#5 second of summer blurb

[carryonafi]

my poor brain.

calum hood x reader; SMUT!!!

a/n: this one has been cooking for a little while teehee 😋 some more smut (high edition) because apparently that is all i am capable of writing — and plus, we need some more calum on this blog <3 enjoy!!

words: 2.1k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

The drug made your head spin, taking one slow, deep breath as colorful specks clouded your peripheral vision. Did it feel euphoric, though. Your eyes hooded, staring up at the popcorn ceiling which spun gradually. It made you dizzy, you had to close your eyes. However, they opened immediately after you thought you heard the sounds of footsteps approaching and a soft laugh came from your boyfriend.

“Don��t think that's yours, sweet pea.” He sat on the edge of the bed, just next to where you were laying with your head half-way on the pillow.

“What’s yours is mine too, now.” You mumble as lovingly as you could manage, a lazy smile followed as your head lulled to the side to look at him. He had more. He was over the rolling tray as you perked up, then slowly began to straighten up on the bed. The change in position made you all muddled again, a wave of warmth rushed over you as you shuffled closer to Calum and wrapped your arms around his middle. Your chin rested on his shoulder to watch what he was doing, but the soft pump of your heartbeat blended with his and echoed in your ears. You could hear his breathing through the haze, everything was just so slow. So slow, and so warm. He brought his free hand up to cup your cheek, pressing the thin paper closed with the tip of his tongue. “That’s my way of saying you’re mine.” Your thought finally finished, nose pressing into his hair as he let go of your face to grasp for the patterned lighter left on the bedside table.

“Mm, you stole that from me too.” He hummed, that was what he had told you at some point during your year of being together. Clothes were shared between the two of you to the point where you didn’t know what belonged to you anymore, but you couldn’t focus on your blatant plagiarism. Now, you could hear the flicker of the lighter, the crackling and hissing of the joint and Calum’s frame expanding as he inhaled. Dizzy again. You had no idea how anyone could make taking a drag like that as attractive as he did, your pupils dilated to accompany the glossy shield as you admired him. The hollowing of his cheeks as he pulled, joint still a flaming orange as he pushed out the blue-tinted smoke ahead of him. His hair had grown into a thick mess of black and blond atop his head, so easy for you to tangle your hands in… but they were too occupied tracing small shapes into his sides. He offered you the burning joint, to which you politely declined by shaking your head.

“Shotgun me.” You said just above a whisper, followed by another dazed smile as you poked your tongue out to wet your lips which felt endlessly dry. Calum breathed out a laugh, shaking his head as he flicked the lighter once more.

“So bold, Y/N.” He teased, you giggled and waited so very patiently for the moment he made your wish come true. Another flick of the lighter, and another, and another… Calum cursed. This made you whine.

“Cal..” You pouted, slowly falling back into a kneeling position, sitting on your heels as Calum got up to search for a lighter that wasn't all burnt and useless.

“I’m comin’ baby, I’m comin’...” He rushed to dig through his coat pockets, letting out a breath of relief as he tossed the old piece of plastic off to his desk and used this new lighter. It felt like hours, such long hours until he was finally standing just in front of you as you stood on your knees at the edge of the bed. Soft navy blue sheets crinkled under your weight, wrapping your arms around his neck to feel the same shift of fabric on his shirt, Calum’s free hand cupped your jaw, rough pad of his thumb rubbing against your bottom lip and making you feel like the most wanted in the world. You could see every little detail, half-lidded eyes, full lips wrapped around the paper, you leaned in just at the right time as he pushed the smoke past your lips. You could only let out a soft hum into his mouth which sounded more like a reaction to pleasure, Calum briefly pulled away to set the joint down onto the ceramic ashtray. Just before he kissed you again, he leaned in close and hovered while brushing his top lip against your bottom one. A sigh of want exited you, a quick, sharp inhale taking its place as Calum forced your lips back together and moved the hand that was on your jaw all the way down to the small of your back to ensure you didn’t fall back. He was bending you down, holding on carefully as you made out and he couldn’t hold your bodies up anymore. You were finally laying down on the bed again after shuffling out from that kneel, ankles hooked around his waist to hold him close.

“Guys are downstairs.” He mumbled between kisses, squeezing his eyes shut as your warmth pressed into his hips.

“So?” You whispered back, now rushing to tangle your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck so he could never get away from you. Calum whispered some nonsense about them expecting the two of you to come down soon, all you did was move those kisses to his cheek, then his soft jaw, then his neck just about as far as you could get without him resisting. You lifted your leg slightly, thigh pressing into where he stirred in his sweatpants.

“So.. they’ll wonder why we’ve been gone so long.” Calum replied, but it didn’t really sound like he was trying to fight back too much. Especially with how breathy he got at the end of his sentence, you knew he just couldn’t say no.

“We can be quick.” You traced your fingertips along the curve of his jaw just as you let your head drop back down into the bed.

“You know I can never just be quick with you.” Calum began to push your (his) top up your body either way, his fingers were so warm against your body that the contrast made you shiver. He was so gentle, so intoxicating that without another word you lifted your arms to bring the shirt over your head and throw it off to the side.

“Y’know..” You mumble, hands immediately finding the hem of his shirt as well before making the same moves Calum had to take your shirt off. Then you trailed off, taking a moment to think as your boyfriend stared back at you with curiosity. “Forgot what I was gonna say.” You giggled, a soft one that turned into a quiet laugh as Calum’s hands trailed over your sensitive, ticklish sides.

“You’re silly.” Was all he could say, leaning in and pressing soft kisses to your stomach despite your body constantly wiggling against him. It was like a battle to get you to stay still… he blew a raspberry into your skin just below your navel.

“Calum!” You gripped the sheets and laughed, but the more you laughed the more those soft waves of euphoria washed over you and made your grip weaker. All to distract you, since you had no idea that your panties had come off in that instant.

Calum’s lips twisted into an amused grin against your skin, pulling away and looking down at you with those sweet chocolate eyes almost completely darkened with desire. His eyes were so beautiful, just so goddamn beautiful. It was like Calum could see your thoughts in the way your expression softened once you got to losing yourself in his deep, hypnotizing irises. He didn’t speak a lot, he never spoke an excessive amount while making love, but he didn’t need to. There was an understanding in you both almost at all times. However, it was nice to hear his voice.

“Y’ready for me, sweet pea?” Calum said in a breath, his eyes roaming every inch of your face, towards your hair fanned out across the blankets, then following the line of your jaw and the fading hickeys he had left just the day before.

“Mmhm..” You nodded with that weak hum, nothing that was going on past your field of vision had registered in your slow moving mind, but hell, it did when you felt him sink inside.

It didn’t even take a second, you were already starting to writhe slightly against the blankets and silently beg for more with quiet, needy huffs of breath and eyes suddenly wider than before. Calum would be smiling at the sight of you if he weren’t so focused on making sure you didn’t hurt yourself with how much you moved.

“Slow down.. s’okay. I’m gettin’ there.” He squeezed your hip to put your wiggling to an end, it all just felt so real— more real than anything has felt in the last hour.

His words soothed you a little bit, though at this point you weren’t sure if the things you thought you were saying actually made it past your lips. It all just moved so slow, so slow and loving.

Calum would mutter these little phrases under his breath, right next to your ear so you could feel each syllable being spoken to you, or to himself. Just sweet things which could turn so vulgar so quick, how beautiful you were to how badly he wanted to pound you into the mattress within a matter of seconds. However, he was just so expressive… you couldn’t get sick of it.

“Cal,” you mutter hoarsely. Watching as his eyes gradually opened and the soft movements of his hips slowed down, but hit so much deeper. You reacted boldly, a hand moving to tangle in his hair again. Those soft ones right on his neck which tended to be smoother than the others. His coconut conditioner really did him wonders.

“Mm?” Calum was taking his time, his hands braced on the backs of your thighs and digging into your flesh, bound to leave bruises.

“I need it faster…” Your voice came out in a slight gasp as Calum spread your legs further and paused his rhythm for a moment, fully inside you. He looked at you expectantly, did you not add that sweet plea at the end like you thought?

“Please.”

“That’s it.” He said so gently, lips wandering over your cheekbones and peppering kisses over your recently sun-kissed skin before settling a place on your lips. You let out a muffled, whimper-like noise once Calum started to move again but faster as you wanted.

That was it, this was the pace that was going to have you seeing galaxies despite how slow and attentive Calum was. If anything, it was all fuel to the fire.

He looked at you with nothing but love, love which shone through the deep, glassy exterior of his eyes which in all honesty made this ten times better. Calum was physically making you weak in the knees and with every second that passed, it got even more intense.

You let out a weak call of his name, and he responded by leaning in and gently kissing your lips.

“Shhh, baby…” He mumbled, mouth never moving off of yours which created a soft vibration of his words on your lips. All you could do was gasp against his lips, it was so slow… so slow but so good. The pace was making you lose it, back arched against the mattress and crinkled sheets when your body finally started to react to your orgasm quickly catching up to you and pleasure crashing down in waves. Maybe that wasn’t the right phrase, it wasn’t very intense… move like soft rushes of electricity which made your legs twitch.

And there was even more to come as you clamped down on his cock, sending that delicious domino effect of your orgasms following one another through the room. Your body was stuck in one place, looking up at Calum and the sweat on his hairline like it was shore meeting the ocean. His perfect skin, being the case.

He sat up and pulled you with him, making you sigh as he held you close and idly stroked the like of where your spine was.

“Told you I can never just be quick.” He muttered right against your hair, peppering kisses down the side of your face as you grinned at the sensation of Calum’s soft lips on your skin.

“Yeah,” You hummed in agreement. There was no doubt what you would be met with downstairs when you finally got back to your friends, in for the teasing and playful comments which would drive you to blush, but Calum just to feel prideful.

[33-81]

missed but never forgotten 💔

[ifancyharry]

Close As Strangers

what it is: Harry has been away for six months and YN wants to move on - based on Close As Strangers by 5 seconds of summer!!

word count: 4k+

Harry hurried down the hallway all the way to his room, sliding the key card against the key-reader, unlocking the door and pushing it open with his palms pressed against it.

He quickly removed his shoes, tossing them near the door, before plopping down on the hotel bed, his back against the headboard.

He fished out of his skinny jeans his phone, grimacing at the screen that read 3 missed calls from ‘Angel <3’.

He sighed as he unlocked it, typing hurriedly the number he knew by heart on the keyboard, and putting it on speaker, too tired to hold the phone to his shoulder for the call.

He waited for her to pick up as he listened to the incessant ringing of the line.

“Pick up, pick up” he whispered, biting at the skin of his thumb to suppress his sighs.

He knew he was late. And he felt like he could only imagine the disappointment YN felt when he didn’t answer her call.

He and YN had picked out a specific time throughout the day where the both of them had to be available. No matter what the other was doing, at 7 o’clock they had to answer the phone, which was a pretty understandable rule, and Harry had found it easy to comply to it at first, excusing himself to take a call or getting covered by his band mates if he couldn’t make up an excuse quickly enough. But with time, his schedule had gotten really busy.

And he sometimes missed her calls.

He wasn’t the fresh out of XFactor sixteen year old he’d been when they first started dating. He was Harry from One Direction now, and despite him feeling as the same shy guy that worked in a bakery, life around him had changed, and with it, his relationship.

He knew how she was; he knew she wasn’t answering because she was upset. And Harry really didn’t blame her, but he just didn’t find it reasonable to be upset (“stubborn little thing! — he’d say, once she had calmed down and answered the phone — It doesn’t benefit neither of us if you don’t pick up ‘cause you’re mad!”).

He rolled his eyes once the line went dead, and opened the text app instead, typing quickly with his fingers.

Baby pick up I wanna talk to you

After a couple of minutes, he wrote again: please

I miss you

And after that, he tried the line once again. This time, she picked up after five rings with a small “hello?”, her voice sounded croaky distorted from the phone.

“Hello angel. I’m sorry I didn’t answer.”

“It’s okay”, and Harry felt her sigh through the phone, “i was thinking we should push back the calls until you’re back…”

“What?”

“I know you’re pretty busy,” she said, sternly, “and I don’t want to bother you.”

“What?” Harry repeated, and once he realised he already asked that, he cleared his voice and said: “you could never be a bother”.

YN couldn’t see him but she knew he was shaking his head. She tried not to picture the frown in his brows and the pout on his lips, otherwise she couldn’t possibly keep going.

“Things are different now—”

“No.” He cut her off, “don’t say that, angel. Nothing’s changed. It’s still us.”

“Harry” she softened her tone to make sure he really understood her, “it’s still us. — she nodded firmly to herself — I think it’s best if we stick to texting for now. It’s okay.”

“Okay… okay, if that’s - if that’s what you want. Okay.”

“It’s better this way” she sighed once again and Harry felt her breathing through the phone, her shaky breath loud in his ears as if it were his own.

“But we’re good, right? Tell me we’re good.”

“Yes, of course we’re good.”

Harry nodded, staying quiet as the words she’d just spoken lingered in the air between them. Despite being so far away he could almost feel her right next to him as she kept talking, unaware of the heavy weight he felt on his chest making it a little harder to breathe, the sudden realisation that maybe they weren’t good after all.

-

Harry:

Good luck on your exam baby xx

Harry typed the message quickly before locking his phone in his hands.

“1 minute, guys!” Paul reminded them, and for the first time in three years, Harry didn’t want to perform.

YN had a really big exam, the most important of her course, and his heart ached at the thought of not being there with her. He didn’t want to go on stage, and if he was a bad person, he wouldn’t. He would call his driver and go straight to the airport. But Harry wasn’t like that. No.

Since the beginning of his career, he always felt like he owed something to someone, because as he often said to YN, things like this don’t happen to people like him. What he meant with ‘people like him’ no one truly knows, because YN is sure Harry would be successful even if he wasn’t in the band, even if he never went to XFactor, he would have found a way to do what he loves. People would’ve known him either way, because he’s Harry Styles.

And if he didn’t… was it that bad? Wasn’t a life with her not enough to him? She often wonders that, but then she feels extremely guilty and she stops. She knows it’s wrong to think in such a way, because Harry says many times that that XFactor audition was the best thing he ever did in his life, but sometimes you can’t really control your heart as much as your thoughts.

“Harry, stop texting and let’s go!” Paul shouted, from his position on the doorframe.

Sometimes it’s though, for Harry. He tries really hard not to snap at the crew members because he knows they’re just doing their job, but he would often like to say: handle me a little bit softer, please! Because he is still human, and despite enjoying his job, he still needs to be handled gently. He’s only 19.

He obviously never says anything because as stated before, he’s had this strange feeling of owing his career to someone (no one in particular… his fans? Simon Cowell? He doesn’t know, he just knows the feeling in his gut), and he doesn’t want to disappoint anyone.

Harry throws a quick glance at him and nodds, sighing heavily as he hears his phone ding with a message.

Angel <3:

Can I call you, please? I don’t feel good

“Harry, I said let’s go.” He said once again, walking towards him and taking his shirt in his grip, tugging on the sleeve a bit.

Harry grimaced a little at the thought of not answering YN’s text, but he hadn’t opened it, so he guessed she’d probably think he was already on stage.

“Yes, yes, I’m coming!” He shrugged, tossing his phone on the couch and turning towards the door.

Paul nods and “c’mon, rockstar” he said, ruffling Harry’s hair playfully.

“Hey!” He pouted, chuckling as he bumps his arm against his.

Harry tried not to think too much about YN and her message, but he couldn’t help the pang in his chest as he walked out of the changing rooms and heard his phone ringing, the personalised ringer he set YN when he first bought the phone hitting him right in the heart.

He rolled his lips in his mouth as he walked towards the stage, the image of YN all alone at home with her phone to her ear hunting his thoughts.

-

Harry:

Hey, baby, how are you? What are you doing?

seen, 10.27am

Answer meeeee

seen, 11.47am

Are you mad at me? Why aren’t you answering?

seen, 12.01am

Angel <3:

Hary.. sprry i was ouy

Harry:

Are you drunk?

Angel <3:

Jst a litle bit hahahaahah

Harry:

Are you safe?

Angel <3:

yea, wit Emma xx txt tommrw

Harry sighed heavily as he rubbed his temples, tossing his phone on the bed beside him. He closed his eyes as he tried to soothe the impending headache as best as he could. He knew he shouldn’t think like this, but he sometimes can’t help but get angry with her; they never get time to talk, and the only time he can call her, she’s out drinking with her friends. It’s wrong and he’s being unfair, of course he knows. He’s just… he feels defeated. And left out. She feels so far away, and he’s sad he can’t be there with her. Why is she drinking? Is she celebrating something? Did she pass her exam? He doesn’t even know. He didn’t even ask, really. Because he was on The Late Late Show in the morning and was already performing with the band by the evening.

So he’s aware it’s his fault, but at the moment, he just feels like being angry at her. He’ll feel guilty in the morning, and he’ll try not to think about her like that ever again, but tonight… he allows himself the feeling.

He feels sick to his stomach when he realises he doesn’t even know who Emma is. He’s been away so long she made new friends he never got to meet.

-

Harry:

I wish you were here.

Harry knows this relationship isn’t going to work. He knows it deep in his heart, the feeling has been growing deep in his belly ever since he auditioned on xfactor, and if he was a better person he would end it.

He would take his brand new (very expensive) phone, digit the number he knows by heart and just… end it.

Dump her, to say it as straight as it is.

But he can’t.

He knows it’s what’s best for the both of them, he can tell she wants to move on, enjoy life with her friends, be loved by someone who could show his love by being present, but he is too selfish to do that.

The mere thought of her with someone else kills him, makes him sick to his stomach. So what does he do instead? He looks for her in every face in the crowd, in every person he meets (and there’s a lot).

Incoming: FaceTime call.

From: Angel <3

“Hi, H” YN whispers softly as soon as he answers the call.

“Hi angel.”

“I missed you, feel like I haven’t seen y’re face in ages”

“I know”, he clears his throat awkwardly, unsure on what to tell her, “still the same pretty face” he jokes.

“No, you look…” Harry can see her furrow her brows down to the middle, “you look different… older”.

What she really wants to say is he looks… glowier? Like someone who slept for twelve hours or someone who just came back from a ten days vacation at an all inclusive resort.

It’s weird, seeing him like this, he sort of lost his edgier and childlike state.

He looks more mature, yes, but also more polished. His once fluffy and untamed hair look shiny and… styled? He certainly has hairdressers, because YN saw it from an instagram post, but she thought it was like a one time thing… not a recurring one.

She feels kind of out of place, in front of this boy - guy, more like - she hasn’t seen in six weeks.

She finds it hard to remember it’s still her Harry.

She wonders how many things he saw in these six weeks, how many things he did without her, how many new places he discovered without sharing it with her, without making her a part of it.

The awkward energy isn’t lost on both parts, and if YN isn’t afraid to show it, Harry tries all he can to keep the conversation normal. He won’t give up.

“You look beautiful as ever” he says with a grin, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

She only partially breaks in a smile, because she doesn’t want him to feel bad.

It’s not him, entirely, it’s them… it’s them as a whole.

“Everyday gets harder to stay away from you” he reiterates, “but I’ll see you soon, okay? At your birthday?”

“Yeah… okay” she gulps, her hands playing nervously with a stray thread coming off of her cream sweater.

“Soon. I promise.”

She nods and pretends she believes him.

The conversation only lasts for a couple of minutes, their hours long calls are just a memory by now, and she asks a couple of questions to pretend everything is fine and not alarm him.

But she knows he can feel something shifted between them, because nothing is as once was.

-

“I think we should head inside, love” Anne kindly said, placing a gentle and comforting hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think he’s coming.”

“No” YN shook her head firmly, in her stomach a nauseous feeling was tingling her insides; she tried to defend him with everything she could: “he can’t. He promised he’d be here. He’s coming. I know he is”

“Okay” Anne murmured, as she threw a wary look in Gemma’s direction, “let’s just wait a little bit more.”

“Yes!” Gemma agreed, “maybe his flight is late…?” She suggested, albeit with little conviction.

YN nodded her head absentmindedly, her gaze lost in the pinkness of the sky extending before her.

She had wanted to wait for his arrival to cut the cake, refusing Gemma’s offer (more like plea) to at least light up the candles to sing her happy birthday, so everyone was starving and YN had the strange feeling they were all upset. With her or with Harry she didn’t really know.

It’s not like she blamed them, the scene presented in front of them (YN waiting all day for Harry who didn’t even call to tell her he wasn’t coming; YN refusing to invite her friends because she wanted it to be just close family and she wanted to spend as much time as she could with her boyfriend) was pathetic as it was already.

She really didn’t think Harry had it in him to miss her birthday.

Everything YN could really think of was how thankful she was it was just her, Anne and Gemma. What would have happened if she had invited more people? She would have ended up looking like the fool who gets stood up at her own birthday by her own boyfriend.

They had been waiting since lunch time and it was already sunset, the now orange sky a dreadful reminder of how much time was passing and how late it was getting.

In her heart, buried deep under her hope, she knew he wasn’t coming. She knew his flight wasn’t late because he never boarded it in the first place, breaking the promise he’d made her that he’d be there for her birthday.

She tried to think about a birthday she passed without Harry, but nothing came to mind. Ever since they started dating, he’d always be there celebrating with her and making her happy on what is supposed to be a day all about her.

She tried to think how much she was willing to wait, she didn’t want to encounter in the possibility of having to wait until late night, but she knew that if she didn’t give herself an ultimatum she never would have stopped waiting for him.

“YN…” Anne interrupted her train of thoughts, once it started to get a bit chilly in the garden and the humidity was starting to get uncomfortable.

“I know.” YN interrupted her briefly, trying not to pay too much attention to the way her eyes were starting to tingle a bit, the humiliation being so bad it was starting to grow inside her like a balloon waiting to pop, “it’s okay.” She nodded, reassuring Anne, but maybe herself too - a little bit.

She shifted her gaze to Gemma, who frowned at the look on her face, “it’s okay.” She repeated, “I knew he wasn’t coming, after all, I knew.”

She could feel their eyes on her as she brought a hand up to her chest, hoping that maybe the warmth could soothe her aching heart; but nothing about her was warm.

She actually felt really cold, her hand on her chest only accentuated her panic and humiliation as she could hear her heart beat fast against her chest cage.

“I am so sorry” Anne said, squeezing her shoulder reassuringly,

“We’re certainly not leaving him any cake” Gemma joked, but her humour fell on deaf ears, because neither YN nor Anne laughed. In Anne’s opinion, there wasn’t anything to laugh about, and in YN’s… well, she wasn’t really paying any attention to her surroundings.

“Let’s go inside, love” Anne repeated once again, but this time YN nodded and got up from her chair.

She inhaled a little before heading towards the door.

Once she was inside, she felt the warm air hit her cheeks, and the sweet smell of the cake cooling off in the oven invaded her nostrils.

The cozy ambience was becoming kind of overwhelming, and she wished she could just close her eyes and be out of that damn house. The house where she spent all her best days with her boyfriend. Was he even her boyfriend anymore?

She felt sick to her stomach thinking those kinds of thoughts, but how couldn’t she? There weren’t many things she cared about like she cared about birthdays, and Harry knew it all too well.

“I think I’ll just head home…” she sighed, a heavy weight on her chest was making it harder and harder to breathe.

“Don’t you want to stay? We could eat some cake and…”

“No” she shook her head forcefully, “I just need to go home, I have to wake up early tomorrow”.

“Okay, love. I’m…” Anne began saying, but she stopped herself. There weren’t many words to say to excuse her son’s behaviour.

“Just… drive safe, okay?”

-

YN felt very alone as she laid in her bed that night; it wasn’t later than 9pm, way too early for her bedtime, but she really didn’t care, at that point she’d do whatever worked to make the day end sooner.

What was worse (if there even was something worse) was that her phone hadn’t rang one time since she’d arrived home, and that meant not only Harry hadn’t shown up to her birthday lunch, but he didn’t even feel guilty about it.

That was everything she needed to know.

She’d always been convinced chasing dreams couldn’t be harmful in anyway, and maybe for Harry it hadn’t been… but for her? What about her? Was she selfish for getting in the way of his dream of a life time?

All these questions ran through her head, a sharp pain growing behind her eyes from keeping in the tears for too long. They spiked against her eyes but she refused to let them fall, she had cried too long for him. This was really all she could do, but without even realising, she had started crying long before even getting in bed.

“Stop it” she condemned herself, pressing the tips of her fingers on her eyelids to dry the tears. “Just stop” she sobbed against her hands.

She doesn’t know for how long she laid there, and at some point she thinks she eventually stopped crying, too exhausted to let anything else out.

Before succumbing to a what she knew would be a troubled sleep, she grabbed her phone and typed a message quickly.

It read: we’re over.

-

When YN sent that text, she knew they weren’t over. They never could be, not without talking it out at first, and Harry… well he’s very stubborn, and at first, it was a quality she liked about him, but when he started calling her back to back until she answered, she reevaluated that.

Text from: Harry

I won’t stop calling until you answer the phone

I’m not joking, YN

Answer

We’re not over

Are we?

We can’t be

You can’t leave me like that

Answer the phone please

I can explain

It took her two days to call him. Two days of uninterrupted messages, two days of tears and an ache in her chest she tried to get rid of by eating tons of ice cream.

Her finger had lingered a while on the green call button before pressing it, but it only took him two rings to answer.

“YN…” he started, and he sort of sounded relieved, she has to admit that.

Like a weight had been lifted off his chest.

“Stop pestering me with all those messages.” She said firmly, “I don’t want to talk to you”.

“YN” he sighed once again, “please let me explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain, Harry! You missed my birthday” she said, and she tried really hard to keep her voice from breaking, but it didn’t really work.

“I know.” He said firmly, “my phone broke, I couldn’t… I didn’t know how to reach you… and by the time I got a new one, I had a concert and I couldn’t… you don’t know how these things work YN, I can’t just drop everything and run to you”.

She felt his words like a bullet piercing through her chest, “you’re right, I don’t know how these things work, but I still deserve to be treated with respect”

“I know. I know you do”.

Sometimes YN wishes Harry had never auditioned for xfactor in the first place. She knows it’s selfish but she doesn’t care. If that makes her a bad person, so be it.

If he’d never auditioned they wouldn’t be here, and she wouldn’t have to beg him for the respect he’d always showed her in the past.

“We really tried to make this work, Harry” she said in a soft voice, at this point all she could feel was defeat.

The whole situation was simply too hurtful to keep going.

“No. Stop. Don’t talk like that.” He’s quick to reply, and she could hear him get up from the bed she supposed he was sitting on.

“You missed my birthday! What am I supposed to say?”

“Enough with this birthday! I explained how things went already. You can’t just leave me like that for a single mistake”.

“But it’s not just the birthday! it’s… everything” she snapped, tired of him dragging a situation that’s been difficult long before he missed her birthday.

“Everything? You’re being unfair, YN. I tried with all I could to be present”

“But you didn’t! You never call, you’re always busy doing god knows what! -

“I’m working, YN, what do you think!” He interrupted her, but she started again with a scoff.

“I feel like I don’t know you anymore, H… buying fancy cars, hanging out with models… what? am I not enough for you anymore? Is that it? If you want out, why don’t you tell me? Why don’t you leave me?”

At that point she was certain she was crying, she could feel the warm tears streaming down her cheeks, but, in the confines of her home, she didn’t really care. Plus, it’s not like Harry hadn’t really seen her cry before.

She cried when she got her first A in maths Harry helped her study for (she had studied really hard), she cried in his arms all night when her childhood dog died (he had died an happy death at 16 years old, but still, it didn’t dull the pain), she cried to him when a mean guy called her four eyes in middle school and Harry had threatened to beat the shit out of him (she realised she loved him then), and she cried with him when he received the call he’d been selected to audition on xfactor.

All these times she’d cried, he had always been there to console her, comfort her, rubbing her back, holding her close to his chest, caressing her face with his soft hands. Where was he now, then? Why, after she threatened to end their relationship, he didn’t drop everything and hop on the first flight home? Why was she crying alone in her room?

A beat passed before he answered, and she wondered if he’s mustering up the courage to leave her. To finally do it. She hoped he would, quick and painless.

“I don’t want to leave you, even if it hurts, okay? You think it doesn’t pain me hearing you cry and not being there? It does. But I won’t give up on us. Even if it hurts, I’m not giving up. Are you?”

“I don’t know” she started, uncertain on what to say.

“No, you know, you know you love me. You do love me, right?”

“Of course I do” she reiterated, sniffling with her nose.

“That’s all that matters. We’ll get through this, I swear.”

It took a little bit more of convincing until YN finally gave in. She didn’t know how long this would go on for, how long they could make it last before going off like a grenade and destroying everything around them.

All she knew is this time, he didn’t even promise he’d come back to her soon. What did it mean? Is something not said as important as what was actually said?

-

After six months he’s been away, YN realises she should have left him that night. She would have saved herself so many missed calls, broken lines, fights and once again, tears.

Her desire to keep watering a dead plant ruined everything in the end.

She wanted out the very first moment he started missing her calls, she wanted to end it, and had she done it, by now she’d be somewhat partially healed, hanging out with her friends, checking his profile maybe once a week when she was really drunk.

But no.

These six months without him only alienated her and hurt her, and she’s finally mustered up the courage to leave him like she intended to.

It’s not a threat this time, as she tries to find the best words to leave him with.

She’s typing her message when her phone screen turns black for a fraction of a second and then his picture invades the screen.

Call from: Harry

“YN” he breathes out, not even letting her say hi to him, “I’m coming home. They told us today, I’m coming home.” he repeats, so many times he doesn’t even let her process this new information.

She doesn’t say anything, the words she has longed to hear for a long time now seem dull, like a cruel joke she doesn’t understand.

“You’re coming home?” She gulps, trying to steady her racing heart.

“Yes!” He exclaims, and then he proceeds to explain the logistics of his trip back home, how all the guys had begged for some time off and how the label finally agreed on two weeks of rest.

All YN can think about is how this is all too overwhelming to understand.

It’s been six months since she’s seen him.

How will it feel? Seeing him again after so long? Touching him? She feels like she doesn’t really know him anymore. So many things he did without her, so many people he met she doesn’t know and she will never be introduced to, so many new songs written, some that aren’t even about her.

She really wants to be happy, trust me she does, but all she can think about is how it feels like, by now, they’re as close as strangers.

[souperbloom]

short oneshot inspired by a tweet i saw (please don’t kill me for being inactive im sorry im a very busy gal)

cabin fever. [A.I]

🪵 Ashton x fem!reader

a late-night kitchen rendezvous on an annual trip with your friends.

a/n: i cannot find the tweet this was inspired by but it was something along the lines of ‘nobody makes out on the living room couch and dry humps like they used to’ so… just use your imagination with this one friends.

also WHO ELSE IS BUMPING STRAIGHT TO YOUR HEART CUZ I KNOW I AMMMMM

content warnings: none, really!

WORDCOUNT: ~3.1k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Three AM. The prime time to chug a cold glass of water and stand in the kitchen to contemplate life.

It was day two of the annual ‘friend trip’. Eight twenty-somethings to a six-bedroom cabin with a plethora of tanning lotion and tequila. You had spent most, if not all, of today out by the lake— your shoulders were burnt to a crisp and your eyes felt tired and heavy. It was the price to pay for a gorgeous day out on the water.

Everyone had called it a night around midnight, the couples sifting off to their respective rooms while the solos duked it out for the only other queen sized bed. Luckily, you were the winner of that duel. But now, you’re faced with that unquenchable late-night thirst.

Plus the fact that you couldn’t sleep.

You crept down the old oak stairs quietly, your socks padding against the wood and creaking with every step. You’d wince every time your foot made a sound; but you were also convinced that everyone was too deep in sleep to hear it.

A lakeside cabin in the middle of nowhere was a lot more quiet than you’d anticipated. Only the cadence of chirping crickets and the occasional owl hoot could be heard for miles. It was honestly kind of creepy. You ignored those jarring sounds and continued your journey for that tall glass of water, hoping it would put your sleepy mind a bit more at ease.

Once you tipped some ice into your cup and filled it with water to the point where it was overflowing, you let your shoulders relax. You leaned with your back against the kitchen island and sighed, before taking the biggest swig of your life.

“Can’t sleep?”

A disembodied voice startles you, briefly making you choke on your water as you whip your head around to see who it was coming from.

“Fuck, Ash— scared me…” you mumble sheepishly, wiping a bit of water that had dripped down your chin.

“Sorry, sorry. I probably should’ve made myself known when I saw you coming down.”

Your eyebrow lifts as Ashton starts to approach the kitchen island where you were standing, “You’ve been down here the whole time?”

Ashton nods, stretching his arms up behind his head. “Yup. Been down here for like an hour now. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Mmm, same.”

An awkward, yet peaceful silence falls between you and Ashton as you continue to take large sips out of your cup. He eyes down the sweaty glass, passing it to look down at your sleep shirt and pajama shorts.

You cross your arms and stare at him with that same intrigue, scanning over his unbuttoned flannel and accompanying black sweats. His bare chest was exposed and slightly sunburnt, which mostly everybody had gotten brute of today while out by the lake.

“Since when did you listen to Guns N’ Roses?”

You scoff down at his mention of your old thrifted t-shirt, “Since you decided that not wearing sunscreen in 90 degree weather was a good idea.”

Ashton chuckles quietly, tousling his hair with his hand and mocking your crossed arms and posture.

“Touché.”

You laugh for a moment, chewing the inside of your cheek contemplatively. It had to have been at least 3:30 by now. Getting sleep was definitely one of your top priorities, but Ashton seemed like he was awake for the long haul.

Sleep was imminent, although you didn’t really mind some alone time with him. Something about Ashton and your long-standing friendship left a little swirl in your stomach. You’ve always had the tiniest crush.

“Want some?” You break the silence by swirling your cup, ice clinking against the sides of the glass. He seemed tantalized by your offer, and took the glass without a word.

He raised it with grateful eyes before taking a sip, then finished it all in one gulp. Your jaw dropped slightly at how quickly it disappeared.

“Hey,” you whine, “I said some. Not the rest of it!”

“Oh c’mon, Y/N. We’ve got a tap with unlimited water and about six ice trays in the freezer. I could easily pour you another.”

You shake your head in mock distaste, and start to walk away from the kitchen into the living room area. “No thanks. I’m not thirsty anymore.”

Ashton chuckles from behind you not long before the tap starts running again.

“Suit yourself.”

Now that you were fully awake and alert after Ashton had scared the life out of you, you weren’t sure where to place your restless body. You figured that sitting on the couch and staring at the ceiling may help you get that tired feeling back.

“I’m thinkin’ about staying up to watch the sunrise,” Ashton blurts, his voice growing closer to the couch.

“But, aren’t you tired? I’m fucking exhausted.”

“You woke up at 11 this morning. You got a lot more sleep than I did.”

Your eyebrows furrow as he continues to walk around the coffee table, looking as though he was about to sit himself down next to you on the cushion. “The sun makes me tired.”

“Everyone’s different, I guess.”

Ashton’s words felt backhanded, yet you didn’t have the energy in you to care. He sat himself down next to you with a fresh glass of water and now the only thing you could think about was how his flannel had fallen slightly off of his shoulder.

“You think you’re gonna sleep?” you ask.

“Nah. Probably not.” he replies.

“Cool. Me neither.” Your decision was final.

That silence from before carried over from the kitchen as Ashton took one long sip and finished his water in one sitting. Your eyes lulled closed, but it seemed that sleep was no longer an option.

“Wanna watch somethin’?” asks Ashton, voice raspy and quiet, as he leans forward to discard his glass onto the coffee table.

“Do we even get cable this deep in the woods?”

He laughs at your honest question, slinging his arm against the back of the couch and letting his hand rest behind your head.

Smooth move, Ash.

“Maybe not. But, I’m sure we could find something on demand. Probably some old black and white movie but, I actually kind of dig those.”

You can’t help but giggle and roll your eyes, nodding your head towards the remote as his smile mirrored yours.

“Put on whatever you find intriguing. But if I end up falling asleep, that’s nobody’s business but mine.”

In no time, Ashton had surfed through all movies dating back to the golden age of Hollywood, and eventually landed on A Streetcar Named Desire. You found the choice of such a dramatic movie to be odd for someone like Ashton. Then again, you only knew him so well.

“Have you seen this?” he asks you, settling back further into the couch and letting the cushion cradle his head.

You blow out a breath, trying to recall a time where you’d maybe seen Marlon Brando on your parent’s television yet failed to remember virtually anything about the plot.

“I think so—” your sentence is broken by a yawn, which brings Ash to snap his head away from the silver screen.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“Psh, no. I’m staying up. That’s what I told you and I’m sticking to it.”

Ashton’s gaze flicked down your face, yet it was becoming harder to hold the eye contact as his illuminated features flickered beneath the television.

“Alright. Whatever you say.”

Silence passes as the movie begins, the titlecard rolling onscreen and earning another heavy yawn out of you. Your eyes felt heavy now, heavier than before.

Would falling asleep really be the worst?

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment and as they fell, you could feel Ashton’s head tilt towards you. The hand that was beside your head on the back of the couch had slowly crept towards your hair.

Without any words exchanged, he begins to pet your head. Not in a strange way. But in a way that if he kept it up, you’d fall asleep and wake up in the morning with your body strewn across his lap.

“Feels nice…” you mumble lazily, your eyes still closed.

“Yeah?”

“Mmh, yeah.”

Dialogue began quietly funneling through the sound system and for some odd reason, you felt compelled to open your eyes. Ashton continued to stroke your hair, but when you expected to see him staring at the television, he was still just staring at you.

“What?”

“Hm?” he jumps slightly, as if caught in some way.

“You’re looking at me.”

He shrugs. It was the most he could do.

“Don’t know what’s happening to me, but— you look really fuckin’ pretty right now.”

Heat swells the apples of your cheeks at his compliment. He did that thing, the one where a man stares at you through his unbelievably long eyelashes and hopes you’d get the memo simply by their eyes.

“Could it be the glow of the silver screen?” you tease, trying to ease up on the ever present tension that Ashton had created out of nothing.

“Could be.”

Something was swirling inside of the pit of your stomach that you couldn’t put your finger on. It could have been how late it was, or the fact that repressed emotions and feelings were making an appearance after the person you’ve had a tiny crush on suddenly expressed interest in you. Ashton was a flirt, but never to this extent.

He was hard to read most of the time.

Instead of feeling out-of-body by the contact Ashton was providing, you decided to embrace his gentle touch and the way his hand softly ran across your head. He had eventually made his way to your shoulder, mindlessly toying with the neckline of your t-shirt as he watched the movie.

You bite your lip, looking down at that muted and worn flannel he was wearing. Then letting your eyes, and mind, wander off and wonder what it would be like to run your palms across his smooth chest. A shaky breath leaves your throat, and catches his attention.

“You alright?” he asks, genuine concern flitting across his face as he catches his hand wandering.

“Huh—? Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

The eye contact lingers. The triangle method is now in play. Eyes, eyes, lips. Eyes, eyes, lips.

“Anything on your mind at the moment?” Ashton quizzes, his words lazy and muffled.

“Mmmh, no. Not in particular. You?” You try to bounce back but lying was never your strong suit.

“I’ve got a thing or two on my mind, yeah,” he trails off, looking at the tv as his fingers drum against the couch cushion behind you, “Not sure how you’re feeling.”

This odd conversation spinning around the room was making you dizzy. If he wanted anything from you, which seemed obvious by his incapability to focus on the movie, you wished he’d be more honest.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, Ash.”

“Can I show you?”

Those viridian eyes were at it again. Eyes, eyes, lips. Eyes, eyes, lips. You were shocked at his ability to communicate with you without any words exchanged.

It all seemed to be happening in slow motion. Ashton maneuvered himself towards you delicately, as if you were made of porcelain and were to shatter at any given moment. Your back was suddenly flat against the couch and the speed in which it got there had you questioning reality.

Your lips attached and a collective sigh filled the room that was louder than any of the sounds encompassing this massive wooden fortress. Your hands tangled in Ashton’s hair as his flannel brushed against your sides and covered the both of you.

His broad palm cupped your face while he angled his knee between your legs, breathing deeply into the kiss and letting his tongue lead the way.

You could feel the warmth of his body engulfing you, something you’d never thought you’d feel in this lifetime. In your dreams, maybe, but it was just a stupid little crush. Maybe you’d fallen asleep on the couch, and this was your subconscious mind taking over.

But when his hand traveled from your cheek and rested at the base of your neck, you quickly realized that you were not fucking dreaming.

“This okay?” he mumbles, the words knocking against your lips and his hips dip down to grind against your core. It seemed as though he was about as eager to do this as you were.

“Mhm. Fine. Yes.” you blubber, coherent sentences getting lost somewhere in the room and hypnotized by how sweet his lips tasted.

He dips back into the kiss and you could feel him smile against you. It took everything inside of your body to keep your moaning to a minimum, but God, you couldn’t help it.

“You’ve gotta be quiet, hon’,” he giggles into your mouth again, before popping up briefly to stare you down with big, kelly green eyes, “Don’t wanna wake anyone up.”

You nod. Of course. How stupid of you. The last thing you needed was a story to tell your best friends around the campfire while Ashton did the same in another room.

How stupid.

The kiss continues, as does the path of your hands. You let your curiosity kill whatever cat was around and run your hands down his bare chest. You didn’t think fantasizing about it would actually lead you here but hey, it had felt as good as you’d imagined.

A groan rumbles through Ashton’s throat while your fingertips drag down his flesh. His hips seemed to have a mind of their own, occasionally grinding against your core and threatening to pull louder noises from you.

The hand that Ashton was using to hold himself above you had dropped to an elbow, and he slowly began to trail feathery kisses down your jaw and towards your neck. Your eyes shot open, and you just sighed. He sure knew how to press all of your buttons, and he was damn’ good at it too.

“Ash, no marks. Please. Don’t— wanna— have to explain.”

“I know, I know. I’ll keep my markings to a minimum.”

You could feel a catty smirk crawl across your neck, so you playfully whack his shoulder.

“Ashton. I said, no.”

“But you know you want ‘em. C’mon. What’s the fun of a group vacation without a little drama?”

His sultry voice gave you whiplash. He was right; you really wanted those marks. Even if it was just a hickey or two. Surely you could come up with some sort of bluff that would save the both of you from an awkward breakfast conversation.

You’ll worry about that in the morning.

“Fine. But don’t go crazy. I’m not good at lying.”

Ashton chuckles, brushing a rogue lock of hair behind your ear. “Did you forget who you’re dealing with? I’ve got the best poker face in the country.”

You roll your eyes at him, silently dismissing him yet excited for what he had up his sleeve. He began to leave little bites across the side of your neck and down towards your collarbone, occasionally replacing teeth with delicate open mouth kisses and darting his tongue out to wet the surface.

“Mmmh, you’re sweet,” Ashton groans, his breath tickling your chest, “Didn’t know you tasted so good. I could eat you right now.”

Your eyes widen at his random pillowtalk and double entendre, a ping of electricity shooting up your spine, “What?”

“Nothin’.”

He hushes you quickly with his lips once more, the rhythm of his hips making you think that you were actually dreaming with how heavenly his rock hard dick felt pressing against you. But you didn’t want to go to any extremes.

You’d save those for that queen sized bed.

You didn’t realize that the soft whimpers and cries floating through the kiss were a little louder than what you thought they’d be, since Ashton had detached your lips to gaze at you scornfully and say only one word.

“Quiet.”

You nod, like a sad little puppy, and follow his instruction. You wanted to tell him how it felt too good to be quiet, but you didn’t want to cause any problems in which he’d need to carry you up to your bedroom and make you think about what you did.

God forbid.

As the two of you made out like you were the last two people on earth, Ashton’s hands wandered down towards the hem of your sleep shorts. You stop short, out of breath, and look at him with distaste.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Ashton,” you whisper, making a point to trail your words against his ear and leave a gentle kiss at his earlobe.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

He then digs his hips down into your core again, you and Ashton moan in unison. The shock in your eyes at how loud the two of you sounded seemed to hit both of you at once. Frazzled faces morphed into smiles as he takes his hand and caresses your face.

“Y’know, maybe we should pick this back up another time.”

You groan indignantly, but couldn’t help agreeing with him.

“A time where we don’t have to be so quiet?”

He nods, turning it into a shrug, “Or maybe tomorrow. Either works.”

You bite your lip, still bewitched by the taste of his tongue and the slow movement of his hips. You didn’t want to give it up. But if there were promises of continuing this tomorrow, you couldn’t really complain.

“Should we just go to bed then?” you ask, running your palm down his chest again with your bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

“I’d prefer not to leave the couch.”

“Why not?”

“This seems like a perfectly good place to fall asleep. Plus, my bed upstairs wouldn’t have you already in it.”

Still unable to argue with such a forgiving face, you sigh dreamily. Falling asleep on the couch with Ashton seemed like a bad idea in theory but then again, he was already shifting around you to get comfortable.

Plus, you wouldn’t want to give up the warmth of his body after finally getting a semblance of what it felt like to be so close.

When you and Ashton eventually find a comfortable position, his body behind yours and spooning you with his arm tucked against your stomach and your head resting along his bicep, you let your tired eyes hold the reins.

Falling asleep to the sound of his gentle breathing and elevated heartbeat had turned into an entirely new favorite thing of yours. Whatever was in the air tonight, from grabbing a glass of water to watching an old classic movie, you weren’t sure you wanted it to end so soon.

Oh, who cares. You’ll deal with that in the morning, too.

[heartcal]

rejected ; c.h. (part viii)

summary: he was just a silly little crush that you had in high school, and you were sure that after graduating, you would be over it. so why is your heart beating fast as he sits next to you in your first class on your first day of college? chapter summary: calum has one shot to fix what's broken, but there's an obstacle and he's struggling. pairing: calum hood x reader (gender-neutral) genre: fluff, angst, classmates to friends to lovers au, college au warning(s): overuse of the word ridiculous because it's fitting, cursing? to be expected honestly, some grammar mistakes (it's been a while, english sucks), umm probably a lot of repeating, edited but not really, cal is going through it :^( word count: 4k words (yippee!)

a/n: after over 2 years (fuck), part 8 is finally here! this series is almost over, too! super duper sorry it took so damn long, i wasn't planning on this taking so long (check out my last update), but after lots of tears, part 8 is now being posted! this has been a journey, so i'm just gonna shut my mouth and let y'all finally read! but really quick, here are some links to help palestinians as they continue their fight for freedom and survival: link, link, link. free palestine 🍉

intro | i | ii | iii | iv | v | vi | vii | viii current | ix series masterlist! | main masterlist!

The nuanced meanings behind common New Year’s quotes have a strong grip on the world. Ideologies once wise have lost their meaning, opening the doors to terrible interpretations.

You only realize this when you begin to follow the “New Year, New Me” idea.

Wanting to break away from the “you” from last year, you started making changes. You moved your bedroom furniture around, took down some decorations you had up since high school, then put up new ones that you bought with holiday money, and added some more pillows to your bed – a change of scenery in your bedroom is a good start.

You even changed your school bag, switching out your folders and binders to new ones. During the redecorating process, you came across some old pens from your past school years that still had ink. They’ve now found a new home in your pencil pouch.

Were you doing too much? Sure, but did you find it to be helpful? Absolutely.

Jessie laughed when you told them about the changes you made – not necessarily in a mean way, they assured you, but in a way that they thought you were joking only to quickly change their view when they realized you were serious.

“I’m not saying it’s ridiculous,” they told you over the phone, “and I’m not judging you in any way, but I do think you’re overreacting.”

“Maybe I am,” you had retorted, “but I think all of this will help me in the long run.”

Jessie sighed then, agreeing with you before switching to a new topic.

However, now, as you sat in your English class with a few minutes left before class started, you found yourself wondering if Jess was right.

Sitting at your seat, messing with the corner of your notebook with your nails, twirling a pen in the other, your focus is on the door.

Over the break, after finding out who your partners were, you did your best to be a good project partner and help out with the pre-project preparation. But the dread that filled your stomach during the break when you saw and responded to their messages was back ten-fold.

You had given yourself pep talks throughout the day, trying to ready yourself for the inevitable awkward energy that was about to engulf you. The messages exchanged during the break have been cordial; no mentions of personal life (or feelings) with the occasional holiday greeting. You would like to believe that both Calum and Ashton didn’t feel as awkward as you did, but knowing there’s an elephant in the room that needs to be addressed and both parties know of it only makes it worse.

Maybe Calum won’t bring it up? It could be possible that he will just pretend nothing happened. It seems like a good thing but then it could hurt knowing he brushed everything off, especially when you got your feelings hurt. Or maybe, Ashton won’t try to play peacemaker and be solely focused on the project? Maybe both of them will be too invested in the project and that’s all you three will talk about—huh?

A content sigh to your right breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Have any luck so far this new year?” Ashton asks, a warm smile on his face as he places his bag on his desk.

You only shake your head with a small shrug, suddenly not knowing how to continue a conversation.

“Same here,” Ashton continues, “I thought it would be my year right at the start, but I guess I have to wait for it.” His own statement elicits a chuckle from him, his focus shifting from you to his bag to get his material out.

“It’ll come,” you speak up before you can stop yourself.

Ashton offers another smile, attention still on his bag as he sifts through the multiple notebooks. “I hope so.”

It isn’t long before the rest of the class starts filing in. You notice how many are sitting in different spots compared to where they sat last semester, noting quite a handful of empty seats from those who dropped the class.

“I’m not late, am I?” Another voice interrupts your thoughts, but this time you cannot bring yourself to face the owner.

Ashton scoffs, “It’s the first day back, shouldn’t you know when class starts?” He eyes his friend as he takes the empty seat next to him.

“Like you said,” Calum places his bag on his lap, “first day back.”

The awkward atmosphere you dreaded starts to make itself known. You can only wonder if the other two feel it, but you’re unable to dig into it as your professor walks in.

“I assume you’re sitting with your partners because we are going over a few things before I let you all get to work.”

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

It would be a lie to say that the entirety of the class was not that bad.

You and Calum probably made direct eye contact twice the entire time, and one of them was an accident. Ashton was an angel, at least in your opinion. He kept the dialogue going between the three of you when either Calum or you could not contribute – and he did not mind it at all – but most importantly, he did not point out any of the awkwardness within the group. If he noticed, he didn’t mention it, and you are grateful for that.

When class ended, you were deadset on leaving, needing your favorite treat and drink from the campus café to help yourself reset for the day. However, despite your obvious attempts at trying to exit as soon as you were dismissed, Ashton was able to keep you seated.

“Are you sure you want to do all the writing?” He asks.

You shrug, “I mean, I don’t mind doing the writing portion.”

Ashton looks at Calum for his input to which he only mimics your shrug.

He withholds a sigh, refraining from shaking his head at his friend before speaking up, “How about this: you do the writing portion, Calum and I work on the PowerPoint and the presentation.”

If it gets you out of speaking in front of the class and eliminates the risk of you stumbling over your words, you’ll take it.

“Yeah,” you nod, “I’m cool with that.”

Ashton smiles, clapping his hand on Calum’s shoulder before standing. He lifts his bag from the desk, checking the time on his phone before placing it into his back pocket, “Let’s meet at the library, say, around 5pm? Then we can work together.”

You smile back at him in agreement, “Sounds good.”

Ashton waves as you take off, oblivious to his friend’s narrowed stare until he turns to face him.

“What was that?” Calum asks, not easing up on his stare.

Ashton hums in confusion, and if he’s joking or not, Calum cannot tell.

“That,” Calum juts his chin towards the door, “what was all that?”

Ashton snorts, “Calum, haven’t you heard? There’s this new thing called ‘being friendly.’”

Ashton turns to leave, knowing Calum will follow behind, and is rolling his eyes at Ashton’s attempt at a joke.

“Ha ha,” Calum laughs sarcastically.

“Seriously, I’m just being friendly, Cal.”

And Calum knows. It isn’t out of the ordinary for Ashton to be friendly—it’s out of the ordinary if Ashton isn’t friendly, for that matter—but he thinks there’s more to it. Where did all this come from? When did this happen? He knows you two weren’t strangers, there was some familiarity for sure, but it feels like it’s out of nowhere.

“Yeah, I know,” Calum starts, but he falters, trying to piece together his next sentence. He doesn’t want to pry, because knowing Ashton, he’ll try to dissect whatever Calum is thinking or feeling.

Calum’s thoughts are interrupted when he bumps into Ashton.

“What’s going on with you?” Ashton questions, eyeing Calum up before pulling him to the side to avoid the foot traffic surrounding them.

“What do you mean?” Calum shrugs, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Ashton raises his eyebrows, another question on the tip of his tongue. He lowers his voice, leaning closer to Calum, “Is this about what happened before the break?”

Calum’s quick to respond, shaking his head as he adjusts his bag’s strap. “Not about that.”

Ashton doesn’t believe him for a second. He picked up on his behavior throughout the class; the glances between himself and you, the short responses, the way his posture changed when he felt the atmosphere grow awkward.

“Well,” he claps, “I need to meet with some admins, so I’ll catch up with you later.”

He bids goodbye to Calum before heading to the administration building, leaving Calum stewing in his thoughts and knowing he’s hiding more than he’s letting on.

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If every person on the planet had a handful of do-overs given to them when they were born, many would have used them up before they were 21. Calum is sure he’d be in the majority.

He knows he’s made many mistakes in his life, and he would go back in time and re-do plenty of things. The one thing he currently desires to change is his behavior before the break.

As he sat in class, watching the dynamic between himself and you felt foreign. He knows he’s the cause of it, but he cannot fathom how you two went from classmates, to friends, and back to classmates within a short time.

He knows it’s ridiculous to think about this and to dwell over what could’ve been instead of trying to move on is something he’s struggled with for years. He’s getting better, but progress can only move so fast.

“A simple apology is a start,” his sister points at him with her fork as they sit at the table for breakfast. “It’s not much—the damage is done—but it opens the door. The path you take from there is up to you.”

Calum moves the food around on his plate, staring blankly at the movement while he forms a new question.

“What if she doesn’t forgive me?”

A snort escapes her nose, making Calum’s head jerk up, “What was that for?”

His sister shakes her head, a small but pitiful smile on her face, “It is what it is. Sometimes an apology is better than none, and sometimes it’s the other way around. If you know what you did was wrong, and you can own up to it and acknowledge how much what you did hurt someone else, then it’s good. But if you don’t see eye-to-eye, and stay mum about how your words were perceived, then it’s best to not apologize at all. Go from there.”

Calum squints his eyes, pausing before opening his mouth, “Are you still tired?”

She shrugs, leaning forward to eat her food, “I don’t know. Probably.”

The break helped Calum, not as much as he wanted to, but enough to give him a push. He had planned to email you an apology, then switched to a text, before ultimately deciding a phone call would be meaningful. But as soon as he opened up your contact, he could not bring his finger to tap the call button.

He’s chickened out multiple times. He’s hyped himself up only to give up at the last second.

Over the break, during the countless hours he spent thinking about The Incident (and you, of course), Calum recalled the moments he’d spent with you both in college and high school. Moments that seemed so small and fleeting were constantly playing in his mind. Calum remembered how you were in high school and compared these memories to the college version; he felt happy for you. You weren’t the same person and yet, exuded the same comfort and friendliness – always welcoming. And he flipped that progress in one day all because he let his insecurities take over. 

Calum likes you. He’s not afraid to admit it (or admit it to himself, at least), and he no longer wants his past relationship and the fears that came from it to ruin any more chances. 

The talk he had with his sister helped clear his mind, but he was still at a loss as to how to go about all of this.  Regardless, he is ready, he wants to fix what was broken, and he wants to do it before it’s too late. 

Which is why he’s practically frazzled by the time the session comes around. He’s sat in the library with Ashton sitting across from him, leg nervously bouncing, fingers twirling his pen constantly only to drop from the shakiness. Calum still couldn’t shake off this weird feeling. Ashton’s attitude toward you earlier still had him asking questions, mostly trying to figure out if anything happened between them over the break. That old, familiar voice in his head that pushed his insecurities is demanding to be known. He’s nervous as hell.

“Calum,” Ashton begins, putting his phone down to give Calum his full attention, “what’s with you today?” 

Calum shakes his head, “Nothing.” 

“Bullshit,” Ashton retorts, ignoring the annoyed stares from the students around them. “You’ve been weird since this morning. What’s eating you?” 

A sigh creeps out before Calum can stop it. “Can we talk outside?” He asks before standing up. 

Ashton shrugs and follows Calum to the side exit, leaving their items behind to keep their table. Once outside, he motions for Calum to speak. Calum lets another sigh out. 

“I think,” he begins, pausing briefly before shaking his head, “no, I know-I know I like Reader.” 

Ashton raises his eyebrows, signaling that he wants more from Calum. He gets nothing but a look of near-distress from Calum, and he knows it took a lot for him to admit his feelings.

He inhales, noticing a growing sense of worry in Calum’s eyes. “Calum,” he starts, placing a comforting hand on his friend’s shoulder to keep his mind steady.

“I thought a lot over the break—” Calum interrupts, “—and talked to people I trust, I know this is how I feel. But I’m at a loss, man.”

Ashton removes his hand, opting to rest it behind his neck while nervously looking around. He opens his mouth to take control of the conversation but is cut off again.

“I like them, and I think I have since before, I guess, my insecurities took over. The feeling is mutual but I was too chicken shit to take the wheel and make a move. Then I ran my mouth and ruined what really could’ve been a great thing.”

Ashton’s eyes shift from behind Calum to Calum’s eyes. “Is that how you feel?” He asks.

Calum nods, “I want to fix this, and I want to see what we could’ve been—what we could be. I just need to figure out how and when.”

Ashton keeps his eyes on Calum, nodding once before inhaling. “I’m proud of you, Cal; I know admitting that wasn’t an easy feat for you. I know all that stuff with, you know, her,” he clears his throat, “but I have to be honest with you bud. I’m not sure you can do it.”

Calum squints at him, confusion settling on his features.

Ashton shrugs, “I don’t mean that in a bad way. I mean,” he sighs, hands gesturing randomly, “in a sense, going from point A to point B, then getting so close to point C and falling right back to point A—it’s not going to be easy. Maybe won’t work at all.”

A pit forms in Calum’s stomach. He’s turned off by Ashton’s words, but there’s a lot of truth in them. He just didn’t expect them to come from his best friend. “I know, but I’m still going to try.”

Ashton smiles. The determination is new, almost foreign. Admirable, even.

“Let’s head back in,” Ashton nods to the door, patting Calum on the back to get him moving.

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

The soft clicking of your keyboard is the only noise Calum can focus on. At first, it was his own heartbeat, but he got used to the sound quickly enough to ignore it. He’s hardly contributed anything to the project, chiming in only when asked. He’s a bad project partner, he’s very aware of that, but his mind is nowhere near where it should be for the project.

Suddenly, he feels like he’s back in high school, having a chat with his crush and he’s completely losing it on the inside. Trying to remain calm and keep a cool front, but in reality, he wants to kick his feet and cover his face with a bashful smile. But at the same time, he wants to curl up and hide.

The tension is building up, and it seems like he is the only one to feel it.

“Calum?” Ashton’s voice breaks him out of his reverie.

Calum hums in response, “Sorry?”

A ghost of a smile plays on Ashton’s lips as he turns to face Calum. “I asked what you thought of this section.” He points to a jumbled of words in his notebook gauging Calum’s reaction.

Calum stumbles in his mind, trying to think of something so he doesn’t look like an idiot in front of you. Thankfully, though, Ashton beats him to it.

“Y’know what? We’ve been at this for a while now. Let’s end it here and meet up tomorrow. Same time.”

Calum can only breathe a sigh of relief as you agree, seemingly unaware of Calum’s inner turmoil.

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

Every session has Calum wanting to burst. He knows he’s making things even more awkward (if that was even possible at this point) but he cannot bring himself to focus and act normal. Ashton wasn’t helping either.

During these get-togethers, he’s noticed how “friendly” Ashton has been towards you. He tried to ignore it, not overthink it but to avail. His mind continued to drift further and further into all of it, with every single interaction being scrutinized.

It’s ridiculous, and at this point, he should get this statement tattooed on every visible part of his body.

Calum sits, staring at his laptop screen, thinking of what goofy effects he should use for the slides to help pass the time (at least until he’s spoken to).

“Hey,” Ashton taps Calum’s arm to get his attention, “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Calum nods, slowly realizing he’s going to be alone with you for the first time in a while. He can feel his palms getting clammy, growing flustered now that it’s completely silent at the table. No keyboard tapping, now pens on paper scribbling notes, no pages turning—straight silence.

He sneaks glances over the top of his laptop screen. In the back of his mind, he’s thinking of the words he wants to say with the ones he’s never said.

“Calum?” You speak up, eyes still down at your book as you move it toward him, finger pointed at a sentence. “Does this sentence make sense?”

His eyes shift from you to where your finger is. He has no idea how to respond. What do you mean? He’s been zoned out for almost the entire project, he can barely even remember what this project is about! You’ve been on his mind to the point that almost everything goes in one ear and out the other. But he has to come up with something quick before the silence grows awkward.

He stumbles over his words, trying to sound confident and smart, “I… understand words.”

What?

You finally look at him, eyes meeting his for what feels like the first time since The Incident™.

His response repeats in his mind, and he feels horrified. ‘I understand words.’ That’s his response? His “smart” answer? That was the best that he had, and now he wants nothing more but to run and hide.

“What?” You ask, though the upward inflection in your tone seemed more like you didn’t hear him than not understanding what he said. At least, that’s what he hopes.

“I said,” Calum starts, quickly trying to think of something clever to save himself. He clears his throat, “It’s worded weird, yeah.”

You only offer a nod in response before redirecting both the book and your eyes back to continue your work.

If Ashton saw what went down just now, he would lose it and make sure Calum never forgets it.

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

“How did it go?” Ashton asks once you’ve left the library.

The three of you finished shortly before 9pm. While Calum packed up his belongings in silence, he watched the two of you talk, and he didn’t want to believe it—maybe he’s reading too into it—but there’s no denying the chemistry you and Ashton have.

Whatever’s built up over these sessions is showing, and he can only admit one thing.

He’s jealous.

Jealous over how easy it is for Ashton to talk to you despite Ashton’s association with him after what went down. Jealous of how easy it seems for Ashton to make you smile. Jealous of how everything feels so… flirty between you two.

He feels like there’s nothing he can do. He made his bed so he has to lay in it. But it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Ashton raises his hand to Calum’s face, snapping his fingers to get his attention. He tilts his head, “You there?”

“Yeah,” Calum nods, “just got caught up in my thoughts.”

Ashton hums, not oblivious to exactly what Calum could be thinking of. “What’s bothering you?”

Calum thought he’d be able to provide a quick answer, but the thoughts came pouring back, remembering your smiles directed at Ashton, the jokes, the comments that just bordered flirting, and how you’d give it to him right back. Calum can’t keep hiding away, shying from what he wants. Right now, however, he just wants answers, clarification specifically.

Calum says your name, earning an eyebrow raise from Ashton, “Do you like them?”

A snort comes out before Ashton can stop himself, followed by a short laugh, “What?”

Calum stays silent, face unwavering, not at all finding this a laughing matter.

Ashton composes himself, his humorous demeanor dying down once he realizes the gravity of the situation.

“I’m serious,” Calum iterates, crossing his arms over his chest. He’s standing tall, but the placement of his arms being lower than one would expect from someone trying to be intimidating gives away the true emotion at the forefront: insecurity.

A beat of silence passes as the two watch each other. Calum believes he knows the answer, and he’s just being overdramatic.

Ashton sighs, “No, Cal. I don’t like them, not like that.”

“Do they know that?”

Calum knows he sounds so damn bitter. The small shrug he receives as a response only makes him feel worse.

“Look,” Ashton breathes, “what happened between you two, happened. If you want something to start between the two of you, then do something. I’m not going to walk on eggshells around you both. I’m going to be a friend, okay?”

That should bring Calum some relief, but it doesn’t settle the ache at the bottom of his stomach. Ashton’s right; he shouldn’t have to alter himself for the sake of Calum’s issue just to make him feel better. It’s childish, and both he and Ashton think it’s time for change.

He rubs his hands over his face, muttering an apology to his best friend.

Ashton eyes his friend with weary eyes. He knows the entire situation is taking a toll, and he can only watch helplessly as Calum navigates the jumble of emotions.

They bid each other goodbye before heading back to their homes.

One thing is certain. Calum needs to act fast, and he needs to act now.

Lying on his bed in his room later that night, his eyes glued to his phone with his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He’s staring at your contact image—a picture from one of the yearbooks from high school, you absolutely despise the picture, but Calum loved how awkward you looked—heavily debating if he should do this.

“Just send the text,” he whispers to himself, “you can do it.”

The phone slips slightly, but just enough for his finger to tap send.

Delivered.

Read.

¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸¸.*☆*¸.*♡*.¸

taglist: @rexorangecouny // @hungrycrazy // @itjustkindahappenedreally (sorry it took 2 years)

[ughkat]

ur camera roll if ashton was ur boyfriend ❥

[bloomingbluez]

want that too | calum hood

MDNI

"Calum is not the kind of guy Dee would expect to be interested in, and Dee definitely isn’t the kind of girl Calum would usually bring home from the club.

When their crushes hit it off, Dee and Calum find out that sometimes the least expected is also the most exciting."

—————

pairing: calum hood x fem!oc (+ briefly mentioned luke hemmings x fem!oc)

word count: 5.7k

tw: smut, drunk sex, toxic friendships

a/n:

after attempting multiple y/n blurbs, i came to a conclusion that it’s not my cup of tea, so please meet dee! i hope you enjoy this little piece, that introduces the characters, because if inspiration allows, i plan to write more for dee and calum, and by association also gigi and luke.

i don’t want to commit, but there’s a plan! so please enjoy the beginning of their story, and feel free to send me any requests, maybe in form of what would you like to see in their story, or just generally kind of plots you’d like to see.

© 2025 bloomingbluez

“Jealous?”

A male voice pulls Dee out of her thoughts. She’s sitting on the right end of a curved bar at one of the LA clubs, the gin and tonic in front of her long finished and forgotten. Resting her elbows on the counter, she props her chin on her elbows to steady her hazy eyes.

Her point of observation has been a pair of blonde, supermodel looking people, talking at the other end of the bar. The girl has to be pushing six feet and she’s only able to look the guy in the eyes thanks to the glittery, pink heels. Her flowy pastel dress barely reaches the mid-thigh, and his hand, resting on her hip, has been doing a good job in slightly pulling it up every so often. Her blonde hair easily reaches her lower back, curled in a curated blow out that had to take ages.

Dee would know — she was the lead engineer of the hairstyle, helping her operate the blow dryer only two hours earlier while they pregamed in some fancy hotel room.

She doesn’t really know the guy, except that he was the first and only person to catch her attention since they entered the club. Dee has a type, and it is the type of beauty completely opposite to hers. His blonde angel curls falling softly against the forehead, straight nose and a white, satin looking shirt that hugs his torso without being too tight. While they ordered the first round of drinks, she could already imagine getting towered over that man in a bathroom stall, or maybe even coming home with him. Sadly, Dee was already tipsy and made the stupid mistake of expressing her fantasies out loud.

It was as much as Gigi, her gorgeous friend who actually is a supermodel, needed to take an interest in the guy. Dee knows her chances; compared to her childhood friend, she is average at best, but without competition out of her league, she has been able to pull people who would never bat an eye in her direction. Now, when she has to go against Gigi…

What was supposed to be a fun reunion of high school best friends quickly turned into another of Gigi’s conquests, leaving Dee to slowly sip her drinks under the compassionate stare of one of the bartenders.

“Sorry?” she asks, looking up at the guy who decided to invade her slumber party. He’s tall, and a complete opposite of what she initially fixated on. Where the angel boy has soft blonde curls falling against a ghostly pale face, her new friend appears to have a darker skin tone and a head full of thick, black curls that are a mess. It suits him, in a way, the plump lips and chocolate brown eyes that stare at her with the same intensity that she blessed Gigi with only seconds ago.

“I asked if you’re jealous,” he clarifies, and sits on the vacant stool next to Dee.

She only shrugs.

“Are you?”

“A bit. Look at her, she’s gorgeous,” he says, flagging the bartender. “Another one?” When Dee nodes, he orders them another round of drinks and asks to add it to his tab. She won’t argue with a guy buying her drinks, free alcohol is always welcomed.

“She is.”

Dee is a girl’s girl. She could go off about all the things that made their friendship distant in recent years, but she won’t vent to some random guy, she won’t paint her friend as the devil. Gigi’s not bad, she’s just very specific, and she loves to have what others want, while also making sure they can’t get it — or maybe Dee just always imagined it that way.

“Fuck, ok. I am jealous. I really wanted to make a move on her, but then my friend over there did,” he fires up, and Dee’s eyes widen as she looks up to scan his face for any sign of mockery.

When the bartender brings out their drinks, she clings her glass against his and smiles up.

“Well, I wanted to make a move on your friend but my friend got there first.” She tips the glass against her lips, the bitter taste of tonic water flooding her mouth. “I’m Dee, by the way.”

He laughs, a rich sound that draws out the white trash music the DJ decided to play. It sends a chill down her spine, making Dee bite her lips painted deep red.

In all fairness, she would never expect to be approached by a man. Besides the obvious conviction of her average or repulsive looks, there was a plan for the evening. She just wishes that the night would go as planned and instead of sulking, she would be dancing with her friend to Only Girl. Maybe if life wasn’t a competition for Gigi, they could have fun like the good old days, but the old days were never that good.

Their friendship had been toxic from the start, and the amount of times Dee wanted to end it couldn’t be accounted for. Gigi always envied her achievements, which should be flattering in the long run, except Dee’s worth had always been seen as part of being in Gigi’s circle. In high school, she was the weird goth hanging out with a popular queen B, and later, she was the up and coming designer who made her model friend famous. Except in their circle, with their families and people who knew them from before, it was impossible to comprehend that Dee Simmons could have and give Gigi Bell anything the girl didn’t have already.

The gossip was ridiculous — Gigi was the muse behind her first collection, she agreed to walk the runway when no models turned up, she was the reason Dee managed to break through in the industry. At the end of the day, a designer is only as good as the work they present, and that largely depends on how the models walk. But Gigi wasn’t the next Shalom Harlow to elevate the clothes that Dee put on her back; like most mean and pretty girls, she was just lucky enough to have a friend who grew up in her shadow.

“Like the Princess, hm?”

“Yeah, exactly like the princess. Are you secretly British?” Of course he’s not, she would notice the accent, but Dee is too drunk to notice anything beside his beaming smile. It’s disarming, warm like a sunkiss, and she finds herself pulled towards it in a way she hasn’t experienced before.

“God no. Actually-”

He stands up from the bar stool and does a twirl. Before Dee notices the skirt, or rather the kilt, he’s already halfway done with the turn, but she still managed to shamelessly whistle him up and clap. The people sitting closest to them turn heads, but she doesn’t notice in the slightest.

Anybody can rock a silk shirt, but a skirt…

“Scottish?” she asks, sipping on her drink. Gigi and her new victim are long forgotten, Dee’s attention completely concentrated on her new companion who still hasn’t introduced himself.

“Half.” Sitting back on the stool, their knees bump, and Dee gets another shiver. Even though the club is loud, she uses all her willpower to focus on what he’s saying. “I’m Calum by the way,” he adds.

“Calum,” she repeats. The name rolls off her tongue easily, and Dee already knows it’s not one of those awkward names to moan or whimper. The thought alone makes her blush, because even though she’s quite comfortable in her sexuality, Calum is not the guy she would flag at a club as her potential prey.

She scans his tattoos, the thick hair and full lips, even the kilt that has a very similar pattern to her own skirt. Calum is the complete opposite of the angel boy, which also makes him completely similar to Dee. Her arms are littered with meaningless tattoos, handpoke doodles on her knuckles and freestyle pieces up the shoulder. Short, french bob barely reaches her shoulders. and a thick fringe is almost long enough to cover her dark eyes, even though she still sees everything with predatory precision.

While Gigi is built of soft edges and rounded corners, Dee is a maze of sharp angles and skin that doesn’t really settle well on her bones. She loves her body, it’s a form of art like anything she does, but it’s not something most men would go for, which immediately makes her think why would Calum approach her. He’s not unconventionally hot, tall and broad, he could have any girl at the club. Even if Dee would fuck a guy in the bathroom, she wants to be genuine, or at least mutual. Her whole life is a consolation prize for being Gigi’s friend, and the last thing she needs on top of that is to be a second choice for a guy who didn’t have his chance with her.

“So, you like my friend, hm?” she asks, mixing her drink with a paper straw that softened a few minutes ago.

“I mean, yeah.” Calum’s eyes linger on the spot where Gigi and his friend used to be. Dee didn’t even notice when they disappeared, and she’s hoping that if they leave the club, she won’t bring him to their hotel room. “But if Luke’s interested in her, then we probably wouldn’t click,” he admits, his voice thick with an emotion she can identify all too well. As if he found that out from experience well too many times…

“Yeah, I get what you mean.”

Every time Dee liked someone in the past, Gigi would miraculously find herself in their orbit and end up dating them. She could charm anyone, and Dee understood why people fell into her trap. Gigi wasn’t a stupid doll, she knew how to talk to people, how to manipulate. She could change her persona in seconds, just to fit someone’s idea of her. Sadly, the more Dee’s crush liked her friend, the less she would respect them. It wasn’t something she should blame people about, but fuck if it wasn’t disappointing to see someone fall for a trap that was so evident for her.

“You were interested in Luke?” Calum sends her a side eye, which makes her blush.

Boys don’t make Dee blush.

She elbows him, not with too much force, although she doubts even all her strength would be enough to harm a guy this big, and shakes her head when he theatrically grabs his side.

“Yeah. But I like this Scottish Princess thing you got going on more,” she admits, because if Dee has no filter while sober, she has to lose all the shame after drinking.

Calum laughs, again, and fuck, she likes the sound of it. Usually, Dee is not a person who would notice something like that. Once she finds the guy she likes, their conversation is oriented to a goal in her mind, and she will say anything to get there, only registering if she’s getting closer or further away from the result. With Calum, she doesn’t really know where this will go, where they will allow it to end. It’s all casual and very indulgent, letting her mind drift and her body react.

“Thank you. I’ll be honest, I always wanted to hook up with Princess Diana,” he says, apparently no filter to be found on him either. Dee snorts, making him realise what he just said.

Calum blushes, and fuck her if it’s not the most charming thing she has ever experienced.

“Oh, so we’re hooking up now? What happened to ‘Hello, how are you?’” It’s easy to tell that even though some people might have gotten offended, she’s ready to laugh it off.

She would lie by saying that her plans for the evening were different; Dee just didn’t expect for her and Gigi to separate so fast, but she doesn’t mind this new company. Maybe it’s because they’re already drunk, but there’s no awkwardness between her and Calum. It’s what makes him so attractive in her eyes. Yeah, he might be hot, but he wasn’t the one she picked out of the crowd — the longer they talk, the more she thinks that maybe she made a mistake by flagging Luke as the most desired person in the room.

It’s never fun when your best friend snatches something you really want from under your nose, but for once, the universe seems to be repaying her. And just like Calum said, seeing Gigi be so interested in the angel boy makes him that much less attractive. Maybe he truly is a great person, but Dee won’t be finding that out anytime soon, will she? In two weeks her friend is going to call and say that they went out a couple of times but things flaked off, because he had some very minor but crucial flaw that turned her off too much. Worse case, they will date for two months before she meets someone more interesting. Dee knows Gigi well; she doesn’t do long term relationships, because there’s no need for that when she never has to be lonely. There’s always another person to chase, and now that they see each other once every few months, Dee couldn’t care less.

Maybe it makes her a terrible friend, but Gigi has plenty of friends she values more. All her model friends, the ones who walk for big designers, or the people she met within the industry. Dee would love to hate her, but she knows it’s something her parents conditioned her for. Every human interaction can give you gain, and it’s something she lives by. When Dee was profitable, she was the top friend, but these days she’s just the only one who’s there when no one else shows up for Gigi because of her push-and-pull behaviour.

“How are you, Dee? Do you want to know my family history? Social security number?” he mocks, his stool moving closer to hers with a screech that gets swallowed up by the fuss of the club.

Somehow, they end up making eye contact, brown eyes staring at each other, neither breaking it.

“Time and place of birth? I need to check if our signs are compatible.” She leans towards him, and when their knees block her from getting close, Dee just throws her legs over his. Calum doesn’t miss a beat, placing his hand on her exposed leg, now resting in his lap.

“Might need to call my mum for that.” Calum shakes his head, his finger tracing circles on her knee.

She really doesn’t want to, but Dee leans into the temptation. Biting her lip, she looks down to see how big his hand looks on her, how his skin contrasts against hers. His fingernails are painted black, another thing that makes Calum that more tempting.

“Tell her I said ‘hi’ while you’re at it.” Looking back up, she smiles sweetly, but Calum’s eyes are glued to her cleavage, exposed by the corset top. “My eyes are up here,” she says teasingly. Her two fingers settle below his chin, pushing his head up, until they’re face to face again.

“I wasn’t looking at your eyes, princess” he admits, no shane in his voice, no blush. His hand rides up on her thigh, almost getting to the hem of her skirt.

She sighs, getting goosebumps from the touch. Fuck me, she thinks, because the way he talks to her, the way he looks, everything about Calum makes her want to break the rules. She’s just the right mix of drunk and sober to justify a bad decision as something that might potentially be really fucking good, because the way his name rolls off her tongue makes Dee want to shamelessly moan it, and bathroom stalls are just not a place for that. Going home to a stranger's house is also highly irresponsible, but every so often Dee remembers she’s an adult and has free will and people died for much less than the prospect of possibly great hook up.

“Do you need anything else over here?” The bartender appears out of nowhere, grabbing their empty glasses.

Dee responds before Calum can even open his mouth: “We’re good. Actually, he would like to close his tab.” She sends the girl a polite smile, nodding towards him.

“Sure, just give me five minutes.”

Calum looks at her through narrowed eyes, but even now she can tell that they’re glazed over with desire, and for once, Dee feels pretty under that look.

Usually she couldn’t care less; she just wants to get off, and if a guy likes her enough to get hard, which is not really an accomplishment, she’s fine with being his forgettable one night stand. When she started getting tattoos and pierced her brow and belly button, Dee’s mum told her that looking like that she would never find a man. At first, it was a bummer, but soon enough, Dee realised that she doesn’t want a man, she just wants to be satisfied, and a guy doesn’t have to like her to do that for her.

But the way Calum looks at her, Dee wants to bask in it. It’s been so long since she got shivers down her spine, since the hairs on her arms have stood up from the intensity of just talking to somebody. The way he looks at her, she might even believe that he thinks she’s pretty, hot, attractive.

“Why am I closing my tab?” he asks, even though they both know the answer.

“You’re taking me home, princess.” Dee drags her nail on his arm, across one of the tattoos, and then patiently waits as he signs the check, his hand never leaving her leg.

—————

They tumble into his apartment, their limbs already tangled together. Calum holds her leg the entire drive to his place, and once they reach his apartment door and Dee drops a snarky comment about the fancy building he lives in, he pins her against the nearest wall and joins their lips in a feverish kiss. She makes sure that the neighbours hear her first moan, in case the walls are thick.

It goes very fast from there, a haze of messy kisses and bites and a trial of clothes that doesn’t even lead them to the bedroom. Before Dee can notice, she’s pinned against the wall again, this time face-first when Calum struggles with the ties of her corset top. He swears under his breath, fiddling with the ribbon, and instead of helping him, Dee decides to let him struggle.

“Why would you wear that?” he asks, hopelessly pulling at the strings, hoping one of them will just let go in spite of the knot.

“It’s pretty.” Dee’s tone is innocent, as if she has no idea why he might be so frustrated.

“It’s impractical,” Calum scoffs. “Let me get the scissors-”

“God, no,” she sighs, turning around to face him. Immediately, he leans in to kiss her, but Dee grabs his chin and makes him watch as she simply unhooks the front of her top, getting it off in mere seconds. She can’t tell if his eyes widen because the solution is that simple, or because he sees her fully naked.

Either way, Calum doesn’t waste time. His hands slide down to cup her thighs and Dee doesn’t need a clue to jump. Before she knows it, she’s sitting on the hard counter and Calum is rummaging through the top drawer and pulling out a comically large box of condoms. Dee can’t even say anything, even though her lips curve into a lopsided grin, because right after taking out one foil pack, Calum’s back on her, kissing her neck and collarbone. She holds him by the nape of the neck, guiding it where she wants his lips the most, while he pulls down his boxers and tries to put on the condom.

“Shit, Calum,” she gasps when he enters her in one smooth motion, the way he penetrates her so swiftly is almost painful.

Dee lets go of his hair, allowing him to finally look up at her. His eyes are just as dazed as hers, lips swollen from the kisses and just like she suspected, the hue of her red lipstick across his face. He straightens up, leaning his forehead against hers, grabbing her hips to steady her on the dresser when the first thrust comes.

She’s a mess, her makeup smudged and hair in a complete disarray, sticking out in different directions. She’s pretty sure her claws are leaving marks on his shoulder from how hard she’s gripping him, but Calum doesn’t say a word. His breath comes out as pants as his cock drives into her in precise, strong movement, hips snapping as if measured by the clock. And then there’s his eyes, fixated on her face, that completely disarm the way Dee would usually watch herself. Her whimpers morph into moans, and her lips fall open at a particularly powerful thrust, eyes fixated on him, only on him.

Calum doesn’t slow down; yes, his movements get painfully slow every so often but that’s when she feels him in every cell of her body, making it, if anything, even more intense. He has to do this a lot, hook up, and there’s no shame in it but Dee can’t help but wonder if it’s this frenzied and rushed with every girl, if he wants them all the same.

That’s why going home with a guy is a dangerous territory — he looks at her once and Dee starts imagining too much. It rarely happens, but when it does, it’s always such a let down. From experience, she knows that there’s always an aspect of her that scares that person away, and no matter how much desire can hide in one look, some things can’t be changed.

It’s not only the look in his eyes that makes Dee’s brain go foggy. It’s the praise he whispers in between them every time she reacts to his movements stronger, it’s the tiny wet kisses he lives on her shoulder whenever she bites her lip and tries to act like his words aren’t turning her on even more.

Between you’re so fucking perfect and come for me, princess, Dee actually feels the pleasure build up in her stomach. The hand holding his shoulder grips it even harder, nails digging into his skin even more, and the other one finds his hand on her hip and guides it to her apex, where her throbbing clit is waiting for some attention. She knows it’s all it will take for the climax to wash over her like a wave, and feeling how sloppy Calum’s thrusts have gotten, it doesn’t seem like he will last much longer. Everything happens so fast, the room filled with their moans and the sounds of two sweaty bodies slapping against each other. The dresser Dee sits on creaks quietly every so often, but it would need to actually break for them to notice.

Just like she expects, the orgasm hits Dee with a blinding force, making a moan die in her throat. Her legs shake from the intensity of it, and Calum, who keeps on moving, prolonging her pleasure, doesn’t help. One of her legs wraps around his hip to force him closer, and soon enough, she can feel Calum spill into the condom, his body crushing her against the wall when he spontaneously loses all his strength.

“Wow,” she mutters, giggling. One of her hands comes up to tangle into his curls and stroke them in a calming motion, his hot breath caressing her exposed skin.

“Definitely a wow,” he admits after a couple seconds, slowly standing back up. Even though his body straightens, he stays inside her, his cock still half-hard even after the release. “I chose the right girl at the bar,” he teases, his own hand brushing the unruly strands of Dee’s fringe out of her eyes.

“Glad I could be the consolation prize.” Her smile doesn’t expose that Dee actually means it, and Calum doesn’t know her well enough to catch the conviction in her tone. Still, he opens his mouth as if meaning to say something, but she’s faster. “I’ll clean up and get out of your hair,” she promises.

“Um, sure.” Calum looks thrown off, the words falling off his lips mechanically.

He pulls out, and gives Dee some space while going to the bathroom to get rid of the condom. He doesn’t usually do that, one night stands are not his thing anymore, mostly because he has always been more attracted to the banter rather than how the person looks. He can’t deny that Dee is attractive, in a way, definitely unconventional, and in any other circumstance, he would love to see her again. Except she seems to be much more in her element, and he doesn’t want to come across as too clingy.

When they decided to go out, nobody was fully on board with the idea, but it seemed fitting. In between tours, life would get stagnant, and every so often someone would propose a night out and everyone else would hesitantly get on board. Not that there was something wrong with drinking and having fun with your friends, but Calum liked it when life got borderline boring. He also loved his bandmates and playing music, but a part of him yearned for a quiet life. The months when he would go back to Australia and nobody knew where exactly he was were the most calm, and somewhere along the way, he started chasing that same simplicity in LA.

They walked into the club, the one they frequented most often, and sat in their usual booth. What he told Dee is true; Gigi caught his attention a few minutes later when he watched them down two shots each at the bar. He commented on it, with some intention to approach her later, after the alcohol left a pleasant buzz in his system and the guys got lost in conversation. For the time being, he felt completely content with just tracing her moves, hoping she would notice his burning gaze and that someone’s interest was piqued.

Everything changed when Gigi walked up to their table. Calum was perplexed that the one woman who caught his eye actually decided to speak to them, or rather, as he foolishly anticipated, him. A few times, he caught her looking at their table, getting in his head that she did notice him looking and was, in a way, flirting with the idea. His hopes rose high as she slid into the booth next to him, the pink flowy dress riding up on her thighs, and the sweet smell of her designer perfume pleasantly suffocating. He was getting ready to introduce himself, clearing his throat and trying to formulate the words in a way that would definitely charm her…

But, of course, she had eyes only for Luke. It wasn’t his fault, and Calum would never go around blaming him or calling him selfish, but Luke did tend to be a bit… naive. He assumed everything would be fine, because they’re friends, and maybe it was Calum’s fault, because he never really held him accountable. Why would he? Because girls preferred lead singers to bassists? But Luke always thought that just because the girls approached him, there won’t be any bad blood if he pursued them.

Maybe Calum was just petty, but multiple times, he denied a girl just because he knew that one of his friends had an eye for her. He didn’t expect that same loyalty, but sometimes, it did feel like a punch in the gut to see Luke get all the women he wanted, and especially the women Calum had any interest in.

He walks out of the bathroom, and Dee is just there, still standing next to the dresser in nothing but a pair of panties, her back turned to him. The corset top that caused him so much struggle is tucked under her arm together with the checkered skirt as she stares at her phone. Calum didn’t have the chance before, so he shamelessly observes the tattoo on the back of her body: from the vines of the thighs to intricate ornaments covering her back. Pulling on his briefs, he slowly approaches her and places his hands on her hips, only now remembering how short she truly is. He didn’t notice it until they left together, and quickly forgot when she started making out with him in the cab.

“Or you could stay,” he says in her ear, lips falling down on the crook of her neck and slowly tracing kisses to reach the earlobe, sucking on it. “I have some booze. And a comfortable t-shirt.”

“And a huge box of condoms?” Dee looks at him from above the Uber app, raising her brows, a mocking smile across her lips. Finally, she could comment on it, and Calum sees the pride in the simple tease. He scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief.

It’s not like Dee didn’t catch his eye, or she was someone he would never, under usual circumstances, be interested in. Just, Gigi was the kind of girl who he was used to finding attractive. She looked like the Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella and all those other girls he saw while watching cartoons and Disney movies with Mali Koa. Tall, blonde, slim figure and skin pale the veins almost showed through; a definition of beauty from the media, but also his peers. The confidence she carried herself with made the impression even more letal. Her catwalk stride, head held high and perfectly equal steps, the sway of her hips, it almost created an archetype.

As soon as she started talking to Luke though, Calum knew there was no more hope. Especially since he didn’t even have to charm her; from sliding into their booth, Luke had her undivided attention. She even did the holy trinity — pouted, twirled a strand of her hair, tilted her hair. It’s like she came to serve herself on a platter for him, and if anything, that ruined the image Calum had in his head.

Usually, he would get discouraged when seeing that the girls fell for Luke’s easy charm. He couldn’t deny that his friend had a captivating way of being; after ten years of being on stage and doing interviews, it would be a shame if he didn’t. But seeing a girl fall for it was like watching your parents fall for an Internet scam. Not that Luke was a false advertisement, but he loved to use the one line that Calum wouldn’t tread very lightly— his fame. No surprise he could impress anyone talking about being in a band with millions of listeners; hell, Calum would probably fall for it too, if he didn’t know better. But he also cared for his hook ups, dates, call it what you want, to be there for him, out of simple attraction or even sympathy, and not because it would give them street credit or a story to tell.

“And a huge box of condoms,” he confirmed with a poker face, hand gliding up to cup her breast.

Luke and Gigi didn’t stay in the booth with the rest of them long, her cordial offer to go dance quickly agreed to by his friend. They disappeared, and Calum’s eyes followed them even through the dark and foggy club interior. The way Luke’s hands casually brushed her body, the way she grinded on him, the way they were whispering to each other. His hand clutched the glass a bit too tightly, and even when Ashton pointed out that he should just chill down and forget the girl existed, Calum would keep on glancing their way throughout the conversation. Soon enough, Michael needed to get home to help with the baby, and Ashton got lost while fetching drinks, undoubtedly in a conversation with someone more interesting than sulking Calum Hood.

It’s like he felt she observed them too, Calum’s eyes eventually falling on Dee. She sat at the bar on her very own, head propped on her hands, not even hiding that her attention was completely consumed by the couple. Two empty glasses in front of her, it looked like quite a slumber party, and Calum could only relate as he scanned her body. Across the room, he barely saw anything, and as he finished his own drink and registered that Luke and his new girl were getting off the dancefloor, he rose up with an intention to get a refill.

The decision to talk to her was impulsive; liking her wasn’t planned either, but it’s not like Calum fell in love at first sight. He expected awkwardness, and a lot of silence, but they immediately fell into a small talk that took him by surprise with its smoothness. Not that there was much of it, but from the first few seconds, he couldn’t deny that he felt a pull.

And where there’s a pull, there has to also be a push.

Now, he swallowed hard as Dee visibly considered his offer, a battle clearly happening behind her eyes. He hoped she would agree, even if to just go at it again, maybe savour it a bit more too. The thrill of their impromptu small-talk got him so excited that by the time they were done, he couldn’t remember anything beside the feeling of how good it felt. Calum wanted a chance to explore her body, trace every tattoo with his tongue and possibly get crushed by her thighs. If they ended up talking more afterwards, or during, he also wouldn’t be disappointed.

“Hm, under those circumstances, I could be convinced,” she purrs, leaning back into his arms. Calum gives himself an inner high-five, smiling against her skin. “But at least take me to bed this time around.”

“Oh, my bedroom is a sacred space. Once I let you in, I might not be able to let you out,” Calum mumbles between kisses, his neck hurting from leaning down to kiss her shoulder, but he has no plans to stop anytime soon.

Dee reaches behind, tangling her finger into the hair on his nape, pulling him closer, further down to her skin.

“That’s a future me problem.”

[calumsargwife]

"You Are In Love"

calum hood x fem!reader

summary: the journey of how you and Calum found out you are in love.

warnings: use of cigarettes and mentions of alcohol, a little bit of bad language (if i let something out let me know!)

word count: 4.7k (damn)

note: well this one is completely based on the song from You Are In Love by Taylor Swift. i know it took a while but here it is, it's the longest i've ever written. i don't know if someone's gonna read this since it's so long but since you guys seemed to like the first one i wrote i decided to post this one. i never wrote something like this, so i hope you like it!! (English is not my first language so there may be some grammatical errors, sorry!)

One look, dark room. Meant just for you. Time moved too fast. You play it back. Light-hearted joke. No proof, not much. But you saw enough.

It was one of the many parties that took place at Ashton's house, people gathering for some reason to celebrate. The man honestly loved being the host, always making sure all of his guests were having a good time. The house was in a homely atmosphere (something Ashton always made sure was there), there was a little alcohol involved but nothing too crazy, the music was just the right volume and it was something everyone could dance to. There was good food and probably some fun board game that would make everyone a little more drunk.

It had all started about an hour ago when Calum decided to show up. It was cold, a November night where despite the weeks in advance, you could already feel the Christmas spirit.

Calum would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous. He was going to see you after the last date you two had. Before knocking on the door of the house, he briefly remembered the last outing that you shared, it was incredible.

After so long Calum had finally dared to confess his feelings for you, one of his best friends in the whole world. And you, who was completely surrendered at the boy's feet, said that you felt the same. You two met five years ago and connected instantly, not knowing how or why but it happened and both of you were so happy, you felt that the time you had with each other was never enough to stop being surprised. Being friends first had given the two of them a kind of comfort like no other.

And that's how it was, in the last few weeks you shared several dates and everything was going great, you already knew each other but with all this that was happening, you learned even more things. Everything was getting more serious and Calum was scared, but he liked it.

Once inside the house, Calum took off his coat and scanned the room looking to meet your eyes, and the moment that happened, he gave you a look that was meant only for you. A look that Calum only saved for when he looked at you. A look that made you blush in the best way.

However, Calum quickly found himself being greeted by his friends. You sighed but didn't complain, you repeated in your mind the moment in which your eyes connected and you couldn't help but feel how your breathing stopped slightly because of those eyes that you had learned to love so much in this last few years.

It all ended up being just a quick glance. The night continued and after a while, you ran into Calum (well, he ran into you). He was wearing a black shirt that accentuated his figure perfectly, you would have loved to take him in your arms at that very moment. He knew that, he had worn this shirt because he knew you would like it.

You met about an hour after Calum had arrived, he was having a good time with his friends but at some point he felt that they were holding him back too much from being able to have a chat with you. 'Who am I kidding?' That was the first thing he thought when he saw you again, Calum had been wanting to talk to you all night. You were turning your back on him while looking at the big city from the balcony of the apartment. You had on a beautiful black silk dress, it left your back bare, something that drove Calum crazy.

"Missing me already?" Calum joked after he finally found you alone "I bet you're getting bored without me." He assured in a teasing tone. He approached you and analyzed you, you were wearing a gold necklace and your nails were painted red, you held a glass with some alcohol. His hand gently brushed your arm and you could feel an electrifying touch that woke up every fiber inside you. You love how he makes you feel.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his very confident statement. "I was getting along pretty well without you, actually." You smiled and looked sincerely into his eyes this time. "I missed you." You could see how his eyes were filled with intrigue at what you had said, waiting for a reconfirmation. "I really did."

Calum smiled sweetly and couldn't help but look away from your beautiful eyes for a second to calm down. He really didn't want to blush right now. "Well, I'm glad. I've been thinking about you all night."

It might seem like a simple thing but it really makes you happy to hear that he thought of you the same way you thought of him. You liked knowing you were on his mind.

Small talk, he drives. Coffee at midnight. The light reflects. The chain on your neck. He says, "Look up". And your shoulders brush. No proof, one touch. But you felt enough.

Of course your night didn't end there. Calum proposed that you spend the night at his house and you immediately said yes. The truth is that the time you had spent at the party had not been enough for you two.

You felt a kind of excitement as Calum drove home. You guys weren't talking much in the car, the background music set the mood perfectly and you didn't need anything to talk about either. Small talk was enough to keep you entertained along the way.

Once at Calum's house, you guys set about relaxing. Still formally dressed, you were sitting in the chair that Calum had located on the terrace of his apartment. A perfect place to look at the stars.

Two cups of coffee at midnight, one for you and one for Calum. Drinking coffee gives you the little hope that you could stay up longer just to spend more time together, because it wasn't enough, it was never enough. You two loved to talk, you always had something to talk about and it never got boring. Maybe at some point you didn't have a topic of conversation, but you guys invented something so you could have an excuse to be together. Because it wasn't enough. Calum didn't know how to explain this insatiable feeling of wanting to always be chatting with you, something that really surprised him since he was normally a person who enjoyed silence.

You smiled sweetly at something Calum had said and looked away from him so you could look at your phone for a few seconds to see the time. It was half past twelve at night, already entering the early morning. You smiled to yourself at the feeling of being calm with the boy you liked.

You were wearing a gold chain with a 'C' charm on it, a cheesy and stupid gift Calum had given you for your birthday a couple of years ago. He could appreciate how it shone in the moonlight.

Speaking of the moon, Calum realized that it was at its highest point. He looked at you and spoke to you softly, since you were still looking at your cell phone. He said "Look up" and you immediately looked up from your device. You settled into the chair with the cup of coffee in your hand and you felt how his shoulder lightly brushed against yours.

And that was it. That was enough to know what you felt.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you.

Calum was fully focused on the moon, leaving you a perfect view of his profile. The place was silent and you could still clearly hear the feeling that you now knew you had. You were afraid of being stunned by this, but actually, the opposite happened, it was all you wanted to hear.

It was so clear, so loud and so strong. You felt a pressure in your chest, that pressure was just letting you know that what you were feeling was actually true. Your insides were full of heartwarming thoughts in just a second, but you loved every single second of it.

The fact that the place was completely silent and that Calum had no idea what you were thinking about added a bit of fun to all this, if only he knew.

You were completely immersed in this new sensation, which was leaving you completely cut off from all the other things that might be going on around you.

You can feel it on the way home, way home, you

You returned home only the next day in the afternoon, the sky was beginning to darken. After a little argument about Calum wanting to take you home and you saying it wasn't necessary, you were finally making your way home on your own. You wanted to get some air and think about what had been revealed to you last night.

As you walked home you could feel the refreshing air in your hair and in your arms. You clung a little more to Calum's sweatshirt.

And that pressure in your chest came back. You've never liked a sensation so much. You couldn't help but smile in love as you looked at the scenery around you. The night was beginning for some.

You loved him. You loved Calum. You love him.

You just couldn't believe it. The idea of falling in love for you was something that was long gone and not something you expected to find again. You especially didn't expect to fall in love with Calum.

But at the same time you were not surprised. Loving Calum was so easy, he was just perfect. You couldn't not love him. He made it look so easy. And you loved loving him, it was something that just filled you up inside and you were so happy that the person you love is Calum.

You continued walking down what would soon be a dark street. Focusing on the sound of your shoes or how the things you found on the way home reminded you of him. Everything reminded you of him.

You can see it with the lights out, lights out. You are in love, true love. You are in love.

Once you got home you closed the front door and leaned your back against it. You sighed while smiling. The whole room was dark, the lights still not on.

In one of the furniture where you had photos with your friends you came to distinguish your favorite photo of the whole house. It was a photo of you and Calum hugging in front of the stage where he and the boys were going to give their show later. There were hours left for the concert and you took advantage of the moment to take pictures. You smiled to yourself remembering.

God, you are in love.

Morning, his place. Burnt toast, Sunday. You keep his shirt. He keeps his word.

It was a Sunday morning at Calum's house. The night before for the two of you had been magical. The two of you hadn't felt this connection with someone in a long time and you knew it.

You were lying on the bed, giving each other lazy kisses on the lips, on the neck, on the cheeks, on the arms, everywhere. Calum wanted to kiss every inch of you.

Calum sighed and moved slightly away from you. "I'm gonna make us breakfast, okay?" He said to then give you one last kiss on the cheek while inhaling your sweet perfume.

"Okay" You replied with a goofy smile as you watched him go to the kitchen.

A little later you stretched one last time and got out of bed too, looking for something to wear. You looked at one of the shirts Calum wears to train, you decided on a navy blue one.

As you walked to the kitchen you remembered what Calum had told you before you guys fell asleep. "I'll be here in the morning." And he kept his word, he was there. You looked at him before entering the kitchen, he was making coffee and toast for the two of you.

"The coffee smells good." You said as you walk into the kitchen. Brushing his arm with your hand when you passed by.

"I hope it tastes just as good as it smells." He answered with a smile without turning to look at you yet, taking another slice of bread to toast.

You chuckled softly, remembering the times Calum had been disappointed in how his own coffee turned out.

At the sound of your laughter Calum turned and looked at you. His heart skipped a beat at the sight of you in his shirt, admiring how well it looked on you. He would be lying if he said he doesn't want that to be his sight every morning. He loved having you in all his everyday things.

"That color suits you." He said admiring you while he wrapped his arms around your waist and left you a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you." You answered while looking away so that your blush is not so obvious.

Calum chuckled very softly, keeping the smile on his face. He tucked one of the hairs that was on your face behind your ear and that made you turn your head to look at him.

Calum couldn't help but get completely lost in your eyes, it was something that completely mesmerized him and he knew it, he always knew it. From the moment he met you, your eyes were what he liked the most about you.

You were also completely lost by him, admiring the details of his face, seeing how there was a slight beard on his jaw, something that you knew he was going to shave later. You analyzed the small freckles around his nose, they had appeared after spending a day in the sun at the beach with his friends.

Then you raised your eyes to his and they stayed that way, looking at each other. Calum absolutely watching every move you made, admiring everything.

You don't know how long you stayed like that until you could smell the burnt smell of toast and Calum's scared face, who broke away from you in a second and immediately went to see the toaster.

A moment later he turned around and looked at you with a pout. "They burned."

Let out a laugh and you approached to give him a kiss on his pout. "We can make pancakes." You proposed with a sweet smile.

Calum smiled, completely melting at your smile. "We can, but none of those cute little eyes of yours when I'm cooking. I don't want burnt pancakes."

And for once, you let go. Of your fears and your ghosts. One step, not much. But it said enough.

Today was the day. 5 Seconds of Summer would release a new song. One that Calum personally wrote. And to say that the boy was nervous was an understatement.

He was feeling very scared for some reason. He didn't understand why. This song was beautiful and he was very proud of it, it was also an extremely vulnerable song that had taken him months to write, he was afraid of looking too fragile in the public eye and that people might not like it.

To be honest, it's a song he wrote for you, although he doesn't know if you were aware of this. The song talked about what it was like to let someone into your heart again and how scared he was to suffer again and to let go of all those ghosts from the past that haunt him.

God, he was nervous.

The boys had proposed to meet up for the launch, but Calum declined, declaring that this time he'd rather stay at his house with you by his side.

You two were sitting on the terrace of Calum's house. He was smoking a cigarette for the nerves and you were having some vanilla tea (it was your favorite and Calum had bought it especially for you). His leg was bobbing up and down as a sign of his current anxiety. You put your hand on his thigh wanting him to stop and you looked at him with a little tenderness.

"Cal, what's going on? You've been very nervous for the last few hours." My God, Calum hated how well you could read him.

He never talks about this, with anyone. Talking about his feelings is something he struggles with a lot, always in the end transforming what happens to him into songs. But Calum knew that talking about this with you was the right thing to do, knowing that if he wants to be with you then he has to start trusting you with these kinds of things.

"It's just... It's been a while since I wrote something like that, y'know... I know I always write about past experiences but this song is about the two of us and I don't know..." Calum sighed trying to collect his thoughts. "I guess I'm afraid of looking weak in front of everyone, I guess, I don't know..." It made him angry that he couldn't tell you exactly what he was thinking, he didn't know what he was feeling at that moment.

"Calum, the song you wrote is great, it's vulnerable, yes, but that makes it even more meaningful. I think that's going to make people like it more, you know?" You caressed his leg in search of being able to give him comfort.

"I know, I know..." Calum prepared himself for what he was going to say, it seemed to him something very stupid and meaningless but he knew it was necessary. He took another drag on his cigarette and turned so he could look you in the eye. "I think it scares me that once you know how I really feel you're going to run from me." He explained with a slightly shaky voice.

You couldn't help feeling how your heart softened for him. You brought your hand to his cheek and he leaned into it. You felt him visibly relax at your touch. "That's not gonna happen and you know it, right?"

He nodded as he studied your face with those sweet brown eyes of his. Calum didn't tell you but he really felt a weight less on his shoulders. He could feel how he was getting closer and closer to a certain feeling that he had been avoiding for a long time.

"I don't want to write a heartbroken song about you."

You kiss on sidewalks. You fight and you talk.

Calum loved walking with you down the street. Unlike his past relationships, this time he was not afraid to go out with you and show how much he liked you, he is not ashamed and wants to show the world who he's with.

But at the same time he wants to protect you, he doesn't like how public his life can be sometimes. He liked the feeling of his hands rubbing against yours when you are walking down a street with a lot of people, he liked having something just for him and that no one else can take it away from him.

His favorite part is when you're finally on some empty sidewalk and he can finally kiss you freely, he's dying to kiss you anywhere, but he knows that if he wants everything to remain as private as it is now, then he has to take certain precautions.

However, this has brought several discussions in the relationship.

"Why are you so angry?" Calum asked once he closed the door to his apartment, you glared at him a few feet from him.

"It annoys me that every time we walk into a room with the least amount of people, you immediately let go of my hand as if I were some kind of plague!" You knew why Calum was doing it but at the same time you couldn't help but get frustrated. Sometimes you wish Calum wasn't a public figure.

"I don't treat you like you're a plague! I just want to keep things between us!" Calum was frowning and breathing heavily.

"I understand that you want to have your private life but sometimes I feel that you exceed yourself! You don't want anyone to see us at all and it's tiring me!" You felt like a fool wanting to cry about this, but you couldn't help but make your eyes go glassy with anguish.

Calum sighed before answering, thinking about what he was going to tell you. The other day you guys had a fight over the exact same issue before going into a party. "If you know why I do it then why are you angry?!" He yelled at you, feeling how anger began to enter his body.

"Because sometimes it seems like you're ashamed of me!" You angrily yelled at him all your frustrations, trying to make him understand.

"You know that's not how I feel." He stated with a rather serious tone, you've never heard him talk like that.

"I would know how you feel if you would just tell me!" You are not going to deny that you felt a weight less after saying that. Calum always had trouble expressing his feelings but with such crucial things it was important that he tell you.

He clenched his jaw. "Are you always going to reproach me for the same thing? You know it's something I'm working on! It's not easy and yet you keep insisting!" Calum ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Of course I'm going to keep insisting if I don't see any change! It's always the same, I have to pressure you to tell me what's wrong with you and I don't want it to be like that anymore." You ran your hand under your eyeliner to wipe away a stubborn tear that had escaped. "I feel that you don't trust me to tell me your things and I don't know what I have to do anymore..." Now your face was covered by tears in a matter of seconds.

Calum completely collapsed seeing you cry. He quickly approached you and took your head in his hands to kiss your hair and then snuggle you against his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, you're right, sorry." He gave you small kisses on the temple in search of giving you comfort. "I'm sorry, you're right."

One night he wakes. Strange look on his face. Pauses, then says. 'You're my best friend'. And you knew what it was. He is in love.

It was another one of the nights where Calum stayed the night at your house. You two were asleep in your bed, snuggled up to each other, him being that natural warmer that he is.

Calum was lying on your chest, you were cuddling lying on your bed. About an hour ago he had fallen asleep after a tiring day in the studio with the boys. You, on the other hand, weren't sleepy, so you stayed on your phone, fooling around on social media.

Suddenly, you felt how he moved over you and how he began to wake up.

Calum moved off of you to lie next to you, he had a weird look on his face, you were trying to figure out what he was thinking.

Then he looked at you. "You're my best friend."

And you knew, you knew what was happening to him. He was in love. In love with you.

"You're my best friend too, Cal." You smiled sweetly at him and he could feel how he melted, your smiles always killed him in the best way. You put your hand on his jaw and brought him in for a sweet, passionate kiss, making sure it was one that would take his breath away.

"You're going to kill me one day." Calum hid his smile against your arm and blushed. You laughed and stroked his curls tenderly.

You can hear it in the silence, silence, you. You can feel it on the way home, way home, you. You can see it with the lights out, lights out. You are in love, true love.

It was days later where Calum was returning from the studio to his house, he was driving and found himself stuck in traffic. Too distracted thinking about you to be bothered by the number of cars.

You guys hadn't seen each other all week due to your respective jobs and he couldn't miss you more. It was night and not having the lights on inside the car made everything dark, his mind was too busy to put on music, so he enjoyed the silence there was.

Not getting you out of his head, he started humming your favorite song. Giving little taps on the steering wheel to the beat of the music.

And that's when it hit him.

"Oh, shit." Calum stopped everything he was doing to focus on what he was thinking.

He couldn't help but think a 'really?'. Hell, he hadn't felt this in a long time.

Unconsciously his heart began to race. His head was going a thousand an hour and the only thing that appeared in his mind was your name.

He couldn't believe what he was feeling. A kind of pressure settled in his chest and he loved it. Calum couldn't help but smile as he ran his hands over his face and tried to hide the smile he had, even though no one was there to see it.

"I love her. I fucking love her." Calum declared as he looked out the window, the car in silence after his confession. He felt himself blushing even though no one had told him anything and how he had an incredible desire to see you.

And for the first time in his entire life, after so many broken hearts and failed relationships, Calum wasn't afraid to love. He didn't feel that irreparable fear that something was going to go wrong, he felt love, true love.

He used to be scared, so, so scared. Fear that leaving another relationship will leave him completely destroyed and without any hope of ever being loved again. Calum always had that feeling that perhaps he was destined to be alone, believing that this had been proven after so many situations in his past.

But everything changed when you arrived. From the first moment your eyes met, he knew that you had come to change his life. You became the light of his life in just a second and that scared him at first. But he didn't care, he thought if he had to have his heart broken for you then so be it. However, now he knew that it would not be like that, you were not going to leave and he knew that you were going to take care of his heart perfectly like no one had ever done before.

Calum was sure you were meant to be together.

Because he was in love.

And he wanted to believe in love for once.

[orangeinecstasy]

cherry cola, pt. one ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟcalum hood

paring: calum hood x clifford sister reader (fem implication)

summary: it's once again time for the yearly clifford beach house stay, but things are different. working on their new album the rest of the guys join, hoping the change in scenery will spark some inspiration. will the work get done? or will a forbidden romance blossom?

an: hey everyone! i wanted to try and do a series so here's the first part of seven. i'm up for taking requests for things you guys would want to see in it. lmk your thoughts! much love

cw: smoking, drinking, cursing, age gap, smut

wc: 750

Monday

The sun pours down on your skin as you pluck the cherry, garnishing your soda. Separating the firm sweet fruit from the stem. Biting into its flesh as you work the pit from its center. You always loved summer days like this. Lounging in a beach chair as freshly mixed cherry cola clouded your mind. Your summer bliss was quickly interrupted by your mother calling out your name. Dissipating your sickly sweet fog as you took your earbuds out. “What?” 

“Your brother and his friends are here,” she repeated, irritation lacing her voice. 

You bit back a smirk as you gathered your things, slipped on the t-shirt you used as a coverup, and making your way back to the house.

Every summer, your mom dragged you and your brother, Micheal, to the family beach house. Even when he had gone off to be in a band, she would always remind him to try and come back for our yearly trip. She wanted you to give you the chance to having a bonding experience despite him being eight years your senior.

Now you were nineteen, and the tradition continued. But, this time, it was different. His bandmates decided to tag along on the trip, saying that maybe the change of scenery would help them write the album they’d been working on for the past couple of months. Your mother easily folded into the idea. “Anything to help my boys!” as she would always say. 

When your mom told you the situation, you couldn’t help but smile, biting your cheek, trying to hide your reaction as your stomach twisted in on itself. That means you got to see him. Calum.

You’d known him your whole life, so many memories littered with him. When he would come over, strumming a guitar and mumbling lyrics to himself. Late nights spent talking when he would come home from tour, legs grazing each other innocently. Each time, causing a spark to shoot up your body and your cheeks to flush. As you’d gotten older, your attraction to him had only grown stronger. But you never pushed. You were young and in college, an average nobody. And well, he wasn’t. 

The bright pastel purple color that was so vibrant in your young memory was now faded, standing, and storms slowly eroding it from the wood. You mourned the color sightly as you made your way up the steps. Sliding the glass door open, you’re met with cool air and laughter as you enter the house. “Look who decided to join us,” your mom says, causing embarrassment to waft over you as everyone turns to look at you. 

Your eyes lock with his. His skin was tanner then you remember, eyes crinkling as he smiled. His buzzcut has grown out messily, but it’s cute, childlike almost. “Hey,” you wave shyly as if you haven’t known these people your whole life. 

“S’up, kiddo,” Micheal asks, ruffling your hair. You quickly smooth it back down, letting out a small groan of annoyance. “Nothing,” you mumble half-heartedly. You quickly greet the others with a soft hello and a smile before rutting through the fridge and finding another cherry coke. 

Everyone slowly departs from the kitchen, scattering to various concerns of the house. All but Calum. He lingers, hip leaning against the counter as his eyes rake up your legs, the shirt you were wearing barely covering anything. He would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t like it. 

His tongue darted between his lips before he spoke. “So this is the famous beach house I always heard about,” his arms are crossed over his chest, t-shirt straining against his chest and biceps. “Mhm, that it is.” You nod, opening your soda with a crack as you hop onto the counter. Cold granite sends a shiver up your spine. 

“You, uh,” you can hear the gears in his head turning as he selects the appropriate word. “You look good,” words are silky, but his body is so ridge, so scared to give in. His Adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, regretting his words as soon as he said them.

You bite your cheek to hide your smile, a metallic taste melting onto your tastebuds as you bite down harder. “Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself,” he chuckles, relaxing at your words.

There he is— peeling away his skin and bones and opening the deepest part of himself to dip back into the sticky sweetness he missed so desperately.

[bleachedhallways]

lullaby & goodnight. ⌇ lrh.

A/N: i have a soft spot for dad!au’s & the idea of luke being a father makes me super soft, so i wanted to indulge in my silly little fantasies.

summary: in which, your daughter is having a hard time falling asleep & luke knows exactly how to center her.

word count: 1,000+ words.

“Ollie, baby, please–”

“No.” The young girl pouts, arms crossed over her chest with her favorite plush toy held in the grip of her tiny fingers. “No, no, no!”

“Ophelia, you need to sleep. How else will you have the energy to hang out with Daddy tomorrow?” A rhetorical question, yet you hope your five-year-old has the understanding and sense to answer it; Ophelia was incredibly smart for her age and seemed to be quite mature, however, she was a child and children will do as they please, no matter how old of a soul they already seem to be. 

The tiny blonde shakes her head dramatically before looking away from you. At this point, you’re ready to admit defeat and let her stay up for as long as she wants, or at least, until she tires herself out doing whatever it was that she wanted to do. However, you wanted to sleep and your husband was in your home studio, finishing up a tune that he’d been working on for days, so grabbing him to help with your stubborn daughter was, in your mind, out of the question. You couldn’t leave her unattended, you’d feel like a shitty mother if you did and Ollie was too young to be on her own. 

“Is there anything I can do to help you fall asleep?” You inquire, eyebrows knit together in hopes that there was a solution to this scenario. You’re met with large, doe-like eyes, the hue of them a replica of your own. Your daughter’s gaze is innocent, yet a hint of mischief lies in the depths of her irises. 

“No, but Daddy can.” 

Of course. Ophelia was a Daddy’s girl, through and through. She and Luke shared a bond unlike one you’ve ever encountered and had each other wrapped around their fingers. Whenever you three had family outings, there were moments where you felt like you were third wheeling; it was simply your husband and your daughter’s world and you were just living in it – happily, obviously. You don’t think you’d have it any other way. Sharing life with the two of them was one of the greatest gifts you’d ever received. 

“Ol, Daddy’s busy right now.”

Ophelia wasn’t having it. She would not take ‘no’ for an answer, “I can wait for him!”

You blink twice, unsure of what to say to the child in front of you. The sound of a door opening and closing gains your attention, footsteps getting louder as they come down the hall and stop. 

Luke pokes his head into the dimly lit bedroom your daughter occupies, a gentle, tired smile on his face. “Ladies,” He greets the both of you, “everything okay in here?” he adds, eyebrows raising slightly. 

“Ollie is having a bit of trouble getting to bed.” You reply, your gaze averting from your husband to your little girl, who looks very pleased with herself; she’s about to get exactly what she wanted. 

“Oh, yeah? Can I help?” Luke offers, fully entering the room. He sits on the edge of the twin sized bed covered in pale yellow sheets, stuffed animals crammed against the headboard. 

Ophelia abandons her plush toy, leaning into her father’s hold as he opens his arms and cuddles her into his chest. A lighthearted chuckle leaves your husband’s lips, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks at you, “Sorry, baby. I guess I’m what she needed.”

“Figures,” You sigh, a grin pulling at your lips. “She’s got you wrapped, Lu.”

“Definitely,” He agrees, before turning his attention back to your daughter. “Alright, miss. How can I help you sleep, hm?” 

Silence fills the room as your daughter thinks for a brief moment. She’ll milk Luke for all the time that he’s willing to give her, there’s no doubt about that. Doe eyes look up, blinking innocently to really make sure he’s ready to deliver. “Sing to me, pretty please?”

Luke doesn’t waste any time in giving in to her command. If a lullaby is what she wants? It’s what she’ll get. “I can do that for you. Anything you’re wanting to hear?”

“No- wait, can I get comfy?” She asks, pulling away from her father a bit. Luke nods, shifting from his space on the edge of the bed, which prompts you to also get up in order to allow for your daughter to get comfortable under the sheets. Once she’s settled, you and your husband snuggle in on either side of her, wrapping your arms around the girl you both love most. 

“Ready, sweetheart?” Luke hums, oceanic eyes peering down at your daughter. He always looks at her with so much love and so much pride, you swear that every time you see it, your heart swells up with affection. 

Ophelia nods, her gaze trained on her father as he begins to sing softly, “Take my hand, now and forever…” 

As he continues to sing, his melodic voice filling up the space, you watch as the melody flowing from Luke’s lips sends your daughter into a blissful, serene state. Her eyes get droopy as each second passes, the calm atmosphere and warmth provided by her loving parents causing sleep to overtake her. Soon enough, her head is slumped against the pillows, her face slightly buried in the Pink Floyd shirt your husband donned. 

Your eyes meet Luke’s when you’re sure that Ophelia is sound asleep, quietly mouthing a ‘thank you’ to him. If it weren’t for him and his incredible knowledge of what your child needed, you doubt she’d be asleep by now. He smiles, blinking sleepily at you before gingerly leaving the softness your daughter’s bed provides, holding out his hand for you to take in order to leave her room. 

With a flip of a switch, the dimly lit room is drowned in darkness, save for the pink hued night light plugged into the wall. Luke closes the door as you both exit, then wraps his arm around you and leads you to your own bedroom, sighing dreamily as the prospect of sleep draws closer with each step you take.

[carryonafi]

blood on the drums.

ashton irwin x reader; SMUT!!!🔞

a/n: HELLO MY LOVELIES!!! gosh it’s been so long, life has been chaotic and yes i’m still alive HAHA. but hey… this one’s been cooking for a while and this is the second au ive done!! my bae @souperbloom gave me some amazing WWE insight and i just needed to write some dirty wrestler ashton. so this is truly for the girlies who get it. i’ve missed yall, enjoy!!

words: 2.9k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

SMACK

A gasp tore through your throat, watching Ashton stumble back to the rubber barriers of the ring and when he lifted his hand to his head, there was a mess of red everywhere. That horrible screeching ring of the bell going wild and signaling the end of the match had your fists balled at your sides

“Ashton!” You shrieked, running up each platform and entering the ring. The crowd seemed to ripple in cheers and shouts of surprise and excitement from left to right, all the way around the ring until you made it to Ashton’s side. Adrenaline pounded through your chest, getting down on your knees beside him and shooting a flaming, angry glare at his opponent. It took everything in you not to storm off and beat the shit out of him, but there were rules, you needed to abide by them.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, meeting the gaze of your boyfriend which was dazed and unfocused as you helped him sit up. Security was everywhere, cameras were on you, people watching were muttering angrily and shouting profanities at the intense turn of the match. Your shaking hands moved to cup his face, pinky pressed against his pulse point which was pumping rapidly.

“Yeah, fuck — ‘m fine.” Ashton breathed, wiping his bloodied nose on the back of his hand and letting you help him into a sitting position. Your heart hammered ruthlessly against your rib cage, not a single thing on your mind other than Ashton’s wellbeing as he swayed a little upon getting to his feet. Your arms looped around his waist. The unusual hesitation in his movements and the way Ashton seemed to think about every single step was more than concerning.

“Here, c’mon…” You hoisted his arm around your shoulders, the sheerness of sweat on him slicked your shoulders and hair which was messily tied back and falling out of its done-up style. Ashton leaned into you heavily, bringing a bit of irritance into your eyes. He just wouldn’t stand on his own— you had to basically push him the rest of the way down and into the right backstage door.

“We should get you some water or something, you look…”

Which was where he completely cut the act.

Ashton looked at you with a shit-eating grin, the blood from his nose trickling down to his mouth as he flashed you his teeth.

“I really fuckin’ got ya, didn’t I?!” He nudged you aggressively, making you snarl and almost immediately shove him off of you.

“What’re you talking about?” You snapped, glaring at Ashton with expectancy.

“Oh my god, Y/N — You really thought I was gonna pass out.” He laughed loudly, the sound grating to your ears. Seriously… you wanted to rip the fucking tape off of his knuckles with less care than you ever could’ve imagined.

“No! I didn’t! I was just playing my part!” You stammered, the heat of the moment quickly showing in your cheeks which you tried to play off as exhaustion, but there was no way in hell Ashton was letting you live it like that.

This ‘relationship’ which was set up by the script writers clearly had no thoughts taken to personal relationships, and not that it should, it was just a bit unfair that you had to be all sickly loving to the guy who you found painful to be around.

Ashton was still laughing, near tears to the point where he had to stop in his tracks and catch his breath. You leaned against the wall, nostrils flared up in shame and embarrassment as you stared him down.

“Are you done yet?” You muttered under the sounds of his laughter, Ashton pressed his sweaty back to the opposite wall and his cheeks stuck in a smile with broken giggles.

“No. no. Absolutely not, I’m not done.” He sighed heavily, still trying to catch his breath. The blood from the exaggerated blows had run down his neck, making a sick lightning trail of red which made you cringe. Ashton reached for a bottle of water on the table, carelessly cracking it open while staring dead at your face.

“What?” His eyebrows quirked, the angry little quirk of your lip, he found quite adorable.

“I’m trying to be angry. Stop talking.” You blinked at the way his body glistened, blood trickling in one smooth, flawless line down his chest and matting up in the section of hair in the upper center.

“Trying?” He hummed, tossing the water bottle into the recycling after slamming nearly all of it due to how much he had just exerted himself. Ashton’s eyes were back to boring into your face, the way your brows furrowed and how your lips formed a tight line as you held your tongue.

His face was so fucking annoying, his perfect eyebrows, sweaty skin and hair clinging desperately to his forehead. His chest heaved with every single breath now bated with laughter all while still feeling the adrenaline, it made your jaw tick.

“Never mind.” You snapped, oddly enough, as much as you avoided the blood the more he seemed to become insufferable again. Ashton groaned loudly, like he just lost a sibling fight. A pathetic child who thought he had you where he wanted you.

“Do you know how I feel about you?��� Ashton jogged after you as you started to walk away again, your boots clicking aggressively along the tile floor. There were crew and doors, muffled music and crowd roaring which started to piss you off even more.

“Why would I care?” You added with a scoff, nearly ripping the hair tie out of your hair and letting the strands stick to your shoulders. One door seemed like a good choice, so you quickly swerved to the left and ended up in an empty dressing room with a sofa in the corner next to some lit up vanities. This wasn’t like the usual locker rooms, this was for real performances.

Once you turned around to face Ashton again, he looked angry as well which honestly caught you by surprise. “What?” You asked, looking at each frown line on his face and narrowing your eyes at him like he was acting a fool.

“You would never know what pisses me off about you.” Ashton shook his head, taking a few steps towards you and feeling satisfied with the way you stepped back. “Why would you care what I think, huh? Would it hurt you that badly to have a thought for anyone else?” He responded in the tone you were using earlier, and goddamn, something about him standing up like this was hotter than he looked.

“I do give a thought for other people, just not you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fucking know, Ashton!” You threw your hands up, heels hitting the wall on your last step and his shadow loomed over you. “You’re annoying, all you do is bug me when I’m clearly not in the mood. You want to talk about thinking of other people? Pick up on the clues, idiot! Read the room!”

The arguing stopped, now it was just silence. Your breath on his and it all caught up to you again, the blush on your face started to mirror the dried blood thriving on his skin. There was a sudden, rough warmth on your hip which made your gaze snap towards it. Ashton’s hand was on you, sending a realization in the form of goosebumps all over your body. When you looked back up at Ashton, he was smiling that stupid cocky smile again.

“Y’wanna know what else pisses me off?” He spoke, pausing as if you would say something or perhaps react to how low his voice could get. “You can’t admit that you want me too.”

Too? Who did he think he was?

You shoved Ashton’s chest, not very hard… just a playful little shove as you tried to keep up your act. “You’re so humble.” You rolled your eyes, getting cut off by another hand on your chin, holding you in place as Ashton collected your lips in a tense and searing kiss. Relief. Sweet, intense relief.

That was one thing you couldn’t deny, you felt so relieved and it made your jaw significantly less tight.

“Am I reading the room correctly?” Ashton whispered against your mouth, ready for another hard smack… which he definitely received. Straight in the chest again.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kick you in the dick.” You whispered back, the tone soft despite the snarky comment.

“Why? You want it that badly and don't want to hurt it?” Ashton started to grin again, but this time it wasn’t that painful. The hand that was on your hip moved to the small of your back, calloused thumb gently caressing your bare skin. His words had you fumbling for a response, it wasn’t that witty, but everything about the last few minutes had your brain turned into mush.

“Fuck off!” You blushed, swallowing down your nerves and watching Ashton’s expression quickly shift to one of possession. You could see that light bulb above his head.

“Yeah?” He breathed, eyes challenging as you nodded and pressed yourself firmly against the wall. “Be that way, then.” Ashton muttered, the hand on your hip gripped tightly and his other swiftly trailed down the front of your skirt to lift it up.

“Ashton,” You cut yourself off as his hand moved between your legs, his eyes silently asking for permission as his thumb moved in slow circles over the fabric of your panties. Instead, you gave him a smile back. “Do what you want.”

There was that nasty grin again, Ashton chuckled and pressed a wet kiss to your cheek. “Sick.” He nodded, now using both hands to tear your panties down which ripped a gasp out of your throat. Now he had gotten all the green lights he needed, allowing the fabric to slip down to your ankles and catch on your tall boots.

It was unpredictable and such a blur, Ashton’s eyes had a bright sparkle of lust and wonder as his fingers dug into the softness of your upper thighs and hips, roughly guiding you to turn around and press your body against the wall. Your breathing had become labored, but Ashton wasn’t one to care. He quickly tugged your skirt up to expose your bare ass, and if only you could see the look on his face… but he wasn’t wasting time.

“This wet, all for me, baby?” He spoke against your hair, breath hot as he ran his fingertip between the slick folds and plunged deep inside once he met your entrance.

“Sh.. Shut up, you’re lucky.” You gasped, turning your head a little, but unable to see him very well. Ashton laughed from behind you.

“Still keepin’ this thing up, huh?” He said right next to your ear, giving himself another challenge as he pushed another finger inside of you. You were about to reply, but clearly, your act wasn’t going to be kept up for long.

Ashton had you pathetically moaning out into the nearly empty room, trying your hardest to keep yourself quiet since these walls weren’t very thick. He knew just the right spot, his fingers were long and rough, curled in just the right spots which drove you further and further towards the edge — until the sensation disappeared.

“Why’d you stop?” You whined, that voice… that didn’t sound like you at all.

“You want more of me, don't you?” He replied, in a tone that was unfamiliar to you as well. It was rough and husky, urgent and just as needy as you.

That was something you yet again, couldn’t deny. You swallowed down the lump in your throat and waited, waited… the silence started to ring in your ears and it became too much. Way too much.

“What are you doing?” You snapped, Ashton was standing behind you, clueless only for a moment until he grinned again.

“Hold on, hold on… tryna’ get a plan.” He mumbled, time broke when he finally moved forward and slowly guided you to turn around. As if you couldn’t do it on your own.

“Okay,” You breathed, disoriented eyes meeting that calculated stare as both of his arms hooked up under your thighs.

“Jump.”

It wasn’t a second thought, there was nothing holding you back from immediately following his orders and wrapping your arms around Ashton’s neck. You hopped up and his forearms flexed beneath your thighs, hooking them around his waist as he maneuvered the fabric around his own body to let his cock spring free.

Your breath coming out in short pants, you tried not to look down and instead stared straight into his green eyes which had morphed into a fury of lust and control fighting over one another. His body pressed yours as far as it would go to the wall, making your heart pound like this was your own match and you were just seconds from the end.

“Do you really fuckin’ want this, huh?” Ashton glared at you, but it wasn’t a harmful glare. It was hungry and feral. The only response he needed was a nod, fingers abusing the curve of your hips as his head dropped forward. He was looking straight down between your bodies, sweaty and bloody, letting himself gently nudge your wetness and drawing a whimper from the back of your throat. There was no control over your own body.

Your thighs were already burning from the effort, nails digging into Ashton’s shoulders and back as he only pushed himself further. It was a quiet mess of heavy breathing, soft grunts and light gasping… then it changed. His hips snapped forward aggressively which made you yelp in response, Ashton’s name just on the tip of your tongue as you bit down on your lip to stay quiet.

“Shit, fuck—“ He huffed, jaw ticking in concentration as he just let go. Ashton figured that if he had already lost it, there was no going back with that rough rock of his hips. His thrusts were near reckless, paying no mind to the sound of lockers and the uncertainty of whether or not the two of you would be heard. It was clear that you felt the same way, holding back was no longer an option as you cried out and grasped for any part of his sweat-slick body. It was his shoulders which faced the abuse and left him hissing with each drag of your nails.

“Gonna make me fuckin’ bleed, for real, ain’t ya?” He growled, his eyes boring into yours through the sweaty waves that fell in front of his forehead.

“Y.. Yeah, no props,” You stammered out the best reply manageable, gasping in pleasure and eyelids fluttering closed as Ashton found that spot.

“Fuckin’ look at me.” He spat, accompanied with a rough slap to your thigh, and not that it caught you off guard, but it did make your eyes widen right as he would have wanted them to. “Y’look like a real slut.” Ashton smiled, the pace of his thrusts slowing to a rough grind instead of the desperate abandon he had started with.

“God—“ You choked out, cursing under your breath with each tremble of your body. Body language was speaking for you, the quivering of your bottom lip and how even after this command, your eyes fell shut again.

“Go on, yeah… look at that.” He licked his lips, his eyes scanning frantically over your body as your release hit you like a truck. Ashton had the decency to let you ride it out slowly, becoming spent himself and pulling out to make a quick mess of your bare midriff. It was over about as soon as it started, your mind a bit hazy and confused with all of the events whirling around trying to make some sense of itself. The frenzy which had taken over Ashton died down, he carefully helped you to stand but kept a hand on your hip just in case the support of your jelly-like legs wasn’t enough.

“So…” You said softly, voice hoarse with way too much effort. Ashton’s eyes turned soft again, the way you had seen them a few moments ago.

“So.” He chuckled, but you shook your head.

“No, no… that was just one time, wasn’t it?” You asked, but it sounded like you were trying to convince yourself of the words you spoke. Ashton’s face fell a bit, blinking increased as he shrugged his shoulders.

“If you’d like it to be, I mean, that was kinda’ spur of the moment type shit.” Ashton was trying to act as himself, huffing out a laugh which didn’t quite make the cut and instead broke down the nonchalance of his act.

“I’m..” For the first time you were speechless, unsure of your feelings and the internal battle which was currently taking place. His hand was on your hip, but gentle. Gentle and steady, not something you two were used to. “Would you be mad if I said I needed to think?”

You had never seen his face light up so quickly, like there was a bit of childlike hope in his eyes as he nodded. “God no, absolutely not. Take your time, however long you need.” He laughed again, not strained at all.

However, the way that he had responded had you pretty sure that your mind was made already. As well as the way he helped you get dressed, used his own towel from his bag to clean up and walked you out through the back doors of the event to avoid being seen. There was no more thinking to be done, that was not a one-time thing.

[heartbreakgrill]

how you get the girl: calum hood.

1989 (Heartbreak Grill’s Version)

stand there like a ghost, shaking from the rain. she’ll open up the door and say, ‘are you insane?’

“there’s someone here for you!”

i looked up from my computer screen, eyes trailing across the rainy window, pattering softly from the droplets that drenched the glass. my roommate passed my room, lazily shouting the sentence through the open door.

i furrowed my brows. i wasn’t expecting anybody, and i didn’t have any packages that were getting delivered- at least, not until tomorrow.

“who is it?” i shouted down the hall, towards the living room, as i stepped from my room.

“don’t know. some boy,” she replied. the television unpaused and a laughter track interrupted any further conversation we could have.

i turned back towards the front door. a blurry shadow was illuminated through the frosted panes of the door. it was a tall man. part of me worried that this was the moment at the beginning of a horror movie, when girls like me always died.

part of me worried it was someone worse.

i latched a hand around the door knob, cowering in on myself as the brisk wind gushed through the foyer of the apartment. goosebumps nibbled at my skin. i shivered. my hair wafted over my shoulders.

and my eyes focused on the figure looming over my doorstep, their black clothing dripping with water, hair soaked to the scalp.

my jaw slackened, my eyes widened. “what the fuck are you doing here?”

calum let out a heavy sigh, as though he’d been holding his breath since the last time we spoke. my eyes drug over his stormy demeanor, images flashing through my mind of a time i tried so hard not to remember.

“calum,” i insisted, “what are you doing here? what- don’t you have tour? shouldn’t you be in- in mexico right now?”

“i had to see you,” he rushed out.

rain splashed on my bare feet, against the exposed skin on my arms, as the sky continued pouring. i flinched at the cold droplets.

“what…” i couldn’t put together many words right now, but i knew, “you need to come in, you’re gonna get sick!”

i stepped aside, ushering him into the foyer. the carpet dampened under his converse and a puddle started forming on the hardwood. calum shook his hair out, spraying water across my shirt like a dog fresh out of a bath.

i huffed, “um…let me get- a towel. hang on. stay,” i gestured to him like he really was an animal.

he chuckled shortly.

say it’s been a long six months and you were too afraid to tell her what you want.

i ushered calum into my room, shoving a towel into his hands. i lay another one across the floor to clean up his mess. he shed his converse, his jacket, tossing it into my hamper.

“you still have my zeppelin shirt,” he stated, memory clear as a day.

“is that what you came here for?” i crossed my arms, a little defensive at his somewhat rude accusation.

calum dried his curls out with the towel. he chuckled again at my words. “no…i-“ he ran the towel over his face, then pointed at his body, “i’m soaked. you have my shirt.”

“oh!” i straightened up, red in the face at my lack of understanding. “yeah…i…”

i ashamedly dug through my pajama drawer, pulling out the top-big t-shirt that i resisted the urge to wear to sleep sometimes. i turned my body away from calum as he began to take off his shirt, with no warning. but, i could him in the mirror.

my eyes trailed over his body, as sure as my fingertips remember it.

say it’s been a long six months, and you were too afraid to tell her what you want.

calum spoke my name, a sound so sweet, so sacred, that my body wracked with anticipation, with a drawing want for what we had.

i looked back at him, arms uncrossing themselves. “why are you here, calum?” my tone had dropped, a saddened furrow pulling my brows together. “it’s been…six months.”

“i know,” calum stepped towards me, hands shaking before him. he lay them out like a truce. i wanted to grab them, to hit them yet hold them. to curse them and worship their fingertips.

i pressed my own fingers to my forehead, cooling the heat that sprouted there. “what- just please, say something! i don’t hear from you for six months and you just…show up, out of the blue? what’s going on?”

calum fidgeted with the ring on his finger, rolled his lips together. they were nervous habits i’d picked up on in the short time we’d spent together.

flickering memories i’d never seemed to be able to forget.

“i’m sorry,” calum shook his head, as if rejecting his own actions. “im sorry for leaving. im sorry for not saying goodbye. im sorry for…for not telling you…”

and that’s how it works, that’s how you get the girl.

“telling me what?” i could feel frustrated, angry tears welling up in my eyes. i was just so…how could he do this?

how could he come into my life, unexpectedly, make me feel things i’d never known before, then shut the door on a chapter that had gone unfinished?

then, pick back up the book after six months, as though he could just finish me off whenever he so pleased?

“telling me what, calum?” i pressed, taking a step closer.

“telling you that i love you,” he nearly whispered it, as though he was scared of the confession, as though it would shift the entire world.

i blinked.

calum stared back at me, the hood in his eyes flooding over with confusion as the silence lingered on. “i…” he tried to find some new words, tried to fill the blanks, “i love you, y/n. i’ve loved you since i saw you at the bar that night. i- i haven’t been able to forget you, and i-“

“get out.”

calum’s words stalled. his lips sat parted, the unfinished sentences lingering on the tip of his tongue. he ran it over his lips, “what?”

i crossed my arms again, tightening the clutches, as if to hold myself together, to hold myself strong. i wasn’t going to give into this.

“get out. go. leave. go back to mexico and go play your stupid little concert,” my voice was low because i was afraid that if i spoke any louder, i would crack. i’d cry.

i’d tell him that i love him too.

but i just couldn’t.

“what-?” calum went to defend himself, to try to explain the situation.

but, i was shoving his shoulder. i was gathering his shoes, tossing his coat at him, opening the front door. he battled me, weakly, sputtering out useless words, twisting around to face me, though i kept pushing.

“leave me alone.”

remind her how it used to be with pictures in frames of kisses on cheeks.

i locked the door. calum’s shadow lingered on the porch, blackened against the light. i reached a finger up towards the button and shut the porch light off. i heard calum groan.

the tears fell down my cheeks.

i had spent the last six months getting over him.

i had spent hours in therapy, wondering why he had never picked me in the first place, why he had abandoned me like an unwanted path of his life.

i had grieved a relationship that never even got to exist, i had gotten over somebody who i never even had in the first place. i had rebuilt myself, i had redownloaded the dating apps. i was starting over.

i was moving on.

and now he was here and i felt like that naive girl from six months ago.

i went back to my desk. i crossed my legs, balanced my chin on my fist, and stared at my computer screen, blankly. my mind spurred with unwanted thoughts, my heart palpitating with emotions i had been used to not feeling for so long.

i typed out a few words for my essay, hoping it would stimulate the academic side of my brain. maybe if i focused on something else, i could pretend like tonight never even happened.

i continued on my assignment, until i reached a pass. there was a section of the reading that referenced another book. i needed to get it from my closet.

of course, while i was reaching for the textbook, a box, tucked far into the corner of my closet- the corner of my mind- came toppling down onto my head. i helped at the impact, rubbing the minor injury as i reached down for the shoebox.

my brows furrowed at the sight. when it rained, it poured.

i slowly lowered myself to my knees, shaking hands reaching out for the spilled contents of the box. pictures, ticket stubs, receipts, dry flower petals, a pop can tab, candy wrappers, a ring, and a thing of red lipstick.

calum and i, at the state fair, riding the carousel like we were just kids. kissing when we hit the top, and we could see the entire town. us at the diner, two straws for one milkshake, a plate of fries, and a song on the jukebox that we’d dance to every night he stayed over. in the recording studio, on the couch, sprawled out like old friends, listening to ash and luke argue over a single beat of a song, and discovering a pair of lyrics calum had written about me.

concerts, comedy shows, basketball tournaments, high school football games, recitals we had been to.

a print out of a plane ticket to australia for next month, now refunded in my bank account. a promise for a visit that would never come to fruition.

red roses for my birthday, red roses for my grade of an a in a hard class, red roses for a friday night dinner, red roses for a late night visit. red lipstick i’d wear when we went out, just to leave vibrant, still, stuck lip prints on his cheek.

tell her how you must have lost your mind when you left her all alone and never told her why. that’s how you lost the girl.

i gathered the items back into the box with hands that would not stop shaking. it took longer than it should have because i ruminated on every detail. i held every photo like a piece of glass, examining its contents like i could renter the moment and fix things before they broke.

i set the box on my bed, gently sitting down beside it. i didn’t know where to go, what to do. i needed to work things out, i needed to find an answer.

because i loved him, too.

i found myself reaching for my phone, dialing his number. i found myself under an umbrella, headed towards that old diner.

“thanks for meeting me.”

i wrapped my frozen fingers around the steaming cup of coffee, grateful for the radiating warmth. the air conditioning was still sputtering above us and i shivered.

“y-yeah,” i barely nodded, still unsure of what to say.

calum took a sip of his own coffee. he gulped. he licked his lips. he prodded at the ketchup bottle on our table with a stray straw. his eyes trailed over to the colorful machine on the table. “they raised the price of the jukebox.”

i followed his gaze. so they had. it used to be 50¢ per song. now it was $1.00.

“hm,” i remarked, staring at the dollar sign. “strange.”

“you didn’t know?” calum inquired, looking to me with a raised brow.

i shrugged, “i haven’t been here since…”

“july,” he filled in my gap. “it’s been…since july.”

“ah,” i nodded once. “seems like forever ago.”

“i know.”

a thick pass of silence sat stale in the air.

i nursed a few sips of my coffee. if he wanted, then he should talk. i would not be the one figuring this out. i would not beg him to make up for the loss he’d made me grieve.

eventually, he whispered, “i had to go.”

i flicked my eyes up to his before pulling them back down to the table. he dropped his head, chin against his chest, defeated. “i’m sorry. i’ll say it a million times- i’m sorry. i had to go. we- we decided last minute to announce the tour. there was a lot of bullshit we had to handle before starting it. and i, i don’t know…i didn’t want you to get caught up in the drama of it all. i didn’t want the world to get its hands on you…”

“so, you ghost me? you leave with no letter, no text, nothing?” i blinked back a tear. “wow…my knight in shining armor. thanks, calum.”

he huffed at himself, “no…i- listen, please-“

“no,” i denied him, “no, you listen, okay? i devoted myself to you for six months. i centered my whole life on you. i fell in love with you and i- gave you everything. because you were everything to me. and, i fucking waited and waited for you to say something, to tell me you wanted me, to ask me to drop everything and come with you because i would have! i would have gone to the ends of the earth with you because i loved you.

“and you left me,” i quickly brushed away tears as they rushed from my eyes, pattering against the table like the raindrops outside the diner window.

calum didn’t respond. he shuffled in his seat, leaning back, head dropping again.

and you know that i don’t want you to go. and say you want me.

i couldn’t handle it anymore. i’d given him a chance. i’d heard him out. his explanation just wasn’t enough for the heartbreak i’d had to handle.

so, i pushed up out of the booth, tugging my purse strap over my shoulder, my hood over my head. i veered for the door, passing our waitress with a half-hearted, “excuse me.”

i cursed the diner for being so big, for the exit to be on the other side of the building from where our usual table sat. i cursed that friday evening for drawing in so many customers to watch me, mascara blackening my cheeks, snot on my nose, storm like a baby from the restaurant.

just as my hand reached the bar on the door, the jukebox wound to life. the regular radio had been playing from the louder speakers because no one really paid for the old sound machine anymore. it didn’t have any modern songs, and it cost too much, apparently.

a familiar sultry beat came from the rusty speakers. my sneakers squeaked against the linoleum floors. i pushed the strap of my purse further up my shoulder. my heart tugged itself back towards the table, but i grounded the soles of my shoes.

i turned my head, caught his eye. he smiled, sadly. his hand had been cranking the knob on the quarter insert and it slowly dropped to the table. i glanced my eyes over the back of the diner, near the bathrooms, where a space sat for dancing, abandoned by the modern years. i saw two people dancing, consuming one another, lost in the thrill of it all. lost in the music.

and then you say i want you for worse or for better, i would wait forever and ever.

i crossed my arms over my chest and slowly walked back to the table. i slid back into the booth, dropping my purse down beside me.

“why did you leave?” i whispered, that heartbroken disbelief still heavy on my chest.

“i was scared,” calum admitted. he reached a hand across the table.

i leaned back, away from it. “of what?”

“of you,” he let out a breathy laugh. i didn’t smile. calum frowned again, searched for words, “i was scared of what loving you might mean. when we were here to record the album, we got to pretend like we were normal people for a while. i didn’t have to care about the pressure from the fans, staying sober, being a good person. life just came easy and naturally. but, if i left here with your heart in my hands- things would get hard. i wouldn’t be able to keep you distant from my real life. i wouldn’t be able to keep you sacred. nothing would be normal for us ever again.”

i understood it, now. i didn’t like it- i was still angry about it. but it made sense.

he wanted a peaceful love, but life made it so everything was rocky. not even i could prevent the world to taint this.

“i couldn’t…” calum trailed off. he reached out his hand again. “i can’t do it with out you anymore. i don’t care…”

he lost his words. i set a hand upon the table, fingers inching near his. he gratefully pressed his fingertips into mine, opening my palm. i stared at our hands. electricity crackled under my skin.

“i want you and i don’t care about the rest of the world. we’ll deal with it. we’ll figure it out. if it means losing you…these past six months have been hard. i’m sure you know what i mean…”

i nodded with a hopeless chuckle. “yeah, i do.”

broke your heart i’ll put it back together. i would wait forever and ever.

“i struggled with staying sober cause i just…i felt so stupid and worthless. i know i put you through so much pain. i know leaving was wrong and awful and i’ll never forgive myself for not even explaining it. i never want to…i never want to leave you again,” he was crying.

“calum, i…” i took his hand in both mine, “i don’t know. i’m just…you took so much of me with you. i had to learn how to exist without those parts of myself. i had to relearn who i was. i had to grieve her- us. it was so hard- you just left me. but…i don’t know. i need time. i need time to think and…”

“i know, i know, i know,” calum nodded quickly. “no, i know. i don’t expect…i don’t expect any answers. i don’t expect you to confess your feelings for me. i just…i needed to tell you that i love you. i couldn’t go another day without you knowing it. i needed to tell you and…and try to get you back.”

“well,” i glanced up from our hands, meeting his eye with a hopeful smile, “i think you got me.”

and that’s how it works. that’s how you got the girl.

[aussiexlovexaffair]

this is my bf! he's a little dumb but that's just a part of his !! charm !!

[cherrywaves333]

eyes up l.h || blurb

summary: luke can’t keep his eyes to himself during a red carpet interview.

warnings/tags: luke’s a bit of perv in this one, fwb/hidden hookup trope, female reader, i don’t think there’s any others let me know!!

a/n: just a little blurb i wrote in the middle of the night last night. let me know if i should make a taglist for each fandom i’m in or if you’d want to be apart of that!! happy reading <3

y/n had worn a dress to kill. she was on the red carpet before the MTV music awards wearing a floor-length form fitting gown with feathers holding the bodice, specifically extenuating her chest. she had gone with a black swan theme for her first red carpet look. she had dressed to potentially accept an award for best newcomer, an award she had no expectations of winning. the expectation died more and more as she mingled with, in her eyes, much more deserving artists. 

luke posed with the other members of 5 seconds of summer for the paparazzi as they anxiously await the fate of their newest album. his eyes flittered around the crowd, taking in the overwhelming flashing lights, the sound of camera shutter, the noise of the room. 

the band soon found themselves being interviewed before entering the venue right alongside some artists that they’ve met before and some that they haven’t. while most of the band couldn’t see her from this angle, luke had the perfect view of his friend, a special friend, being interviewed right next to them. 

god, luke wished he was in a different position. he rocked back and forth on his feet and glanced around tensely. he couldn’t concentrate on the questions being asked as his latest hookup was standing just feet away with her boobs almost spilling out of her dress, slits on either side of the skirt, back exposed to the cold air. he wondered if she was covered in goosebumps from the kiss of the cold or if they would only appear when his fingertips grazed her skin. 

she glanced past her interviewer for a minute and caught luke’s eye, letting a bashful look grace her face before continuing on with her interviewer. luke’s fate was sealed.

“i need to see you later, please.” 

[princesspae]

lover | calum hood.

calum hood x reader.

summary: calum takes his girl to the eras tour.

calum was always private when it came to his relationships. although he loved and appreciated each and every single one of his adoring fans, he never liked to be bombarded with taking pictures while out with his love. he never wanted to put her in a position to receive heavy amounts of hate just for being with him. when going out, he liked being low-key just for her protection. but tonight, he had high driven anxiety. tonight, he would be taking his beloved girlfriend to the eras tour.

calum knew how much his girlfriend loved taylor swift and her music. he knew it was a dream of hers to see taylor live. so, being the great boyfriend he is, he surprised her with tickets for her birthday and now the day had finally come. calum knew without a doubt that he and his love would be spotted by fans and that made him nervous. he didn’t want anyone to be mean to his girl or give her dirty looks as some had in the past. he just wanted her to enjoy this long awaited night and all he could do was hope for the best.

when the two arrived at the venue, they were lead to an open tent by security. the tent was mainly for celebrities and taylor’s family. calum was more than happy for his girl when she got to take a photo with taylor’s mother who also handed her, her first friendship bracelet of the night. a few minutes later, calum was enjoying drinks with his love and listening to the opening act, gracie abrams, another one of her favorite artists. he noticed how a few fans noticed them and tried coming over to the booth. “calum! I made these for you guys!” a girl yelled.

calum walked over to the fan, keeping a smile on his face. the girl handed him two bracelets. one with his initials and one with his girlfriend’s initials. “these are very nice, thank you so much!” calum smiled. he took a look back, checking on his girl who was simply singing along to the song that gracie was performing. “can i take a photo with the two of you, please?” the girl asked. that simple question made calum smile, it was the first time a fan wanted to take a photo with y/n as well. “of course” he smiled at the fan as he motioned for y/n to come over to him.

he didn’t miss the nervous expression on her face. “oh my god! you’re so gorgeous!!” the fan squealed towards y/n. a smile instantly crept upon her face as she thanked the fan. calum took the photo of them three and handed one of the bracelets to y/n. “that made my entire night, she was so kind” y/n spoke. calum smiled and kissed his love’s forehead. by the time taylor was on stage, y/n had both arms filled with friendship bracelets that fans had given to her. fans were so kind to her, begging for photos with both her and calum.

calum was more than relieved at the positive attention his girl was getting after being given nothing but hate for so long. it was definitely the best night he’s had in a long time. he sang along to songs with his girl, held her as she cried to different songs, danced with her, and carried her back to the car when she was so exhausted. as the two were back home in bed, calum scrolled through his twitter timeline and saw that fans had filmed them holding each other and slow dancing as taylor performed lover.

he smiled at the videos, watching his love look at him with so much admiration and love. slow dancing with him so carefree in a room full of so many people. he looked over at her exhausted figure, holding his hand as she was falling asleep. “i love you, cal” she mumbled before fully falling asleep. oh yeah, he was definitely marrying her.

[bartxnhood]

you don’t go to parties | a.f.i

ashton irwin x fem!reader

summary: ashton wonders why he keeps searching for you at parties. because after all, you don’t go to parties anymore.

warnings: drinking, swearing, just the party scene

w/c: 2.4k

requests open

not proofread

Copyright © 2023 bartxnhood. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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“hey, it’s y/n. sorry, i missed your call. leave a message after the beep. bye!”

“hey, uh, it’s me, just been thinking about everything tonight and i don’t know… i just miss you so much. call me when you can. bye.”

ashton removes the phone from his ear and ends the call, followed by a long, drawn-out sigh as he stares at your contact photo.

you were standing on the harbour bridge with him, kissing his cheek. it was taken on his first tour, when the band was opening for one direction, and he had just asked you to be his girlfriend, to which you of course said yes. he was your best friend and the person you had fallen in love with years before.

you've been by his side since the beginning of the band till today. you helped him throughout his most difficult times, and he did the same for you. at one point you considered him your soulmate and imagined spending the rest of your life by his side.

that was, until the parties.

it wasn't horrible at first. you'd join him at a few parties here and there. it was fun at first but then things got out of hand. ashton would party practically every night, and the parties eventually moved to his house, where you also lived. and it was well into the morning before the nights ended. so, you'd just hide out in your bedroom or at a friend's house.

it was exhausting. you could never get anything done because your house was always filled with strangers. and you couldn’t talk to ashton about it because he was always hungover and told you he’d talk to you later.

eventually, it got to the point where you just couldn’t take it anymore. so, you left him.

ashton was a disaster. every night, he'd be out partying or at a bar, hoping to drown out the haunting thoughts of you.

his partying addiction had gotten worse since you left. he couldn't even remember what he done the previous week since he had been partying so hard that it was killing him.

sometimes he’d call you when he was blackout drunk, professing undying love for you and how he regrets everything. other nights, when he isn’t so drunk, he’d still call you and apologize for the drunk calls.

he was spiraling down a deep dark alley, and if he didn’t fix himself now, he’d never see the light again.

ashton didn’t know why he continued to party and drink so much. but, he continued without thinking about the consequences. even if he knew how bad he was while under the influence.

some nights were worse than others.

one night it got very out of hand.

it was nearing five in the morning and ashton had one too many like he usually does but tonight was different. he was angry. angry at himself for letting you slip from his hands, angry he treated you like gum on the bottom of his shoe when instead of the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

ashton sat on his sofa staring at the wall with a red solo cup in hand, occasionally looking towards the door hoping you’d walk through and come back to him. but of course, you never did, and you wouldn’t because you don’t go to parties anymore.

luke sat with his head hung, rubbing his temples. “ashton, you’ve had too much. cmon man. just go to bed and we will clean up. it’s almost five a.m”

but ashton doesn’t say anything, he just sits there and down the rest of the liquid in his cup before tossing it to the floor

“yeah, no wonder y/n left you.” ashton hears michael say under his breath which was just enough to send ashton over the edge.

now it was getting out of hand, ashton was screaming his lungs out at michael while he just stood there with his hands up, signaling he didn’t want to fight ashton.

finally luke called the one person he knew who would help. you.

“hey, y/n, i’m sorry it’s so late…well early but ash is drunk, very drunk. can you come get him? he’s causing a scene.”

"what? oh, christ. yeah, I'll be there in ten," you said as you jumped out of bed, grabbed the nearest sweater and sweatpants, and ran out of your apartment.

your heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. the drive was a blur, trying to get there as quickly as possible in order to avoid another fight.

you knew most people would never do this for their ex, but you still loved him. you were still madly in love with him at the time. you listen to every message he's ever left on your phone.

your inbox was overflowing with them.

you heard every sincere confession, every drunken apology, and every sober apology.

of course, you still had feelings for him.

you never stopped.

“thank you for coming.” luke swung the door open letting you slip inside, then walked through the trashed house. “he’s in the living room” you looked through the kitchen archway to see where luke was pointing, and then you saw him.

you pushed the door open and walked across smashed cans and cups to his side. "ashton?" your voice was soft, as if you were unsure how he would react to your sudden appearance. maybe he'll lash out at you, or he'll remain mute and go away.

he raised his head, his gaze meeting yours. ashton comes to a halt from whatever nonsense he was doing, which was probably another drunken rage. was this really happening? he asks, as he stares at you in bewilderment. are you standing directly in front of him? was he dreaming?

"y/n?" he calls your name, and you question, "ash, what's going on?" and his eyes glaze over merely hearing your concern.he only blinks in response, trying to figure out the situation.

he can't believe you're at his party after swearing them off, and it's for HIM. not anywhere else but his house. he says "y/n" a few times before wrapping his arms around your stomach and tightening his grip. he couldn't let you go away again.

you just let it happen and hug him back as he sits on the sofa, saying, "hey, I'm here, it'll be okay" and attempting to calm him down. despite your best attempts, he pulls away, taking everything in.

you noticed luke about to say something, so you put your hand out to stop him, silently shaking your head.

you knew ashton was in pain, so you took him upstairs. "hey why don't we get you upstairs and into bed?" you gently held his arm, which calmed him down. he allowed you to take him upstairs and away from the party. you pull over to chat to one of the boys on the way, saying that you're going to take him to bed.

"I appreciate you calling. I'll get him settled and then return to assist you with the cleanup." you say to luke before leaving.

you help him upstairs, doing your best to keep him upright. as you led ashton to the bed, he was babbling incomprehensible words. and after completing your normal cleaning and care for him, you took a step back. anxiety and confusion consume your body. thank goodness, his luke called you.

You've read the articles about his constant parties and the drunken scenes he created. he was a mess. but it was how he was dealing with the break up. you, on the other hand, have stayed home every night, watching sad movies, weeping yourself to sleep most nights, losing your appetite, and creating excuses not to see sierra or crystal. Isolation was your only option for coping.

you begin to rub the bridge of your nose as you stand by the side of the bed, looking down at ashton, who was in and out of consciousness. your heart was beating, and you were at a loss for what to do. when ashton opens his eyes and sees this, he becomes upset once more. he’s sorry you had to go to another party for him, and he rubs his eyes before saying, "you shouldn't have come." "y’hate parties." "i had to," you say, dropping your hands. "i was worried." he could see it in your eyes that you were sincere. "you're scaring me, ash" you took a pause to attempt to calm yourself as tears began to pool in your eyes.

you try to get him to bed without confessing anything or saying anything you don't genuinely mean, knowing he's incredibly inebriated and emotional. "scaring you?" he took a deep breath as he watched you toss his shoes to the floor. "yes. you’re killing yourself. i’m not going to sit by and let you do that." maybe you were getting a little emotional right now, so you looked away to gather your thoughts and finish getting him ready for bed. if he chooses to sleep.

you left the room once he was settled for a bottle of water. he probably won't know you're gone. only luke and calum remained, clearing up the garbage from the party. they all glanced up at you, waiting for news, but you just shook your head and said nothing.

you returned, half-opening the bottle and placing it next to the bed. ashton is staring at you in awe. "you're always the one taking care of me and i never deserved it," he says. “you deserved so much better than me." you didn't let the fact that he was incredibly intoxicated and emotional get to you.

you lower your head, nibbling on the inside of your cheek. don’t let him hurt you like this, y/n. you kept thinking to yourself, he was intoxicated and didn't mean anything. you get up to leave, eager to go home and cry into your pillow about how much he misses you. he reached for your hand, carefully gripping it, and said, "stay with me." you freeze, tilt your head, and appear torn, so he adds "please? just tonight." while staring into your eyes, desperate.

so, you stayed. laying on the opposite side of ashton, you heard his breath steady assuming he was finally going to sleep. until you heard “i love you.” you had only hoped that if you were still he’d leave it alone and would just go to sleep. but he continued. “when i left that morning, i didn’t stop. i never did. you’re my whole world, and i hate the person i’ve become. i wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, but i screwed it up.” your heart was racing, picking at your nails you felt him shuffle next to you. “you were the best thing i’ve ever had and i let you go. ‘m sorry. you can hate me. i understand.” you waited a bit, but that was the last thing he said for the night.

you ended up leaving before he woke up because it was now daylight and you didn't want to be there when he did. you stood above him before leaving, and he looked so calm. naturally, you bowed down and kissed his brow softly before exiting the room. so, you were gone by eight a.m. you had a minor breakdown on the drive home, knowing that the love is still there, and seeing him so vulnerable makes your heart ache. but you kept reminding yourself that he was drunk. he most likely didn't mean half of what he stated.

right?

you had just finished your meeting the next day and were standing in your kitchen preparing a cup of coffee when you were stopped by a rhythmic knock. you walked over leaving the cup on your counter. as you answered the door, you saw ashton.

“hey.” he said, stuffing his hands into his jacket. you stepped back, then saying “why are you here?” ashton looked around, spitting a few framed pictures of the two of you which he thought was odd. he thought you hated him. he shrugged, “i just wanted to thank you for last night, and everything.” you sighed, “come in” you stepped to the side and let him enter, then closed the door behind him. “do you want some coffee?” he sat down on the sofa.

“sure.” he answered, looking around the room. you came back with a black mug and handed it to him, and took your seat across from him.

there was a moment of silence, the two of you would steal glances at each other but didn’t want to say anything, wondering how to approach the conversation waiting to be held.

his comment was abrupt. “i meant what i said, you know.” you looked up from your coffee, to meet with his eyes already looking at you. “what?” you blinked, placing the mug on the table. “last night. everything, i meant it. from me still loving you, to wanting to spend the rest of my life with you. i meant every word.” he was being sincere, he held eye contact as he spoke and didn’t break it once.

truthfully, you didn’t know what to say. the situation wasn’t ideal, and to be honest with yourself, you knew you still loved him. “ashton..” you finally spoke, followed by a long sigh and dropping your head into your hands.

“then why do you continue to do this? you’re drinking yourself to death, ash. how can i trust that you won’t do it all over again, even if i want to work this out?” ashton stands up from his spot and moves in front of you, on his knees as he holds your hands. "i get drunk to forget the color of your eyes and the way your hair falls and how soft your skin is and the way your smile makes me feel; but it seems like the alcohol can't change my memory of you." he had been waiting to tell you this for the longest, “i do it because it’s the only way i know how to cope and i know it isn’t the best way, but it’s all i know.”

ashton runs his thumb over your knuckles. you look down at his calloused hands feeling your lip quiver “and if that isn’t enough just tell me, and i’ll leave for good.”

you shake your head letting the tears fall, “ash..i just want you to stop..all this drinking isn’t good for you, i can’t just let that happen.” you say, and he nods. “i know, i know.” he hushes your tears, raising up to hug you. “i’ll do better, i promise.” he says into your hair while wiping your tears.

“how can i trust you?” you ask

“because, i love you. and i’ll be damned if i lose you again.”