakin smiles softly and enjoys the rest of the day with the two of you.

A week later when Padmé returns, he sits her down, taking a deep breath. “I… I want you to know that when we got married… I loved you so much,” he breathes, tearing up. “And- part of me I think will always love the girl I met on Tatooine when I was little.”

“Anakin what are you saying? We have a party to go to- don’t talk like that.” She gets up. “No. We can have this conversation later.”

“I want a divorce,” Anakin nods. If he doesn’t say it now… he never will. Especially if she keeps pushing it off.

Padmé stares at him for a long moment. "You can't make it in this galaxy without me, Anakin. I'm the reason you have contacts and resources. I'm the reason you're going to a party tonight instead of sitting at home bored in that... gods-awful Temple."

Anakin's eyebrows shoot up. "Excuse me? You don't talk about my home and family like that. No. I want a divorce. I can make it just fine without you."

"Oh yeah?" She tilts her head. "You remember that when we're at the party tonight and you get to talk to people instead of stand in the corner like a lost little boy."

"I'm a man," Anakin snaps.

"Yeah, you really sound like a man when you take it up the ass," she snarks back.

Anakin rears back, clenching his jaw. "You're such a bitch," he whispers.

"What was that?" she turns her ear toward him, "you never could raise your voice against-"

"YOU'RE A BITCH." Anakin shouts, getting in her face.

Padmé takes a step back, her eyes widening a little at the cold, sharp look in his eyes. “Anakin…”

“I fucking hate you.” Anakin nods a little. “We can go to this party. And we can talk to your friends. But you will not touch me. You don’t get to pretend in public anymore.”

Padmé gives him a small nod, her momentary lapse in confidence gone. “Alright, Ani. We’ll see how you hold up amongst the higher society members then.”

She gets in her speeder and goes with him to the party, starting to drink right away.

Anakin also hits the bar pretty hard, during and between conversations to keep his social battery up.

About three hours into that party, he seeks Padmé out, having calmed down from earlier. “Hey- can w’go home?” He asks as clearly as possible. “Please?”

“Why?” Padmé blinks. “Anakin you’re absolutely slammed. How much have you had?”

“Not much,” he insists. “C’mon. Wanna go home an’ talk about th’divorce. Mhm. Wanna talk ‘bout possessions an’ stuff.”

Padmé stares at him, shaking her head a little. “Y’know, I see it now.”

“See what?”

“I see why everyone was telling me it was stupid to marry you.” She huffs, her nose wrinkling a little. “I mean- a Senator and a slave boy who seeks approval from every gods damned person he meets? Be serious. I should have gone with Clovis when I had the chance.”

Anakin rears back, glancing up at the people around him in surprise when they start… laughing. Laughing, at his hurt reaction. Laughing, because he’s a slave boy.

Does nobody care that he’s a Jedi? That he and his men have been seriously wounded protecting their planets?

“I’m leaving.” Padmé murmurs, exasperated.

“I’ll take you,” one of her rich, female friends hooks their arms together, “go home, Skywalker. Nobody wants you here.”

“Oh but- who will clean up after us?” A man pitches in, the group laughing again.

Anakin studies Padmé, nodding in resignation when she does nothing to speak up for him.

And he’s been dealing with this for… so much longer than he should have.

“Fuck all of you,” he nods again, making eye contact with each of them and standing tall even though he feels like he might fall over. “You pieces of shit.”

He makes his way out of the room, the flashing lights and loud music disorienting him even further as he tries to find the exit.

When he’s all the way outside, he slumps against the outer wall of the building, resting his hand on his stomach. Holy gods, he drank too much. He feels sick.

And then, in a rush of emotions (probably exaggerated by the alcohol), he starts to cry, doubling over as he pulls out his comm to call you.

Jedi taking public transport or taxi services when drunk like this isn’t safe. He at least knows that much.

Someone starts to look at him for a little too long and he stumbles around the corner while he waits for you to pick up.

[foolforharrry]

Cinema

Word count: 3k

Summary: A surprise date to the cinema ft fluff

This doesn't really make all that much sense but I think it turned out cute

If you like it, please do check out the other stuff i have linked in my masterlist

And if you have something you want me to write, pls let me know and I'll try my best to do it

Kisses for you all 🫶🏻

“Low and behold for your master has returned.”

Biting the inside of my cheek to suppress a smile, I keep my eyes trained on the screen of my laptop without registering a word that’s written.

I can sense him close before his arms snake around my shoulders from behind, crossing over my chest. The familiar scent of his cologne and something that’s just uniquely Harry feels like an embrace as warm as the one he’s actually giving me.

With a hum, my head leans against his shoulder as he pecks the top of my head. “Really, babe? Master?”

“Mhm. Doesn’t it suit me?” Harry lays his cheek in the place his lips just touched. I can practically hear the shit-eating grin he’s sporting. “All-powerful and shit? I’d say it’s perfect for a man like me.”

“Do you want me to polish your shoes for you now?”

“Oh, shut it.”, Harry hugs me tighter momentarily before he releases me all together, swivelling my chair around to look me in the eye. His still take my breath away. They’re so green and full of life, love, and kindness. Beautiful and dazzling in the most captivating way.

It’s been said that the eyes are the window to a person’s soul. Harry’s are clear and free of condensation as they complement his heart so perfectly.

I would happily die in his eyes for the rest of my life.

“Did you hear what I said?”

When I realise that I had gotten completely lost in his eyes and didn’t hear a word, a crimson blush heats up my cheeks as I shake my head, “Sorry.”

As if he couldn’t turn me into more of a mush than he already has, Harry gives me a glittering smile, his dimples digging into the soft of his cheeks. “I was telling you before you got distracted by my endless beauty, is that I got us tickets to go to the cinema.”

Perking up at that, I ask him; “You did?”

“Yes.”, Harry confirms. “Zayn was telling me about this one film that’s just been released. It sounded great, so I thought we could go see it together.”

Rising to my feet, I cup his face in my hands, I lay a soft kiss on his lips, feeling him smile against mine as I do. “I would love to.”

When I pull away, I brush the hair that has fallen over his face away, twirling it around my finger in a way that makes Harry chuckle as he follows my action with his gaze. “When does it start?”

“Forty minutes, but we have to leave in twenty-five if want to make it there in time to buy popcorn.”, he tells me.

“Ok, good.”, I sigh in relief, standing on my tiptoes to give him another kiss. One that he happily accepts. “Now you need to go make yourself busy so I can get ready, ok?”

“Scared I’ll be too much of a distraction?”, Harry teases, pinching my side and making me jolt from the ticklish feeling.

There’s no point in denying it since he knows me like the back of his hand. “Yes. I don’t want to miss the previews.”

Already having started to shuffle away from Harry in direction of our bathroom, he pulls me right back to him. Arms around my stomach as my back is flush against his chest. I can’t help the loud belly laugh that erupts from me, the suddenness of it all catching me completely off guard as Harry buries his nose in the crook of my neck. His soft, shoulder-length curls tickle my skin as well as his soft kisses.

“Harry, please. I have to make myself presentable.”, I plead as Harry keeps feathering kisses along the length of my neck. My squirming proves useless.

“You look beautiful, darling. Why don’t we just cuddle until we have to leave instead?”

Ignoring the butterflies swarming in my stomach, I shake my head, “We can cuddle when we get home, yeah?”

“Fine.”, Harry gives in reluctantly. “You promise.”

“Promise.”, I say, twisting my head to kiss the pout of his soft, pink lips.

“Your hair looks good, I promise.”

He runs his hand through it one final time before he sighs and flips the sun visor back up. No doubt the result of habit, he reaches for the sunglasses that hang on the rear-view mirror.

Taking his wrist in my hand before his fingertips reaches the black plastic, I tilt my head at him in question, “It’s November, H. And it’s raining.” Harry’s mouth forms an ‘O’ now that I’ve pointed out the obvious, “Right…Let’s go then.”

When the sound of the car locking sounds out, Harry slings his arm around my shoulder, placing an affectionate kiss on the top of my head as I happily wrap my arm around his waist.

I’ll take any excuse to be near him.

It’s only a five-minute stroll from where we parked to the entrance of the cinema. But since we’re in a bit of a rush, we are quick on our feet, keeping a fast pace the whole journey.

While I admit that I was only ready within minutes of when we had chosen to leave, Harry is the cause of our haste. Just as we were putting on our shoes, he’d gotten it in his head that he wanted to wear a dress shirt instead of the hoodie he had been wearing before. The fact that we were going to be in a dark movie theatre didn’t faze him in the slightest.

Ten shirts later and he landed on a champagne-coloured, silk button-down, leaving half of them undone.

Being in a rush is a small price to pay to be blessed with just how good he looks.

By the time we make it to the cinema, our noses are red from the bitter cold.

After buying our popcorn and rushing into the theatre where our movie is going to be shown, we settle in the back row, furthest to the right. By some fucking miracle, only one person seemed to recognise Harry.

“Did you buy an extra seat?”, I whisper, keeping my laughter at the measures he’s taken to have somewhere to put our coats and my purse other than our laps.

And he does just that, keeping his voice a whisper as well in respect of the other people surrounding us. “I did. I thought there would be fewer people here though.”

“Which movie is it?”, I ask when I realise that I don’t know that yet, popping a piece of popcorn in my mouth as the previews roll on the big projection screen. And he isn’t wrong either, besides the seat he bought for the purpose of being empty for us, it seems that all the other seats in the theatre are claimed.

Harry takes a handful of popcorn, chewing them and swallowing them down before he gives me the answer. “Hunger Games. Mockingjay..something.”

“And Zayn said it wasn’t a popular movie?”

Nodding, Harry finished off the popcorn he had in his hand, lacing his fingers with mine, our now conjoined hands resting in his lap. “Yeah.”

“Maybe Zayn recommended it to some more people.”

I decide to not tell him that the Hunger Games is indeed a very popular series of movies based on a very popular dystopian book trilogy. And that I truly do not understand how he doesn’t know. I also don’t tell him that I have read the books more than once and was planning on asking Harry to do a movie marathon with me once they’re all out.

Chances are that Zayn failed to tell Harry just how loved the Hunger Games is for kicks. It’s very likely as the two of them have a never-ending war of pranks.

Harry hadn’t been able to stop laughing when he told me about the last prank he pulled on Zayn and just how well it had played out. The evil genius had stuffed a rock into every single shoe Zayn had brought with him on tour. He’s probably still shaking them out.

We make small talk for the remaining time until it goes dark and everyone goes quiet as the movie starts.

Nearly an hour later and I’m wiping the tears off my cheeks at the sombre beauty of the song that’s being sung.

Turning my head to whisper how beautiful it is to Harry; my chin instead brushes against the top of his head. I hadn’t even noticed he laid his head on my shoulder. “Harry?”, I hiss, earning no response.

“Are you asleep?” Still nothing.

When he doesn’t even move a finger at the mention of boobs, I know he’s dozed off.

And he stays like that, face nestled into my shoulder and his hand limp in mine even when the end credits start rolling. How he’s managed to stay in the world he’s conjured up in his mind through the loud chaos that is the Hunger Games is a mystery.

Just as the last person disappears from the room, I shake Harry’s shoulder in an attempt to wake him from his slumber. “You gotta wake up, H. It’s finished.”

“What?”, he croaks out, his head still in the same spot it’s been since we fell asleep originally.

Chuckling fondly at how lost he sounds; I kiss the top of his head. “You slept through over half of the movie. And now we have to leave before they kick us out.”

At last, he sits back up fully, his eyes looking puffy and tired and he has a displeased frown turning those pretty lips down. The hair on the side of his head that was laying on me is pressed flat against his head, so I rough my fingers through the roots to give it back the volume Harry usually sports.

“Thank you, my love.” Harry cups my jaw as he leans in to give me a kiss, the salt of the popcorn he’s just eaten leaves a salty taste on his lips.

Once we’ve layered up with our coats against the cold again, Harry engulfs my hand with his free one, the popcorn held in his other hand as he guides us down the stairs and all the way out of the building.

There are significantly more people milling around in the streets than there were when we got here earlier, and Harry grips my hand a bit tighter than before now that we’re out in the open again. So I give him an affirming squeeze back.

A few minutes of walking wordlessly next to each other pass before Harry asks, “Did they solve the hunger?”

It takes me a second to figure out what he means. And when I do, I can’t hold in the laughter that bursts from me, making me drop Harry’s hand as I cup my mouth to muffle the heinous sounds that just seem to keep falling out like a fucking waterfall.

Through my tears, I see that Harry’s eyebrows are furrowed in confusion at my reaction. Not that I can blame him for it either. He slept through the most crucial part.

“Harry. My love. Is that what you thought Hunger Games was about?”, I ask once I’ve regained my breath, the humour still in my voice.

“Yeah.”, he nods as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, taking my hand once again as we continue our walk back to the car. “I mean, it’s literally called the Hunger Games. And Zayn said it was about it too” The last bit is uttered so silently that I almost don’t catch it.

And so I take it upon myself to educate this poor, uncultured man on what is the Hunger Games.

Retelling everything that I find significant to the story and can remember from the books. He listens intently to every word that falls from my lips. He asks questions where he doesn’t understand something or forgot, his hand on my thigh the whole car ride home. Still not finished when we get home, he eats my words the same way we eat the remainder of our popcorn.

Propped on the sofa, me sitting with my back against the corner of the sofa and Harry laying flat on his back with his head in my lap as I play with his hair and scratch his scalp just the way he likes, making sure I wipe off any grease or salt from the popcorn before touching his impossibly soft hair.

“I’m going to kill Zayn.”, Harry states once everything that needs to be told is over with.

Caught by surprise, I accidentally tug a little bit too hard on his hair, making his eyes fly open, “Ow, that hurts.”

I feel bad instantly, ducking down to pepper kisses from his forehead down his nose and finally on his lips as I say sorry.

“But no killing my side piece. Deal?”, I say in all seriousness, my nose brushing against his as my hair falls around our faces.

He takes a moment to contemplate, his eyes darting between mine, before he finally agrees, “Ok. As long as you help me get back at him.”

“Of course.”, I promise as I make a mental note to text Zayn and tell him that I worship him as if he’s the holiest of gods in existence.

Neither of us makes an effort to break out of our little bubble, feeling as if we’re the only two people to exist right now. Just us. Wrapped up in our little bubble of love. The clouds that float high in our sky aren’t white or grey, but rather a soft, beautiful pink and the sun doesn’t stop shining.

It’s safe and I pray that no matter what happens, no matter how much changes. This will stay the same.

I pray that we will always have this bubble of our shared love and adoration.

I pray that we’ll always have each other to call home.

“White or purple?”

I hold up the two options for him, letting him make the choice he makes seem as if is the most important one of his life. Harry inspects each of the products carefully. Even going as far as to read every ingredient that’s listed out loud.

He gets frustrated when he doesn’t understand what any of them do, so he instead results in just smelling them.

“This one.” He seems happy with his choice of the white clay mask, a close-lipped smile on his face instead of the concentrated pout that was there only seconds ago.

“Ok, great!” I rub my hands together in excitement.

Just as I’m about to start applying my facemask, Harry pulls a smile from so wide my cheeks hurt; “Can I do yours?”

“Yes, please.”

And with that, he taps the bathroom counter, gesturing for me to plant my butt there. Which is do without a second thought, Harry handing me his facemask as he stands between my thighs.

He puckers his lips as a silent request for a kiss, which I’m more than happy to grant, pecking the tip of his nose as well for good measure.

“You know where to put it, right?”

“Here, right?”, Harry traces his finger lightly along all the areas of my face the product should be applied, and it has me smiling proudly that he remembered. “Yup.”

With Harry’s playlist playing from his phone propped in a glass to amplify the sound, we make small talk as we smear the clay on our skin. Harry got some of it in my hair, despite the fluffy hairbands we’re both wearing, when he swiped his thumb across my forehead, saying ‘Simba’ as his best impression of Rafiki which had me bursting out in laughter.

He looks equally adorable and terrifying once his face is fully coated, parts of it already starting to harden. And I can’t help but snap a few pictures of him to eternalise his new look.

“Hey!”, Harry whines when he realises what I’m doing. “I didn’t even have time to pose.”

“You look amazing, I promise. They should honestly put it on the cover of vogue or something.”

The look on Harry’s face when I show him the picture has me cackling. His mouth dropped in shock as his eyes scan the screen before he too starts laughing. “It’s only fair that I have one of these of you too.”

Nodding, I switch the camera to selfie mode, “I agree.”

Harry grins when I hop down from the counter, turning my back against him and holding the phone up high, ready to snap the selfie. He helps me by hunching down so his head is the same height as mine.

“Ready?”, I ask. When he says it back, we both pull cheesy smiles for the camera.

I had intended to stop there, but one turned into many. Various grimaces that had my stomach aching from laughter and my heart feeling full and happy from the sound of his. At one point he kissed my cheek for a photo before pressing the sides of our faces against each other for another. All my teeth were in view from the width of my smile.

Taking the masks off went surprisingly smoothly. So did the rest of the steps we had left to pamper our faces.

“If I had known that the peeling thingy we used last time hurt so bad and this didn’t, then I would’ve never let you put me through that.”, Harry tells me as we put everything back in place.

“I tried warning you.”, I remind him, pinching his side as I move around him to throw the used cotton pads in the garbage bin.

Harry scoffs, wrapping his arms around me from behind, his chin on top of my head. “You did. And I should’ve listened.”

“Mhm.”, I hum, my body swaying along with Harry’s. My arms keep his trapped against my chest as I bask in the feel of having him so close, butterflies once again swarming in my tummy when he drops his head to press a kiss to my shoulder, murmuring “I love you.” against the fabric of my t-shirt. The t-shirt I stole from his side of the closet.

“I love you to the moon and back.”

-

He just looks so fucking good in this it's not even funny