#5 seconds of summer blurb

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Hi there...I understand you're taking requests 👀. Could I please get an Ashton Irwin x reader friends to lovers? Maybe he confesses his feelings to reader who feels the same but doesn't think they should be together because he has to go on tour (distance). But they end up together with some smut. I hope you can write this one, if not I understand. Thanks so much 😊

Hi, thanks for dropping a request. I hope you enjoy it doesn't get steamy, if I'm honest. I hope that's okay. If it's a problem, please let me know!

Requests are open briefly until the 24th. Any NSFW content (smut, etc) must be requested off anon to ensure no minors (those 17 and below) are requesting the content.

Feel free to look through my masterlist for more. You can submit a request through my asks.

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It’s a tradition, one that you’d personally be damned in trying to pinpoint when it had grown into such. But lack of clarity on its inception doesn’t undermine the tradition that brings you here, two nights before the tour sitting across from Ashton. He’s giggling at his own story, napkin clutched into one of his hands. Your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing at it as well. You and Ashton are always here two nights before any tour with dinner. Whether he cooks, or you cook, or you eat out--it doesn’t matter. The two of you make sure to set time aside for each other regardless. 

“I’m so serious,” Ashton giggles. “Guy straight up offered fifty bucks for the t-shirt I was literally wearing. Right off my back.”

“The real question,” you start, setting your bottle down after your sip, “is did you actually give this rando your shirt off your back for fifty bucks?”

Ashton’s smile changes, the bright honey curve of his lips morphs into something softer and more mischievous. “I got a good lunch afterwards though.”

“Ashton!” you scold, tufts of laughter bubbling from your chest. You know the possibility always exists with Ashton. It would be hard to imagine that he wouldn’t do something just for the story of it. 

“I didn’t take the cash! But he treated me to lunch, since I did sort of give him the shirt off my back.”

“You didn’t sort of do anything,” you huff, finishing off the last pieces of your food. Ashton’s plate sits with just another bite or two of the pasta. Somehow the food’s gone faster than you two have even calculated for, but that won’t stop you. With the settling evening, Ashton’s backyard is a comfortable solace, a nice place to rest for a little. 

“Guilty as charged,” Ashton returns. He scrapes up the last of his food as the conversation lulls for a moment. He watches though, the way you stare up and behind him, like your mind’s taken you to places behind the court of his house. “But how’s work? For you?” 

You’d asked Ashton how his life was going and it sent him spiraling. He can go a mile a minute but he’s never far from always checking in on you. You shrug at Ashton’s question. Your life has fallen a little mundane though your work is anything but. 

You’d fallen into Ashton’s world when he frequented the record shop you worked out in the last year of your master’s program. You needed the cash on the side. Though the days were long between school, work, and homework, you found a little slice of quiet in that shop. It was a local gem, hidden in the debris of a crumbling shopping center. But locals knew the record shop well and would take the hike to unearth the treasure. 

Ashton was one of those locals. He spotted you as you placed prices on new arrivals and asked if anything specific came in worth looking for. You shrugged in response, but lifted out some limited edition vinyls with a yawn. You’re not sure what joke you made specifically, but it was enough. Ashton laughed like his life depended on it and more and more he came into the shop. You two exchanged names, then numbers, growing closer and closer as time passed. In just a year, you could tell that Ashton was going to be someone important in your life. You’d never imagine the scale, and still can’t. But you told yourself even if Ashton was there for a season it would be spring and bring forth all sorts of new life. 

Now, you’re four and half years into your friendship and it still grows and grows. You’ve left the record shop, settling into talent management and running in leagues adjacent to Ashton’s. It’s not the most glamorous job on the planet, but it pays the bills. The only downside to the field is that drama from others becomes your drama just by association. You have to get in the dirt sometimes as much as you definitely didn’t want to. And Ashton knows how much you dislike some of the aspects of your job. 

“Is that a shrug that means same old, same old? Or is that a shrug that means big shit?” Ashton questions. “I’d hazard a guess closer to the latter.”

“You win another year of friendship,” you laugh, finally focusing your gaze back on Ashton. His honey eyes are melting with concern as he gazes up at you. It makes your stomach flutter and you hate the feeling. Hate that the two of you were always dancing. 

“I wasn’t worried for a second about that. You’re stuck with me. It’s in the contract.”

“I signed no such thing,” you tease. “I need to see that one.”

“It’s written in invisible ink,” Ashton snorts. “But seriously, what’s wrong? Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s just a mess.” You’re not supposed to get into specifics, but it’s never once stopped you when it came to Ashton. “It’s sensitive information really and not something I want to spread around even if it’s to safe ears.”

Ashton nods. “I’m sure you see and hear a lot of shit.” He knows you’re working specifically with someone up and coming. They’re young and if Ashton knows anything from his younger years, it’s that trouble comes with freedom and excitement. Some mistakes though just need to be learned the hard way. So Ashton assumes it’s something big for you to even keep it quiet. 

“Too much shit. We’re talking with lawyers,” you divulge. 

Ashton whistles. He’s no stranger to lawyers but he knows that when they get into the mix it gets messy fast. But they aren’t there for no reason, no little reason that is. “Fuck. Is this like…criminal?”

You shake your head. “It’s technically a civil matter but it could easily get criminal with my client’s hothead.”

“You’ve mentioned that before,” Ashton comments. Once before the two of you were catching up over lunch and your phone rang. Not the first time Ashton’s been inside a police station but it is the first time he’s been in one where he thought a crime might happen right next to an officer. To say he thought you could spit fire that day is not eloquent enough for your rage. “Well, I hope it doesn't get criminal. I know it’s gotta be a nightmare for you though. You’ve only been working with them for what? 6 months?”

“Eight,” you correct, “but it’s not long enough to be dealing with lawyers on a first name basis.”

Ashton reclines into his seat, arms folded over his chest. You rest your cheek against the flat of your knuckles, elbows resting on the table. Though you’re smiling, Ashton knows just how unamused you are at the situation. “How long have you been dealing with this situation?”

“Two months? Maybe a little less, but like we’re about to get the two month mark.”

“God damn.” 

You can only nod, a hum leaving your throat. “Yeah, but that’s boring and a buzzkill.” 

Ashton doesn’t miss the way you spin the bottle of alcohol free beer in a circle. He laughs but nods. “Fine, fine. Want another?”

“No, no, I’m good. You excited for this tour?” Ashton hadn’t talked it about in the same way he had the others. He adored what he was doing. He spoke passionately about the tour. But you were fuzzy on some details. Normally, he was brimming with every twist and turn the tour had. He’d trip over himself to tell you. You hate to think it was somehow a sign--that maybe Ashton’s retracting. 

Ashton’s nod is fast and hard. You watch him, eyes dropping from you to the green glass bottle in his hands. “I’m very excited. But I don’t want to spoil it,” he offers. It’s soft and you think that the words are somehow going to crumble onto his lap. 

“What do you mean spoil it?” you question. You don’t want to start pointing fingers and claiming that he’s not telling you things like before. You don’t want Ashton to go onto the defense. 

“I-it’s so silly,” he laughs. 

“No, I’m sure it’s not silly,” you offer. 

“But it is. I just-I kind of want you just to see it without me telling you anything about it beforehand. I know I normally tell you everything but this time I just want this to be a surprise.”

“Want me to go in blind, Irwin? Trying to give me a heart attack? I’m supposed to have insider knowledge, you know?”

He smiles again. For that, you’re grateful. “No, you do. I’m sure you have more than enough insider knowledge. I just--” His words fall short. He loves telling you everything. God, Ashton loves sharing his world with you. It makes him smile to see you smile. He wants to be there, when he can be, for you. When he can’t be, he wants to know that he’s still one of the first people you call even through the distance. And he does know it. When you got offered a position with the management company, you called Ashton mere minutes after the email came through. When Ashton nailed a drumline, he’d ensure you got to hear the initial take or two. 

But there’s something different about this--he wants to watch you when everything comes unraveled. It’s unlike anything else they’ve done. He wants the show to keep some of its magic. That and he wants to keep an excuse to see you again. You visit during the hometown shown normally and you still plan to this time. But he’s hoping to convince you to visit at least one other show too. Because no two shows are exactly alike. 

“Are you sure you can only make it to the LA show?” Ashton questions, finally looking up at you. 

You pause, nails picking at the label and the label scrunches just a little with your work. “I might be in Dallas too.”

“Really? You mean that, no bullshit?”

You shrug, your own lips failing to hold back your smile. Ashton catches on though and pushes up in his seat. His plate scratches over the top of the table as his forearms move it to the side. Your skin warms. It’s not embarrassment, it’s not even fear or shyness. You just feel alive in a way that only Ashton seems to make possible. You hold up your hands to slow his roll before it’s begun. “I’m supposed to be working the night before but I extended my stay by a couple days.”

“I’ll take it. I’ll take it easily.” Ashton reaches for your hands. Your palms are softer to the touch and it’s not lost on Ashton how the hairs on his arm stand up at your touch--electric in ways that he’s sure he can’t be alone in. When he looks up through his lashes, your gaze is dropped down to your intertwined fingers. Your fingers stroke gently over the top of his hands, over his knuckles. 

“You’re such a sap,” you tease softly. 

“I’ll have you know that I don’t care,” Ashton hums. His bones are melting at your touch. 

“You all packed up yet?” Ashton’s not necessarily a last minute packer, but he does occasionally cut it down to the wire. More than one of your pre-tour dinners has ended with Ashton needing to pack up his suitcase. It almost feels like it wouldn’t be a tradition without that fact. 

Ashton shakes his head, tracing the veins on the top of your hands now. It’s a dance, your hands trading who leads and who waits. “Stylist got the show outfits last week. Everything else is sitting around the suitcase waiting for your magic touch.”

“Oh, c’mon,” you laugh. “You taught me how to pack!”

“And I must say I may be one heck of a teacher, but I swear I almost miss something without you.” He pouts at you, lower lip rolling out. 

You roll your eyes but tap at Ashton’s forearms. “You clean up the dishes and get me another beer and I’ll get started.” You’d cooked over at Ashton’s place. Your apartment doesn't have the appropriate kitchen space and you hate how cramped it can feel, so Ashton offered up his place. 

Ashton squeezes at your forearms in response, “Thank you. Dishes will be squeaky clean.” 

It’s all the two of you need before you push away from the table, plates and bottles in hand, and carry on back inside of the house. The floors are cool against your feet and the house echoes in a way that lets you know all is silent. Ashton most often keeps music playing, saying it makes the place feel lived in. You’re not sure how it can’t feel lived in. Ashton’s couch is covered in blankets, walls lined with plaques and photographs. The living room is a bit echoey as it opens up into the kitchen more directly, but there’s plenty of life, if anyone was to ask you.

You set your dishes on the counter next to the sink, listening to the click of the ceramic meeting the marble. “One of these days you’re going to have to pack yourself,” you tease. 

Ashton closes the door to the fridge with his hip, holding two bottles in hand. “Don’t you dare say that. You’ll always be my pack checker.” He wants to say more, wants to say the reason you’ll always be there is because you’ll be with him. Forever might be a scary concept, but he wants to see what that could look like with you. Though if Ashton puts anything more than friends out there and you shoot him down, it’ll shatter him. 

He’d recover, he knows. But it’s selfish. He’d rather not have to lose you or hurt himself like that. 

“Hmm, my tax might get higher,” you tease, sliding the bottle opener off the counter. 

“I’d pay it in a heartbeat,” Ashton huffs. And as the two of you get closer, you reaching for the bottle, Ashton wishes he’d just be more direct. He really ought too. He wants to tell you but also worries that it might break everything. 

You work loose the top to both bottles. “That’s a lot of game, Irwin. Let’s see if you can back it up.” 

“Promise, I can.”

Only a hum leaves your throat before your sip pauses you. “I’ll be upstairs packing your suitcase.”

“Thank you!” he calls out as you push towards the stairs. 

“Yeah, yeah, just pay up, Irwin.”

Ashton watches your exit, the stairs taking you further and further from sight. It feels like it’s bubbling up his chest. All the words he’s held onto for years. But if he’s going to be honest, this might be the most selfish thing he’s going to embark on.

You sigh as you enter Ashton’s bedroom. His closet door is open, suitcase splayed on the floor. Inside of the case, you can see his toiletry bag, clothes stacked neatly inside and a couple pairs of shoes on the floor outside the cas. You assume this is all the stuff he’s taking with him on tour. It’s a scene you're familiar with, having grown fond of the ritual as well.

You can’t shake the soft echo of Ashton’s voice earlier, I’ll take it. 

It’s eating away at your tongue. What will Ashton take? It certainly couldn’t be just one extra show you’d catch. It certainly wasn’t that. But there was something desperate and earnest in his voice. You think it might mean more. You want it to mean more. The crush on Ashton started slow, so slow you almost can’t pinpoint when it surfaced. But you know it had surfaced. 

You longed for his touch and when he was around, you felt like everything made sense. Even if it didn’t actually make sense, there’s a sense of comfort in his presence that slows your racing mind. You don’t have butterflies, but it’s a warm feeling buzzing beneath your skin. A kind of calm that cuts through the noise. 

Ashton could have his pick of whomever. It’s a fact made possible by his occupation and his good looks help too. Yet, you’ve noticed a decreasing lack of conversation surrounding relationships. You weren’t sure if he was looking less for them or if he was just keeping that information from you out of respect. You never hated that he talked about other women. You’d sort of grown accustomed to that topic, having talked Ashton off many ledges about love in the midst of drama, familial trauma with relationships, and his own stubbornness. 

You’re not less of a suspect about the topic either. You stopped talking so much about your own love life with Ashton as well. Part of it due to its slow death. With work and your crush on Ashton you sort of resigned yourself to a state of limbo--temporarily at least. You know you can’t linger on this crush and unknown forever. But you hadn’t been so bold as to bring it up before. 

Perhaps, it was time to breach that line again. 

The clack of Ashton’s slippers on his floors lets you know he’s moving up the stairs and closer to the bedroom. You keep your focus on the tuck of his jeans into the bottom of the suitcase. Your heart races though, the closer and closer Ashton gets. 

Would you really bring up this conversation now? Two days before tour? It was beyond shitty timing. Yet, opportunity feels like it’s slipping through your fingers if you don’t make a move now. Like if you don’t say something now you won’t say something ever. You’ll resign yourself to swallowing back down everything you’ve been brewing over in the ten minutes you’ve had apart from Ashton. 

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” Ashton teases, slipping out of his house shoes. His descent beside you on the floor is a little slow and he groans just a hair as he gets down. 

“Bad knees,” you return with a laugh, taking a shirt from the pile to fold and roll. 

“You’re a fucking comedian,” Ashton huffs. He takes another one of his shirts and is acutely aware that he should probably handle his undergarments to spare you. 

It falls quiet around the two of you. You’re focused now on folding, rolling, tucking into luggage. You run your fingers over the items. “Got enough bottoms? I’m not sure how often you’ll be near a washer and dryer.”

“We find ways,” Ashton laughs. “Also I’m counting the pants I’m wearing on the first flight,  so yeah, I’m good.”

“PJ’s?”

“A couple sets to swap out,” Ashton answers, lifting up to display some shorts and t-shirts beneath his normal attire. 

“Space for souvenirs?”

Ashton laughs. “Take me for a rookie, baby?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” It falls quiet again. The scruff’s grown thicker and now might be enough to constitute a beard. “Going to let the beard grow out or shave it?”

Ashton shrugs. “I’ve got some shaving stuff packed just in case I choose otherwise. It’ll only need a couple days to grow back,” he laughs. 

Now, as the two of you lock gazes, you see something swimming in Ashton’s eyes. His brows are pulled together. “Everything okay?” you ask. Though the two of you are separated by a suitcase, you still inch closer. 

“Can-can I ask you something?”

You nod. “Anything.” And it’s so easy to say that. Because you mean it. Ashton can ask you anything and you’ll answer it. But you’re not even thinking what that might mean to someone else until Ashton’s stumbling over his own words. A man normally so confident, worrying his lips over and over with his teeth. 

“I just--I know we’ve been friends for a while and with the tour coming up so soon, I’m not sure this is even fair to ask now.” Ashton pauses. He wants to take the knot of your brows as rejection but he watches for a moment longer and the pieces are clicking. Your eyes narrow, then widen like the bulb might’ve just gone off even before he’s gotten all the words out. “I don’t-I don’t want to ruin anything! I just need to ask.”

The possibility you hadn’t fully wanted to let yourself consider seems to be crash landing into your lip. If you’d conjured up this moment, you were afraid that you’d give it too much weight and care about it a bit too much. You worried that if you did open the door it would slam close, so you let yourself just think, but never dream. 

“Ashton, I’m going to ask this because I just need it explicit. What are you asking?”

A beat. Then two. 

Ashton moves the suitcase top up and over to shut the half packed suitcase close. He moves closer to you, taking your hands. “I want to ask if I should ask for a romantic relationship with you if the answer might be yes? I-I know we have a lot to work out and I’m gone for 4 months in two days. But, god, I had to ask. I have to ask.”

There’s a lot of unknowns. It’s jumping off the deep end. But the things you do know is that you and Ashton have had years. That surely had to count for something. “It-it could be.” The words make your own teeth chatter for a second. Your guts hurt at the thought that you might even be inching closer to something. 

Ashton’s palm is large--it swallows your cheek as he brings your face up closer. Your foreheads brush and you can smell the garlic from your food and the subsequent mint you’re sure Ashton snuck on the way up here. 

His smile radiates over his entire face. You can feel the heat of it ghosting over your face and you smile too. “It could be?”

“It could be. I like you. A lot. You make me feel safe. But you’re leaving so soon and I don’t know if right now I can say anything definitely.”

Ashton’s lips brush over the tip of your nose. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t ask anything sooner. But please know I’m happy at the possibility. We’ll talk. I promise.”

As Ashton draws back, you surge forward, locking him in with a hand on the back of his neck. Ashton had asked but still you need the words. “Promise me we’ll talk at least weekly while you’re on tour? Promise me that there’s a possibility back?”

“I promise there’s a possibility. I mean, more than that too. But it’s--it’s not something you just waltz into. We’ll talk. Weekly at the absolutely least.”

Ashton swears his chest is going to burst when you kiss the tip of his nose. His fingers curl and he wants to do nothing more than to take your waist into his hands, kiss you until his lungs burn. But he won’t do that. The two of you had only promised an exploration, something to talk about more in depth, nothing full fledged. Ashton can’t lie that he doesn’t take that promise to bed like treasure. He can’t lie that he doesn’t lets it bury into his chest. He can’t lie that his dreams don’t water that hope. 

He can’t lie that when he wakes to a text from you, Take care of yourself today, with a red heart instead of the pink ones that something ike joy, or maybe just a stronger hope, blossoms.

Your phone shakes and you pull the glasses off your face with a huff. You’d been buried into your laptop trying to read over the headlines about your client and you already know it’s going to be a mess, yet this is all you have just a mess. 

Ashton’s name greets you on the screen and your bubble of frustration shrinks. “Long time, no see, stranger,” you tease, taking in the shaky and choppy picture of Ashton. 

“Hey, stranger,” he teases. You can tell by the way his hair sticks to his forehead he’s recently either gotten down with a show. “What’s it like on the west coast?” he asks. 

“Sunny and on the verge of collapse.”

“Verge of collapse? Your client?” Ashton questions. 

“Isn’t it always? I’ll figure it out, I know. Just buried right now in tabloid bullshit. How was the show over there? How’s the east coast?”

“It’s a little cloudy. Heard some stuff about potential hurricanes. I’ll be glad to be further west next week.”

You nod, scotting down a little in your chair. “This time of year is hurricane season. Must be an active year though if you’re catching wind of it.”

“Our tour manager said the same thing. We’ll be getting out just in the knick of time. Just worried about the folks who live out here. Hurricanes don’t sound fun.”

You shake your head. “Mother Nature is always to be feared--fires to hurricanes.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“How are the shows though?” you ask, knowing that you may not get all the time you want with Ashton on the phone so you try to get the best of it you can. 

“They’re fucking phenomenal. Amazing. Not quite the same as when you’re around, but they’re going really well.”

“And you’re taking care of yourself? If I ever get another text from you about being in a fucking hospital, I swear to God.”

Ashton laughs, a kind of laugh that you know is a bit uncomfortable, but he’s hearing you. “No, no, you won’t. Promise.”

“Good, I do not need a repeat.”

“No repeats. But question, is one of your dream dates still to get dressed up to go visit a museum?”

You give a pause, trying to assess with the somewhat clear picture of Ashton on your phone. You know you’d briefly mentioned it once, maybe twice. But you didn’t think it was enough for Ashton to still carry around the knowledge. You nod though at the question. “It is.”

“Why’d you say it like that? Are you getting suspicious of me?” Ashton teases. 

“Maybe just a little. Can I ask why you’re asking?”

“If you must know,” Ashton starts, accent morphing into an almost decent English accent, “I am attempting to court you. Dates are a part of such activities.”

Your laughter falls easily, cheeks heating at the thought. “You do not have to say it like that,” you huff with a smile. “Is your dream date still a picnic and painting?”

“And if it is?” Ashton questions, a bit of a tease lilting his voice. 

“Then I’m buying paints, good sir. As simple as that.”

“I can’t argue with that. Okay, two good things about your day? Yeah?” It’s a thing--whenever you talk to Ashton now you two share two good things about your day. It’s a nice way to break up the conversation, spin the frustration of the day into something positive. You recline into the cushion of your couch contemplating your day. After you share the good things you ask Ashton about his. Of course he mentions the show. 

Conversation winds through dreams--literal and things about that you want out of life. It’s nice to just let the conversation go where it wants. Ashton mentions being inspired on tour for new scents for his candle company and you let that take you to conversations about the smells of your childhood home. Ashton teases that he’ll have to make that another scent. When you ask about the smells of Ashton’s childhood, you notice he gets a little quiet. It’s a slow answer and when it comes, you listen to all the weight he gives the words. 

“Mum--she did the best she could you know. I think if I had to describe the smell of my childhood home it’d be a bit of vanilla, grass because god the house was always brimming with our ruckus.”

“Grass after it rains is a nice smell,” you offer after Ashton’s bout of silence. “We don’t have to push it. I appreciate you sharing what you did.”

“No, no, I don’t mind. Just hard sometimes.”

“I get it. It can be hard sometimes. But I appreciate you listening. It means a lot, you know? That you’re willing to let me work through it at my own pace.”

“Life’s hard enough,” you concede. “No need for me to make it harder.”

“But we have Dallas to look forward too.”

You nod. “Yes, we do have Dallas. I’m excited.”

“Good, me too.” Voices echo from further down and Ashton bids his goodbyes, sad and quiet but you ensure to send a message as follow up, I’m here, when you need to call or text or vent. Got plenty of space. You attach a picture of your bed you splayed across the queen sized mattress. 

Ashton’s response comes about twenty minutes later, God, that looks comfy as hell. Thank you. A red heart is attached too. 

Ashton’s not one to freak--he’s done plenty of it on his own and knows it’ll get him nowhere. But the night before the Dallas show, his phone shakes. Your name lights up across the screen. He thinks it’s just about tomorrow. Maybe an inner monologue about you trying to decide what to wear. But when the message starts with, I’m so sorry, Ashton knows it’s bad. 

He doesn't even read the full thing, pushes back from the bar counter and presses to call your number. It rings, and rings, and rings in his ear. “Please pick up,” he mutters to himself. 

“Hi, I’m sorry I can’t answer the phone right now. Please leave a message with your name and number and I’ll be sure to return your call,” your voicemail greets Ashton. 

He listens for the beep before speaking, “Hey, it’s me, Ashton. I-I admittedly only read like two percent of your text, but I wanted to call, to see if everything is okay. Please give me a call back when you can. Please. I’m worried.”

There’s so much more to say but Ashton can’t get his tongue to cooperate so he leaves it at that and hangs up. Pushing the hair off his forehead with one hand, Ashton swipes back to your text. I’m so sorry about this. Currently at the ER and will probably be on crutches tomorrow thanks to an ill placed step on some gravel. I’ll be sure to update you and call as soon as I know for certain. 

You’re hurt, but not terribly so and that’s a win. It’s not enough to quiet the thunder of Ashton’s heart. What had you done? Where had you been? He can only think to type out, Which hospital are you at? Are you going to be okay?

“Hey, Ash, everything alright?” Calum asks. His voice is soft as his question falls. Ashton’s not sure how he even catches Calum speaking if he’s honest, even as he gives a head shake no to the question. “What happened?”

“Just-I need them to text me back. Figure out how far the hospital is from here. I can think then.”

“Yeah, of course. But it sounds bad? Who’s hurt? When you get the name, I’ll see how quick we can get an Uber.”

Panic does no one any good, but Ashton’s not going to talk himself off the ledge of panic when it comes to you. He waits and waits and Calum waits with him, finally getting the pieces of your text in relation to a potential fall. The two men hover in the lobby of the hotel, drinks long forgotten by now. Though Ashton felt the waning of adrenaline leaving his body from the show just a couple hours before, he feels wired. He watches and watches his screen for it to only come alive by the shake of his hands. 

I’m sure you just got done with the houston show and would probably prefer some rest. It’s a pretty bad sprain, I’ll be okay, reads the text after a long 45 minutes. 

His fingers shake and he nearly can’t get a steady enough press to dial your number. The phone rings--once, then twice. Your voice is the sweetest sound he could ever hear as it floats in through the receiver, “Hi, Ashton. I’m sorry to give you such a scare, I know.”

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Nasty fall. Really bad sprain. It’ll be annoying for the next couple of days. But I’m not dead.”

“Which hospital are you at?”

“Uh, Baylor something or another. I’m getting discharged now actually. I thought I’d be able to call after the initial run of test but they diagnosed it fast. And a lot sort of happened before I could get my hands on the phone again.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay. Do you have someone that can get you back to your hotel safely?” He needs that answer to be yes. He’s not sure where you are though and that’s the thing that’s killing him. Ashton does have the name of the hotel you’re staying at, as you shared your itinerary with him earlier in the week to see if you’d be at the same hotel. Your hotel is about 10 minutes or so from his. Happenstance you both knew but right now it feels like a godsend. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got someone that can drive me.”

“I’m going to meet you there okay?” You start to protest but Ashton’s quicker. “I know you probably don’t need me. But please, just let me get eyes on you so I know you’re not going to keel over, okay?”

You sigh. “Fine, Irwin. But you better be there before me.”

A smile lifts his cheeks. “I will be. Promise.”

“Are they at Baylor University still? I got the address,” Calum offers when Ashton hangs up. “And yes, yes I was eavesdropping,” he laughs at the pull of Ashton’s brow.

Though Ashton won’t admit this, he’s glad for Calum’s care. “Nah, no, they’re about to head back to their hotel. Getting discharged now. I’m-I’m going to go there and I’ll meet up with you guys for the truck in the afternoon before it leaves for the venue.”

“Sounds good. Keep us updated though? Should anything else happen?”

“Of course, man. Of course.”

Ashton’s quick back to his room to grab his bags. They’re not many, thankfully. All the while he tracks his drivers approach on his phone as he waits at the elevator door. It’s a slow descent, or at least it feels that way but the doors open and Ashton’s back into the lobby. Just as his feet hit the concrete of the sidewalk a car eases to a stop. 

“Picking up for Ashton?” the driver asks through the passenger side window. 

It’s a quick ride and Ashton thanks the driver before climbing back out into the thick humid Texas air. It’s heavy on his skin but all Ashton continues to think about is getting into that lobby before you. The glass doors are heavy but they reveal a mostly quiet lobby. No one at the front desk and he settles off to the side. Ashton halfway considers calling you to see how far you are, but before the thought can blossom anymore than a hair, the doors open again. 

Someone holds open the door and there’s a click and clack that’s distinctly hollow. “Thanks,” you state, working the crutches up and forward. 

Not what Ashton expected but you’re whole--together, in front of him. A wrap on your left ankle. “You’re late,” Ashton huffs, a faux annoyance. But it’s all you need to grin. The ache in his ribs eases. 

“I’m moving a little slower than normal.” The two of you meet in the middle, or maybe less than that as Ashton does cover more ground than you. But it’s not like you care. Though you are mindful that you are still sort of on the clock. And Ashton catches on too, when you don’t lean in for a hug or more. 

“Do-do you have any bags you need me to carry?” he asks. 

“Personal effects,” you tease, throwing a look over to Savannah who’s got your shoe in a plastic bag from the hospital. You take the moment though to introduce the small group you’re with--mostly other staff on the team. “Everyone, Ashton,” you conclude with a nod of your head. It’s a quick conversation to ensure you’re all okay and set to go. Once you confirm that you’re good and that Ashton won’t let you do anything to further hurt yourself, the group slowly thins. 

You and Ashton remain as the others move towards either the hotel bar or the elevators. You wait, trying to ensure that the group is gone before you sigh, shoulders rounding with the action. “I hope your heart will be able to withstand the show tomorrow,” you tease. 

“Oh, quit it. I’m not that old.”

“I don’t know you told you were old anyway.”

“Oh, society says it everyday. Aren’t you listening?:

“Absolutely the fuck not,” you laugh. 

Ashton’s glad to hear the sound. “Yeah, I thought you might say that, let’s get you to your room yeah.”

It’s a hobble, still unsteady on the crutches a little but thankfully once you’re inside the elevator, you know it’s a quick walk to your room. Ashton retrieves the keycard from your wallet for you and holds the door open. The room is cool--like all hotel rooms seem to be as they surely must double for freezers with the temperatures they are set at. But it’s clear that maybe you hadn’t been planning to be out--your laptop’s still on the bed. Your bag rest on the lounge chair open, clothes peeking out from the depths of it. 

Ashton drops his bag next to yours. 

“So what happened?” he asks. 

“We got back around 8 or so, a much too early night if I’m honest. So, I did a little work to pass the time. Then around 9 Devin, the stylist, asks if I want to go out and grab a couple drinks. I say yes, we’re sort of bar hopping to find the right vibe. I had like two drinks max at the bars we’d found. But on the way to another bar, coming down off the sidewalk, I just misjudged the distance or something. All I know is that I was up one minute then I was down.”

Ashton’s gentle as he kneels, taking a quiet moment to inspect your foot. “You ought to be elevating it,” he offers. 

“I sort of want to change, but I need to shower too. And that’s just awkward all the way around,” you laugh. “Haven’t even taken me on a date yet and I’m already on the verge of having to ask you to help me undress because of my stupid ankle.”

“They don’t mean that,” Ashton directs to your injured joint. “And I am working on that date, you just need to give me a few months.” Though Ashton hopes he can do it sooner. Though with this injury he’s not sure if his plans of stealing you away one day during the break will pan out still. 

You know you should be responding. Ashton’s gazing up at you from practically between your legs as if waiting for an instruction, but you’re too caught up in the way his face holds his beard, honey eyes dripping still as they look at you. “You’re handsome, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Some might say you just did.”

“Well, you are,” you return more confident. “You’re very handsome.” Maybe it’s just easier now. You can freely admit to such attraction because you know the possibility exist that you and Ashton have more. You know the tour is just a temporary thing, but it gives you two something to work from. Rather than just the comfort of ease and accessibility, you and Ashton have to make conscious efforts to communicate while he’s away. The discomfort makes you work. It reminds you that nothing worth having has always been easy. 

Your fingers trace the line of Ashton’s jaw, from the bottom of his ear to his chin. Feels like his body is melting but he remains frozen, kneeling on the thin carpeted floor of this hotel room. It’s a sort of limbo that if Ashton were to ever work through a metaphor, he might call it the seconds in a summer blaze with ice cream. You know the ice cream won’t stay solid forever, but in the first few moments, everything is as it always will be. The ice cream will still have a shape and the sun will still have a ray, but those paths had not crossed just yet--not long enough to have an effect. Yet, Ashton knows that while he holds still now, while he waits to see if you say or do something more, he is the sun ray. He will cause an effect. 

“You, however, sweetheart, are so incredibly dangerous,” Ashton whispers. 

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Besides absolutely wiping out and being a danger to your literal self, I do have to say that you are dangerous because if you keep scratching at my beard like this you are going to open a whole new can of worms that we will not be able to get back inside.”

You know it’s a warning. You don’t think you want to heed it though. “Just a kiss?” you ask. 

Will it ever be just a kiss, Ashton does not know. “You speak of me undressing you to shower and change and rest your ankle that is still injured by the way, and ask for just a kiss?”

You nod. “Yeah, just a kiss.”

Ashton pushes up, hand capturing your cheek as his lips capture yours. Your lips taste a bit sour, maybe the drink or two you’d mentioned before. But Ashton thinks he could swallow the taste and tattoo it into his lungs. He would tattoo it into his lungs if such a thing were possible. 

You swear you’ve never been held in such a more confident and gentle way as Ashton pulls up closer into your body. His hands find your waist, a grip that pushes into the flesh of you that makes you whimper. It’s a pathetic sound and you can’t help but laugh at yourself, interrupting the kiss. Your kiss ends with an echoing pant between the two of you, nose to nose as you hold his face between your palms. 

“You can make fun of me for that later, understand?” you huff. 

Ashton’s laughter falls out more like a groan when you brush your hands down his chest. “I don’t really think I have ground to talk, so.” Ashton presses another kiss, lighter, but still long against your lips. “I just--I’m a little ill prepared to go any further tonight.”

“Are you, Ashton Irwin, rockstar and drummer for the hottest band, 5 Seconds of Summer, telling me that you do not have condoms?” you snort. 

“It may be that. In all fairness, the spare I had I had to end up passing along to a couple of the other guys so, it’s not that I didn’t have them.”

“You just don’t have anymore,” you conclude for him. 

“Exactly.”

“No worries. My spare expired, so same boat. Besides, I did ask only for a kiss.”

“That you surely did. And I think this is our last stop on this train lest we decide to risk it tonight.”

You giggle, fingers playing just a little at the hair at the nape of Ashton’s neck. “I think this is my stop anyway.” 

“Can I ask for one more kiss though?” Ashton’s grin is small and sheepish, like he knows he’s asking for something he shouldn’t. But you can’t say no as you capture his lips one last time. It’s softer now, rather than holding for fear of life lost, now you know you can taste and taste without worrying about losing your chance. 

Though it should be awkward to get yourself changed and cleaned up, you find that it’s easy. Undoubtedly, it’s intimate to have Ashton help you get your pants on and off, but it’s easy to laugh and converse around your work. By the time you’re both settled in for the night, your leg slightly elevated thanks to some of the spare pillows, the blue hue of the TV screen is just an accent to you and Ashton’s laughter, 

“You had to have a crush on at least one cartoon character,” you huff. 

“No, I’m normal.”

“Ashton, you are anything but normal. So just fess up. Was it Lola Bunny?”

Ashton laughs. “No, it was not Lola Bunny. Who even is that?”

You ignore Ashton’s question and pry for an answer listing Roxanne from A Goofy Movie as another potential. It gets shot down immediately. “C’mon, Irwin! Just give me an answer.”

Your response is only Ashton pressing a kiss to your cheek with an adamant but giggled filled, “Goodnight.”

It’s not what you imagined how the first time you shared a bed Ashton would go, but you can’t think to change anything about it now. It’d always be a story to tell, one to hold close to your heart in the future. You reach over, finding Ashton’s hand easily under the cover. His response is immediate as he threads his fingers through yours. 

The TV remains on, a quiet hum and over the soft music of some commercial you’re sure you catch the rumble of a snore. “Thanks, for being here,” you offer. Even if Ashton is still asleep you need to say it. 

“You’re more than welcome.”

[heartache-otbs]

daylight - lrh (songfic)

an: this song is stuck in my head and i figured it'd be an ouchie fic so im sorry

summary: songfic, daylight by maroon 5 (first verse / chorus)

pairing: luke hemmings x reader

warnings: angst maybe? it's sad.

word count: 767

Here I am waiting, I have to leave soon. Why am I holding on?

Luke lays under the cool silk sheets, your body close to his as he lightly caresses your face under the moonlight. He can't sleep.

He hasn't been able to sleep for weeks. He's been stressing about going off on tour, without you. He loved his job, he loved travelling the world and he loved his fans.

But he also hates his job, because it takes him away from you.

Tomorrow is the day he has to leave, you had fallen asleep pretty early, tired from helping him back and prepare. So Luke had been staring at you for hours, memorizing what your face looked like and touching every square inch of skin he could, trying to hold on to you.

We knew this day would come, we knew it all along. How did it come so fast?

Luke doesn't know why he's desperately trying to hold onto you when this day was inevitable, how could he be so upset when this day had been coming for months? Shouldn't have he accepted it by now?

He thought it was just yesterday that he came home to you, announcing that he could finally go back on tour after the pandemic. How happy you two were and how proud you were of Luke. There was so much love and happiness in that moment, yet that memory in Luke's mind has faded into a blue hue of hidden regret.

It's too soon. Luke begins having second thoughts. I can't leave.

This is our last night, but it's late. And I'm trying not to sleep. Because I know when I wake, I will have to slip away.

Luke has hit the point of exhaustion, he can barely keep his eyes open but he refuses to go to sleep. The moment he wakes up he has to get in the car and get on the road, you couldn't take him because you had a school priority that you couldn't get out of.

"That's okay," Luke had sighed when you told him that you wouldn't be able to see him off "you need to do what ya need to do YN"

Inside he was torn to shreds, knowing he couldn't kiss you at the gate made him not want to go through it.

So Luke kisses you now, soft kisses all over your face while you sleep, his soft lips lingering on your warm skin every few seconds as he makes sure to kiss every inch.

And when the daylight comes I'll have to go, but tonight I'm gonna hold you so close. Because in daylight we'll be on our own. But tonight I'm gonna hold you so close.

You actually cried so much before bed. Once Luke got in the shower, you lost it. You were in such hysterics that Luke heard you from the bathroom and came out to comfort you, tears escaping his face as well.

As you held each other, Luke kept promising that he was never going to let you go. That he'd never let anything come between the two of you, that he'd hold you forever if he needed to. He made a slight joke that he wouldn't go if it made you stop crying.

Was it really a joke though?

What the big thing was about the next day, was that you two had never necessarily been separated for each other for a long period of time. You two had gotten together right before the pandemic started, so you spent all of your time at each other's houses. Moved in together pretty quickly, he hadn't gone anywhere for work and if he did you went with him, because of the pandemic you had online school.

But now with societal normalities back in place, you and Luke had to be separated from each other. Something that you both would have to learn how to deal with.

You two really didn't know how to exist without the other one on hand, some would say it was an unhealthy codependency but you and Luke were just happy.

What would you even do without Luke? It'd be so quiet. So empty. You'd no longer have his comfort coming back from class. No more making pancakes for him on Saturday mornings. Your routine will be all out of sorts, what will make up for it?

You tried not to think about it once it crossed your mind, instead, you let Luke hold you as you drifted off, sinking into the last night you had him next to you, dreading the daylight.

[suchalonelysunflower]

Teach me a melody (a.i)

Pairing: Teacher! Ashton Irwin x teacher!fem! reader

Summary: Valentine's Day at school and someone has a surprise for you

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1.8

Author's note: self indulgent cause I'm a teacher that loves VDAY. might become a blurb series? REMEMBER THAT REBLOGS ARE IMPORTANT AND APPRECIATED as well as COMMENTS, LIKES AND INTERACTIONS. Please, SUPPORT YOUR WRITERS. Hope you like it and happy reading

My masterlist // taglist in comments.

*

Valentine’s Day, a full 24 hours where people get into a frenzy of either showing how in love they were, complaining about the capitalist propaganda, or wallowing in their own woe of not having found anyone to spend the day with. And, of course, all three scenarios prove to be true in the craziest, hormone-filled place of all: Highschool. 

“I swear if Jamie got me one of those chocolate bars from the candy machine again…” You heard one sophomore complain to their friend as they passed you by in the hallway. A small smile crept on your face when you remembered Jamie carrying a toddler-size teddy bear out of their car earlier this morning. 

Out of the corner of your eye you watched as the theater kids began with their annual project of singing telegrams to raise some money for their spring musical. You wondered how many renditions of Bruno Mars’s “Just the way you are” you’ll hear this year interrupting your classroom. 

Contrary to popular belief, you loved it. 

Ever since you were a child you loved Valentine’s Day. You enjoy watching people express their love in so many, creative ways. You like every picture, watch every video and swoon a little with the classical proposal you see at least once every February 14th. And yes, you firmly believed that love should be expressed every day and not just once a year, but there was just something so magical about this day where everyone celebrated love and the energies were filled with hopes and dreams.

You walked through the halls with ease and with a silly love song playing in your brain. You smiled at the students that were already waiting at the door of your classroom and wished them a good morning as you unlocked the door for them. There were still a few minutes before the bell rang, so there wouldn’t have been any problems for them to just take their seats a bit earlier. 

“Oh my god! Who got you those flowers?” You asked one of your students as they came in carrying a whole bouquet. 

“Me!” They laughed “I love me the most and I can buy my own flowers whenever I want to” 

You laughed along with them “I can’t argue with that amazing logic. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart” 

“Happy Valentine’s Miss L/N!” Your student said and went in and took their seat.

In the meantime, your eyes couldn’t help but wander to the classroom in front of yours. Feeling your heart beat a little bit faster when you noticed the lovely curly-haired man that sat at the desk. 

You looked at the time and bit your lip slightly. Yes, you had enough time. 

“Good morning, Mr. Irwin!” You called, knocking on his open door. 

The man turned at the sound of his name, a wide smile forming on his face the moment he saw you leaning against the doorframe. 

Ashton Irwin, the music teacher. One of the youngest, most handsome, and most beloved teachers in the whole school. He was one of the many additions to the staff alongside yourself and a few others last year after many of the senior teachers finally retired. It would’ve been a lie to say that you didn’t fancy him from the first moment you saw him. His hazel eyes and easy smile; the way he laughed and how easy it was for him to make friends with everyone, even yourself; how all of his students love him, even the troublemakers. He was just so effortlessly cool, it would be impossible to deny your little crush on him.

“Y/N!” He said, never have been one for formalities “Good morning! I thought you were one of my students, I was about to tell you to nod off somewhere else because my first class is in the third period”

“And you need the peace and quiet to last a bit more? Ah, so easy the life of an artist. Never having to read essays about how William Shakespeare would’ve “ate” in booktok” He chuckled, you blushed “I’ll leave you to enjoy your free time” 

“I never said you should leave,” He pouted “I do enjoy the company of adults in my free time” His eyes lingered on you for a bit “You look rather festive” 

You looked down at your pink shirt; red, pink, and white nails with hearts drawn on them; and unconsciously touched your heart-shaped earrings as you blushed. 

“Would you believe me if I say that the shirt was white until a stranger put their red socks on the washing machine?” 

Ashton let out a loud laugh “I would believe anything you say, Y/N. Though I didn’t take you for someone that loved V-Day” 

“I’ve always loved it,” You confessed with a shrug “It was my parent’s favorite holiday, always making a big show out of it and including me and my siblings with a big lunch before they went out on a date of their own. I loved their love and I guess that made me love love in general” 

You raised your eyes and found him sitting back on his chair, eyes focused on you as a soft smile adorned his face. 

“It’s silly, I know-”

“Not at all,” Ashton said, ever so calmly “I love that story, thank you for sharing it” 

“What about you?” You asked, looking around the decoration-free classroom “Not in the mood for love?” 

“Ehh, I didn’t put that much thought into it. I never really do unless I have someone to share it with” 

“Well, I’m in the same boat as you. But I still love to celebrate it” You shrugged, ignoring the way both your eyes gleamed with something more than recognition when you both admitted to being single “Anyway, I should go to class. The bell’s about to ring” 

“Y-yeah! Of course” He blushed “Have a nice day, Y/N” 

“You too, Ash” You smile as you walked back to your class and ignored the “ooohs” of your students when you entered, looking back at the neighboring class to see Ashton smiling at that. 

*

It was almost the end of the school day when someone knocked at your classroom door. 

“Excuse me, Miss L/N?” One of the theater kids popped their head in “We have a very important sing-a-gram to send” 

“Oh?” You asked in a teasing tone, making your students giggle “Of course, dear. And who would that be for?” 

A group of teenagers came in, all wearing knowing smiles as one of them said: “It’s actually for you, miss. From a secret admirer” 

The class absolutely went mad at that, cheering and hollering as the group started to sing a beautiful version of “All of Me” by John Legend. You sat there absolutely bewildered, smiling widely in awe at the gesture. You thanked them after they were done, congratulating them on their talent and wishing them a good day. And if you thought you'd seen a glimpse of a curly head watching over the door’s window, it was most likely your imagination. 

*

As you were sorting out the last of your papers and got everything ready to go home, your ears picked up a familiar melody coming from the class across the hall. A small smile played on the corner of your lips as you ventured over there, knowing what you might find. 

Ashton was sitting at the piano that stood in the middle of the room. His fingers gracefully pressed on the tiles as the melody soared. He was so concentrated that he didn’t even hear you come in. 

“Cause all of me, loves all of you. Love your curves and all your edges, all your perfect imperfections” He sang. 

You’ve heard him sing before, but that didn’t take away from the fact that it took your breath away each time he did. His voice was on a lower register, calm and soothing as the words dripped like honey out of him. It completely hypnotized you as you leaned against the door frame, watching over him with a new, indescribable feeling inside your heart. 

“Cause I’ll give you all of me if you’d give me all of you. Cards on the table I’m showing all my hearts, risking it all for a chance…” The slight change of lyrics called your attention “Cause all of me loves all of you. You’ll be my end and my beginning if you’d have me mmm-hmm…”  

He ended up humming the rest of the song, closing his eyes as he let the music move him. That is something you always admired about him; his passion for what he does. It didn’t matter if it was teaching, playing, or even talking to you about the last book he read and he thinks you might like it. Ashton’s heart always had space for more, and if he were to share it completely, you knew you’d want to be a part of it.

When he was done, his hands kept still, ghosting over the tiles. He sighed and grabbed a pen and a notebook and he started scribbling on it. 

“That was gorgeous, Ash” 

The sound of your voice startled him. He turned to you so quickly that you were sure it gave him whiplash. He was a blushing mess as he opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

“Sorry,” You said, “I didn’t mean to-”

“No!” He shouted, cringing at his own tone of voice “No, I’m sorry- I’m used to being the only one here. And-” He sighed, not knowing what else to say “Did you listen to all of it?” 

“Yeah, I really liked it” You smiled softly at him, walking forwards “Must be a really special person for you to rewrite a whole song for them” 

“It’s, uhm… It’s something I’ve been working on with my students” Ashton admitted “Trying to adapt songs to their own situations and feelings… It might help them connect with lyricism better”

“And your feelings are…?”

“Unrequited, I'm afraid” He smiled sadly at you as you came to stand in front of him “I don’t know how to make her notice me as something more” 

“Maybe she already knows,” You said, looking at the tiles and letting your fingers grace over a few of them “You know I got that song in a sing-a-gram today, the OG version” 

Ashton smiled, trying to mask his tone as he asked “Really?” 

“Mmhmm, someone might’ve been listening to me talk about how that’s one of my favorite songs. The kids didn’t tell me who it was, though”

“Do you want to know who it was?” 

“When they are ready to share it, yes,” You said, looking back at him and finding his eyes already on you. Gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips. You smiled “Would you teach it to me?” 

Ashton smiled as he scooted over on the bench, patting the space next to him for you to sit. His hands covered yours and guided you through a dance across the piano, letting the melody say the rest. 

*

*

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[ughhhkat]

- HIII :')

im moving to my new account, ughkat. ill be deleting my stories from this blog, and moving them to the one linked. if you enjoy my work, thats where you will find me and my fics! thank u ♡︎

new account ~

[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.

[33-81]

missed but never forgotten 💔

[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.

[ughkat]

ur camera roll if ashton was ur boyfriend ❥

[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.

[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.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Backdoor Deal With the Devil: Part 4: Awakening

Calum meets Eve in a bar. And it would be a normal story. However, Eve’s more than he bargained for, and so, the story’s never so simple.

Black!OC.

CW: 18+ content (Smut); descriptions of Overall series contains: Christian religious themes, mentions of death, and smut (18+ only).

Word Count: 24K+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Enjoy my masterlist

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Eve leans against the door of her storage unit. The keys are clipped to her belt loop for the moment, providing a soft clicking sound with her movement. She’d gotten the unit after she and Calum divorced. Well, she moved units after the divorce. The place she was using before was hiking the rates up every three months and she kept paying it because she could feasibly do so. It irked her nerves how much they were going up though. When she and Calum divorced, Eve packed up her belongings and moved units. Now this place has oddly become a second home for her. She can transport between realms easily out here, considering this place is on the outskirts of the city. She was far enough out that if a tuft of smoke here or there cropped up, it didn’t matter to the folks around. Eve does have other options and she knows this. But she prefers solitude. 

Now, an out of the way storage unit which freezes in the night is Eve’s homebase. When she’s not with Calum or his kids, she’s here. It’s secure enough and Eve’s not really worried about her own safety too much. She did her work when everyone else was asleep and then managed to use a gym to shower as needed. When Calum called for her, asked her to come and meet his family, she thought it would be short term. Perhaps, he was calling just for some sort of resolve. She worried that maybe he’d gotten sick in addition to Kelsie’s death. But that guess had been wrong. So far, she’d been Earth side consistently for about five months in total. This feels like she’s pushing into something distinctly not short term. She was now needing to consider if she should consider other alternative options to her belongings. Eve didn’t feel like investing in a place to rent. By the time she went through the whole ordeal, she might need to give it all up. She wasn’t going to assume she could move in with Calum. Nor was she going to be the one to ask either. 

And right as she slid down the door on her unit, preparing for her nightly shift in Hell, mostly patrols and checking in on happenings since her last descent, her phone buzzed. What are you doing tonight?

It’s from Calum and Eve tries to bite back her grin as her fingers work over the keyboard. Normal duties that I know of. Did something happen?

She waits, fingers brushing over her keys. The thread sits idle for a beat longer and then Calum’s name pops up on her screen. Eve answers the call without hesitation. “Nothing happened,” he laughs. “Why do you think something’s always happened?”

“I worry,” Eve returns. It’s a simple answer and it’s the truth. Eve does worry. She worries it’s one of the kids. She worries it’s Calum. She worries that even though she keeps thinking her time with Calum will be brief yet again and so far it was proving otherwise she would be right to worry in the end. Why stop worrying now?

“Well, let me be the first to tell you, there’s no reason to worry. I ask because I’d like to take you out tonight on a date. I know it’s very last minute. But can Hell wait one night?”

“My job comes with no guarantees,” Eve laughs, resting her head into the cool metal she’s leaning into. “But I can meet you at your place in, say, an hour. What are the festivities?”

“I can pick you up,” Calum offers. 

Eve snorts. “Calum, all my stuff is in a storage unit almost an hour of the city driving.”

“A storage unit?” The disbelief that paints Calum’s voice is thick. “Why so far?”

“Discretion. Can’t travel between realms with smoke all the time at the place in the middle of a shopping center, can I?” Peace is what Eve doesn’t say. She had a place she could use. It was in the city. Less discretion for sure, but mostly notably it was severely less peaceful. 

“You had an apartment before though.”

“Those are expensive. I’ve done a lot of odd jobs in my time and have more money than I know what to do with, but it doesn’t mean I have to spend it unnecessarily.”

“Where do you shower? Brush your teeth? Charge your phone?”

“Lately, your place.” Calum snorts at the tease and Eve continues on, “When I’m not with you, there’s a gym up the road here.”

“Is-is that working for you? You’re safe right?”

Eve takes in buzzing lights and the echoing hallways of the building around her. She only has clothes, some photos, and her lockbox stashed away. Most of her long standing money from her previous jobs and decades were spread across three different banking branches under various aliases. She could keep turning the assets over to herself every few decades as the granddaughter or daughter of whomever supposedly oversaw the estate previously. It wasn’t hard, though it did take some creativity and perfect timing. 

The only time Eve felt unsafe was when the guy who was escorting her to the unit on the first day she showed up kept checking out her tits. But a perfectly placed foot to trip him up and a bloody nose as Eve hissed above him easily rectified the behavior. He hides in the office when Eve comes in to pay for her unit in cash. 

“I’m safe,” Eve finally answers. “So, a date? What is the occasion?”

“Nothing major. There’s a sushi place about twenty minutes from me.”

“Sushi sounds nice.”

“There’s an ice-cream shop next door too. If you want to go there as well. Feel free to pack a bag of what you need and then you can get ready here instead of going to the gym to use their bathroom.”

Eve turns, back fully resting against the metal door. “Are you flirting with me, sir?”

“Oh, love, I have been flirting with you for ages now. What took you so long to notice?” A gag comes from the background and Eve laughs at the sound of Māra’s voice begging to be spared. “Grow up!” Calum giggles, clearly speaking to Māra. “I don’t gag when you talk boys.”

“I’d never stoop so low as to actually flirt with a guy in front of my own father,” Māra huffs.  “That is where we differ.”

“And which one of us decided to snuggle up next to dear old Dad while he was on the phone, hmm?”

“What?” Māra questions. “I needed snuggles.”

“Everything alright?” Calum’s voice dips. Eve hears how much sincerity is weaved into each word. It's a concern that drives the pause in her and Calum’s conservation so Māra can be tended to and Eve stays silent. She does almost want to offer that Calum can call her back if he needs and that they can raincheck the date. 

“Stupid stuff at school. We can talk later too.”

“Eve, let me call you back. Or we can talk when you show up,” Calum adds the last part and it’s soft. Perhaps, he’s worried Eve will default to stepping aside. 

“How much do you want that dinner date?” Eve asks. 

“How much do you want it?” Calum returns. He’d always want time with her. But Eve knows juggling his responsibilities as a parent were now more pressing than anything else. 

“I can come over. Let Māra know I said hi and that if she needs me, I’m good at avoiding cops.”

Calum laughs. “No, you’re good at egging them on. But I’ll see you when you get here. I think the boys are downstairs. They can let you in.”

“See you then,” Eve whispers and then gives her goodbyes. She slides the door back up, grabbing her gym bag, which is usually always ready to go. Eve digs out a spare pair of jeans and another top--something nicer than her normal. A black bustier top with mesh sleeves. Once she’s satisfied with the clothes for the outing, she double checks for all her necessities. It’s only been a few minutes but as she zips up the bag, she wonders if their outing will make press circuits. 

It’ll have been thirty years since the last time they were spotted out in public by paparazzi. Maybe given the years things would’ve died down for the band. They hadn’t toured in a while from what Eve had gathered--it’d been at least ten years since the last one. Instead they were all focusing on their families. Their last album had only been released two years ago. But their public presence seems to have died down. A lot of them had garnered a lot of respect in producing--Michael and Calum diving in a lot on that front. Ashton worked to collaborate with a lot of artists. Luke worked on some solo music between band albums.  It seemed that the band had its front, but all the members still had space to be something greater than the summation too. 

Eve can’t shake the feeling in the pit of her stomach. If someone does spot them, is this going to open a bigger can of worms? Is this going to undo them?

But there’s something under the worry. As Eve slings the bag over her shoulder and steps back out of her unit, she’s happy. Even if the storm of comments comes their way, at least she has Calum. Eve slides the door to her unit close and locks it back up before walking towards the back doors. She sets off towards the fields and when she gets about twenty yards out, she lets herself go, feels the pull at her bones and she doesn’t fight it until she’s at the bottom of the street to Calum’s house. 

It’s up on a hill and if it weren’t for all Eve’s years of training and her incessant desire to protect herself by any means necessary, she is sure the hill would kill her. It flattens out nicely near the top, but the incline is a gradual pain. It only really hits how high up his place is once the top is reached. There’s a burn in Eve’s thighs that she’s used to as she raps on the front door. “Coming!” she catches on the other side of the door. 

The front door opens to reveal Kiri. “Hey, Eve,” he grins, stepping aside to let her in.

“Hi, Kiri. How are you? Calculus still giving you trouble?”

Kiri snorts. “Semester ends in two weeks and I for one cannot wait to burn the textbook. But it’s going. How are you?”

“Good,” Eve nods. “I can supply kindling if needed,” she teases. 

“Could we try banishing it?”

“We can try,” Eve laughs. Kiri offers her a drink but Eve politely declines. “I think Dad’s in the guestroom. Or his room now it seems.” 

“Hi Eve!” Cailean pokes his head out from the dining area, hand raising in a wave. 

“Hi Cailean. How are you?” Eve shuffles a little deeper into the house, approaching Cailean from behind. She’s careful not to startle him, thankful her keys are still clicking on her belt loop. 

“Crushing it,” he grins. “You? Oh, a spendin’ the night bag? What has dear old Dad convinced you of this time?”

It only takes a quirk of her brow and a blank bored expression for Cailean to apologize. As well as he’d been raised, he always had the jokester streak in him. It had earned him quite a few of Eve’s famous stares. Where his father and his mother both had a pursed lip and stare, Eve’s whole face fell. It caused the rise of her brow to stand out more and pushed her lips into a pout. Cailean didn’t really want to see what would be earned after such a warning if he didn’t backtrack. So the apologies always come immediately. 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were gunning for trouble,” Eve returns, peering down at the human anatomy book in front of Cailean. 

“Would you believe me if I said you're one of the first people I could make those jokes too without fear of immediate death?” Cailean laughs, capping his highlighter. 

“I mean, I could be tempted.”

He shakes his head with a grin. “I don’t think I need to tempt that fate. But I’m just--I’m glad to see Dad getting back out there. It’s certainly been a strange time since Mom died so suddenly. I think mostly I just didn’t want him to get so focused on us he forgot about himself.”

Eve doesn’t want to state the obvious. Calum had reached out to her with only a few months shy of the year mark. There hadn’t been enough time for Calum to lose himself. But she imagines given just how involved Calum is with his kids the fear Cailean has is that the involvement becomes suffocation. 

“I’ll do my best to keep him out of you all’s hair,” Eve grins, resting a bit into the wall behind her. It’s the wall that separates part of the kitchen from the dining area. Behind her head and to the left she knows there’s a photo of Kelsie and the kids from a Christmas party just three years prior. Eve wonders briefly if they still have the sweaters from the photo.

“You’re doing a perfect job and letting him still be our dad and also keeping him from driving us crazy,” Cailean snorts. 

“You still haven’t said if anything is on your birthday list,” Eve counters. Cailean’s birthday would be approaching two weeks and some change after Christmas. Calum already had the gift Cailean had been eying already for Christmas but was still stumped about his birthday. She’d been asked by Calum to see if she could get anything more specific about him. But she is curious too. Now that her presence was more normal, she didn’t want to just be seen as Calum’s new old partner. Eve respects the family unit that comes with Calum. She respects who the children are as individuals too. “I mean, you’re driving now. You can’t tell me you don’t want anything.”

Cailean shakes his head. “Still a bit shy of a legal first tattoo so, guess we’ll have to wait.”

“Tattoo is easy. Can do that in my sleep. In the meantime, no shiny new rims? Cool leather jacket?” Cailean’s car was by no means fancy. It was a 10 year old Honda. Still new enough that it only had about 89,000 miles on it when it was bought but still old enough that it didn’t cost Calum an arm and a leg to get it. 

“If I’m honest, Eve, I don’t really care for that stuff. Just want time with my family, I guess.”

“Kelsie and Calum have raised you too well.” Eve pushes off the wall, one hand gently brushing over Cailean’s shoulder. “Pick a restaurant. Wherever you want. My treat.”

“Oh, Eve, I can’t,” he starts, scooting now so he’s facing her from the seated position he’s in in the chair. The head shake no is insistent. 

“None of that. Pick a restaurant. Wherever you want to go. It’s my treat. My birthday gift to you.”

“Does this mean you’ll come?” Cailean asks. 

Eve tilts her head a little, trying to assess what the gaze means, if she actually heard something like hope in the question. “Do you want me to join?”

“I thought you were the Devil, not a vampire who needed permission all the time. Yes, I’d like you to come.” 

It’s a jab Eve should’ve seen coming, but still Cailean’s quip makes her snort, choking just a little on the laugh. “I never want to assume,” she returns, catching her breath. “But by god, you do sound like Calum’s twin.”

“Apparently, Kelsie and I have raised them too well,” Calum states. He stands right at the edge of the living room that feeds into the dining area. He folds his arms across his chest and Eve makes a point not to look below his eyes. Undoubtedly, Calum’s wearing a white t-shirt and jeans. Even if he wore a shirt over the undershirt or just wore the undershirt, it would pull tight across his chest and the last thing Eve needed was the sight of Calum’s chest and biceps burned into her retinas in front of his children. He hadn’t let the workouts go. Though it is clear where age made him soft ever so slightly around his stomach, the gym kept his chest and arms in great shape. 

“Consider it a compliment,” Eve returns, crossing the room to stand in front of Calum. 

Calum takes Eve in for a moment. Her usual uniform of jeans and t-shirt were replaced with leggings and a looser blouse. It’s clear she was ready to head back down when he called. But he tries not to stare too long at the V in the shirt, the way her cleavage presses up into the cotton of the shirt. “Consider it taken as one. Did you still need to get ready before we head out? Or have my sons cornered you for good?”

Eves shakes her head with a grin. “I am never cornered. I’ll be ready in fifteen.” The kiss is soft that they share, chaste in how lightly their lips touch. Eve slips down the hallway to the guestroom, knocking before she peers her head inside. Where she might’ve anticipated Māra to still be stretched across the bed, the room is empty. 

Just as Eve’s stepping out from the quick shower, she can hear the click and drag of hangers from the closet. Calum, she assumes. It’s not much effort to get into the jeans but she does crack open the bathroom door, head peering out to the sight of Calum slipping his arms into a navy blue button up. “Cal, can you help me with the zipper?”

He freezes for a moment. Not because he’s upset. But because Eve had not called him anything other than his full name since she returned. “What did you call me?” He grins, turning to face her. 

“If you’re not going to behave, I will leave.” 

He crosses the distance to her, slipping his last arm through the sleeve. “It’s just good to hear from you. Missed it.” 

It’s only a whisper from Calum’s lips. But Eve hears it. Calum takes her hips into his hands and turns her around. Eve goes, one hand still holding the bustier to her body. “I hope you haven’t missed much,” Eve returns. The mirror above the sink reflects all of her face and just part of Calum’s profile. But she watches him in the mirror. The zipper catches and drags upwards, securing the top to her body. 

“It’s taken me slowing down each day to really know what I’ve missed. You’re among the list of things and people.”

“Oh, I’m no people,” Eve laughs. 

“But you’ve still been missed.” Calum kisses her temple, hands slipping over her bare shoulders and then around her neck. His arms follow the extended path of her chest and shoulder. Eve falls back into his chest. He traces the line of her face, down to her jaw, in kisses. 

“My tits too,” she snorts, referring to his earlier gaze. 

“You wore the V-neck,” Calum laughs. “You expect me not to look at your tits when they’re begging for attention.”

“They are most certainly not begging for anything!”

“I certainly beg to differ.” Calum presses another kiss to her cheek before pulling himself up to his full height. Calum guides Eve deeper into the bathroom, and turns so they’re both facing the mirror. “Anything else you need help with?”

“No, I think I’m okay. Just need to get shoes on.”

“Avoiding lipstick and mascara is probably a good idea.” The words come from deep in Calum’s chest and Eve watches his gaze drop from the mirror to her in front of him. 

“There you go again, misbehaving,” Eve reprimands, but pushes her hips back just a little into Calum’s crotch. It doesn’t shock her when she realizes he’s half hard. “But I’ve decided not to invest in too much makeup, in all honesty. Need the bags under my eyes to keep up with you.”

Calum snorts, fingers teasing at the exposed sides underneath Eve’s top. She pushes deeper into the arch. Not quite bent over the counter, but holding her weight up by her arms into it. “Yeah, what are you doing with an old fart like me anyway?”

“What can I say? I like them older.”

Calum finds the front of Eve’s chest, palms flat against the press of the bustier against her breasts and hauls her up. Her back flush into his chest. She drops her head to the side a little and Calum leans in, lips brushing ever so gently at the skin of her jaw. “Yeah, I’m the one robbing the cradle here. But you’re the one misbehaving now,” he whispers. 

Eve shrugs, tracing the veins in Calum’s hands with the tips of her nails. “Sue me.”

Calum’s laughter is soft, an exhale mostly from his nose. His lips paint another kiss to her skin. “While you may not need food to survive, I, for one, am hungry. But I won’t forget your behavior, kitten.”

“Let’s go before you starve,” Eve returns, turning to kiss Calum’s cheek too. She does specifically let the new nickname which has never come up between them before go. Maybe it would grow on her. Maybe it’s an honest mistake and Eve’s not about to make it more awkward. “First, do you want help with that?” she questions, hand slipping up between their bodies to cup Calum’s erection. 

“No, because you help me with that we will never make it to dinner.”

Eve concedes, but not without a slight squeeze and then peels herself out of Claum’s hold. Calum shakes his head at the taunt, but flicks off the light. Originally thinking of buttoning the shirt up, he opts to leave it fully undone but tucks his undershirt into the tops of his jeans. Eve follows behind Calum back to the front of the house. One of his hands is wrapped around hers, the other grabs the keys from the rack near the front door. 

“Oh, that’s cute!” The words are accompanied by a soft tap on Eve’s arm. 

Eve turns to Māra’s compliment and smiles. “Thank you.”

“Where’d you get it?”

“Oh, it’s been years since I bought it, I think. But I think there’s a place in the mall that has something similar. I noticed it when I went to get new boots.”

“Dad would have a heart attack.”

“You’re fourteen. Of course I would have a heart attack,” Calum interjects. 

“My birthday is in three months. You let me buy the platforms!”

“Mar, those were shoes. The soles are as thick as my waist. Shoes and tops are different battles.” Calum’s stare is pointed. It’s as if he’s begging Māra to disagree with him. 

Māra sighs, passing a gaze to Eve. “See what I mean.”

Eve’s not sure if she should side with Calum or try to win with Māra. Because while the top isn’t at all scandalous, it does expose all of Eve’s shoulders, the upper part of her back, and it has cut-out on the sides. It covers the important bites, but it might be a bit much for someone young. “There’s also other cute stuff at the store,” Eve settles on. “The sort of things that won’t give your dad a heart attack. Do you like blazers? They had a cute red one, studded collar, sleeveless. Full length,” Eve tacks on, looking up to Calum. He squeezes her hands in thanks. 

“This weekend, we could go? Only if you want of course.” Eve offers to Māra. 

Māra looks over to Calum. “Can I?”

“If I’m not there, I need pictures. We are not doing any surprises,” he counters. 

“I mean at that point, just come,” Māra laughs. 

“Well, I,” Calum starts. It would be one of the first times that Māra had initiated more than a conversation with Eve. It would be a full on excursion. It would give them time to bond. He doesn’t want to intrude on that. 

Eve squeezes his hand, effectively cutting him off. “If Kiri or Cailean have to call me because they had to give you CPR, I don’t think I could take it. Just come.”

Calum nods. “Saturday? Your teeth cleaning is on Friday, tomorrow” he states to Māra. 

“You’re the one driving me,” Māra laughs. 

Calum sighs. “No, I mean I’m not sure if going tomorrow is a good idea because you get grumpy after the dentist.” Māra hadn’t loved the dentist since she had to get a filling back in elementary. She complained about the ache in her jaw for a week and has since made it a personal mission to never have another cavity again. If Māra’s given anything other than a nearly perfect visit, she pouts. Even still. Calum had to learn all the tricks to keep her happy--that do not include offering her anything sugar related. 

Māra bats her eyelashes up at Calum. “Shopping could make me less grumpy. I think it would lift my spirits, actually. Clean bill of health for my teeth and then a little treat.”

Eve snorts. “Tomorrow is okay with me--potential for grumpiness and all.”

“Tomorrow,” he agrees, kissing Māra’s forehead. “Don’t kill your brothers while I’m gone, okay?”

“No promises,” Māra giggles. 

“Remember where we keep the lye?” Calum teases. Māra nods with a thumbs up. Calum calls out to Kiri and Cailean over his shoulder to keep an eye out. It’s only outside in the slight breeze of the air that Calum turns to Eve. “Should we get a jacket for you?”

“I’m okay,” Eve laughs, but Calum’s shrugging out of his leather jacket and draping it over her shoulders. “Now you’re going to be cold.”

“Nurse me back to health when I get sick, yeah?”

“Happily,” Eve grins, taking his hand again.

“I’m sorry about calling you kitten earlier. It’s-it's a habit, I guess.” A habit he built with Kelsie. Not one he had with Eve. He’d noticed the mistake as soon as he let the pet name slip. But Eve hadn’t reacted poorly. Calum just needs to clear the air. 

Eve accepts the apology, the words dying on her throat that he doesn’t have to apologize. Calum would apologize. He always would. Perhaps sometimes the biggest grace Eve could give Calum was accepting the apology even if she never needed it. Calum did. That’s the thing that matters. 

The drive to the restaurant is relatively short, light conversation about Calum’s day at work. Calum makes doubly sure that Eve’s okay with the storage unit system she currently has. Though he’s more than sure she is capable of looking out for herself, he doesn’t love the idea that she’s not at least inside the city, close to a densely populated area. Eve manages to convince Calum to let things remain as they are for the moment, but the conversation naturally would be revisited. 

They get seated relatively quickly in the restaurant and Calum ensures to pull out Eve’s seat and she settles, shrugging out of the jacket draped over her shoulders. Out of habit, she glances down at the menu, though Eve’s already sure what she would order to appease the setting. As the waters are filled, Calum reaches over to take Eve’s hand. “You sure you’re okay with me crashing the shopping date on tomorrow?” Calum asks, thumb stroking over the top of her hand. 

Eve nods. “You just want to keep your little girl safe and I think it would be good for me to know the limits. For clothing. Clearly I’m not a good judge.”

“I try to give her some slack, you know. Soon she’ll be buying her own clothes without  Dad’s approval and I just want her to be responsible.”

“Yeah, eventually, she’ll be sneaking bags inside of bags,” Eve teases. 

“Do not give her any ideas, please.” Calum squeezes at her hand. “Thank you. For understanding. You did great, you know?”

“What-what do you mean?”

“With the blazer. I must admit I was prepared to be outnumbered. But when you offered an alternative I was pleasantly surprised.”

“I can’t overstep your rules, Calum.” 

“I know it matters to you that you aren’t overstepping. But still—I really appreciate you offering an alternative. You saw how much it mattered to Māra and you saw what mattered to me. Your negotiation skills are quite sharp.” 

Eve tries to keep the blush at bag. Her reaction only felt right. It only felt like the right thing to do. She didn’t think it was that spectacular. But her cheeks warm at the tenderness in Calum’s gaze. “Thank you.” 

“No, thank you.” 

The conversation lulls just a little, but it feels normal. There’s no need to force conversation. Eve takes in the slight deflation of Calum’s cheeks. Where in his youth his cheeks had been full and rosy, as he’s aged they’ve fallen just a little. It’s nothing extremely noticeable in a fast glance. But Eve knows Calum who is thirty years younger. She catches the way age has graced his features. 

“You’re staring,” Calum teases, looking up to her from beneath his lashes. 

“You’re handsome,” Eve returns with ease.

The sentiment shouldn’t make Calum blush, but it does. The heat spread across his face. He’s sure his cheeks, if one could get close enough, are tinted just a little with the rush. Not red, but possibly a really faint pink and Calum laughs. “You sure do know how to make a man blush.”

“I know a lot of other things too.”

“Smooth,” Calum returns. “Criminal, because we are in public, and I was told I needed to behave.”

“I didn’t set any rules and expectations for myself. It’s a shame, really. Don’t you think?”

The taunting is cut short by their need to order. Calum orders for the both of them. It’s as the teases return that Calum finds himself reminded that this part is easy. The dating, talking about each other’s day, filling each other in on the happens since their last deep conversation is all easy. He is allowed to find comfort in the ease of their laughter. For the first time since he’d called Eve to come back into his life, Calum feels like this might’ve been the right choice all along. 

Back in the breeze of the night, they walk side by side, hand in hand. The evening is calm as it can be. There’s still the sounds of sirens, the honk of someone’s car in the distance. But it feels a bit easier to be out in public with Eve. Partially it’s because Calum knows there’s very few paps that still feel the need to follow his every move anymore. Not that there were many paps for a long stretch there, but their first run at a relationship was notably marked by photographers awaiting the perfect snap. Now his band and fame is an old flame. Which means as he directs the both of them to the ice cream place a few stores down, he doesn’t think long about if someone will recognize either him or Eve. 

“For someone so busy, you’re still finding time to keep your hair dyed,” Calum comments, taking in the emerald green ends. “I don’t think you got to green the last time.”

“I go through phases,” Eve returns, spoon digging at the sides of her bowl to get more sprinkles on her spoon. 

“Any color you want next?”

“Maybe blue again? Not sure. Depending on how this strips when I remove it, it might be mint green or yellow next.”

Calum nods, working the cherry from the stem with his tongue. “Used to say I would dye my gray hairs,” he offers. 

Eve catches there might be more behind the sentiment so she quirks her brow. “I don’t see any dye.”

“Never got around to it. Think I should start?”

“No,” she returns swiftly. “I don’t think you should.”

Calum laughs around the cherry he’s working down. When he’s mouth is free of the mashed fruit, he continues on, “Why’s that?”

Eve offers a tiny shrug. “Like I said, you’re handsome. Why would you need to hide getting older?”

“I mean, men aren’t told to care that much about their looks. But it’s not easy. I really thought I’d get out of California when I had kids. Town’s not good for ‘em. Everyone’s obsessed with the way they look. It’s not hard to start thinking maybe you need to care too.”

“A place like this can easily breed insecurities,” Eve agrees. Her spoon scrapes up the last dregs of her sundae. “It doesn’t seem like the town won out, though?”

Calum’s natural reaction is to laugh it off, but Eve’s eyes are narrowed in and assessing. He runs a hand through the hair, the curls wrapping around themselves before sitting back in the chair. “It’s hard with kids. They come first a lot of the times. Whatever’s going on with me just sort of defaults to not important enough. You notice it though. When the pants fit a little too tight or the hole you used to wear a belt on goes up by one or two, you notice. I used to think I’ll get to it. When things settle down, I’ll get back to where I was. I still go to the gym 4 times a week. I’m not sitting on my ass all day long. My knees would protest me if I did. But it hit me, ten years ago now, I think, there’s no going back. The body I had at eighteen, twenty, hell even thirty is long gone. I won’t ever be him again.”

Calum pauses, glancing out of the window they’re sitting next to. In the reflection due to the lights inside and lack of lights outside, Calum watches as Eve shuffles in closer, leaning onto the table. He doesn’t give into her silent invitation. “The pants just have to go at some point. They start taking up too much closet space. Sure the slight graying in the stubble or in my hair doesn’t really strike me initially. I’m too busy worried about the gut to worry about the hair. But then, I’m at the beach and there’s this guy older than me still cut and I think that’s the first moment where it sort of click for me. I really wasn’t going to get that body back and spending my time wishing for it doesn’t actually do anything about it. But what makes that man feel like he has to look like he’s still twenty five. I wasn’t even that cut at twenty five. I was toned. But then I look at what my body has always been and it becomes this thing. It’s always in the back of my mind. I’ve never had the washboard abs and I keep seeing everyone around me with them. These guys are half my age and I still want to win the body image race. I’m not going to. But I want to.”

Calum shakes his head for a moment, eyes finally drifting up to Eve’s. “This probably makes no sense.”

She shakes her head. “No, no, you can tell me. You can keep going.”

“It’s boring. Really. In the end I’m here. This is the only body I’m going to get so hating it feels like a waste of the very limited time I do have.”

“So no hair dye?”

Calum grins, head shaking again with a no. “Again, I could spend my time in a salon getting it dyed or I could get the grocery shopping done. I’m going to get the grocery shopping done. Easy choice. I could work out 5 times a week or I could have an extra hour in my day for a nap, or errands, or seeing my friends, or going on a date with you. I think I’m going to take that extra hour back in my day. I break it all down to choice: I could choose to keep spending time loathing and wallowing in self pity or I can do literally anything else on my to-do list. I try to eat healthy. I keep active. And I want to enjoy my life.”

“Damn, here I was thinking the only enjoyment in life was wallowing in self-pity,” Eve reclines back into her seat too now, fingers spinning her empty bowl around in circles. 

“Yeah, I’ll be the first to tell you there’s a lot more to be doing.”

“Like eating ice cream,” Eve offers. She gestures to Calum’s own cup that’s not quite finished. 

“Absolutely like eating ice cream.” Calum reaches back out for his cup and pulls it up to his chest. 

“It’s a problem I’d kill to have.” Eve says the sentence mostly to herself given the audience of the teen couples in the ice cream shop. A couple groups look like friends enjoying the cold sugary treat. But Eve keeps the confession quiet enough that she can almost watch the words fall from her lips into the empty cup beneath her as she sits up more in the seat. Though she’d learned that her predicament was not changing long ago, it doesn’t mean that she didn’t occasionally want something else.

“Guess we will always want what we can’t have,” Calum answers though there was no real question. Eve will always want to age and never have it. Calum will want to stay young and can’t have it. The two of them will always desire each other eternally and Calum is merely mortal. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to call desire a poison?”

“I mean, I wouldn’t call this desire one.”

Eve watches. Calum’s working down the scoop from his spoon. Is he referring to the desire between the two of them? Is he referring to the ice cream? Most often Eve could always read behind the words that Calum was giving. But given the way he’s hungrily scoping down the sugary treat, Eve’s not sure where Calum’s word lay. “Me or the ice cream?” she questions.

“Why not both?” Calum clarifies. “Why box me in?”

“I’d never do such a thing. But it was important to clarify.” She doesn’t bite back the smile. “Want another?”

Calum shakes his head. “What I want isn’t on the menu.”

Eve sighs at the taste of chocolate still sitting on Calum’s tongue when he laps into her mouth. The metal of the car presses into the bare skin of Eve’s back and the coldness cuts through the haze that’s descending. Though her fingers are digging at Calum’s waist, tugging him closer into her body and her hips widening to accept him, the cold metal keeps Eve grounded. They’re still in public. There’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed. But Eve wants nothing more than to crawl into Calum’s chest and never leave. The warmth of his touch sears her skin and she’s nearly forgotten how much her body was made for him. 

Calum’s moan is swallowed down by the wet smacking of Eve’s lips against his. His muscles ache with how much he’s demanding himself to keep his hands in appropriate places. But it’s tempting. He could so easily take one of her hips into his palms. He remembers how snug he can hold her flesh and it barely leaves a mark. He could take her ass into his hands, hoist her up onto his waist, rut up into her and she’d sigh. It all comes back exactly what Eve likes. Calum doesn’t do anything if that; he behaves. Calum moves one hand and only one to cup Eve’s neck. His fingers splay over her pulse point and he can find the erratic thump of her veins against his fingers. 

When he squeezes, just slightly, Eve drops her head back causing her lips to pull away from his. Calum grins against her mouth, hovering but never quite sealing around hers. Eve grins too, slipping her hands to press into the cut of Calum’s own hips, still above his jeans but dangerous enough that Calum knows what she’s hinting at. “Ah, there she is,” Calum teases. “Now, see if you had a place of your own, this next part would be much less complicated.”

Eve says nothing. Her throat is still cupped in Calum’s hold. Calum realizes now she has nothing to say because she’s digging into his chest pocket. His keys click as she brandishes them. “Trust me?”

Of course, Eve has connections. If Calum was ever to need something, Eve could somehow always get her hands on it. He’d stopped asking questions on how she managed to have such an ability but there is a certain level of trust he has to have with her. “I do,” Calum answers. 

Eve unlocks the car, free hand finding the door handle. As it clicks open and Eve steps forward, Calum lets his hands on her fall. “Sit back and relax,” she commands, holding the door open for Calum. 

He leans over the door to plant another kiss to her lips. As he slides into the passenger seat, Eve closes the door for him. She’s quick to jog around the front of the car. Her descent into the seat is a bit more graceful than Calum’s. She adjusts the seat up closer to the steering wheel with a chuckle. “God, I know you’re taller than me but how do you manage to sit so far back from the wheel?” Eve teases. 

“Not everyone has to drive up on the steering wheel like they’re driving Miss Daisy.” Foot on the brake, Eve pushes to start the ignition. Her hand comes up to swat at Calum’s arm but he captures it before it fully connects. His lips leave a trail of kisses before he place the limb near the gear shift. A sign for her to continue. 

The streets are smooth and Calum’s just barely keeping up the turns. He’s focused more on the way Eve seems to sit with ease. His legs continue to bounce the longer the drive goes. What if he’s not what Eve remembers him as? He had aged. Still in good shape, but he was not in the same shape that he had been half his life ago. His knees sometimes bother him. Many years of punk jumps will inevitably catch up on the body. Sure Calum had confessed in the ice cream shop that he was worried about his appearance. Yes, Calum still wants Eve sexually. But it’s hitting him as they wind through the streets that it might leave her dissatisfied. 

The car pulls to a stop, a hanging red light in front of them. The touch is light on his cheek and Calum turns into it. Eve’s thumb strokes his flesh slowly. “Don’t get lost up there,” she whispers. 

“I’m okay,” Calum states. He wants to believe it too. He needs to believe that he’s okay. 

“It’s okay if you’re not. But I need you to stay down here with me, okay?” Eve’s smile is sweet. 

Calum nods, throat seizing up on him just a little but he has enough air to respond, “Okay.”

The light turns green and Eve drops her hand to his knee before taking off. In another block, they pull into a parking lot of a hotel. Calum snorts, upon seeing the building. “There were cheaper motels much closer to my house.”

“Let me spoil you,” Eve sighs. They climb out of the car together. Eve waits at the back of the car, hand extended out. Calum takes it with ease. Eve’s strides are long enough to keep up with Calum’s. “Now, follow my lead. And don’t under any circumstances think that you should reach for your wallet at any point during the check in.”

“Eve I’m not going to let you--”

“Don’t,” she interrupts. “Lean a bit more into me, okay?” Eve slides her arm around his waist dropping the hold on her hand. Calum rests a tiny bit more of his weight into Eve’s frame. The door slides open and the lobby is incredibly cold. The rush of hair cuts through the two shirts Calum is wearing. Eve opted to drop his jacket off in the car between them finishing their food and going into the shop. Calum hadn’t even thought to grab it on the way out of the car. He realizes just how cold it is when Eve rubs her palm over her back. His fingers are digging into her shoulders. 

“Welcome to The Rosewood,” the girl at the front desk greets. “Do you two have a reservation already?”

“My husband and I have been driving through the night. He got tired driving and now so am I. Would you happen to have a room available? I am terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” Eve starts. 

Calum’s grateful for the tiny bit of Eve’s warmth seeping into his clothes. He gives a tiny grin when the girl looks up at him and he realizes now--something else swirls in her irises. Like the purple swirls in Eve’s. 

“Your husband?” the girl repeats, slower and with something like surprise coloring the words. Calum can’t tell if she was expecting something to happen in the exchanged glances; had he given himself away as not one of them? 

“Second chances,” Eve returns, tightening her hold on his waist just a little. 

Did this girl already know about Calum? He’d never seen her before, not that he remembers at least. The joke Kiri made about Calum’s memory resurfaces. But now, Calum is sure after noticing the red swirling in her eyes that he’d remember that. He remembered Eve. 

The girl taps at her keyboard, mouse clicking several times before she turns to a machine--two keycards in her hand. Calum’s been at plenty of hotels to know that they should’ve asked how many beds, what size. But none of that was discussed. There’s no conversation about the per night charge. As the keys one at a time hover over the machine, it beeps to let the attendant know the cards have been magnetized and properly keyed for the right room. 

The girl smiles as she slides over both keys. “11th floor. 1125.”

Eve takes the cards from the counter. “Thank you.”

“Should we adjust the heat in the room for your guest?”

Eve nods. “Just a little.”

“Consider it done. Enjoy your stay, my liege.” 

Eve’s quick on her heel to guide Calum towards the elevators. But he glances back, noticing the girl speaking into a walkie. Enjoy your stay, my liege. The words echo around in Calum’s brain, so much so he doesn’t even catch the ding of the elevator. He walks in because Eve pulls him through. 

“What is this place?” Calum questions as the doors close. “Do you own this place?”

“It’s a hotel,” Eve replies. “Which services all people and some creatures as needed.”

“So she is?” He doesn’t really finish the question: So, she is a demon too? 

Eve nods. “Yes, she is. There’s covers all over the world. I opened them because I can’t answer every single call. I can’t keep tabs single handedly. But there are plenty of calls that are just not worth it. It’s all legitimate. You don’t need to worry about getting caught up, though.”

“But they know me?”

“They do. And they know you and your family are off limits. I have very little time for servers who think it’s fun to use humans as play things. They create problems. I vet rigorously and it only takes one offense with me. I have rules for a reason.”

Calum hears everything else that she doesn’t say. “Because you need people you trust when you’re with me.”

“Exactly. I don’t want to be worried no work is getting done. I don’t want to be worried that there’s trouble when I’m with you.” The elevator lurches to a stop and the doors slide open. 

Calum follows behind Eve this time. So Eve has hotel fronts--which are legitimate hotels. Calum assumes so because Eve says so and because as she starts down the hallway someone else draped in a robe shuffles down past them--ice bucket in hand. They smile as Calum and Eve pass, hardly interrupting the tune they’re whistling. No strange color swirls in their eyes. Not that Calum thinks anyone would just go out and about with that aspect constantly visible.

“Why don’t you stay here?” 

“It’s not like I need a place to sleep.” 

“But you’d have an actual room and bed here. Your stuff would be safer.”

Eve pauses at their door. 1125 stared back at Calum. It reminds him briefly of how close his and Cailean’s birthdays are. “Are you concerned about my things or are you concerned about me?”

“You,” Calum returns, turning her by her hips. “I am always concerned about you.”

“I’m safe, Calum.”

“But you would be safer here.”

“I can think of one other place I’m safer,” Eve whispers, pushing slightly up on her tiptoes. 

“Where’s that?” Calum whispers back. The door clicks open and Eve grins as she steps into the room backwards. It only takes one crook of her finger for Calum to follow. Whatever concerns had about her safety are overridden by desire. 

The room is warm--thankfully so. They only flicker on the bedside lamp. And Calum’s not really sure who turned it on. The only thing he can focus on is the way Eve tastes. He listens for every sigh she releases. He zeroes in on the way she clings to him. It makes his toes curl to still be desired. Calum’s overshirt is the first to go. Eve runs her fingers over his biceps, eyes focusing in on the ink. Some of it she’s always known was there. Other items are new. Her nails scratch lightly at the black ink. “You with me?” Calum whispers into her jaw. 

“Yes,” Eve exhales, chasing his lips down again. 

The kiss is broken by Calum’s one word response, “Good.”

Calum’s breath leaves him as Eve peels herself out of the top. She stands next to the edge of the bed, arms peeling out of the mesh sleeves. The top falls almost quietly onto the carpeted floor and Calum’s mouth salivates at the sight of her breasts. He grips her hips and tug. Eve laughs as she falls into him, catching herself by holding onto his shoulder. The warmth of his tongue over her nipples causes her to moan. She loves it. Loves the way that Calum whispers into his skin, So beautiful. So fucking beautiful. She’s not sure if Calum wants the words to mean something more, but she doesn’t have the brain to ask as he holds her tight. 

Her pants slide down next and Eve stands bare. 

“Oh my god,” Calum laughs, dragging a hand down over his face. “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

“Hmm, almost,” Eve asks. She straddles his hips, fingers teasing at the pulled up hem of his undershirt. “Can I take this off you?”

It’s the question he knew was coming. He would have to eventually, right? That was the expectation for him. He would have to take his shirt off. 

“You don’t have to say yes,” Eve continues on when Calum’s eyes fall from her face. “We can stop here.”

Calum ties his arms around her waist, forearms griped into the hand of the other at her back. “I don’t want to stop here,” he starts. The rest of the words die on his tongue for a moment. “I don’t have the body I did all those years ago, okay?”

“You don’t have the body you did all those years ago,” Eve returns. “Can I let you in on a secret?”

Calum nods, eyes falling back to her face. “Of course.”

“I don’t expect you to. I don’t want you to. I want where Calum is now--thirty years later, three kids later, a whole life span later. I want you for where you are now. Can I have that? Where you are now?”

 Calum kisses her--there are no words in his throat to convey the relief that floods his body. He can do that. It’s where he is now and that’s all she wants. Calum can do that. He parts the kiss and sheds the undershirt. He feels more vulnerable her now, under the watchful gaze that Eve levels him with. But she smiles. “Lay back for me.”

Her hands are on his shoulders and Calum gives into the non-existence pressure, letting himself fall back into the mattress. Eve bends forward just a little, arms holding her weight up above Calum. “You’re handsome you know? So fucking handsome,” she adds before pressing a kiss to Calum’s clavicle. She traces down to his peck, then kisses the other side. Her kisses continue all across the expanse of his chest. She even goes so far as to tease one of his nipples. 

Calum grunts at the sensation, but the warmth of her mouth makes him feel like he’s going to float away. He loves it. “Thank you,” he exhales each time Eve breathes her praise into his skin.

She kisses over his stomach. Calum tries to retract whenever she takes a bite, laughing just a little at the antic. “You should’ve eaten more at the restaurant if you were this hungry,” Calum laughs. 

“Oh you’re more delicious.” 

Calum is softer in her hold. But she adores the way when she presses in and it’s still firm, but still soft too. It reminds her that Calum’s lived an entire life. One that he deserved to have. He deserves to be happy. He deserves to be fulfilled in his life, in all the ways that he wanted. Eve can feel her own arousal leaking from her as she takes in the sight of Calum beneath her. Calum’s hands run lazily over her thighs. 

“Your jeans are going to be ruined,” Eve warns. 

Calum traces the line of her stomach down and reaches between her legs. Her slick drips down on his fingers. “It’s a good thing they can be washed.”

Eve tries to keep her composure. But Calum teases her clit with the tips of his fingers, slow circles and it punches her gut. She clenches around nothing knowing what will come next. Calum watches the way her breathing picks up, becomes heavier and quicker above him. He continues on, small small circles. “Please,” she whispers. 

“Please what, love?”

Eve takes his wrist and moves his hand back a little. His fingers now just below her opening. “Are you really going to make me beg?”

Calum pushes up to one elbow. He traces her opening and her grip loosens. “Maybe.”

“Calum,” she exhales. “Please.”

Calum brings one finger up and when it slides in easily, he thinks twice and then removes it, before slipping two digits inside. Eve falls forward just a little, a yelp scratching over her throat. Her hips grind down before she can stop herself. Calum relaxes back down into the mattress grinning at Eve sighs. He takes her left hip into his free hand, guiding her back up. 

She tastes heavenly. Calum hums around the two digits in his mouth. Though he can see the disappointment on her face, Eve doesn’t utter anything. She just watches Calum, pupils blown almost fully. “Come here,” Calum huffs out, pulling at her knees. Eve goes, crawling on her hands and knees up Calum’s body. 

He pulls her down onto his mouth, arms hooking around her legs to hold her in place. The first swipe of his tongue earns him a content hum. Like Eve’s been waiting desperately for this and Calum realizes the only thing he cares about right now is that sound. Swipe after swipe, Calum works her so she sighs and moans above him. 

Eve cards her fingers through his hair, legs tensing a little beneath her. The orgasm is fast approaching. It starts deep from the pit of her stomach, spreading like fire throughout her chest and limbs. The work of Calum’s tongue has her hanging between her earthly surroundings and pure ecstasy. She feels the steady march of her release shaking her core and she can only find it within herself to grind down on Calum’s face. “Shit,” she whispers. “Cal. I’m--”

The words die. She can’t get them out, not with how deep her orgasm comes from her gut. Her jaw goes slack and though a scream should fall from her lips, she is silent. Her grip tightens in Calum’s hair and he knows. Her spasms are erratic and her legs are quivering. Calum knows she’s coming undone and a little bit of pride sparks in his chest. He’s still got it. He can still make Eve buckle like this. For the moment by doubts are quieted. 

Though Eve’s still blinking back to the surface from her own post orgasm haze, she shimmies back down Calum’s body, placing kisses as she goes. She gets one hand onto the buckle of his belt and then pauses. “May I?”

It only takes a nod. Eve’s work is quick as she undoes the buckle. Her fingers are deft on the button and zipper. Eve works his pants down, underwear in her grasp too, and Calum exhales when she kisses his shaft. Her laughter is soft before she continues on, disrobing him completely. Calum’s trying to keep himself grounded. But Eve’s touch keeps taking him away. Her lips are soft around his length. She holds his hips down with her palms and Calum’s sure his whole lead is going to float off.

Not that Calum thinks he wants his head back back if it does fall off his shoulders. He wants nothing back if Eve took it. And God, is she taking everything as she grasps the base of his cock with one hand and her lips wrapping around the rest. There’s no hesitation as she takes him down her throat. Even behind the dark of his closed eyelids, Calum feels everything. If this is what it means to be a goner, Calum never wants to be found. 

“One sec-” Calum huffs, the strong tug of Eve’s hand at his length cutting off his words. Now, he’s laying between her legs, a slow shift from the blow job she’d started to the top of the bed. They both know where they are headed and Eve is the more impatient one of the two of them currently. She pouts when Calum breaks the kiss. “One second,” he whispers, pulling away from Eve. 

She lets her arms fall from around his neck and watches as he shuffles back to the edge of the bed, moving from between her legs which they’d been in for what feels like hours. There’s something more wildly intimate about sharing breaths and reverent kisses than engaging in anything else. There’s something more intimate just being close to someone that Calum hadn’t had in a long time he wants to experience the most. Sex is great, but when Eve kisses at his neck gently and when she laughs Calum feels like he’s never lost anything. He feels a little bit more complete. Calum finds his pants again, rooting into the front pocket. 

“What are you looking for?”

Calum holds up the tiny foil packet, brows furrowing as he looks back at Eve. He’d gotten a vasectomy after Māra’s birth, about a year later he’d figured. But Calum is nothing if not cautious. Nothing was fully preventative and though he loves his kids he is well past the diaper phases with all of them. He has zero desire to return to that. Eve grins, her laughter shaking her shoulders. They hold each other’s gaze for one moment, then two. Calum’s gaze breaks first, brows shooting up on his face. His own amusement paints his face. “You--that’s right!”

“Unless you feel more comfortable with a condom, of course. I haven’t had any other partners in a while.”

“Like what—what’s a while for you? six months?” Calum guesses. “You don’t have to spare my feelings, you know?”

“Like try a year and a half, maybe two,” Eve laughs. 

“Babe,” Calum coos. “A year and a half?”

“It didn’t kill me. Don’t pity me.”

Calum settles back onto the bed, motioning for her to come to him. Eve slides over and sits next to him, legs tucked under herself. “It’s not pity, Eve. The condom--it's a habit. And I never expected you to be out here celibate forever. It’s just--a year and a half? What were you waiting on?”

“You.”

“If that’s just a line, it’s a damn good one.”

Eve tips Calum’s chin up and her grip tightens on the bone. “It is not, nor will it ever be a line.” Calum knows that look ne tone. Every word is serious. Every syllable is truth. “Now bring you and your condom over here, please.”

“With pleasure,” Calum exhales. 

Calum thinks for a moment he’s not going to make it long. He hadn’t lost all his stamina, but Eve pulses around him in a way that makes him worried about how long it’s been since the last time he was with someone that he’s going to come embarrassingly quick. There wouldn’t be any judgment, but the fear prickles up just a little for Calum as his hips snap against hers. He’s able to quiet it mostly he zeros in on Eve. He gets to watch her face contort and he gets to listen to every praise all because of him. And that’s all because of him. He’s making Eve feel that good. 

Any fear he might’ve had is almost instantly squashed by the way Eve clings to him. How can he be worried about anything else when she’s begging for him? How can he doubt anything when Eve’s babbling beneath him? It’s incoherent and Calum knows it’s all because of him. There’s no higher higher than listening to Eve beg on his cock. 

Except for when Eve can see the slight falter and if it’s because of how close he is or because of the exertion catching up, Eve doesn’t question it. She just gets a tighter grip on Calum, plants one foot down onto the mattress and pushes up. Calum holds onto her waist and lets her take him down. “Let me,” she whispers into his ear. “Let me do the hard work now.”

Calum can only nod. The prickle of fear comes back and he nearly curses his body for getting older. He can’t fully form the thought because Eve pushes back up from his chest and sinks back down onto his length in one fluid motion. Calum can only see stars. Perhaps, this is the higher high. Eve’s bounce is intoxicating, a deliciously methodical pace that doesn't feel overwhelming though the pressure is slowly and steadily building in Calum’s gut. He hears her laughs and it doesn’t feel malicious. “Look at you,” she coos. “Tell me, how does it feel?”

Calum’s mouth gapes, he wants to say it feels so good. But the words catch as she gives a particularly firm push back down. “So fucking good,” he squeaks out, taking her hips into his hands. 

“Bet it does,” Eve exhales. Her breathing is coming out more labored, bordering on a pant, but she doesn’t relent. 

Calum’s tells are still the same, Eve notices. His nose scrunches up first and then his fingers dig into the meat of her thighs. He’s getting closer. “Fuck,” he grunts. “Just like that, Eve. Please.”

“Have no plans otherwise,” she laughs. 

His jaw falls slack and his orgasm rips through. All he can get is a groan, maybe it borders a scream, as his body convulses. Eve follows behind him, taking one of her hands which has been bracing her up on Calum’s chest to her clit. Her orgasm hits fast and hard. An actual scream leaves Eve’s lips. It’s Calum’s name and he swears the sound might be the end of him. It sounds so heavenly to hear something so visceral. 

By the time Calum and Eve return to the house, the downstairs is empty. It’s a good thing because Calum’s black jeans clearly spot the stain of Eve’s arousal. Not a conversation he is looking to have if he can avoid it. Calum can hear the kids upstairs--Cailean is laughing as Māra’s voice falls down the stairs. “Get out!” she screeches. 

“It’s past your bedtime, kiddo. Gotta see you off since Dad’s out.”

“No, you just want to be an ass,” Māra huffs. “Get out, Cai.”

“For the love of all things holy, the two of you need to quit it,” Kiri’s voice finally enters the mix. Calum and Eve use the spat as cover to get to the guest room downstairs. Calum closes the door softly behind them. They’re quick to shower--specifically together-- and change out of the date clothes. 

“I’m going to make sure no one is actually dead, then I’ll be right back,” Calum details, kissing Eve’s forehead from where it pokes out beneath the sheets. The squabble sounds rectified, but he wants to make sure it was nothing serious. 

“Need back up?”

“Don’t think so, but if I do, you’ll know.” 

Calum carries himself up the steps. He can see Kiri’s door is cracked at the end of the hallway, the light bleeds into the hallway. As he reaches the top of the stairs, he catches the light underneath the doors from Cailean’s room and Māra’s room. He knocks on Kiri’s door first, bypassing the younger two for the moment. 

“Yeah?” Kiri calls, spinning in his chair. He spots Calum and then smiles. “Hey, Pops. How was the date?”

“Good--enjoyed some ice cream as a nice touch.”

Kiri laughs, pointing at his own neck to let Calum know of the visible bruises. “Looks like really good ice cream.”

“Hey, hey, you’ve come back from a party or two in worse wear.”

Kiri nods, knowing of his own escapades. He holds up his hands as surrender. “No grandkids. No doctor trips, like my old man taught me.”

“Are you still seeing her? You haven’t mentioned Bryanna in a while.”

Kiri shakes his head. Calum’s not sure if he’s imagining the shift, but Kiri looks away as he speaks, “No. She, uh, she and I didn’t work out.”

Calum can tell there’s more to the story than just what Kiri gives. But Kiri isn’t the type to be fully outright. He cracks, but Calum knows he can’t outright ask what’s wrong. He just needs to crack open the door. Then Kiri will do the rest.  “You know where to find me if you want to talk about it.”

“Yeah, though I think I will have to text you before I think of going downstairs. Don’t need to hear anything either.”

Calum laughs, pressing into the door molding. It presses a little into the nail marks that he noticed his shower earlier. But it’s not a bad pain. “The last thing I want to do is scar my kids so don’t worry. Anything I need to know about with those two? Besides the argument I heard when I walked in the door.”

Kiri shakes his head, pushing up from his chair. He’s the same height as Calum when they’re next to each other. But Kiri looked so much like Calum’s own mother that it shocks Calum how much he does see Kelsie in his face too. It’s the sharp eyes that he got from Kelsie that Calum sees the most. Everything else is Calum. “Nah, it was just loud--what you heard. Nothing serious.” 

Calum nods at the return. Though this feels like a moment where he might be able to walk away, Calum stays. All Calum has to do is crack open the door. Kiri will take the inch. Kiri finally speaks again for a few moments of silence. “Are-are you happy with Eve, Pops?”

Calum exhales. He hadn’t expected Kiri to worry so much about him, nor did Calum think this would be the door Kiri would open. “Kiri, I know you care. But that’s not your job.”

“It’s not. I know. I just--are you happy with Eve?”

“I’m--I like being with Eve. I’m not happy because of her. I am happier around her though. There’s, uh, there’s a lot that I still have to deal with surrounding Kelsie’s death. I don’t think I’ll ever be over it. Yeah, I’m happy where Eve and I are. I like spending time with her. But that does not mean I’ve forgotten your mother.”

“No, no, it’s not that. I know you haven’t forgotten Mom. I’m asking because you seem happier when she’s around. Even if you two did have that small spat.”

“You-you heard that?” Calum rubs a hand over his stubbly chin. Not one of his proudest moments. “I’m sorry, son.”

“I’ve heard you and mom fight too. It’s nothing new. I asked because I wanted to say that I’m glad you’re happy, you know? We worried. I’d hear you sometimes at night when Mom first passed. And I knew I couldn’t do anything, you now. I was crying too. But, it’s just, it’s insane to think that a year ago we were all thinking we’d never get through it. And now, we-we are. We’re getting through it.”

“It’s all time, Ki. It’s all time.”

Kiri nods. It was all time. In more time they’d be even further along too.  Though, Kiri’s current predicament seemed like time would never give him what he wanted. “Brynna and I didn’t work out because I refused sex a couple of times.”

There is it--the mile Kiri would take if Calum gave an inch. Calum crosses the threshold into Kiri’s room, closing the door softly behind him. His heart pounds in his chest. Was this going to turn into a story of Kiri giving in just to appease someone? Was it going to turn out much worse? For a moment, Calum’s vision shakes, but he inhales deeply and settles in the desk chair Kiri had originally vacated while Kiri settles onto the bed. “Are you okay, Kiri?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay now. And I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to do. But I don’t know. It all still sort of feels weird I guess.”

“Weird how?”

“I-The first time it happened we’d been drinking.” It’s not lost on Calum just how young Kiri is. Yes, it’s underage. But the thing that Calum is more focused on is that if Kiri’s going to make those choices he knows the consequences. He prefers if he’s honest that Kiri drinks at home. But he knows it won’t happen. Kelsie didn’t like the drinking at all and the first time he turned up home drunk Calum had been the one to get him to his room and leave water for him in the morning. Kelsie, much like Calum, understood the kids would make choices they didn’t always love, but they never wanted to make their kids feel bad for choices. Sometimes natural consequences were enough. 

Kiri finally works the lump down in his throat to continue on. “I wasn’t drunk. But I wasn’t sober. Brynna was worse than me so when she initiated it, I sort of squashed it. Played up I was drunker than I was and when I told her we probably shouldn’t, she seemed a little hurt at first. But the party continued on and it was just a struggle to get her back to her dorm room. But she passed out the second she got into her bed. It never seemed to come back up again.”

Calum nods, to let Kiri know he’s still listening. “Take your time,” he offers soft watching Kiri blink away some tears. 

“But the second time, she and I were here. Studying. And I know not a lot of studying was happening. We were getting a little handsy. Kissing was fine, but I just didn’t want sex. Nothing against her. But I’d been on edge after getting my second exam back in Calculus, that D.”

Calum offers another nod. He remembers how Kiri had stomped into the house and gone directly to his room. It took until dinner for Kiri to be calm enough to express his struggles with the course. They sat down that night to figure out how to book Kiri a tutor through the university. But they got it and now he’s getting by with a B-. It may just barely be a B minus, but it’s better than the D+ he’d been at. 

“I don’t know. Like it was a distraction, I guess when Brynna first approached me. And I sort of gave in because I wanted to at first. But when I’d back out of the gate and go back to work, she’d kiss at my neck again a few minutes later. After the second time of me sort of softly rejecting her, she tried a third time and I just had to flat out tell her I didn’t want more right then. She got offended. She accused me of cheating. I tried to tell her that I wasn’t cheating. And I swear I wasn’t Pops. Then she said that me rejecting her made her feel unwanted and like she wasn’t attractive. And I don’t know. Everything I said was wrong. If I tried to tell her I did find her attractive, then she’d ask why I didn’t want sex. And I just didn’t, you know? I just didn’t want it right then. But it all got out of hand. She started screaming at me. I--it got to the point where I told her I’d take her back to campus but I wasn’t going to be screamed at and accused of things that weren’t true. I wanted to talk it out and I offered to like give her some space so we could talk it through. But it never de-escalated.”

Calum can see the tears falling and he reaches out, a hand on Kiri’s knee. It’s not the story he thought he’d get--part of Calum is relieved to hear that his worst nightmare was not recognized. But it’s not easy. It never is. “Look at me, Kiri.”

Kiri sniffles hard before he brings his head up to look his father in his face. “I don’t know what I did wrong. It sucks.”

“It does suck. I’m sure you know I can’t tell you what you did right or wrong. I wasn’t there. But I can tell you that you offering to talk about it after Brynna calmed down is a better move than I could’ve given at your age.”

“She eventually ordered a ride back to school even though I offered to drive her. She did text me that she got back safely after I asked her too. But when I tried to text her the next day to see if she was in an okay spot to talk, she just told me that she wanted her ring back.”

“Did she ever talk to you?”

Kiri shakes his head no. “Thanks,” he returns when Calum hands him a few tissues from the box he keeps on his desk. 

“It’s okay to refuse sex when you don’t want it. I know it might fly in the face of everything you might’ve seen in movies, or heard from your friends. But you can say no. People have to respect it when you make that decision. If they don’t, that’s a them problem. You let her know you didn’t want it. It’s really up to her to respect that decision. If she can’t, then the only thing I want you to worry about is keeping yourself safe, you hear me?”

Kiri nods. “I mean, it’s not like I’m a woman, you know.” It’s easy to hear what Kiri’s is implying. He won’t have the same experience as Māra. 

Calum scoots to the edge of the chair, taking Kiri by the back of his neck. They’re foreheads press together. Calum can feel his own tears more now, as they slip down his cheeks. “You may not feel threatened in the same way women do. But it’s still important that you are safe. Your safety is still important.”

Kiri nods, as much as he can, given Calum’s grip. “I know, Dad.”

“I’m glad you stood your ground. I’m so fucking glad she just left and nothing else worse happened. I’m sorry she yelled. I’m sorry she accused you of that shit. But I need you to remember: your job is always to come back safe to me. You got that?”

“Yeah.” Even as the affirmative leaves Kiri’s mouth, his chest feels a little lighter. It doesn’t feel like so much is pressing at his shoulders and neck. He is safe. It does suck what Brynna did and never let Kiri really explain further. Given that she didn’t look at him anymore in classes, he wouldn’t ever get the chance to explain anymore. 

“Come here,” Calum whispers, moving to embrace Kiri in a tight hug. “You’re safe,” he chants. It’s more for Calum than it is for Kiri. Kiri is safe. He’d stood his ground. Brynna had left. “You’re safe.”

When Kiri’s hold loosen, Calum lets him go. Kiri confirms that he’s okay and slowly, Calum steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. 

Eve’s right at the top of the stairs, eyes quietly assessing the redness in Calum’s eyes. His cheeks are wet and he’s sniffling. His chest heaves and she knows something has happened. But she doesn’t say anything before ducking into the bathroom next to Kiri’s room to grab toilet paper. Thankfully she knows it’s a bathroom due to the open door. She hands the wad over to Calum, one hand rubbing at his back. “Came up because I got worried. You okay?”

Calum tucks his head into her neck. He inhales the scent of her body wash. It’s hard for the panic to fully settle when he’s counting how long to hold his breath before he exhales. Eve just holds Calum in silence, keeping her palm a steady slip over his back. When his breathing regulates enough, Calum pulls away. “Sorry.”

“No, no need to be sorry. Do you need anything?”

Calum clears his throat, hands settling now on her hips. “Just need a minute. Still need to check on Cai and Mar.”

Eve gives another nod, eyes assessing Calum’s face. So it’s something with Kiri. Eve doesn’t press. She only nods when Calum glances up at the ceiling. He gives another slightly more steady exhale before taking a step away. “Are my eyes red?”

“Just-just a little. Are there eye drops up here?” Eve turns a little, eyeing the bathroom she’d exited. 

“Master bathroom does, I know. But it’s alright if they’re not super red.”

Eve shakes her head, turning back to Calum. “No, they’re not super red. Could pass for tiredness.”

“It’s all I need.” Calum squeezes at her hips and Eve slips a step back, as if she’d planned to go to the stairs again, but once Calum knocks and pokes his head into Māra’s, Eve tries to assess where the master bedroom might be so she can get to the connecting bathroom. The doors all look the same. She could guess but then if she’s wrong it’s obvious.

“Love you,” Calum returns as he shuts the door. He continues on to Cai’s room, knocking before he catches the affirmative call from behind the door to poke his head inside. Eve settles that maybe she won’t have enough time to find the master bedroom before he’s done. So she waits, near the stairs to hopefully avoid being detected. Though she knows if any of the kids open their door, she will be spotted. 

“Alright, kid, let’s behave, yeah?”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that. Love you,” Cailean laughs, his voice carrying from behind the door. 

“Love you too.”

Eve takes a couple steps closer as Calum closes the door. Once it’s fully shut, she fully crosses the way to him. Calum slips his arm around her shoulders as she presses into his side. “Want to talk about it?” she asks, threading his fingers through hers.

Calum just nods for the stairs and they take them, rounding the corner to the back hallway and only stop once they’re in the bedroom. Calum tries to keep it brief in his retelling. He knows he maybe shouldn’t be even telling Kiri’s business. But he can still feel the shaking of his hands. Calum can still feel the initial anger coursing through his veins. The thing Calum feels most of all though is a sting in his chest. He wishes he could’ve been there more for his son. The truth is Calum didn’t know before now.  

Kiri never said anything until now. He spent so much time on the campus that it was hard to get Kiri for longer than he wanted to be around. Had Calum failed Kiri by not being more firm on making it home for family dinners more often? Had this been festering for as long as it had--which had been weeks, maybe two months now. Kiri came home angry about the second exam about halfway through the semester. In another four or so weeks, the semester would be ending. It wasn’t Calum’s fault for what happened but were there signs Calum had missed?

Eve brings his head into her chest. “Hey, hey, I know that look. Baby, you didn’t know. Kiri’s growing up. He’s not going to tell you everything all the time. He’s going to take some things and do whatever he can to handle it on his own. You and Kelsie raised him to be a competent young man. He can handle a lot. More than you’ve seen him handle probably. When he can’t handle it, that’s when he comes to you. When he’s stumped, he knows you’re there.”

Calum nods, because it’s true. That’s the whole point of children growing up. Kelsie and Calum wanted their kids to get to this point. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “He used to come to us about everything. When he struggled with tying his shoes, he used to ask me to help. When he needed help with homework, he’d come to me.”

“He was supposed to go to you for those things,” Eve returns. “And he still does. He still comes to you. He did it tonight.” She’s not sure if these words are comforting or if she’s adding more fuel to the fire. “He still comes to you for help. It just looks different now.”

It does look different now. It will look different in another nineteen years too. Calum tightens the hold on Eve’s t-shirt. He knows she’s got plenty of business to attend to. She’d mentioned it earlier before they left for dinner. “Will you stay until I fall asleep?” Calum asks softly. 

“Yes.”

“Will you be here when I wake up?” It feels silly to ask. Eve might not be able to promise that. But Calum needs reassurance. He’s afraid if he wakes and she’s not here, he’s going to unravel.

“Yes,” Eve returns again. “Yes, I will be here when you wake up.” Those words make it so much easier to contemplate sleep for Calum. 

Calum catches the beeping of his alarm and he sighs. There will be little light when he cracks open his eyes. It won’t rise for another hour and a half. Something closes softly, even though Calum’s alarm is going, when the sound cuts down for a moment he catches the close. “Eve?” he asks quietly in the dark. 

“It’s me.” Her voice floats back over the wail of the alarm. 

Calum pushes up and turns the noise off. The bed dips a little behind him. He switches on the bedside lamp. There is the soft yellow haze as he turns, Eve fills out in front of him. Her horns--which Calum can’t help but recall the night her halo crumbled to reveal the horns-- are still protruding but clearly being retracted and hidden away. Calum strokes her jaw. “You don’t have to hide here.”

Eve closes the distance to press a kiss to his lips. “I like to keep up appearances,” she states against her lips. “You still okay for shopping today?”

“Dad’s gotta do what dad’s have to do,” Calum nods. 

“Want me to handle breakfast then? Is today a workout day?”

“It is. But you don’t have to, Eve.”

The nails are sharp against his jaw, but Eve’s touch is gentle. “Give me one thing on your plate today.” It is not a plea. It is a command. 

“Breakfast,” Calum concedes. “If you don’t mind.”

“Give me the rundown, boss.” As Calum pushes out of the bed, grabbing his workout clothes he talks through all the normal things he fixes for breakfast. Eve nods, peeling herself out the robes and slipping into one of Calum’s t-shirts. She leaves the leggings on. Her shoes have been toed off already. 

“Cailean’s going to wake first. He showers and then does god know what in his room. Kiri wakes second. He’s a night showerer. So he’ll probably get downstairs first and be the first one of the door. Māra wakes last, takes the longest to get ready. But she’ll be down stairs before 7:25 to scarf down her oatmeal. Cailean’s driving Māra and himself to school now with his license so even if I’m not back, which I will be, but should I not, they’ll still get to school on time.”

Eve nods. “Oatmeal, banana, and orange for Cailean and Mar. Kiri will take whatever. What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you have?”

Calum grins. “I eat a little bit of oatmeal and usually some yogurt.”

“Won’t do,” Eve insists. 

“I have survived on it this far.” Calum kisses her forehead after tying up his running shoes. Eve walks with him to the front door, after Calum gets something quick down before his workout. 

At the crack of the door, Eve tugs Calum back by his waistband. He gives into the tug and she stretches to kiss him. The horizon is still dark, but it’s got a blue underhue that lets them all know dawn is coming. “Have a good run,” she wishes. 

She has a little bit of time. It’s just barely five. Though she knows for her plan she can’t wait too long. So when the minutes tick over to about 5:45 she pushes from the bed. Her phone buzzes. Eve answers the call, listening to the rough breathing crackling through the phone. “Finished.”

Eve rattles off a set of coordinates to the voice on the other end of the phone. “Confirm the amount,” she commands after a minute of silence. 

“550.”

“Wait for my call for the other half, waiting to confirm cleanliness.”

“Understood,” the voice heaves out. The phone call ends. Eve places her phone back onto the counter, giving the eggs one last flip. 

“Morning,” Kiri says. His voice is a little hoarse but his smile seems mostly genuine as he takes in Eve’s appearance in the kitchen. 

“Morning.” Eve sets a plate down at the bar counter. “That’s for you.” 

Eggs and toast stare back up at Kiri. Then another bowl settles down--a melody of strawberries, blueberries and what looks like sliced mango. The glass clinks against the coaster--orange juice he realizes. “Thanks, Eve. You-I could’ve gotten all this.”

The front door cracks open, Calum’s voice floats up gently from the front. “Eve?”

“Kitchen,” she calls out. Then to Kiri, she adds, “I was fixing myself something and heard you upstairs.” An easy life. 

“Thank you,” he returns. There is a plate which holds a similar assortment so it looks true enough. When Calum rounds the corner into the kitchen, he pats Kiri on the shoulder. The two men give a nod to each other before Calum carries on and kisses Eve’s forehead. She lifts the other plate and hands it over to Calum. 

“Good run?”

He nods. Though he’s sure the sweat is clearly still dripping down his face. “Thank you,” he motions with the plate up and then settles down next to Kiri. His bowl of fruit and orange comes next and Kiri frowns a little. There are dishes that are in the sink. Perhaps Eve really did already eat. 

“Of course, babe.” Eve turns back to the stove, pulling down the packets of oatmeal. The floors above them croak. By the time Calum finishes the dishes that are in the sink after his own breakfast, Cailean’s surfacing downstairs. 

“Good morning,” he states. Not with a lot of usual Cailean bravado. Eve starts to deduce that he may not be a morning person like Kiri, but has had to adjust because he’s taken up driving him and Māra to school. Calum slips out of the kitchen to take his own shower. 

“Burning the midnight oil?” Eve teases, setting a bowl of oatmeal and a banana on the placemat. 

“My brain is not awake enough to even understand what that means,” Cailean returns. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Cailean.”

He’s quiet as he eats and Eve tries to listen for Māra. She can’t quite separate out Calum’s shower from what might be running upstairs. So she glances at the clock on the oven. 7:10. Probably a good time to start Māra’s breakfast. Eve does worry for a moment that she might finish it too quickly so she slows everything down just a little. Calum returns to the kitchen and Cailean’s still there, backpack at his feet but there’s no Māra. He spins with a sigh and just as his mouth opens, Mar comes down the steps. 

“Saved by the bell,” Calum grins. “Sleep good?”

She nods. “Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t decide on what shoes to wear since we are going shopping early. Didn’t want anything that would make my feet hurt.”

“Mar, I keep telling you that you need more cushion in your shoes because of your flat feet.”

“But those aren’t cute,” she protests, giving him a hug. 

“You’ll get it when you’re older,” he laughs, kissing the top of her head. She scurries into the kitchen, knowing she’s only got a few minutes to spare. 

“Good morning, Māra,” Eve states. Calum goes back to the sink, realizing more dishes have piled up. 

“Hi, Eve. Thanks for breakfast.”

“Of course.”

It’s strange as the house falls silent. Kiri left while Calum was taking his shower, but he did say his goodbyes to the house before his departure. Cailean and Māra have long left. The dishes are done. Calum stops Eve on her way back to the room. She falls into his chest with ease. “Thank you for helping today, baby.”

“Of course, Cal. I’m happy to help. What time is Māra’s dentist appointment?”

“1:30. I’m picking her up during her lunch time, 12:45.”

“When are you leaving the studio then?”

Calum shakes his head. “Not going today. Will be going in a little tomorrow, four hours max.”

“So what are you planning to do for the next 4 hours?”

“You tell me,” Calum whispers into her neck. 

Eve giggles at the scratch of his stubble. “Something tells me you have plenty of ideas.”

Speak of the devil. Calum waits for a moment longer and then another message pops up. It’s a screenshot of a text conversation and he taps on it, bringing this glasses down from the top of his head. He’d forgone his contacts as he was running low on time. As much as he didn’t want to leave the bed with Eve, she’d forced him up so he could get Māra on time and be on time to the appointment. Māra made it through another dental appointment with a clean bill of health and now he sits outside of the dressing rooms at the place Eve mentioned yesterday. She and Māra have been rummaging through racks for a solid twenty minutes and Calum opted to linger back as to not intrude too much. 

After he approved her try on stack--a few of them just barely passing Calum’s initial check--Eve and Māra scurried to the fitting rooms. Eve agreed to be the first line of defense, knowing that she might be able to talk Māra down from any ledges before having to face Calum. Now Calum is here, pulling his glasses down to read the screenshots better that Kiri sent to him. At the top he can see Brynna’s name. The last text exchange was brief. 

Kiri asked if she got back to the dorms safely. Brynna replied with a short, yes. When Kiri asked the next day--this text more clearly dated for September 15th to the current start of December, can we talk soon? i’d like to understand what made you so mad about me saying no, he received only two sentences: i’d like my ring back. meet before calculus. 

But the latest message is from Brynna. Calum can tell from the date and it being in a gray bubble. sorry about the way i acted. you didn’t deserve that. There’s no real explanation about why Brynna acted the way she did. But perhaps the apology would be what Kiri needed to move on. Calum taps into the box to reply. 

How do you feel about the apology? he asks. 

i guess i’m relieved. at least she apologized? don’t know really. 

Calum sighs as his fingers work over the keys. Is it because you still want to know why?

yeah, like, she apologized and i appreciate that. but it still doesn’t tell me why she freaked.

Calum taps the corner of the device to his forehead. He’s not sure what to say. Kiri would never really know why. It appears as if Brynna had enough change of heart to apologize for her actions, but not even to reveal what it was that made her so insecure about Kiri’s refusals. This is one of those hard lessons, Calum’s realizing, that he was telling Eve about. Kiri was going to have to learn to accept the fact that he would never know why. He’d only heal and be able to move on once he accepted that sometimes shitty things happen to good people. Sometimes they reason is never known. 

“Thoughts?”

Calum snaps his his head up, taking in the sight of Māra in the red studded sleeves blazer that Eve mentioned earlier. It’s longer than he imagined it to be, but it fits well. “I like it,” he smiles. “Goes well with those earrings you just got.”

“Yeah, the black leather tassel ones. I see the vision,” Māra smiles. “Okay, next top,” she commands and Eve starts to step away but notices the falter of Calum’s smile. 

“You okay?”

“Later, if that’s okay. It’s about what I told you last night. With Kiri.”

Eve nods. “Of course. Later. You need anything though in the meantime?”

“No, I’m good. Now you should go, Mar’s not going to wait too long.”

Eve grins. “We had to axe a few tops before the blazer. I’m crossing my fingers the sweaters are a hit.”

“May God be with you,” he laughs and Eve signs the cross before heading back. 

Calum stares down at the messages with Kiri. I’m sorry she didn’t explain, son. Do you want to talk more when you get home?

yeah, i’d appreciate it, pops. thx. 

Anytime, Kiri. 

Māra proudly displays off a knitted turtleneck in yellow with a black and white gingham pattern on the front, jeans with barbed wire design up the entire body of them, and a black dress with ferns printed onto the design. Calum approves of all of them. The dress is full length to counterbalance his concerns about the spaghetti straps. Eve and Māra both defend that she can wear a long sleeve shirt under the dress to keep it more appropriate for winter and more modest. Māra is a fan of layering, as Calum notices. So he accepts the dress into his arms before they head to the register. Before he can get his cards out, though, Eve slips the bills to the cashier. 

“I had it,” Calum laughs. 

“Think of this as me pre-warning you about the grocery bill this week. Perhaps better to save the cash for that”

Calum can only grin. “What damage’s been done now?”

“Eggs,” Eve laughs. “So many eggs.” She takes the change back and Māra slips in to take the bag with a brilliant smile up to the cashier. Calum and Māra head back up to the foodcourt, considering Māra hadn’t gotten her lunch and was much too eager to the mall to think about food. Once Eve seems them to a table, she kisses Calum on the cheek. “Going to make a quick run to a store while you two eat.”

“Oh, where?” Māra questions. 

“It’s just the Vitamin Shoppe,” Eve counters. “Bit boring, so I figured you two wouldn’t want to waste the time.”

Calum nods at the comment. “Be safe,” he whispers up to Eve. 

“I always am.” He watches her though. Eve would have no reason for the vitamin store. However, she doesn’t turn to round the corner to make to the shop. She continues straight on behind Māra into one of the lingerie stores. Calum quickly looks back down to his tray. Oh, he knows the vitamins are code for. In all honesty, lingerie that was lace and delicate didn’t hold a candle much to the plain looking stuff. He’s garnered respect for simple and chic rather than the buckles and zippers. 

But he won’t complain in the least about what Eve gets. He will not complain in the slightest. He works down a forkful of the coleslaw he ordered as his side before slipping his phone out from his jacket pocket. He swipes until he finds the text message thread with Eve. Lingerie is a hell of a vitamin. 

It sits for about two minutes before Eve responds. Well, you know what the say. A chain and a whip a day keeps the doctor way. 

Calum snorts at the joke and then puts his phone back. Māra and he finish up just as Eve slips out from the store. The bag is a sleek black with the logo written across it in gold. Māra definitely notices it is not the name of the vitamin store, but she only grins as she looks up to Eve. Māra is thankful though. There is at least enough decency not to call it out between them. Māra’s phone is a constant clack from the back seat as Calum and Eve share the front. The charms swing and click with the bumps and as she swipes away. 

“I passed that English quiz, Dad,” Māra offers between the songs on the radio. 

“That’s awesome, sweetpea. Seems like the extra ten times a day study is paying off.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of the fact that I have to add extra time in English. But you were right in the end. Just need to slow down when I’m annotating to really get it.”

Eve’s content from the passenger seat. When the conversation dies, the radio takes over and after a while, Māra will cut in with something else. Usually directed at Calum, but it’s okay. That’s her father and she would never want to cut in on that. They pull up to the house and Eve surveys to see if Kiri’s car is in the driveway. When it’s not, she relaxes a little. She can finally get more details. Māra grabs her bag from the backseat and as they all climb out she takes Eve’s hand gently. “I don’t think I said thank you earlier for coming today and for paying. I really appreciate your kindness, Eve.”

“You’re welcome, Māra. I’m honored you wanted to shopping with me and trusted me enough with it.”

They smile at each other and something like an agreement or understanding feels like it’s blossomed. “Off to my books,” Māra offers. It almost feels like a question, like she’s double checking it’s okay to leave the conversation. 

Eve nods. “Happy studying.” She watches Māra stride all the way into the house. She realizes Māra has a key to the house too. Which of course makes sense. 

Calum slides up next to Eve, her bag in his hand. “Can I take a peak?”

Eve laughs. “No, you can’t. But nice try.”

“Had to ask.” 

Eve keeps calm enough that when they stride into the house she doesn’t feel the need to immediately ask about Kiri. She drops her bag off into the room and then joins Calum in the living room. He offers his side as a cuddle--feet already kicked up on the cushions. Eve finds all too easy to slide between Calum’s legs and rest her head on his chest. He runs his fingers into her hair, rubbing at her scalp. 

“So I told you about Kiri and his stuff, right?”

Eve nods at Calum’s question. “Yes.”

“The girl texted him today. Apologized but didn’t really provide context for why she freaked. He and I are going to talk more when he gets home.”

“Did he say how he’s holding up?”

Calum gives a shrug. “He said he’s a little relieved that she apologized. But it’s eating him alive that he can’t get a straight answer. And I-I don’t know what to tell him. Feels like one of those shitty hard lessons that as a parent I feel like I should be able to soften, but in reality I can’t. It’s just a lesson that’s going to fucking hurt.”

“Wise man told me that we can only do our best when children are faced with those kind of lessons.”

“Yeah, he’s right. Damn bastard,” Calum snickers. 

Eve looks up, cheek smushed still against Calum’s body. “You always manage to find the right words when you need, Calum. And even if they’re not perfect, I think the more important thing is that Kiri knows you’re there for him.” 

“Thank you,” Calum returns, fingers stilling in her hair. “For always being willing to listen.”

“It’s the least I can do, Calum.”

The two lay on the sofa long enough in silence that Calum slips away into sleep. Eve senses how deep his breathing is before the snores start up. She smiles and waits for another ten minutes before she slowly pulls herself from Calum’s hold. He stirs just a little, head turning now to face the couch cushions, but he doesn’t wake. Eve takes her phone from the coffee table. 

She goes back to her calls and taps on the number from this morning. The line connects and more heavy breathing, fills the line. Eve is as quiet as she can be as she rattles off the coordinates carrying herself into the hall bathroom. “Confirm the amount,” she commands for the second time today. 

“550,” the voice heaves back. A bit of a growl curls up the last few syllables. 

“Make scarce. Do not contact me again about this mission. ”

“Understood, my liege.” 

Eve slips her phone back into her pocket and flushes the toilet though she didn’t use it. She runs the sink for about a minute, running her hands under the water. She shakes her hand free of the excess water before going for a paper towel. When she steps back out of the bathroom. Calum’s still curled up on the couch. Māra’s laugh comes from above Eve. Out here, no one will know about what Eve’s done. 

She prays, though, as she settles back down on the couch, resting Calum’s feet into her lap that the apology is enough for Kiri. Eve couldn’t get more. She didn’t need to press to know that she wouldn’t get it. But maybe there’s a little good in the bad. For Kiri’s sake--Eve hopes it’s the truth. 

***************************

I need some help and I can’t go to Dad. Are you free? Māra stares down at the text. Her cursor blinks, and blinks, and blinks. It’s all true. She does need advice. And she doesn’t feel comfortable enough to go to her Dad about it because she’d been the one to tell him not to ask Eve on her behalf. So here Māra is. But there’s something that feels a little bit like betrayal. She could so easily go to her mother before about these kinds of things. Her aunt was in a whole other country and most definitely wouldn’t see the text for a couple days. No doubt her aunt probably wouldn’t be able to make the trip on such short notice. And truth be told, Māra wants it to be Eve that goes with her. She pictures it now walking into the dance with Eve has her escort. The entire room would fall silent but Māra wouldn’t feel so left out. She wouldn’t need to feel pity and no one would need to pity her just because her mom had died. Because Māra would have Eve there to ward off any pity. Eve would make Māra feel safer than just with Calum alone. 

Anyone else that Māra might ask might give her too much sympathy too. Sure it might be an honor that Māra trust them enough to ask to accompany her. But even that thought makes Māra’s stomach churn. She needs someone without the sympathetic gaze to help her with this. So the only other person Māra can think of is Eve. No doubt Eve may not see this text for a few days either. Eve seemed to disappear almost without warning. She’d be there at the house one day and then a few hours later, gone. Dad always said she had duties to see too. He never looked worried so it made Māra feel more confident that it wasn’t anything major. But it did happen a lot. What would happened if Māra asked and duties came up day of? Who would Māra turn to then? But it’s not helpful to think of such scenarios. 

Eve did say that whenever Māra needed her, she could ask. Text--specifically. Eve said to text because she was more likely to see that and than a missed call. Eve can only say no to the request. But a yes would mean so much more. 

“Oh, screw it. Just hit send,” Māra reprimands herself verbally. 

The text lifts, the bar loading, and then settles. The green box stares back at Mara, I need some advice and I can’t go to Dad for help. Are you free?

Her phone swoons. I’m downstairs, and will be up in two minutes. 

Oh, hi, welcome. Didn’t know you had finished up with your stuff. 

Quick one--they’re a rarity. 

Māra snorts at the addition of the smiley face. But she is glad that the response is pretty immediate. Another minutes goes by and the rumble up the stairs doesn’t sound like one person. Māra listens at her door, ear pressed to it to catch who else might be coming up the stairs. She assumes one of them is Eve. Cailean was already in his room, or so she thinks given he was a few minutes ago. There’s no telling where he might’ve migrated too. Kiri’s on Christmas break and had planned a trip to New Mexico for the the last week after the holidays right before classes resumed. 

“I-I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Her dad--that’s who the second person is and though they’re keeping their volume down there’s no other noise to completely drown them out. 

“About what?”

“It’s important but if Māra’s asking for you, it can wait.” 

Māra continues to press into the closed door for Eve’s response. There’s something like a whisper and this time Māra can’t catch all of what is said. But the silence that follows stretches for a while. Maybe it’s more whispers. Māra strains and strains to listen, only she catches nothing. The stretch of silence is broken by a knock on the door. Māra jumps, a tiny screech leaving her as she backs away from the door. The door handle turns and before the door cracks fully open, Eve’s voice floats through wood. “You okay, Māra? Can I come in?”

“I’m okay,” Māra returns, one hand still clutching her chest. She should’ve backed away from the door the moment it went silent for longer than a second or two. 

The door cracks open slightly and Eve slips in, before turning back to the hallway. “I’ll be downstairs once you two are done.” 

Eve says nothing as she shuts the door close, though she does nod at Calum’s statement. Eve watches Māra settle onto the edge of her bed. Where Eve and Kira and even Cailean were on good terms, the three of them being able to jump in and out of conversations easily, Eve and Māra were still doing a dance. Māra was nice to Eve. When Eve was over, Māra offered the spot next to her on the couch or if she was getting a snack she’d asked if Eve wanted something. They had the one shopping trip they went one. It’s was fun. Eve was cool and always managed to uphold the rules that even Māra knew she couldn’t bend without making it seem like a big idea. She’d offer something like, Maybe we try to find something longer than this or I think the top needs a bit more coverage. What do you think? Māra always knew it was a no, but at least it was more a conversation. 

But since then, Māra and Eve were still assessing boundaries. Māra would default to Calum if she needed anything. The exception being when Calum needed a root canal and Eve stepped in to drive him to and from the appointment. Then, when Calum had gone to try and sleep off some of the lidocaine, Māra leaned into Eve a bit more asking Eve if she could help Māra with assembling the last of her poster board for her science fair project. 

Eve is happy to help, but she makes a rule to never force any interaction. She’ll ask or try to initiate but she never forces. This feels decidedly different. Māra wants Eve’s help with something before going to Calum. 

“How was it?” Māra ask, tossing her phone up for a moment and then catching it. The keychain attached to her phone grips clacks in the air before clashing against the case as Māra catches it. “Should I call it work? How was work?”

“You can call it work. It is a job, basically. And it was fine. Nothing to report home about.”

“This--would we be home?”

“If you’re okay with it.”

Māra snorts just a little. “If Dad is literally following you around like a lost puppy is any indication, I think it’s safe to say, you can call this home.”

Eve leans into the door. “It does matter to me what you think too. You’ve built this place with your Dad and your Mom. I don’t get an automatic claim to anything just because Calum’s a lost puppy.”

Māra cringes a little hearing back her own words. “You can’t tell him I said that though. He’ll kill me.”

“Consider the secret safe.” 

Māra can’t bring herself to get to the point, the reason why she’d asked Eve for help in the first place. It felt ridiculous to ask her something like that and the two of them really didn’t have much of a relationship besides a mutual understanding. Perhaps, before asking for something, Māra can get to know Eve more. Outside of the blunt and honest woman that she’d always presented. “What--what is it like? What you do?” she asks. 

“Oh, well, it’s not fun. We don’t party that’s for sure. It’s necessary, I guess, is the best way to describe it.”

“Plain English, Eve. Please.”

Eve snorts, pushing off the front door a little and then wanders to the doors in front of the closet. She takes in the poster on the door, a band that Eve’s never heard of but keeps a mental note of should they surface up in town in the near future, before facing Māra.  “It’s shit. Dealing with assholes who want to complain they don’t belong in Hell. Or you get the people proud to be there and they’re really the worst.”

“Sounds like high school--the worst,” Māra teases.

“Worse than high school,” Eve laughs. 

“No way. High school’s awful.”

“Why? What happened?” Eve asks. 

“It’s drama--pointless really. That’s what makes it so awful. None of it matters who’s screwing who or who’s dating who. But everytime I blink someone’s up in arms because of who their boyfriend is texting.”

“Tell me about it, if you want of course.” Eve doesn’t want to probe if Māra’s not going to give up more. 

“It started really when Robyn started dating Morgan. Morgan’s always been a bit more…free-spirited. Let’s say.”

Eve nods that she understands and then slowly approaches the bed to settle down next to Māra. Māra goes on a five minute rant about Morgan’s reputation preceding her--a sophomore at the school. Eve learns that Robyn, who is a freshman like Māra, had known Morgan through a mutual friend that was outside of the group that Robyn and Māra are in. Due to Morgan’s reputation, the entire friend group told Robyn to spend more time getting to know Morgan before deciding to date her. It’s sound advice, but not advice that any fourteen year old would listen to in the end. Robyn has a late birthday, Māra explains. Where the rest of the friend group was turning fifteen, Robyn was still behind them. Which leads to Robyn hearing rumors about Morgan. Morgan vehemently denies kissing anyone else since Robyn and Morgan went official but the seeds of doubt had been planted. 

Eve does her best to keep up, especially when it comes to a potential plan to see of Morgan would cheat. Eve wants to interject that maybe setting someone up isn’t the best way to go about finding out the truth, but refrains as Māra’s retelling continues. “The set up is stupid. Because even if something were to happen, it really wouldn’t be fair to Morgan. She’d be in there with other girls and who’s to say that one of them wouldn’t force herself on Morgan. It’s--can I swear in front of you?”

Eve nods. “Who am I going to tell?”

“My dad for starters.”

Eve withholds the obvious. Māra has sworn in front of her father before. This moment is about bonding more deeply. So Eve returns with, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Māra grins at the statement. “I like you. Anyways, it would be really fucked up to send Morgan in there with no one else. I told everyone to drop that idea and really, we have to take Morgan at her word. If she said she didn’t, then I believe she didn’t.”

“Do you believe the rumors about her reputation? It doesn’t sound like you do.”

Māra shrugs. “I mean, do I believe that Morgan’s willing to kiss and make out with a few people? Yeah, I do. She’s sweet but she knows what she wants and really isn’t afraid to go after it, you know? I don’t think that makes her a bad person.”

“So, why tell Robyn to take it slow?”

“I’ve spent only the last seven years with Robyn. I know her. She’ll go guts deep into something without considering the consequences. She’s also a bit of a romantic. And I get it, romance is nice. But she gets lost in it, you know? I didn’t want her to get hurt. Morgan is nice and I don’t think she’d cheat on Robyn. But Robyn’s a little gullible and she won’t think twice before believing something.”

“So you didn’t want Robyn to get hurt by jumping in too fast with Morgan because rumors would surface? Instead you wanted Robyn to like Morgan for who Morgan is and to be able to withstand the rumors?”

Māra points at Eve, a single white painted nail excitedly jutted out at Eve. “Exactly that! If Robyn had spent more time getting to know Morgan before, when rumors re-surfaced Robyn would know better.”

“You’re a good friend, you know?”

Heat rises on Māra’s face. She just tries her best to be a good person. It doesn’t always help that she’s quick to slice with her words. But she tries. “Thanks.”

“So, what did you need help with? Are you trying to console Robyn now?”

“Oh,” Māra got so caught up in relaying the drama to Eve she nearly forgot what she’d asked Eve up to the room for.  She pauses at the edge of her bed a few inches from Eve. Māra picks lint that doesn’t exist off the comforter. “Robyn’s heart is broken, or so she says. I think once she talks with Morgan later it’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rush you. I was quite invested in Robyn and Morgan. You can-you can continue.” Eve keeps still as Māra settles down. 

Māra falls back into the mattress with a bounce. “Robyn hasn’t texted me back yet so I’m not sure what’s going on anymore. Well, for right now at least.”

“Keep me updated?” Eve asks. She wants to tap on Māra’s knee but she freezes instead and waits. 

“You do that a lot,” Māra counters. 

“Do what?”

“Just stay still. Like you’re afraid sudden movement is going to make you explode or something go bang. You’re still a lot.”

“The truth is I’m afraid a lot. More so now than ever,” Eve answers. 

“Afraid?” Māra questions. What would the devil have to fear? Shouldn’t Eve fear nothing. 

Eve shakes her head. “Not things I’d want you to worry about. I keep still because I try to remind myself there’s still time. But it’s time I’m most afraid of. It’s ironic don’t you think?”

“I think everyone is afraid of time,” Māra returns. 

“What makes you scared of time?” Eve asks. 

“Forgetting my mother. Growing older, getting married all without her. Then I’m scared of not knowing what I should be doing with my life anyway.”

“She--”

“Mom loves me. I know. Present tense. But she’s still not here, you know? She can love me and still not be here. Because she’s dead.”

Eve nods. “You’re right.”

This is the time to ask, really. If Māra’s going to ask Eve, it’s right now. She pushes up to sit on the bed, tucking her legs around herself. Would Eve think Māra is strange for such a request? But it’s something Māra needs to do now. She needs this, everyone else be damn. “There’s a dance,” Māra starts. “In two weeks. You know how there are father-daughter dances. This is an etiquette dance, a debutante ball really. It’s a big deal. I-I wasn’t going to go originally. But I think I do. For Mom, you know. She and I went every year.”

“I think she’d like you too.”

“Could you ask her?” Māra laughs after she asks. “I know she’s not with you. But I’d like to go. And I’d like to know if you’d come with us?”

“Us?” Eve questions. 

“Dad is going to go, obviously. But it’s not the same with just him. There’s a mother-daughter dance and while Dad would fill in in a heartbeat, I’d like to not stand out so much, you know? I’d like you to be there too.” 

Calum had mentioned the dance briefly to Eve. He’d been frantically trying to find a pocket square to match her dress color. He found one eventually, but it took four different suit stores to find it across L.A. Eve gently reaches for Māra’s knee, giving it a squeeze. “I’d love to accompany you.”

Māra grins, taking Eve’s hand into her own. “Thanks. And can I ask one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“I need help. There’s a dress from Mom I want to repurpose and rework. But I don’t know anything about sewing.”

Eve laughs. “I can help. I’ve learned a thing or two about sewing. Show me the dress and what you want.”

“There’s a sewing machine and stuff in Mom’s old craft room. I don’t think Dad’s got rid of anything in there yet,” Māra states, pushing herself off the bed. She opens one of the closet doors and yanks down a white dress. The more Eve takes it in, the more she realizes it might’ve been a wedding dress. “It’s Mom’s reception dress. Dad’s got the wedding dress I think. Said I couldn’t have it just yet to mutilate it.”

The spaghetti strap dress with a full length skirt and lace detailing isn’t much to work with, but Māra details how she wants to shorten it just a little to make it midi length and if she could maybe add illusion back, but a second set of sleeves that hang lower on her shoulder. It’ll still be a classy silhouette but it’s bring the look from wedding formal just to formal. 

Māra leads the charge from her room downstairs. Eve follows, gown in her arms. The back is low when Māra tries it on, and it’s a little too big in some areas so Eve knows she’s got to take the bust and waist in too. It’s a lot of work to do in just two weeks. But a plus is that Eve doesn’t need to sleep. As Eve finds the tape measure and a notebook to take the measurements in, she does her best not to think about the presence she can feel pressing into the back of her. Dead people do not haunt her like they did Death, but Eve still knows when someone’s spirit lingers. Kelsie is in every corner of the room. Eve prays her presence does not feel like an intrusion. 

“Where did you learn to sew?” Māra asks. “Dad said you were a dance instructor when you two first met.”

“I was,” Eve returns, pinning the spot on how much length she needs to take off. “I was a seamstress before that. And before that I was a lawyer.”

“A lawyer?”

“Decades ago. Before any of you, Calum included, were born.”

“Are they like front jobs?”

“In a way, yes. They keep me Earth side for legitimate reasons when I need them. I could easily just lie and manipulate my way through but it makes things less normal. When I first encounter people they don’t know who I am. I have to have a reason to stick around.”

“Other than love?”

“Other than love,” Eve agrees. 

“What’s your cover story now? So I know how to answer that at the dance,” Māra covers. 

“Don’t have one now. Didn’t think I’d need one for at least about thirty years. Calum’s getting up there, but he still has a good stretch in him. If it helps, you can tell them I’m retired.”

“You won’t look it.” Māra doesn’t mean it maliciously. It’s just the truth. Eve hardly looks like she’s pushed out of her twenties. And while she knew her father and Eve had years of history, the rest of the world would see a woman forty years her dad’s junior appearance wise. Māra worries for a brief moment that someone might say something. How would Eve react? Hell, how would Māra react?

“I’ll never look old enough.” 

Māra hums at the response. It’s true. Eve looked the same as she did in the photographs Māra had discovered back when her mother first died. The moment Eve walked in through the door it was like Eve had been plucked out of the thirty year old photograph and preserved just now for the moment. There’s no way Eve wasn’t mystical. 

“I’m sorry for calling you a snake,” Māra returns to the still air. 

Eve’s busy now pinning and pinching the extra fabric around Māra’s waist to get it to sit right. “You weren’t technically wrong.” 

The flick of Eve’s tongue makes Māra laugh just a little. It’s nice to see Eve being comfortable around them. Though it was definitely strange the first few times she’d shown up hiding away her features. She still does, Māra notices. Most of the time Eve presents her brown eyes and normal tongue. But there’s been the occasional fright where she’s had to set off from their place and in the rush, they’ve seen the purple irises and forked tongue. 

“Still, I’m sorry.”

Eve nods, hands hovering over the bust. “Apology accepted. Now I do have to work in the bust area. You okay with me continuing with you still in the dress or do you just want to pass along your bra size and I’ll work with that.”

“I’m okay for you to keep pinning,” Māra returns, staring straight at the wall. She does glance over to Eve who nods in her gaze. 

“Thank you. So, what color should I wear, Māra? I’d hate to clash.”

“Dad’s wearing black. I think you should wear what you want, really.”

“You sure? What if I showed up wearing bright red?” Eve snorts. “That would be a sight.”

“It would look nice.”

“If I’m honest, I don’t own much outside of gray and black.”

“Well, besides your wedding dress.”

Eve’s laughter is all through her nose. She’d worn a white fit and flare dress, lace floral details in the bodice that gave way to a satin skirt and a matching white cape. It felt right when Eve wore it for the wedding, but it’d been waiting since then for use. After a few decades, she’d slip it into someone’s donation bin and let it take on a new life like she did with the others. But now, the idea swirls at the base of Eve’s skull before flittering over her lips in an fleeting exhale, “Perhaps I should dye it black now.”

“I’ll help,” Māra grins. 

“I’ll give a good trim too. It’s too long now I think.”

“Definitely,” Māra nods. “You think you can do all that in just two weeks though?”

Eve brings the mirror from the corner close to Māra. “I don’t sleep. What do you think? Good length and fit?”

The dress does fit it a bit tighter without it being scandalous. The length hits about four or five inches from her ankles. Though Māra knows the technical rules, she was one of the older girls helping to bring in the latest round of girls into the debutante and then also use this as her last hurrah before she aged out completely out. But the color and length are close enough that Māra’s willing to risk it. Without the excess fabric, Māra can wear her heels without issue and if they kick her out for an extra few inches, then they just kick her out. “I look hot.”

The two women laugh and Eve takes it as a good sign. She notes how much she needs to take up and in for each section and then lets Mara dress back in her normal clothes. “Give me a week and then you can try it on again to see if it fits right.”

Māra nods and then steps in closer to the older woman. She slips her arms around Eve’s waist in a hug. “Thanks, Eve.”

Though for a moment Eve freezes, she lets herself relax enough to hug Māra back. It’s not strange. Eve hoped this moment would come. It’s the fear again. Eve doesn’t want to fuck it all up with Māra. But if the hug is any indication, perhaps she’d been doing better than she realized. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Are you serious about the wedding dress? I think it would be worth hemming and dying it.”

“I’d need help getting the length right,” Eve offers, letting Māra pull back out of her hold just a little. The young girl grins up at Eve and Eve knows. “But I think I know the perfect assistant.”

“I don’t think we should show Dad--your dress I mean. It should be a secret. It would kill him, but worth it in the end.”

“I like secrets,” Eve laughs. “When you try on your dress, I’ll bring mine so we can discuss what to do.” 

Eve was still holding the secret about Kiri. And as much as Eve didn’t want to keep that from Calum, she knew what she did was wrong. She’d meddled. She’s gotten involved and even in the end, it still hadn’t helped much. He and Calum talked later that same day. When Calum came back that night to the room, before Eve left to handle business, she could clearly see the distress etched into his face. Kiri walked with a bit of a slump for a few days. Eve knows natural consequences occur for every decision. If the chips fell down on her about it, she could withstand it. 

Māra’s laugh brings Eve back to the present. “Sounds perfect. Thanks again for agreeing to this. The dress and attending, it means a lot.”

Eve tightens her hold briefly back around Māra wanting nothing more than to savor the moment. “Of course, Māra.” 

Eve slips out of the room to let Māra change back with some privacy and when she’s out in the hallway, Calum’s leaning against the wall. His arms are folded over his chest. “Is Māra still in there?” he asks. 

Eve nods. His look is stern and she knows. This moment here are the chips falling. This was the important thing he wanted to talk to her about. A few weeks later and her choices caught up with her. “Yes, she is,” Eve answers. 

“Did she ask you to join us for the dance?”

“She did. I accepted.”

“Thank you,” Calum returns with a nod. “She’s been nervous to ask.” His tone is even, but his jaw is set hard. Eve’s best bet is just to answer whatever questions that Calum has. This is not the time for her to joke. When it came to his children, Calum is not the type to take anything severely lightly. Eve knows she’s going to have to come clean instantly. 

The door behind Eve creaks. The sound alone breaks both Calum and Eve out of their stare down. Eve steps away from the door, turning to grin at Māra. “One week,” Eve reminds her. 

“It’s a date. Don’t forget the other stuff,” Māra returns to Eve. 

“I wouldn’t dare forget it.”

Māra slips away, a grin painting her face. Eve and Calum both wait for her to fully exit the hallway before they slip into the room wordlessly together. Eve’s already gotten into the habit of keeping any quarrels the two of them have away from the kids if they can. 

“What did you do?” Calum asks. He’s past the moment of patience and formalities. The thought that Eve might’ve been potentially involved scratched at his brain a couple days after Kiri got the text. But then it faded as they prepared for the holidays. It had to fade away because between coordinating his mother’s arrival into town, getting all the presents wrapped, and helping Kiri get his trip to New Mexico finalized, there was no time for the half crocked idea to fester. But now his mother’s gone, Kiri’s texted him that he’s safely arrived in New Mexico with his friends. Now, there’s plenty of time to think. 

Calum’s gut knows though. As he thought about the timing of it all and the way Kiri described Brynna--her apology just didn’t add up. Before Eve’s lip curl, Calum’s next sentence is already falling from his throat. “That girl was never going to say anything.  Then the day after I mentioned it to you, she came back with an apology. I couldn’t worry about it before. Too much was happening. But now, I've been thinking and I need to know. What did you do?”

“I had someone speak with her,” Eve returns. It’s as simple as that. There’s no beating around the bush. Eve just answers the question. She did. She only had someone speak with her--in her dreams. There would be no way to prove anything. What would Brynna say? She was met with her literal demons in her dreams and had a change of heart. What would it sound like? Just a girl who might’ve seen the errors of her way. 

But not to Calum--clearly. 

Calum knows better though. Even if it’s a shock that Eve’s not playing some joke or using a riddle, there’s still something underneath her words. “Speak with her or scare the shit of her. I know you, Eve. You don’t play fair or nice.”

“They sound the same to me.”

Calum huffs, pacing the length of the room. There’s the old Eve. Or maybe the truth is Eve would always be who she was. There was nothing new or old about it. It is just Eve. Calum spins approaching Eve. She stands so still and sometimes Calum worries when she freezes like this she’s preparing for something awful. She never flinches away though. Calum’s always cognizant to give her a couple feet in these kinds of situations. For a moment, his heart pangs in his chest that she’s prepared for something, someone to hit her. But then he thinks about Kiri and his brain clicks back onto the track he needed it on. 

“Why did you do it?” Calum questions. Intent didn’t always negate the effect. Eve’s intention wouldn’t undo the fact that she’d interfered. Her intentions wouldn’t undo the fact that it opened a wound for Kiri that had potentially been scabbing over. But her intentions would settle Calum’s nerves. He’d know more about what Eve was hoping to accomplish. 

“I thought it would help give Kiri closure.”

“Did it seem like it worked?”

“Not in the slightest,” Eve returns. It’s honest. Calum catches the blinks. Eve’s trying to keep her emotions at bay. He can’t tell if it’s anger, or tears from remorse. But something about the way things worked out seems to be striking a cord in Eve. 

“Do you regret it? Whatever you did.” He won’t ever know and maybe it’s for the best that he doesn’t know. Then he doesn’t have to worry about almost spilling it to Kiri. 

“I regret that it hurt Kiri further. I don’t know if I feel remorse for thinking it would work.”

Another truly honest Eve sentiment. Always sorry for the damage, not always sorry for the attempt. Calum doesn’t fault her. He’d briefly considered trying to find this girl himself, having words with her or her parents maybe. But it’s not his life that must be lived. It’s Kiri’s life. Anything they did would impact him. Calum gets it. And now Eve’s learned the hard way. 

“We cannot tell Kiri about this. He cannot find out you meddled.”

“I’ll take it to my grave,” Eve promises. Whatever her grave looks like, whatever it means for Eve to take something into her death. 

Calum exhales. She is good at keeping secrets. She never looked like she was hiding something. But the timing of it all was just too suspicious for Calum. He takes her hands into his, but Eve gently slips them back to her side. Calum doesn’t fight her. “Please don’t meddle in my kids' lives anymore, okay? Please don’t do it again. I won’t ask again. So if you promise it right now, it is for the rest of their natural lives. Understood? I don’t care if they’re 82. Please do not meddle in their lives.”

“Understood,” Eve whispers. “I really am sorry it hurt Kiri more. I never intended for that.” Her voice cracks a little and Calum sees it. How much Eve hadn’t meant to make things worse. Sometimes natural consequences are the best teacher. 

“You wanted to help,” Calum concedes. “But talk to me first. When it comes to my children, please talk to me first before you do anything. Unless it’s something to save them. You can be so literal sometimes and I have to cover my ass.”

Eve snorts at the jab and uses the back of her hands to wipe at her cheeks. “I will.”

Calum opens his arms, the question of a hug lingering in the gap. Eve steps into his chest. He imagined this conversation to be more like pulling teeth. Eve would make a joke or give some sort of riddle response to be sarcastic. He’d tried to remind himself Eve was who she was, and her tactics weren’t always the most conventional. But Eve stripped down her walls. She’d been honest without too much sarcasm. “They sound the same to me,” he snorts in a taunt. “Smartass.”

 “Don’t ask questions you don’t really want the answer to with me.”

“You used to not answer. I used to have to ask and call you out for being a stubborn ass in order to get an answer.”

“Now when you do ask, you get truth. Ain’t it unpleasant.”

Calum inhales, nose filling with the scent of Eve’s shampoo. “It’s growth for you. Even if it’s a pain in my ass.”

“That’s my job.”

“You weren’t ever going to say anything, were you?”

“I know you wouldn’t be a fan of my methods,” Eve returns. 

“You were right.” Calum pulls back, taking her face into his palms. “Did you mean it, when you promised about staying out of their lives like this?”

“I meant it when I promised, Calum.” Eve knows Calum needs the reassurance so she’s happy to supply. “Swear it on with my life. Let the Big Guy strike my dead.”

Both of them are silent--waiting. Nothing comes. No hiss of pain from Eve. No flash of lightning. Calum exhales. “Okay, okay. No more meddling for you.”

Eve nods. “No more meddling in your kids’ lives.” Calum can’t help the laugh. Of course Eve would be quite specific about the term of her promise. But he wouldn’t expect anything else. 

**********************

Calum’s knocked, figuratively but also a little literally, on his ass when he calls up the stairs to get Eve and Māra to descend and both of them are already standing at the top of the stairs. Eve gives Māra’s curls one more quick swipe through with her fingers. But he’s more taken aback by the tight black dress Eve’s in. The see-through cape on her shoulders shows off how tight the skirt of the dress is. It stops about three inches or so from her ankles. But it hides very little of her figure. Not that Calum ever thinks Eve needs to hide. He’s just gotten so used to her looser clothes. Still flattering, but not as tight. There’s something like lace he thinks in the details of the dress, but he can’t quite tell from this distance. Calum has to tear his gaze away lest he have another situation to deal with at the ball in and of itself. 

He clears his throat, head dropping to handle the sight he just took in of Eve’s brown skin in the black dress, how the material hugs her curves. His fingertips tingle just a little with the arousal. 

“Calum, if you shout once more for us, you and I will have a problem,” Eve returns with a grin. “We needed to be done by 7:30 to make it on time. What time is it again?”

Calum glances down at his watch. “Seven thirty on the dot.”

“Exactly,” she faces him now from the top of the steps.

He catches the lace flowers now on the front of the dress. The cape around her shoulder has flowers too. He’d know that dress anywhere. He’d know it in a heartbeat. Her wedding dress. It’s not as long or flowy as it was when she wore it originally. But there it is with new life in front of his eyes. Calum knows his mouth is agape but he can hear the giggles. “I-sorry,” he starts. 

“I think you’ll catch flies, Dad, with your mouth hanging like that.”

Calum brings his gaze over to Māra dawned in Kelsie’s  reworked reception dress. There’s a second set of sleeves that have been added, and some of the length taken up. But Māra’s covered to her neck is lace. He can tell by the applique lace detailing that sits higher than the original neckline. But she still looks gorgeous. She looks so grown up, much more than he’s used to seeing. 

“I think the two of you have officially sent me to an early grave,” Calum breathes out. He clutches his chest as he ascends the stairs. When he gets to the top he gently twirls Māra to a full view. “You look beautiful, sweetpea.” 

“Thanks, Dad. Do you think we did Mom’s dress justice?”

Calum nods. His throat seized for a moment. The tears are going to fall. He’s not going to be able to stop it either. “Hands down, sweetpea. There is no doubt in my mind that Kelsie would be so incredibly proud to see you in her dress.”

“Dadm if you cry I’m going to cry,” Māra starts. Her voice wavers too. “And then I’m going to ruin my makeup.”

Calum exhales and it’s shaky. “I think you need to prepare for your mascara to run.” 

He tries to do what he can to snuck back his tears. But he can’t. The tears slip down Calum’s cheeks and Māra’s tears are falling too. Eve hands them both tissues before they embrace each other. Calum wasn’t sure why Māra had snatched the dress when she did. He assumed it was maybe a desire to keep some part of Kelsie alive. So he never asked her directly. But now that he’s watching Māra come into her own and see how deeply she wants to honor her mother in the process, it overwhelms Calum. 

They embrace for a long while, even Calum knows it’s too long. But he doesn’t care. When they separate, he checks over Māra’s face. “Oh, no mascara that ran,” he reports. “A good sign.”

“Waterproof, sweetheart. It’s not going anywhere,” Eve laughs when Māra looks back to Eve. 

“You knew?” Māra asks. 

“Sure did. Was married to your father for seven years. I know he cries at everything,” Eve laughs. 

“He does, doesn't he?”

Once Eve is able to patch up Māra’s makeup, they descend down the steps. Eve does snap some candids but Māra’s insistent that they get any other photos while at the ball itself. It’s not a far trek to the truck once downstairs, but Eve helps with Māra’s dress and gets her safely inside. Calum starts to help Eve but he pushes back on the passenger door. “Your wedding dress?” Calum questions. He still can’t believe he’s seeing it again. Even like this. He can’t fathom that he’d be lucky enough to see it twice in his lifetime. 

It doesn’t sound like a bad question. There’s no malice. He just sounds breathless at the prospect. “Too much?” Eve questions. 

Calum shakes his head. “No, no. I’m just floored. It looks fucking incredible. You look, God. I don’t have the words for how amazing you look.”

Eve grins kissing at Calum’s freshly shaven cheek. “Thank you. Mar’s idea.”

“I’m raising a genius,” he laughs, cracking open the passenger door. 

Eve climbs in easily and he catches sight now of the clear heels she’s dawning, rhinestones scattered over the pointed toes. It shows off the dark blue toenail polish. As much as Calum loves this outfit on Eve, he daydreams on the drive over peeling her out of it. He can keep the daydreams in check the second he arrives at the avenue because Calum realizes that he is wildly out of place here. Kelsie was usually the one that handled this stuff. She took Māra to the classes, and balls. He always had emotional support on lock to reassure Māra that she always looked brilliant in her dress, but it was Kelsie’s role to partake of this world. She understood the rules. Calum definitely did not. 

He’s not sure if Eve knows better than him. Calum probably should’ve asked if she did. Part of it was an assumption. Eve would have to know more than he did. He was banking on it and now as he’s walking arm in arm with Māra, he glances over to Eve to see if he’s alone in his floundering. Eve looks regal, walking every so slightly ahead of them to get the door. There’s nothing on her face that makes him think she’s totally lost. Either it was a good sign or it was a massive fuck up. Time would surely reveal which one it is. 

At the entrance there is a line of girls and their mothers. They crowd seemingly first at the desk to check in and then at the photographers line at the opposite end of the entryway. Māra reaches for Eve’s elbow and at the contact, Eve extends it without question. Calum catches the way Eve squeezes Māra’s hand just a little as they approach. It’s easy enough to check in--name, number of guests to confirm, and then she’s given the table she’ll be seated at rattled off by a father who looks just as haggard as Calum is sure to feel at the end of all this. 

“Photos first, if that’s okay. While we still look put together.”

Neither Eve nor Calum object to Māra’s question. They continue on and join the line of people waiting for their turn with the photographer. The line is shortening, which is a good thing. Perhaps the few minutes they got sidetracked at home served them well in the long run. “Do you want photos with just your Dad?” Eve asks once they settled into the line. 

Calum hears what she’s really asking: Do you want photos without me? He doesn’t fault the question. If the tables were turned, he’d be asking the same. 

Māra shakes her head. “I’d like a group shot of all three of us. Then one with just dad and then one with just you.”

“Sounds good,” Eve smiles. She can feel the quiver in her own lip as Māra holds a little tighter to her. 

“Oh my god, Māra!” A younger girl squeals as she steps out of the auditorium. She approaches as fast as she can in her heels. Eve and Calum take a step back as the two girls embrace. 

“Hi, Vee,” Māra laughs, embracing the girl tightly. 

“You look AH-MAZING. Seriously--where did you get the dress??

“It’s-it’s my mom’s old dress. Redesigned it a little. Love the eye makeup by the way. Eve,” Māra pauses and turns to look at Eve. “Eve helped me with the dress. She literally did everything.”

Eve’s wave is tiny, but her head nod is more noticeable. “Hi, Vee.”

“Oh, you’re Eve. You’re, like, hot,” Vee laughs. “Love the black and cape moment.”

“Th-thanks.” Eve’s not sure what she’s supposed to say in response. She’s not sure if it’s code for Eve looks two decades younger than the other mother’s here or if it’s just a compliment. 

The two girls fall into an easy cadence with promises to find each other inside. They’re sitting a table way from each other which doesn’t seem to worry them at all. Perhaps all the adults already understand that the children are going to rearrange their seats to be closer together unless otherwise needed. 

They move up the line as another mother and daughter exit the space in front of the backdrop. Eve stays a little behind Māra and Calum when they move, but Māra reaches back. There’s something in her gaze that Eve catches. Maybe it’s just how Māra widens her eyes just a little and then settles when she realizes Eve hasn’t gone far. 

“Force of habit,” Eve whispers and then slips in next to Māra. 

“Just didn’t want you to disappear on me.”

Eve shakes her head. “No, I won’t disappear on you.”

The line continues to move swiftly and before they realize, it’s Māra who steps up. She settles into the middle, Eve on her left and Calum on her left. “Three poses?” The photographer asks. 

“Four,” Māra corrects. “Group, two duos, one single.”

“Sounds good. Group first. Squeeze in tight,” she directs waving Calum to slide in a bit more. “Perfect. Big smiles, in one, two, three.”

The light flashes from above and Eve prays she didn’t blink. Calum gets a photo with Māra first, then he steps back to allow Eve to step into frame. Māra smiles as Eve closes the three foot gap she created to make sure she wasn’t in frame. “Okay?” Eve asks. 

Māra nods. “Yeah.”

“Specific pose?”

Māra laughs. “Eve just stand here, it’s okay.”

“I have to make sure,” Eve giggles before she rests a hand gingerly around Māra’s waist. They both turn back to the photographer, who counts them down again. It’s another flash and then Eve shuffles over to Calum while Māra gets her solo pose. 

“A set of 5x7 digital prints will be available at the next meeting,” the photographer states. There’s no wait for confirmation. Just waving on the next set of people. Māra leads the both of them back into the auditorium. The dance floor has been clearly marked by the DJ booth and a seat of tables. It’s rectangular and empty, but that doesn’t seem to stop the girls from gathering all around their tables. 

The air feels stuffy in here, but they continue on, finding the table marked with an 18. The entire time Eve walks next to Māra she spies the heads that turn. There it is--the gossip. There is a chance that it’s just a surprise about Māra given the loss of her mother. But when a mother looks away quickly after catching eyes with Eve, Eve knows that just behind that shock with Māra is the whispers about her appearance. But Eve continues on because Māra asked her to be here and Eve would not back out of it just because of some looks. 

Their table is empty but it’s clear where others may be joining them. Māra just gets her phone from Calum before someone else calls out her name. Māra spins and spots Vee and two other girls walking behind her. They hike up their dresses as they walk around the chairs. “Someone got caught trying to spike the punch,” Vee laughs before she’s even closed the distance. 

“What?” Māra returns. “There’s like parents literally everywhere.”

“Maybe it was a parent,” a shorter girl theorizes. “I think I might need a drink to survive this thing.”

Calum and Eve smile to themselves before they settle down at the table. The girls huddle together, voices harmonizing at moments with their laughter. “Maybe we should’ve snuck some flasks inside,” Calum jokes. 

“Can you keep up?” Eve returns.

“I’m not that old.”

“You-you can go mingle,” Eve returns. She’s the one out of place.

Calum grimaces a little. “This was Kelsie’s scene. I’m not even sure anyone would remember me.”

“Oh, it’s so good to see you, Māra. I’m glad you came out tonight.” 

Calum and Eve turn to the exclamation to see a mother whose approached the group. Calum leans in, whispering into Eve’s ear. “Barbara-- the the last I heard of her, she’s the debutante’s Queen Bee. No one really likes her. Her daughter hasn’t made an appearance yet. Her family’s got money in this I think. Or founded this. I can’t remember exactly.”

Calum squeezes Eve’s hand and she turns back to face Calum. He reaches for the empty glass in front of his place setting. “Can you spot the peach ball of tulle coming in from the left?”

Eve slowly glances up from her place card to take in the dancefloor and spots the hurried steps and a blur of pink from her right. Eve doesn’t move her head, just lets her eyes drift as far as they can before turning them to center.  “Moving like lightning?” Eve questions 

“Barbara’s right hand--Julie. They’re more often enemies than friends from what Kelsie told me. But they plan the ball together each year.”

“Hmm,” Eve returns, mouth turning down into almost a frown before bouncing back into a neutral line. “Maybe Julie’s the one who snuck in the booze.”

“If I had to guess, it might’ve been Patrick. He’s Barbara’s husband. He doesn’t do anything but show up under the guise of protection and then drinks himself into a slumber an hour into the festivities.”

Eve grins looking up to Calum. His gaze has settled behind her, no double keeping tabs on Māra. “For someone who said this wasn’t their scene. You seem to know a lot.”

“Oh,” Calum laughs. “I love the drama. My favorite part of these things were picking Kelsie and Māra up and hearing all the gossip. Last year, someone didn’t keep their daughter’s dress on theme and was nearly refused at the door.”

“So parents don’t have a dress code?”

Calum looks back to Eve. “I don’t think technically they do. The kids who attend do”

“I assume if Barbara’s got anything to say it might be very frowned upon to dress in dark colors.”

“Eve, you look amazing.” He wonders if Eve’s bringing this up because she’s worried. She wouldn’t have known and he didn’t really have a full mind to double check either. With everything else, he didn’t think it would matter what Eve wore. 

Eve shakes her head, turning back. Barbara’s passed on, approaching another group of girls who have huddled together. She passes by their time. “Nice to see you again, Calum. Thanks for bringing Māra back again this year,” she smiles and then continues right now. There’s not even a smile and nod in Eve’s direction. 

Eve raises her brows as the blatant dismissal of her presence. Calum takes Eve’s hand into his. The hold tightens and Eve knows what Calum is begging her: let it go. Please let it go. “I smell a rat,” Eve hisses. 

“Baby, please,” Calum starts. Eve smells something else too. She smells trouble in the water. Eve hopes Barbara enjoys the flattering now. Eve will not be ignored. As petty as it is, she wouldn’t stand for such blatant disrespect. Barbara continues on to make some rounds and then lands at the table with finger foods and drinks. Eve squeezes at Calum’s hand, and then pushes up from the table. 

“Punch?” she asks Calum. Eve doesn’t really wait for a response before heading towards the table with the finger foods and the drinks. This could all fall apart if Calum gets up and follows her. Maybe it should all fall apart. But Eve continues on towards the table. “Lovely event,” Eve returns, grabbing two cups. 

Barbara turns, smiling as she does. “Thank you. I put blood, sweat, and tears each year to make this a lovely event for the girls.”

“Oh, so it’s all you?” Eve questions. The first cup fills and she sets it down before grabbing the second. 

“Yes, yes, a lot of hard work.”

“I hope it continues to pay off each year for you.”

“You-you have to be new around here.” Barbara narrows her gaze just a little. It looks like she might be trying to assess who Eve might be here with, but Eve knows differently. She’s a scrutinizing gaze rooted a little in displeasure. Eve is a beacon in the sea of white and pinks in black. She is clearly disturbing the status quo. 

“Māra, Calum’s daughter. She asked me to be her escort.”

“Oh,” Barbara’s face falls into the perfect picture of sympathy. “Oh, it’s quite sad. Isn’t it? I’m glad she has you though--family is so important in these times. It’s nice when families can rally together. And excuse me, for being rude and prying. It’s just, well,” Barbara gives a tiny grimace decorated around a smile as if that alone will excuse what she’s about to ask. “Māra’s only mentioned having one aunt before. So I mean imagine my confusion when you show up.”

Eve sets the ladle back into the bowl. “Oh, silly me. Māra only has the one aunt on her dad’s side. His sister is a sweetheart but couldn’t make the flight from the UK in time. Excited to see what the rest of the night brings from such excellent ball planning,” Eve returns, plastering a smile on her face. She picks up the drinks and gives a tiny wave from her free fingers before turning back in the direction of the table. Once Eve is six feet or so from the drink table, she drips the fake smile, “Fake bitch.”

Calum’s eyes are zeroed in as she approaches. Māra’s returned to their table and Eve sets a drink down in front of them. “See you met Mrs. Dunkins,” Māra smirks. 

“She’s a big personality,” Eve returns.

“Do I need to be worried?” Calum asks. 

“Oh, I just introduced myself since she left so fast from our table. Good first impressions,” Eve smiles. 

“Your fake smile is good,” Māra giggles into her cup of punch. “You left that table like you could’ve murked her. Thanks for the punch.”

“You’re welcome, Māra.” Eve doesn’t say that she wanted to give Barbara more than just a heart attack. But perhaps the revelation she’d dropped would be enough. A few moments later someone taps at the microphone. The order of the night is read off--a fully catered meal will come after a few speeches. An intermission will be briefly held which will bleed into some dancing. Dancing will be free for everyone first and then the mother-daughter dance will come halfway through. It feels like a full night. 

And it would quicker to go if not for the fact that almost every mother in the place stops at their table. It’s so good to see you marries in with Oh, I love that you’re here. Going to dance with Dad? and that collides in with If you want me to dance with you, Māra during the mother-daughter dance just let me know. You know where to find me. The sentiments are all meant to be pure but each person pours it one after another it starts to feel like cement. It’s sealing up Māra’s throat. By the time she gets her chicken and rice with asparagus on the side, she thinks she might choke just at the sight of the food. 

How will Māra survive with every pitiful stare pinned to her? Can this much sympathy kill a person? Māra smiles at every passing comment because what is she supposed to say? Is she supposed to tell them she’s starting to regret her choice? Is Māra supposed to just nod and give them platitudes like they are giving her? It feels much too transactional. Māra’s starting to second guess how to be human herself. Māra excuses herself to the bathroom, lifting the skirt of her dress just a little to give her a longer stride. She falls into the doors and the brightlight of the hall. 

She finds the bathroom and falls into the sink. Her reflection is watery. Tears. Those are tears. “You’re okay,” she whispers to herself. “You’re okay. They’re just being nice.”

Māra wishes they weren’t being nice. She wishes they’d ignore her. She wishes she could disappear. How did Eve do it? How did she handle the stares? Māra waves in front of a paper towel dispenser and gets a wad before carefully dabbing the rough materials under her eyes. She can do it. Eve does it. Eve keeps her head high when she walked into that room. When Eve approached Mrs. Dunkins, she never dropped her head. Her mother always knew just how to avoid the feathers that could  be so easily ruffled. Eve ruffled them. What would Māra do? Would Māra be able to placate the rest of evening? Would she cause a scene?

“You’re not Eve. You’re not your mother,” Māra exhales. She’s neither one of those women. But those are all the women she knows to replicate. 

Eve keeps her eyes on the doors. Māra’s plate is covered, still waiting for her even though the rest of them have been taken to the kitchen. Eve insisted on keeping it just in case Māra still wanted more. The music is rattling around them, lights low. But Eve keeps her eyes trained on the doors for Māra to come back through them. 

“Do you think she’s okay?” Eve asks. 

“I-I don’t know. But I’m getting nervous too,” he admits. 

“Don’t let them take her plate,” Eve directs to Calum. “I’ll find her.”

The high lights hurt for just a moment and then Eve adjusts her pupils and the amount of pain reduces rapidly. Eve can see where they checked in, the photo station. And then just to the right of the photo’s backdrop and across from the check in tables are the bathroom. Eve carries herself to the doors. The entrance feeds to a corner and when Eve rounds it, she spots Māra leaning against the sinks. Her sniffles echo off the tiles. 

“Mar?” Eve states quietly. 

“I’m okay,” Māra returns. “I just--they kept asking me about that stupid fucking dance. It’s one dance. My mother’s dead. But I don’t, I don’t need all the sympathy. It’s too much.”

Eve’s heels click as crosses to Māra. She’s gentle as she takes hold of Māra’s elbow. “Sweetheart, fuck them. Fuck every single one of them. If you want to dance, if you don’t want to dance, fuck ‘em.”

“Mom would’ve said they were just being nice.”

“And Kelsie would’ve been right. And I would’ve been right too. They are being nice. But fuck them because they don’t know what it feels like to have that much attention. They’re trying to show they care. But fuck them because they’re also expressing that kind sentiment to prove how nice they are and how much they do care. None of them called you. None of them dried your tears. Your dad did. You dried your own tears. But not them. Sure, they want to be nice. But also fuck them and niceties too sometimes.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“I’m not,” Eve answers to the question underneath. “So fuck me too.”

Māra snorts. Eve takes Māra’s hand now. “I-I can’t leave without trying.”

“I won’t leave your side,” Eve promises.

Māra’s grip is tight around Eve’s palm. “You won’t let go?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Eve is careful to clean what she can of Māra’s tears and they return to the auditorium hand in hand. The lights have lifted just a little. Where it’s clear the bodies have been swaying freely they slow. “Mothers, find your daughters. We have two minutes till dance time,” the DJ calls out. 

The entire room shifts. Daughters turning from the groups. Mother’s pushing out of their chairs. Eve squeezes as Māra’s hand and they continue on towards the dancefloor. She prays--to God himself--that he does interrupt this moment. She’d ignore it. This would be a first but she would do it for Māra. They breach the dance floor, the first mother-daughter duo to break the seal. Eve looks to Māra and when Māra looks back, she nods. “You’re okay,” Eve whispers. 

“Thirty seconds to dance,” the DJ calls back out. 

The entire floor floods at the warning. Māra spins to face Eve. They didn’t practice this. Māra and her mother would practice every year before the dance. But not her and Eve. Eve doesn’t seem to hesitate like Māra does. She steps in closer. Māra’s not sure where to put her hands. She always held her mother’s waist, slip her head onto her mother’s shoulder. Could she do the same with Eve? They start initially with a bit of distance. Arms looped around shoulders, they take it slow. It’s awkward. As Māra thinks too much about where her feet are and what this might look like to the outside, she feels hot under the lights. 

Māra, taking in the sight of how deep the pocket around them, trips a little. Eve’s there, arms sliding around her waist to keep her upright. Her body is warm and firm. Māra ducks her head into Eve’s shoulder for a moment. “Everyone’s staring,” she whispers, letting herself follow Eve’s lead now. 

Eve keeps Māra close, letting their arms readjust to the new hold. Māra allows herself to slide in a little closer. It’s not bad, here, feeling as if Māra might be able to hide away in the safety of Eve’s catch. 

“Do I seem like the type people really want to make mad?” Eve whispers back after a beat of silence. 

Māra snorts. There’s the response she was waiting for. When she looks out, chin resting on Eve’s shoulder, Māra can see how there are a lot of stares. But maybe they don’t really matter. Maybe Eve was right. Fuck them. Māra had asked Eve here because she knew Eve wouldn’t care about the stares. Eve would be able to weather the storm.

Eve’s voice is soft as she continues on over the violins. Her chest and throat rumble as she speaks to Māra. “Haven’t you noticed every dress in here is white, cream, blush, ivory, or pink. I am sticking out like a store thumb in black. Let me be your shield. If we’re no longer enemies, let me protect you.”

“You-you can’t protect me. Not when this ends and I go to the meetings. They’ll still talk.”

“Then I’ll come with you, yeah? If they want to talk they’ll have to say it to my face. I think the whole lot of these women are all talk and no bite.” Eve pauses in the sway, but the two of them are still tightly embraced. Would Māra let Eve protect her? Would Māra trust Eve enough? “Aren’t your feet killing you by now in those shoes?”

Mara’s not sure where Eve’s going with the whole question. But something tells Māra she had better be honest with the answer. So she nods. “Yes.”

“Mine too.” Eve pulls away for a moment, before slipping the shoes from her feet. She whistles and it immediately catches Calum’s attention. It undoubtedly catches the attention of everyone else in the vicinity. Calum stands and she waves the shoe before he catches on, hands coming up to catch them. The other stares continue--Māra sees them, stares back at those who are staring for a moment. Mothers and daughters around them all watch Eve spiral her heels--one at a time--across the dance floor to Calum waiting at their table. It’s not a deep throw, but it’s not a toss either. 

He catches them. One after another with ease. Calum doesn’t take a seat though. Eve turns to Mara. “Would you like to get rid of your shoes?”

Māra takes a look around. Let me be your shield. Is this Eve taking the hit? She was the youngest looking by several decades, the most eccentric by a mile even with Māra breaking the length requirement, and now Eve was making an utter fool of herself. But Māra nods and Eve kneels, hiking her dress up as she goes. Her hands are warm on Māra’s ankle but the strap loosen on one shoe and Māra balances on Eve’s shoulder while Eve takes the shoe from underneath her feet. The dance floor is rougher than she anticipated. Her other strap loosen too and when Eve stands, she sends Māra’s heel in a spiral down to Calum too. 

“Don’t you hate having to dance to this music too? I find it rather boring,” Eve huffs. “I mean, this artist has been dead a hundred years at least. There’s got to be something more hip to dance to.”

Māra snorts at Eve’s use of hip. Sure Mar could handle phrases like modern, up to date, but not hip. Hip is trying too hard to be cool. “Eve, I believe it’s meant to be traditional. But I do agree, rather boring,” Māra giggles. 

“I swear they gave me a fourth a chicken breast on my plate on purpose too,” Eve continues on. If Māra’s afraid of being the fool, of looking out of place, Eve will make sure she’s never looked more normal. “Was it the cook trying to tell me I’m fat? Maybe it’s Barbara being cheap.” It’s a low jab, but it does the job. 

Māra’s laughter shakes her shoulders and she pulls herself into Eve. “Thank you,” she whispers in the hug.

Eve’s warmth radiates as she hugs back. “Anytime, Māra.”

“Let’s-let’s get out of here. I think I’d rather get a quarter pounder with extra cheese than deal with this. It’s not the same with mom, and you’re great. But I think it’s okay to let it go.”

Māra finds herself rooting into Eve’s touch even when the older woman tilts her chin back. “Your mother would be proud that you tried to come even without her. I told you I’d be a poor replacement for your mother. But what I should’ve said is that I’m a poor replacement because there is no replacing your mother. She is and will always be your mother. She will always be the one to handle debutantes like a true queen. She will always be the person who taught you how to do your makeup. I’m more like the drunk aunt. I can cause quite the scene but it is never filled with grace.”

“Maybe I just need a drunk aunt, then.”

“Maybe you do. Can I be that?”

Māra nods. Her eyes are misty but she so appreciates that Eve is not looking to replace her mother. She’d said it at this point almost a year ago when they were first introduced. But it just always felt like Eve was supposed to slot into that role. Who would Māra be without her mother or a mother figure? Maybe she would just be Māra. But right now, there’s nothing that will fit the hole her mother left behind. Eve was a square peg and Māra was trying to slot her into a round hole. 

“Yeah, can you just be my drunk aunt who gets me out of this place and to a Macca’s?” Māra had grown fond of that particular Australian slang and used it no matter which crowd she was with. 

Eve’s grin makes the skin around her eyes crinkle. “It would be my honor.” Eve slips an arm around Mara’s shoulder and walks her to the edge of the dancefloor, around the deserted tables to where Calum’s seated. 

He stands as they approach, noticing the way Māra’s chin wobbles. “Sweetpea,” he coos, taking her into his chest. 

“We need a Macca’s stat,” Eve relays, slipping back into her heels and grabbing Mar’s from the floor. “We don’t have time for shoes.”

“No time for shoes?” he snickers. They had plenty of time to get shoes on, but he doesn’t debate Eve. 

“No time,” Māra agrees, but she moves over to Eve. 

Eve slips the cape off her shoulders and hands it alongside Mara’s shoes to Calum before turning so her back faces Mar. “Hop on,” she directs, squatting down just a little. Mar gives a test push Eve’s shoulder and Eve holds steady. Then Māra leaps. Eve hooks her arms behind her knee caps, the dress not seeming to be an issue for either one of them. Calum watches Eve carry Māra on her back for a few steps and then realizes they’re leaving right now. He ensures he has his keys and wallet still in his suit jacket pocket alongside all their phones in his pants pocket. Both Eve and Māra had forgone purses and while it was a lot to juggle. He’s grateful his pockets are deep on his pants. Calum half jogs to catch up. Eve doesn’t so much as waver as she passes through the auditorium’s double doors. 

Calum gets ahead and holds the building door open as well. “I still think we had plenty of time for shoes,” he returns. 

He knows he’s poking the bull maybe a little. But his heart is going wild in his chest. Eve’s grinning as she carries Māra with ease and Māra, who originally looked five seconds from tears, smiles too. He’s not sure what happened on that dancefloor. He was watching them one minute, then catching heels the next. He thought maybe it was all good and settled back down. Now, the two of them are here: Māra being carried on Eve’s back. 

Māra laughs as she bobs just a little. “But this is ten times more fun. Also, I had no clue Eve was this strong. Like she’s not even shaking carrying me.”

“No, Eve is pretty strong. Doesn’t look it, but she is.” He unlocks the car doors as they approach and helps Mara get into the car without her bare feet touching the parking lot. She accepts her shoes and Eve’s cape as well. Calum knows all too well the drill and fishes out her phone too. It clacks with all the charms attached, but at least he never has to worry if he got his phone mixed up with hers. 

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Of course, sweetpea. Watch the cape,” he says gently. Mar makes sure to get all of Eve’s cape into the truck and then guides the door closed. 

“What happened? Why are we leaving?” Calum questions, pausing yet again tonight on Eve’s door to open it. 

“I gave her a scapegoat,” Eve answers. “Every mother in that building is either fake or spineless. It starts with Barbara and the entire crop is spoiled because of her. She ignores me. Then makes a comment about not knowing Māra had another aunt. She gets suffocated by sympathy and then when we dance everyone is staring. I gave Māra what she needed. If she thinks they were going to gossip just because of how I looked or how I dressed, then they will surely have a field day tomorrow or next week or next meeting to talk about me. But if there’s anything I could do for your daughter, it is going to be that I could protect her. They can talk all they want about me now, but they surely won’t have anything to say about her.”

“You-you took the hit,” Calum concludes. He wondered why Eve started to throw shoes, but again, he was going to question it. Was it proper etiquette? No, even Calum knows that, but he’ll be damned if he tries to undermine Eve. 

“I’d do it again.”

He noticed the looks too. He didn’t want to say anything in the event that Māra didn’t notice them. But she had. Because of course she would notice them. They were hard to miss as everyone’s head turned in their direction time after time. It was starting to get predictable. Perhaps a fake good impression and tossed heels are the best outcome for a situation that might’ve been doomed from the start. 

But Eve had done something Calum couldn’t do. He couldn’t make everyone else in that room understand. He couldn’t make everyone else in that room stop looking. But Eve--Eve knows that when you can’t beat them, you join them. She made herself a shield so when the sword hit, it hit her. Not Māra. Of course, Māra wouldn’t be completely spared. But she’d always been protected as much as she could have been. It is not perfect. They could’ve made a quiet exit. They could’ve slipped away. The rumors would circle how Māra left during the mother-daughter dance--how sad about her grief still. But the story would be much livelier now. Māra would’ve attempted the challenge head on. They don’t need perfection when they have earnesty. 

 Calum takes Eve’s cheeks between his palms. Eve’s lips purse together just a little with the pressure. “I love you,” he whispers. “Thank you for looking out for Māra. Thank you for being there when I couldn’t. Thank you for doing the things I can't do sometimes.” Like causing a scene on purpose. Like calling Barbara out for what she is. Like giving Māra the space to take something head on, fail, but still have fun. 

Eve wraps her fingers around Calum’s wrists, and squeezes. “I love you. I do it with honor. Always.”

The kiss is short--in all relative time, they’re lips are not together longer than a few seconds. But the window’s motor whirs and the glass slides down. “I love love,” Māra teases, leaning her head out of the window.

Eve is the first one to break in the kiss. Her laughter shakes her and she turns ever so slightly to look at Māra. “Are we talking too long?”

“No, no, now that I’m out of the dance. I don’t really care. But I do want that quarter pounder.”

Calum laughs next. It was Māra’s way of saying at least some time tonight. He presses two more kisses to Eve’s cheek and then pulls away to open the passenger side door for Eve. “Okay, Macca’s. Got it. We’re going. I’m clearly way too distracted for Mar’s taste.”

Māra holds the greasy brown bag securely in her lap, rustling through the items stacked inside. “Three fries. Two burgers. One ten piece nugget with barbecue sauce,” she calls out. 

“I have one sweet seat, one coke, one bottle of water,” Eve rattles off. Satisfied none of their items are missing, Calum nods and then sets off back for the house. 

The night is thick, but the crinkle of the bag in Māra’s hand as she walks up the front steps is enough to cut through it. It feels a little less suffocating for Māra now. The balls would be too full of her mother. Everyone there would still be comparing something that had been lost and never gained again. Pointless for them to circle around because Māra’s not there anymore. She’s not sure where she is, but she knows where she is not. Māra is not the same girl to go to balls with her mother anymore. Māra might be the girl to dress in fancy clothes and get burgers. She might be the girl to call up Eve just to complain. She night the girl who still misses her mother but can let the miss wash over and ride through, but not consume. 

The trio of them don’t make it further than the couch. Eve does make a run to the linen closet to grab some towels for Calum and Māra. The last thing she wants for them is to get ketchup on their white clothes. But she makes quick work to come back to the couch in the end. Māra pats the cushion next to her and Eve holds out a towel before settling down. 

There are few words as they work down their respective meals until Māra sucks down another sip of her coke. “Hey, Eve?”

“Yes, Māra?” Eve returns, polishing off the last of her nuggets. 

“What’s your workout regime? I wanna be buff too.”

“It starts when you piss off God.”

[heartache-otbs]

omg hi!! i saw you are doing a blurb night (how exciting) <33 i was wondering if you could do one with luke x reader (she/her). i'd like the fluff prompt #6 and #47. i am not sure how these blurb nights usually work so i am sorry! i was thinking that luke x reader haven't seen each other in a while and they reunite. do whatever works for you! thank you <33

omg hey!! here ya go :)

simping - lrh

summary: blurb - luke is a little obsessed with you after he’s been gone on tour, he makes you breakfast to spoil you

prompts:

#6 "stop simping for me you simp"

#47 "i'm so in love with you"

pairing: luke x fem!reader

Luke had been following you around like a lost puppy ever since he got back from touring. He was there when you woke up to the time you went to sleep, he wanted to do everything together.

One day, he wasn't as attentive as he had been for the last few days, he wasn't in bed creepily staring at you when you woke up.

Odd.

You get up to go find your Luke, trotting down the hallway and down the stairs and around the area until you find Luke in the kitchen, making waffles.

"Hey, whatcha got there?" You ask Luke as you walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around his torso.

"Waffles!" He grins, "they're your favorite, figured you haven't had some since I left."

"You're right," you smile and peer around his shoulder to look up at him, "only you make 'em the best."

"Oh! I even got whipped cream-"

"Stop simping for me you simp." You giggle, "ever since you got home I've been treated as royalty."

"All I did was get ya whipped cream!" Luke argues, "m'not simping. Yes, I'm so in love with you that I even remembered the whipped cream, but, I'm not a simp."

(hope you enjoyed anon!)

[bartxnhood]

wanna be yours | l.h

luke hemmings x fem!reader

summary: luke had his eyes on you from the moment you met him so, it killed him when you couldn’t take the hint that he was in love with you.

warnings: two oblivious people in love, my bad writing, mentions of a lot of drinking

a/n: someone asked for jealous and protective luke ??? say no more. feedback is appreciated ! ALSO didn’t exactly turn out how i originally thought but it’s a good start !! enjoy !!

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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there is a scene in a movie where the lead character and the love interest lock eyes.

they lose sight of everything around them, leaving just each other in focus. you never liked seeing those kinds of movies, thought it was cliche, and never believed in love at first sight. if you're being honest, it was overdone, unrealistic, and plain annoying.

but, it was fate that it would fall on you.

you didn't enjoy parties because there were too many people there, you didn't like drinking, and people were making out all over the place, some of whom were newlyweds and others who were having affairs. you hated being messy, and gatherings were messy. also, you made an effort to limit the number of your friends because you found it uncomfortable to be surrounded by so many people.

but ashton, your best friend, pleaded with you to attend this particular gathering. hours would pass, and just when you thought he had finished pleading, he would resume. so you gave in.

that’s how you found yourself at ashton's house, sitting in your car, staring at your phone, and observing the passing of time. It had been over fifteen minutes since you had first decided whether or not to do this. hearing the faint music emanating from the house, your chest felt constricted. you pushed open the car door and walked over to the home. attempting to summon the guts to enter by standing outside the front door.

when the door opened, there was a strong odor of alcohol, as well as loud music and conversation. while searching among the throng of individuals swaying their bodies against one another to find your friend, you regretted your decision to agree. when you eventually located the man after searching the kitchen, the other person standing by his side immediately caught your eye.

everything around you vanished in an instant, leaving you only able to concentrate on the man with whom you had just locked eyes. wonderfully curled hair, flawless skin, eyes the color of the sea, and just enough of his white silk shirt's buttons were undone to make you flustered. he was stunning. all of a sudden, the room contained only you and him. there was only you and him; nothing else or anyone else was important.

but you were pulled from that thought As ashton grabbed your wrist and said, "cmon!", you were jolted out of your trance-like state. ”i gotta introduce you to everyone!" the australian cheered and dragged you into the kitchen where everyone was standing; all of a sudden, you were the center of attention. you waved to the small group of people while saying, "guys, this is my amazing friend, y/n," feeling a little uncomfortable at the unexpected focus. “y/n, this is calum, michael, crystal, sierra, and luke,” ashton said as he made an introduction.

the small group of individuals exchanged smiles, and you shook hands with each person before approaching luke with a gentle "hello."

wow.

your palm touched his, you prayed he wouldn't notice your flushed cheeks, and you both nodded. he was the most stunningly handsome person you had ever seen, by a long shot. ashton once again grabbed your arm away and dragged you out of the kitchen before you had a chance to continue admiring his attractiveness. while waving the group off, you glanced over your shoulder. You weren't angry with ashton since he knew you'd never tried something like this and that you were making a big step by doing so. he also needed a reason to prove to his buddies that you were real and an important part of his life.

at night's end, you were sitting in ashton's backyard, lounging around the pool, admiring the reflection as lights danced across the water of the pool. even though roughly half of the people left, music continued to play. people said he would always throw the nicest parties, and now you understood why. but you simply weren't made for this situation; you were too uncomfortable and worn out from engaging with everyone for so long. You simply wanted to return home, binge-watch your favorite movie in the coziness of your bed, and eat some frozen pizza.

the word "hey" surprised you and made you flinch just a little. your eyes landed on the person standing above you, holding one cup while concealing the other in his pocket. luke apologized for the quick response, "oh, sorry, i thought you heard me," but you just shook your head. you shrugged and turned to face the swimming pool, saying, "no, it's alright, was just thinking." there was a little period of silence since neither of you knew exactly what to say. you had just recently met. “do you want a drink?” he asked. “oh, no thanks,” you said as you once again looked up at him. “i'm not really a drinker.” the blonde let out a gentle laugh. "but you came a party?" while scratching your forehead, you chuckled alongside him. “well, ashton is a push-“ over. yeah. that he is," luke continued your sentence and you laughed. “i think i’m heading home now, im way too tired to stay much longer”. you got out of the lawn chair facing luke.

his mind began racings, he didn’t want the conversation to end just yet. he had to think of something so he could see you more. “do you need a ride?”

your hands were crossed, and your eyes darted back to his and then to the cup in his grasp. "thanks for the offer, but I just live ten minutes away," you said. he extended his hand to you after giving you a nod and pulling it from his pocket. “it was lovely meeting you, y/n,” “you too, luke”

you had no intention of seeing luke again after that. you had your friend group, ashton had his own, and you happened to be a part of both. you had no intention of ever returning to another party unless you absolutely had to be there; that atmosphere wasn't for you. it was too much for you, and you just wished ashton would be more considerate of your decision. you knew he wanted you around; you'd been best friends since high school, and it was difficult for you both to have separate lives.

but fate had something else in store for you.

it was subtle when you first became aware of his presence. you ran into him a few times in town, which wasn't unusual. but then he'd show up at your job, or he'd find his way into the same restaurant you were in. it was amusing at first because what are the chances you'd keep meeting like this?

so you confronted him one day. “you know, if you keep this up you’ll have to take me out for coffee” you started, putting down the record you pick up. this was one of the many times you had run into luke while running errands. this time, the both of you ended up in a local record store. you heard him chuckle softly before turning to you, “are you asking me out on a date?” he leans against the shelf raising his eyebrow. you shrug, “more like telling you to take me out” he nods, leaning in closer. “i see..then i guess i’ll see you tomorrow?”

you and luke are two opposites but somehow you two hit it off

he drinks while you don’t.

despite your differences, you detested parties, and luke's life was spent drinking; not you. you've never thought that opposites attract. yet it was odd because as time went on, you discovered that you were rather similar. you and luke had a lot in common, and you got along just well. it was never dull or tiring since the two of you could converse for as long as it took, even until the sun rose. you frequently found yourself stranded in ashton's or calum's backyard, relaxing on the chairs after talking until the wee hours of the morning like you were adolescents.

each time the two of you are in close contact, there is tension. You adored the quiet glances you two shared. It was much more enjoyable because it seemed as though the two of you were barred from being together.

It was never meant to go this far. You'd been hanging out with Luke for quite some time. you've been wanting to be with him every other day for at least a few months now, waiting for his texts or calls saying he wanted to hang out or if he found a new restaurant he thinks you'd like. or the way he'd subconsciously hold the small of you back while leading you through a crowded area, or how he'd always go out of his way to make sure you got home safely.

it was never supposed to escalate this quickly.

you found yourself wanting to hang out with him even more, wondering if Luke would be there when ashton asked you to hang out. You started thinking about him all the time.

that's when it started getting more complicated. you knew something between you changed after being with him so long. and although you knew how it changed you, you were too scared to jeopardize anything between you not when it was fresh.

truthfully, you just displayed to him, that you'd always be available. you could say no to anyone who had ever asked you out because of your newfound feelings for luke. but you couldn't tell him that, it was too soon. but even then, you couldn't get the sound of his laugh out of your mind, or the way your name rolled off his tongue like it was meant to be there. you couldn't stop picturing what it would be like to lay in his arms, limbs tangled together as he sang you the sweetest lullaby.

unknown to you, luke made an effort to avoid you in the beginning because he knew he couldn't control himself with you. no matter how hard he tried to hide himself from you or push you away, you always managed to find a way into his head like an addictive substance. as you were the most gorgeous person he had ever seen, he wanted to shield you from all harm and evil in the world and would do whatever it took to ensure that everyone knew the two of you belonged together.

but, did you know that?

you began to watch him from then on, looking for clues that could point you in the right direction. you'd noticed him fiddling with his rings, then grazing over the leg of his jeans or joggers, slipping his hand between you on the couch. his hand would inch across the seat, pausing now and then. then he'd retreat without much thought, preferring to rest his hand on his thigh rather than bother with yours.

nothing would have made you happier than to come across his hand. any action would be preferable to simply waiting for him to take the initiative and pleading with your eyes as if it would help. you contemplated inviting him over, striking up a conversation, or even touching his hand. Instead, you remained silent despite your strong desire to speak but your inability to do so.

you have no idea how or why you began to feel more confident around luke; you were the shy and reserved friend before meeting him, but you changed completely after meeting him. and you knew people would judge you for it, saying things like, "oh, i can't believe you'd changed yourself for a guy!" however, this was not the case. he made you feel something that you couldn't put into words. maybe he inspired you to be someone you've never been before.

you were standing outside ashton's door, picking at your nails, debating whether this was a good idea. you were dressed differently than usual, wearing a tight dress with a large leather jacket over it to try to hide your body.

something like this was extremely unusual for you, and you may have been an idiot to dress like this for a man who probably only thought of you as a friend. but it had to be worth a shot, right?

you let yourself in, the music was blaring and the pungent smell of liquor was all too familiar to you. you pushed through the people and eventually got to ashton’s living room where everyone else was. they all cheered and greeted you.

ashton hugged you first and said a bunch of drunk incoherent words about how happy he was to see you. then you greeted luke with a warm while which he reciprocated. “happy birthday luke” you said, he nodded. “thank you, y/n”.

after the small reunion, the group dissolved. everyone was off doing their own thing. you found yourself standing outside, a cup in your hand filled with whatever you found. the night air was a bit chilly which caused you to curse at yourself mentally for wearing such a short dress.

“you look nice.” luke’s voice rang as he came up behind you. You looked over your shoulder and spotted him. “thanks.” you smiled, and he raised his eyebrow. “you dress up that pretty for me?” he was standing next to you now, his comment and proximity were enough to make you blush. “and what if i did?” you retorted. luke smirked, “i’d be thankful because you look so good in that dress.”

he leaned closer, keeping eye contact with you.

he was so close to you that your heart began to beat quickly. you were attempting to read him while his eyes were staring right through you. there are two possible outcomes here. one of two things will happen: either someone will interrupt you like in a cliché movie, or he has the ideal opportunity to kiss you right now.

he leans in even closer, saying, "i'd even say that you should start dressing like this too, it suits you." you felt the blood rush to your cheeks.

kiss me. please. just do it

you wanted him to make the first move because this moment had the chance to change everything. you didn't want to appear so desperate. luke must have noticed your begging expression because he started leaning in again, this time only a few centimeters from your lips.

oh, god. it’s happening. it’s happen-

“come on man, it's time for you to open your presents!" michael interrupted the situation by shouting from the kitchen. you sighed as you saw luke leave. you could almost sense the disappointment in his eyes as he turned to look at you to check if you were following him.

“okay, and it seems the last one is from….y/n!” michael and calum handed over the large box to luke.

luke unwrapped the box, displaying the guitar case as you watched. he looked perplexed as he tried to imagine what you may have given him. the one guitar he had been dreaming about was waiting for him when he opened the case. "y/n.." He takes the guitar in his hands and places it on his lap.

everyone who was gathered around him suddenly turned to look at you. he is the last one to do so.

"you bought this?" He asks, and you nod while beaming broadly. he had never looked so startled to you. how did you know, exactly? “how…how did you?” he trailed off.

"well, you talked about it for so long, and occasionally i caught you looking it up. so i thought, why not get it for you?“ you responded.

luke stood up and hurried to you after putting the red guitar back in its case. you were engulfed by his arms, spinning you. "im grateful. I have never gotten a present better than that. I promise i’ll treasure it” he smiles, “i know you will luke”.

and for the rest of the night, everything went great. until it didn’t.

"y/n," ashton said, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"hm?" he had a mischievous smile on his face as you dropped your phone to your lap. "have you ever tried playing the drums?" "no?" you shook your head. It came out as a question as if you were asking yourself a question. "why?" he approached you and reached for your wrist. "you're about to!"

ashton was perched on the stool and sat you down on his lap, having handed you his drumsticks and demonstrated how to hold them properly as his hands caressed yours. he explained that he would only have you play a simple beat. he taught you the basics and then let you play a few beats on your own. you didn't notice how close ashton was, how his breath tickled your spine, or how delicately his hand held yours.

you two were laughing because you couldn't play because you had almost no rhythm. "this is exactly why you guys are musicians," you laughed, rising from ashton's lap and returning his sticks. "nah, practice enough and you'll get good enough to join the band," he winked.

luke watched the scene unfold in front of him, how close ashton was, the way he eyed you like you were some kind of prey. his hand was supporting his chin, his elbow was resting on the couch arm, and his jaw was locked. luke began tapping his finger impatiently against his cheek, were you so oblivious? everyone was making moves toward you, and you didn't even look at him? he pushed himself off the sofa and out of the room to get some fresh air. if he was in there any longer he would explode.

he hated the fact that, despite your lack of effort, you had him in your grasp. luke hated how near the guys were to you and how they treated you like they were hunting prey. how did you not notice how they eyed you? how the other boys treated you like some kind of object. especially ashton.

we’re you so oblivious to their advances? did you not see how luke wanted to rip you away from them and keep you all to himself?

did you even notice his attempts to try and win you?

He wanted the world to know how badly he wanted you, how you were his, and that despite his best efforts to deny it, he was falling in love with you. Luke had difficulty accepting it, but he would go to the ends of the earth for you.

“what was that about?” you ask, after watching luke exit the room. calum shrugged, “who knows. it’s luke” he didn’t look at you as he was nose deep in his phone. you looked around the room, everyone seemed not interested. “he probably left because ashton was feeling you up” someone added. you huffed, grabbed your jacket, and walked outside to the patio.

you saw his silhouette and walked up to him. “luke?” he didn’t respond and you walked closer. “lu?” you spoke the nickname you had given him. he finally turned back to look at you.

you saw that look in his eyes, the only look he had when looking at you. “luke, what’s going on? why’d you walk out like that? did i do something wrong?” his back was still turned to you, refusing to look at you. “you just don’t get it, do you?” he still wouldn’t face you. “get what, luke? the fact that you’re ignoring me in front of everyone and leaving me in the dark.” you were feeling frustrated, upset that he wouldn’t even look at you. “god, luke, just look at me!” you grabbed his arm, spinning him around so he’d have to look at you now.

“talk to me.” you pleaded. your eyes begging as you stared into his blue eyes. luke hated it, he hated how you had him in the palm of your hand ready to do anything for you if you’d just say the words. he detested that no matter how hard he tried, it would always be you. “oh, baby,” his hand caressed your cheek. “don’t make me spell it out for you…you know i want you”

“what?” you were only able to mutter, feeling the heat take over your face. maybe it was the liquor, or maybe it just was the fact that he said those words. you opened your mouth to say something but he cut you off. “every fucking day, I wish you were mine- every single goddamned day.”

you removed his hand from your cheek, silently missing his touch. “how was i supposed to know you felt more for me than just a friend, lu?” you saw his brows furrow. “you never explicitly told me, you wanted me..why?” you trailed off, you watched as he tried to come up with an explanation. “you never, ever, use your words like.”

you watched as he examined your face. you were mad but calm. it scared him, we’re you about to reject him? “for someone who writes songs for his job, he would be able to express his feelings freely. i guess not.”

“how did you expect me to decipher the hundred different ways you look in my direction? this isn’t just on me yknow. luke goes quiet, his eyes looking deeper into your eyes than before.

“i thought my actions would say all they needed to” you reply, “i thought you were just acting as a friend? you and all the guys act the same” luke locks his jaw, balling his fits by his side. “they act that way because they want to fuck you y/n.” you look taken aback legging out a scoff.

“so what about you, then?” “what about me?” “are you acting this way because you want to fuck me?” you smirk as luke realizes he backed himself into a corner.

“i—no? that’s not what—fuck.” he runs his hand through his hair. “let me start over. y/n, i’m sorry i wasn’t honest and i’m sorry i didn’t use my words. but i want you more than a friend should and i need to know, do you want me that way too?” you try to hide your smile while you step closer and wrap your arms around his neck. “see now was that so hard?”

he looks down at you, raising his eyebrow. “you didn’t answer the question.” you let the smile take over fully. “luke hemmings i have been tripping over my feet since the day we first met. yes, i very much want you too.”

he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, allowing him to peck your lips. “i was hoping you’d say that”

(and you can predict the end u filthy ppl<3)

[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.

[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.

[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.