he makes you love letters, words that conjure the prettiest of pictures in your head. he makes you love letters but never writes them down. everything he writes is for the fans, for his family.
these love letters are yours and yours alone.
sometimes the words are muttered into the back of your head. words curling in your hair as he presses himself close and you both forget about the crowd in front of you.
there are others ways, words hissed through clenched teeth as he drags you close. his fingers curling around your hip and the sentences chop and stutter, hurried and messy.
you like those probably the best.
but sometimes, in the dark his words are hushed and black and you cling to his shoulders to make them stay. you kiss him to swallow them whole.
the words like tattoos transferring from his tongue to your own.
he doesnt write you love letters, but you dont need them anyway.
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