#5sos!reader au

[33-81]

missed but never forgotten 💔

[carryonafi]

blood on the drums.

ashton irwin x reader; SMUT!!!🔞

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

words: 2.9k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

SMACK

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

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

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

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

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

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

Which was where he completely cut the act.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

Too? Who did he think he was?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jump.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ughkat]

one shot idea: luke had a crush on fem!reader and she catches him masterbaiting and then she tops him 🫡

wordcount: 1866

fantasy -l.r.h

smut- kissing, masturbation, riding, handjob

not proofread

-

"Thanks for having me over. I like this a lot better than some big production." Ashton spoke to Luke with a cheery tone. His band mates had hosted a small gathering of friends for his birthday at Luke's house, and in being Ashton's best friend, they let me tag along.

I was great friends with the boys after Ashton introduced me to them, often times going out to eat or watch movies. However, I couldn't help but find myself uncontrollably becoming drawn to the frontman. Luke was one I was least close with, being he was fairly quiet—at least when I was around, and we never had a chance to bond. I found myself in delusional thought, thinking the intimidatingly handsome boy's stares and silence were a showing of attraction. I cringed at my own fantasies, certain that Luke had no eyes for me.

We sat lazily across a long black sofa in Luke's living space. I was fit snugly between him and Ashton, our closeness not to anyones concern.

"We should host all our parties at Luke's from now on." Michael joked at Luke, nudging Calum with his elbow. Luke let out a chuckle, shaking his head.

"Absolutely not." He took a sip from his beer, his thigh brushed against mine as he leaned forward to place his drink on the coffee table in front of us. Ashton looked down at my empty hands before offering me a drink.

"Want another drink?" He chirped, motioning to the kitchen.

"Please." I smiled. Ashton set off to gather our drinks, leaving Luke and I alone on one sofa together. I immediately noticed his energy tense, his thigh against mine instantly becoming still. I brushed it off, going to remove my hoodie to get more comfortable. I was left in a black tank top and gray sweat pants, the 5 of us all following the "just got out of bed" dress code for tonight's events.

I felt my shoulder briefly brush against Luke's arm as Ashton returned, Luke's head quickly turning to look at me at the contact. I glanced at him briefly, his eyes meeting mine, then down to my almost exposed chest, back to his drink in his hands. I looked down to his drink, which had been empty. I looked back up at him before speaking.

"Do you want another drink?" I asked, tilting my head. He flinched at my words as if i'd appeared from thin air, stuttering as he spoke.

"Huh- What?" He stumbled over his words as his eyes studied my face frantically. I furrowed my eyebrows at his new behavior, repeating myself slowly.

"Your drink? It's empty... Do you want another one?". Luke's eyes darted down to his drink, his cup being slightly crushed by his tight grip.

"Oh." He stuttered, "No, yeah. No, I'm okay for now." He muttered. I nodded suspiciously, turning back to my drink and noting Luke's odd behavior.

I had almost forgotten about Luke's suspicious energy as the night got later, the five of us staying up debating about shows, sharing scandalous stories and more. Luke's unnerving behavior only worsened as the hours passed.

I was too face deep in Ashton's laptop, along with the other boys, to notice Luke's disappearance. I glanced away from the one of one hundred's of random videos we had been binging to check for a bathroom, and noticed Luke was no where to be seen. Brushing it off, I asked Ashton to lead me to my destination.

"Hey. Where's the bathroom?" I poked Ashton's shoulder to get his attention. His eyes were glued to the screen, using his hands to speak.

"Upstairs, on the left." He muttered. I rolled my eyes, brushing off Ashton's screen slavery and heading up the stairs. The giggles and shouts of the boys began to muffle as I reached Luke's top floor, leaving me stumped.

Upstairs and on the left, there were three doors, all shut, and the same color. I scoffed at how comical my predicament was. I reassured myself that Luke lived alone, and the chances of walking in on something I shouldn't would be low. Choosing the farthest door to the right, I put my ear to the door briefly before turning the knob slowly and entering.

My eyes widened slightly as I froze. I opened the door slowly and silently to reveal Luke sitting facing away from the door, fully clothed and a blurred fist pumping his half exposed lower half. My heart picked up its pace as I watched, I felt as though I was intruding, but I couldn't look away. He pumped his fist quickly and vigorously, his head tossed back in pleasure. I felt my stomach flutter at the sight of Luke making a mess of himself in front of me.

Feeling morally obligated, I intentionally cleared my throat to catch his attention to my presence. Luke umped from his seat, shouting a shocked curse as I entered the room.

"Y/n, fuck. What are you-" He stuttered from the bed frantically, struggling to hide his still throbbing member. I entered the room cautiously, closing the door behind me. I let my impulse and lust for the blond take the wheel.

"Why'd you stop?" I spoke softly, interrupting him. I watched as he slowly calmed down, his breath catching itself. I made my way slowly to the bed, watching Luke's hands try to hide his erection and failing.

"What are you..." He stuttered quietly as he watched me move closer, his nerves taking over.

"Do you want me to leave?" I cooed, taking a seat behind him, speaking softly close to is ear. I watched the hair on his neck stand at my breath against his skin. He shook his head slightly, his breathing shaking.

I felt the pool in my panties grow as I watched the boy in front of me melt as my presence, wishing I had acted on things sooner. I slowly brought my hands to his shoulders, caressing him over his shirt gently. His eyes fluttered as he exhaled a breath, swallowing a lump in his throat. He moved his hands to his sides behind him, supporting himself on his arms.

"Take this off." I spoke softly, tugging the the hem of his shirt. Luke swiftly threw his shirt off, inviting my wandering hands to his skin. I quickly connected my lips to Luke's skin, planting soft kissing down his neck. His breath hitched and he rolled his head back lazily as my lips played on his skin. I trailed my soft hands over his shoulders, adjusting my seat to sit on my knees and resting my chest against his back. Luke sighed deeply as I trailed my hands over his chest, slightly digging my nails in as I ran long strokes in his skin.

"Did I do this, love?" I pouted sarcastically, moving my hand down and palming Luke's attempt to poorly cover his shaft. Luke gasped slightly, bucking his hips into my hand. I giggled softly, my hand continued taunting Luke's solid bulge as he left of a small whine at my teasing.

"Please, Y/n.". He whimpered in between breaths. I smirked at his pleading, pulling his shaft from his boxers. I reached my hand around to my mouth then back to Luke's member, beginning to stroke slowly.

"Like that?" I cooed, tilting my head. Luke rolled his head back onto my shoulder, light pants leaving his lips.

"Fuck." He cursed under his breath, thrusting his hips slowly back into my fist. I squirmed in my seat at the feeling of Luke melting in my hand, desperate to take him over completely. I sped up my hands pace, Luke matching his hips to my fist. His eyes fluttered closed slowly as his head laid lazily on my shoulder, his fists gripping the sheets beside us tightly.

"You been fantasizing about my hands?" I spoke softly, teasing him gently as my hand continued its work. Luke let out a groan at me words, bucking his hips into my fist.

I kept up my hands pace, moving my other hand to pull down my seats. I moved around to face Luke, keeping my hand moving on his slick member. Luke looked at me sluggishly, his mouth open slightly at the overwhelming event. I straddled him swiftly, pulling my tank top off swiftly and my underwear to the side. Luke groaned softly as i sat my folds against his cock, teasing him as I glided my hips back and forth, running my slit along his shaft.

"Fuck, Y/n." Luke cursed under his breath, moving to hands to my hips. I focused my hips at his tip, giggling at his eagerness.

"Is this what you wanted?" I teased, lining him up with my entrance. I sat down onto his member slowly, gasping at his size. I gripped his shoulders tightly as I sat still for a moment to adjust to him. I slowly began to pick up my pace. Luke's mouth dropped to an "O" as he trailed a hand up to my breast, gripping tightly as I began to find a vigorous rhythm riding his shaft.

"You feel so fuckin' good." Luke growled, gripping my hip tightly with a hand. I placed to hands on Luke's chest, pushing him to land on his back. He smirked slightly at my minor aggression. I kept my hands on his chest as I bounced hastily, my bare cheeks on his thighs clapping loudly.

My eyes met Luke's deeply, his face was filled with euphoria, sweat beading at his forehead. His arms laid lazily at the sides on his head.

I tossed my head back, concealing a whine as my pace quickened.

"You look so pretty riding my cock." Luke spoke smugly, bringing a hand down to grip my hip. I quickly brought a hand to Luke's wrists, pinning them aggressively to the sides of his head. I leaned down to his face as I spoke.

"I know." I smirked. Luke licked his lips before leaning his head up, connecting our lips for a sloppy kiss. Our mouths danced lazily as Luke's hips fucked back into mine, bringing him close to his end.

I felt Luke twitch inside me, indicating his finish. I smirked against his lips, determined to make him cum. I ground my hips deeper, Luke gripping the sheets above him.

"Fuck, Y/n. I'm gonna cum." He stuttered between breaths, his eyes fluttering shut slowly. I leaned in close to Luke's face, finding the pace that seemed to bring Luke close.

"Cum for me, Lu." I spoke softly in Luke's ear. I quickly sat up, Luke's pulsating member slipping from my entrance, shooting his load on my bare rear.

I sat lazily back onto Luke's lap, collapsing onto his chest. I listened to his heartbeat as we caught our breath, both of us seemingly remembering the 3 boys left uninformed downstairs.

"They definitely know what just happened." Luke broke the silence. I glanced up to him, he looked down to meet my eyes with a cheeky smile. A giggle escaped me, unsure of how to go about the walk of shame downstairs plus explanation to the boys. I buried my face in my hands in shame.

"Did you cum?" Luke asked unexpectedly. I looked back up to him. Though I hadn't, I didn't really mind.

"...No." I shook my head. Luke tilted his head slightly.

"Do you want to?"

[reidswrld]

never been less empty,

sawyer! 20. she/they. loser bisexual. emotionally attached to her cat. luke hemmings luvbot forever. says “i love this song!” to every song on her playlist. hopeless romantic. sam winchester’s gf. spencer reid in another life. el²s #1 fan.

talk to me about! criminal minds, supernatural, cobra kai, julie and the phantoms, 5sos, gracie abrams, harry styles, stray kids, seventeen, enhypen <3

mostly writes! spencer reid, luke hemmings, luke patterson, robby keene, sam winchester, minho [xo kitty], conrad fisher, harry styles, and hwang hyunjin, but is open to most things if you ask!

requests are open.

masterlist wattpad spotify pinterest

…all i feel is free now!

[ashtons-lemon-tree]

Fantasy Au + Skz x reader moodboards for a fic I’ll eventually end up writing

Hyunjin - Kitsune

Felix - Naiad

Minho - Sphinx

Bang Chan - Aqrabuamelu (scorpion man)

Reader - Human healer who’s tired of Skz injuring themselves/each other

Changbin - Kraken

Han - Naga

Jeongin - Wyvern

Seungmin - Unicorn

[suchalonelysunflower]

Den of Vipers

Sinners and Saints: Chapter 1

Pairing: Mafia! Ashton Irwin x Fem! Hemmings! Reader

Word count: 5.8 k

Summary: Devastating news forces you to knock on the door of the last person you’d ever want to see.

Warnings: Death, murder, blood, guns, mentions of drugs, abuse, torture, kidnapping, language. Some gramatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Author’s Note: Hiya! Welcome to my new series. I won’t have a taglist anymore, so any way you can support this, whether it is a reblog, comment or like, would be very much appreciated ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy reading 🌻✨❤️

Series Masterlist

The roaring sound of the engine could be heard from your room, distracting you from the book you were so comfortably reading. A smile crossed your features as you jumped out of bed and made your way outside.

The sun was starting to set with the golden hour on the horizon. The image of your brother’s back walking out the door welcomed you for just a moment before you decided to jump on him, immediately making him drop the small amount of luggage he was carrying.

“Since when do you leave without saying goodbye?” You laughed, perfectly koaling your way along his broad back.

The perks of being a little sister: you’re never too old or too heavy for piggyback rides from your siblings.

Luke groaned a laugh “Since I figured I could be free from your ass a few minutes longer”

You jumped off him “You don’t mean that”

“Of course not,” He smiled, pulling you into a hug. “I was going to go up to your room in a few minutes”

It was always like this when he had to leave. Ever since he started helping your father at work, he’s been gone most of the time, barely having any time for you. It was no secret that Luke was your favorite amongst your brothers, nor did he hide the fact that you were his favorite as well. It was just the way it is, having just two years distancing you of age he became your best friend from the beginning. And it was not like you were allowed many friends either - or rather, no one wanted to be your friend because of your last name.

Luke got that, everyone in the family did. But growing up made it harder for you than your brothers. Being the only girl in the family does that.

“How long are you leaving this time?”

Luke sighed “Dad said it’s only for a week, but you know him”

“So I should expect you by the end of the month” You answered him, trying to hide the hurt in your smile “Can’t you come back early? At least for a few days?”

“Why?” He asked with a puzzled expression “Is there something important happening or…?” You punched him, he laughed “Of course I’ll try to be here for your birthday, little thunder”

And if Luke said he would try, he meant it.

He kissed your forehead before a loud honk could echo throughout the house.

“Someone’s impatient” You rolled your eyes.

“We gotta love him” Luke shrugged, grabbing his luggage and giving you one last look “Take care, Y/N”

“You, too! I’ll see you when you get back”

“I’ll bring you a present!”

You stayed at the door until you watched the car disappear through the gates. Little did you know what would happen next.

*

The brain works in funny ways. Always reminding you of things you would rather forget.

It’s been a week since “it” happened, but there wasn’t a day where you didn’t relieve it at least once.

The rain against the window; the loud knocks on the door. You were sitting in the kitchen, putting the last candles on your birthday cake, anxious about the promise Luke made you as you looked at the clock. How did they let the police just pass through the gate like that? Maybe the guards knew it was urgent. How you walked down the hall, careful just to eavesdrop without being noticed, just in time to watch your mother fall to her knees, her beautiful party dress ruined as the most horrifying sound left her mouth.

Then, it was all a blur.

People dressed in black. Your father having meetings after meetings behind closed doors, always catching your eye before the familiar click of the lock filled the silence. How the rain felt against your skin as the casket containing your brother's body was lowered down to the ground, never to be seen again. Your mother’s tears. The fake “I’m sorry for your loss” speeches. Your father's stone-cold expression as his hand covered your shoulder with some sort of affection. The silence that came afterward.

But it couldn’t end like that. It wasn’t right.

“We need to find him,” You told your father after the funeral.

He was sitting behind his desk, looking the oldest you’ve ever seen him. His eyes weren’t even focusing on you, almost as if he were also lost.

The first time he lost a son, Ben, your oldest brother, it made him cold as ice. It helped him build the empire he had now, grown on the blood of the enemies he took down along the way. You were just a child then, not older than thirteen, but you remember how fast things started to change. How friends stopped being friends, how business never meant the same thing again, how your mother stopped smiling as the jewels in her chest started growing.

But this is different.

“Dad,” You begged, hating how you sounded like a little kid again.

“There is nothing we can do, Y/N,” He said, coldly.

That’s who Robert Hemmings was, never sugarcoating anything. He tried, albeit your mother’s begging, to keep you out of the know of the family business. You were their only daughter, their little Angel, what good would it do to drag you into this world of madness and blood? It seemed like she didn’t know you at all.

“So you’re just going to sit there and do nothing?!” Your voice rose with every word.

Your father didn’t dignify you with a response, instead, he chose to sit back and close his eyes. For the first time in years, you realized just how old your father was getting. The creases upon his face were as deep as the dark circles under his eyes. His white hair was getting thinner by the hour, and the spots on his skin seemed to be growing.

For a second you wondered just how much time it had passed since you saw him smile, since you spent time with him like you used to when you were a little kid. But you were not a kid anymore, and the man in front of you did not seem like your father at all.

He seemed tired, he probably was after all of this. But you were tired as well, tired of so, so many things that you were done keeping quiet for.

“He is still out there,” You said, more quietly this time “I know he is”

“Y/N…” He sighed, rubbing the pads of his fingers on his temple, trying hard to come up with the right words before he exploded in a fit of anger as he usually does with his subordinates “You heard what the police said. You read the reports even though we told you not to-”

“The reports said they only found one body, dad. One!” You wanted to scream, to shake some sense back into him but for what? You could already see the lost battle before it even began “Maybe Luke wasn’t in the car, maybe-”

“The car was completely burned out! They found his jewelry, some bones- Y/N I don’t know how else to tell you! They’re dead!”

“Jack is dead,” You said somberly “Jack’s body is the only one that they found. Jack’s the one six feet below. Not Luke”

Robert sat back in his chair, shaking his head as you continued with your ranting.

“The bones couldn’t be identified, so it could be one poor soul that got the short end of the stick. It could be one of the collateral damage, as you call them, right dad? Could be fucking anyone! Luke could still be out there, he could be in trouble and we’re sitting here doing nothing-!”

A loud bang interrupted you. Your father’s fist was tense over his desk after he banged on it, not caring about the glass of water that tipped over and was now spilling over the edge of the mahogany. The vein on his neck was trembling as well as his jaw, but his eyes weren’t focused on you. Instead, he looked down, eyes wide and unreadable with every emotion hidden and swallowed by his pride.

Still, that didn’t scare you.

“Jack would’ve wanted for us to find him”

“Don’t you fucking talk about your brother” Robert spat.

“Someone has to!” You stood up, letting the foot of the chair drag against the floor. You have never stood up to your father before, but it was time to change some things around the Hemmings' household “You know I’m right”

“Y/N, Luke is dead,” He said, finally looking straight at you. The helplessness in his eyes took you by surprise “The sooner you accept it, the better. The ceremony for his remains will be-”

“No! That’s not him!” You nearly cried, but you promised yourself not to. Not in front of him. Not ever “I’m not going to mourn a stranger standing in his place”

Your father just shook his head, letting his hands distract him as he sorted out the papers on his desk.

“Dad,” You demanded his attention, leaning over his desk “Dad!”

No response, no reaction.

“Fine,” You said, voice laced with anger “I’ll go find someone who will pay attention to me”

You started to walk away, not looking back as your nails dug into the flesh of your palm, cutting the skin to distract you from crying out of rage and disappointment. This was not how you expected he would react. You didn’t expect him to give up just like that.

The merciless boss of one of the biggest mafia rings in the country… giving up for his son.

“Y/N,” He called out before you closed the door behind you, making you stop in your tracks but you refused to look at him “I’m thinking of selling the business”

Those words left you frozen in place, a drop of cold sweat dripping down your back as you turned to him, clear fear in your eyes.

“What?”

Robert, stoic as usual, didn’t look up as he signed over something.

“The Luccas made an offer” He explained in so little detail “I believe it’ll be for the best”

“For the best?!” You scoffed, feeling completely betrayed. A new low you believed your father could never be able to reach “For the best of whom? Your conscience? Breaking news, dad. You don’t have one. Cause if you did, you would never-”

You pressed your lips together, shushing the lump in your throat that threatened to escape in a sob. You took a deep breath and turned to your father.

“I hope you know this is the last time I’ll ever talk to you again if you dare to sell it to them. To him”

“That’s not your decision to make”

“Then consider me dead along with the rest of your children. You’re good at that”

The banging on the door was heard all over the house along with your shoes stomping on the floor.

*

He could laugh. Was it possible that they were that stupid?

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for Calum Hood and Michael Clifford to come at him for help, but really? Drugs?

“This has to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever asked me,” He said, both Calum and Michael shifted a little in their seats.

There they were, sitting in comfortable velvety cushion seats with leather handles; drinking a whiskey that was probably older than them; hands adorned with expensive jewelry and dressed in the finest suits they could afford. And they were afraid.

It was normal, of course, to feel intimidated by him. After all, his reputation preceded him as one of the deadliest men in the country. His successful deals gave him millions, and the ones that weren’t as successful still made him a threat. Men feared him or wanted to be him. Women fell at his feet on their knees and not just to beg for mercy.

There was no wonder why he was nicknamed “Lucifer” given that his eyes resembled the evil and cruelty of Alexander Cabanel’s painting. There was no good left in him, not that anyone knew. Not that he would show proof of that.

Ashton Irwin was a proud man, a respectable man. And the two men in front of him knew it, so why waste their time?

Both Calum and Michael were famous around town as well. The prodigal son, Calum Hood, became a household name after he took on the family business after holding his father at gunpoint to sign the papers for him. Soon, he enlisted Michael Clifford, a wizard in technology and heir to his own fortune - albeit a bit small - as his right-hand man. They made themselves known in the business, and even Ashton had to admit that it was surprising how quickly they went up the ladder amongst the other families he knew. But, as any rookies, they made a few mistakes and asked a lot of favors that they were now trying to amend.

“Calum, how’s your girl?” Ashton asked, leaning back on his chair, pretending that their request was never asked in the first place “Still running that bookshop back on Seventh Street?”

The smirk on Ashton’s face might not have meant anything else but a taunt to Calum. But the latter didn’t like the way he said it, almost as if he knew that his girl was his only weakness.

“She’s good” He answered, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing him affected.

Ashton hummed, looking at the third guy who was standing near the mirror on the wall.

“It’s not nice to bring security and bodyguards for a talk with friends,” He said.

“Is that what we are?” Michael asked, “Is that what we’re doing?”

“You tell me, Clifford. Cause I know for sure that if you came to me as partners then we wouldn’t even have this conversation” Calum opened his mouth to speak but Ashton silenced him “Because as you know, I don’t make deals with lost causes, and right now I’m seeing two in front of me”

“Ashton-”

“There’s a thing called “unsaid agreements” in this business, Calum, I know you’re familiar with that. And that is we don’t shit where we eat. We don’t sell drugs in this city, we don’t make deals with the locals, and for fuck’s sake we don’t owe favors to the ones that don’t comply with this agreement” He pointed his finger at the two men in front of him “And you two fuckers did the three things together”

“Well, what choice did we have?!” Calum asked “The Luccas were threatening to take over our territory and-”

“And I don’t give a fuck about the Lucass’” Ashton spat “In fact…”

In one swift move, he took a gun under his desk and shot the security guard right in the head.

“WHAT THE-”

“FUCKING CHRIST”

The two men yelled and jumped as the gun went off. Splatters of blood could be found in their clothing and faces, but nothing compared to the smear of blood and brains that now dropped from the mirror. Ashton, as usual, sat back in his chair with a smirk and hid the gun. Not a single drop of blood hit him or his desk.

“WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!” Calum yelled, trying to wipe the blood from his clothes, showcasing his lack of knowledge of the business.

“Cause he was wearing a microphone you jackass!” Ashton spat “Hidden on the belt, look it up”

Michael leaned down and he in fact found a small microphone hidden behind the buckle. He sighed as he showed it to Calum. The two men looked back at Ashton with tired looks filled with anger and embarrassment.

“Another advice,” He said “Don’t fucking invite newbies to “important” meetings”

“You think you’re so smart…”

“I know I’m smart, Hood, and I’m the best there is in this business so don’t you fucking forget it. There’s a reason you came to me and not to the bloody Bermans” He got up and walked up to Calum, grabbing his chin and pulling his closer “I’m the only chance you have but I don’t even know if you two idiots deserve it. So, admit it, Hood”

Calum rolled his eyes, but Ashton tightened his grip.

“Say it” He nearly whispered, looking straight into his eyes.

“Jesus fuck, fine. We need you, okay?”

Ashton smiled, letting go of Calm and patting him on the cheek “Atta boy”

Just in time, someone knocked on the door before opening it. A young blond girl dressed in a white crop top and leather pants peaked inside, only showing half of her body but her whole face.

“Sir?”

“Lauren, not now”

“There’s someone here to see you”

Ashton rolled his eyes “I don’t have time for it right now. Whatever or whoever it is, it can wait till at least for the cleaning to come up”

“I don’t think it can wait, sir. She’s very insistent. I’ve been trying to hold her back for twenty minutes now” Ashton gave her a look that made her roll her eyes “She says her name is angel and that it’s urgent”

Ashton perked up at the name. Slowly biting the inside of his cheek, he nodded and turned back toward his desk.

He clicked his tongue before looking toward Michael and Calum, and then back to his assistant.

“Bring her in and send the cleaning team to at least remove that idiot, please” Lauren nodded and closed the door. He looked at his desk, putting away some papers as he nonchalantly said “You two, out”

“What?!”

“This isn’t over, Irwin-”

“Yes, Clifford it is” He stared at them but barely raised his head “Now get the fuck out before I make you”

Ashton could only hear a string of murmured curses and then the door closing with a bang. He smirked, “Angel,” He whispered to himself in a singing, mocking tone “What have you gotten into”

*

The blonde girl looked familiar. Her smile showed some kindness that you weren’t used to seeing around these places, even when you first encountered her behind the bar. She didn’t ask questions other than your name and the reason for your sudden visit.

“He doesn’t see people without a previous appointment,” She said, handing one more beer to the drunken men who slurred their thank you’s to her.

“What, is he a doctor?” You chuckled humorlessly, but the girl didn’t laugh along with you. her bright blue eyes just showed pity and understanding. You sighed “Look, tell him is angel, he’ll see me”

The girl shrugged “I can’t promise you anything, doll. Just wait here”

Once she was out of sight through a backdoor, you took your time to scan the place. Ashton did outsell himself with this one.

“The Den of Vipers” was the most popular club in the city, having opened ten years ago when Ashton took over the family business, it was still filled with clients who wanted to get lost for a while. Ashton was good at making people disappear, and it showed. This place screamed his name wherever you would look.

The floor was a dark marble with white gold lines separating the tiles. There were booths against the walls, all made of velvet cushions and leather. The lights were low, and changing from blue to purple, to green and then white again as the music played, it was impossible to keep track of the people there thanks to it. The bar itself was made of bulletproof glass, standing proudly and mockingly in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by different bodies lost in the mindless music the DJ of the night put on, almost in trance and unaware of the things that happened behind the scenes.

Of course, this whole charade of a humble business owner was just Ashton’s front to the authorities - even though they always seemed to be on his side, many times you heard your father complain about it - but you knew the reality. In fact, you were sure that when the girl came back, you’d be led through the backdoor and into the real building. You’d walk through careful hallways that will eventually lead you to the owner’s real office.

And that is exactly what happened once she came back and guided you through cushioned, sound-proofed walls covered in dark green velvet. The lights of the halls were dimmed, giving the feeling of being watched at all times like a haunted house. And you wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case, after all, Ashton could be anything but careless when it came to a negotiation.

Which is exactly why you’re here.

When you got to the door of his office, you didn’t need to knock as the door opened immediately. Two guys dressed in black came out carrying a bodybag, leaving the door open. You rolled your eyes because, of course, Ashton would make a big show.

“I’ll take it from here,” You said to the girl, giving her a small smile that she mirrored.

The first thing you saw when you came into the office was the desk. It had nothing but some papers and a lamp, no sign of family pictures or hobbies. It was common for the “big bosses” to keep their workplaces clean of any personal relationships, but coming from Ashton it seemed pretentious - at least for you.

The mirror still had blood stains on it and you could tell they were still fresh, even so you didn’t look twice. Blood and guts are not something that shocks you anymore, and that realization came with a whole can of worms you weren’t ready to open up yet. There were some stains on the floor and what you could assume was gunpowder residue, so you were careful not to step on those.

“I’d apologize for the mess, princess. But you and I both know it doesn’t matter”

You turned to find Ashton with his back facing you as he fixed a drink on his personal mini-bar. His broad shoulders and back were covered with the finest of suits - from Milan, everyone and their mothers wore clothes from Milan - his hair was longer than the last time you saw him.

When he turned around, however, it seemed like nothing had changed.

He looked mature, of course, twelve years can do that to someone. But his eyes were still the same shade of hazel you remember, only a bit more sadist. He looked good, and somehow you hated that. It was time to put the past in the past where it belonged and stop the memories before they cloud your mind. Still, something inside you kept telling you, urging you to let yourself go. What did it matter how he looked? But that thought came late for the half smile he wore as he walked up to you, made you realize that he caught you staring.

“Here,” He said, handing you a glass of whiskey and coke. How’d he know your favorite drink? that was a question for another time “I assume you’re a big girl now, princess”

You glared at him as you swallowed the whole glass in one go, never taking your eyes off him and his unimpressed look.

“‘m not a princess” You said, dryly “And I can make my own drink, thank you”

You pushed past him and walked toward the mini bar, fixing yourself another drink. It was clear that you didn’t need it, your mind was screaming and begging for you to keep a clear head while you were ahead and in front of Lucifer himself. But something in his smile… the way his eyes still treated you like a child, so condescending, brought something in you. A chance to prove yourself in front of him.

All your life you had to prove yourself in front of men like him. In front of women who think they were better than you because their hands didn’t get dirty as yours did. In front of your parents. Of Luke… How long until they realize that you are where you belong?

Once you finished making your drink you turned back to Ashton. His eyes roamed your body, shamelessly, he licked his lips briefly before a smug grin adorned his face, eyes looking straight at you.

“I can see that,” He said, leaning against his desk “So, angel, haven’t heard from you in a while”

You rolled your eyes “Don’t call me that”

“You’ve never seemed to mind it before”

“I’m not here to reminisce about the olden days, Irwin” You spat.

Ashton whistled “So the bitch can bark! Impressive. Who would’ve thought that the balls of the Hemmings family were hiding behind their youngest?” Your face turned red in anger as your fingers tensed around the glass. Ashton noticed and tauntingly walked toward you with a smirk and leaning to whisper in your ear “But guess what? Y/N, you still can’t bite”

Your body became hot at his proximity. The smell of his cologne filled your surroundings as the rage - or something else, something new - inside your stomach kept boiling. But before you could push him away, he was already pulling apart and going back to sit at his desk.

“Tell me, Y/N, what is a Hemmings doing here all by herself? Has daddy finally kicked you out?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, looking down unable to meet his eyes. You can’t believe you’re doing this, not with him. But there wasn’t any other choice.

“I need help,” You said, hating how those words sounded coming from you.

“Everybody does” He shrugged “Doesn’t mean they’re going to get it-”

“Ashton,” You finally looked back at him. The urgency of your voice and the fact that you called him by his name for the first time since you came here, took him by surprise as he listened “Jack’s dead”

Ashton’s eyes remained unchanged at your words, looking straight at you while his fingers played with his rings on the opposite hand. From his reaction, it was hard to guess that once upon a time he and the Hemmings’ siblings were inseparable, Jack being the closest of age to him and one of his first friends. Your eyes begged for him to do something, say something. To show you any indication that he might help.

The bond between your family and his broke a long time ago. You were barely a child, but you knew there was no going back to the summers filled with laughter and joy you all shared. In the blink of an eye - or at least that’s what it felt like as a child - The Irwins and the Hemmings were sworn enemies. And the friendship you had with Ashton vanished in thin air.

You and Luke took it the hardest, begging your mother to help you call the Irwin household so you could talk to Ash. Never understanding why suddenly her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head no and told you to play something else.

“He hates us,” Luke said to you once. It was another boring afternoon after you suggested calling him again. But Luke’s eyes were cold as ice, scaring you as he said “And we hate him”

And for a while that was it. You weren’t going to go against your brother, so the subject was finally dropped and you haven’t seen Ashton since. Or at least that’s what everyone thought.

But now, years after the fallout, you were hoping somehow that those words were a lie. Maybe Ashton could still hold some kind of fond memory of your families together. Anything to make you believe he might help you.

“My condolences,” He said after a while, no emotion hidden in his voice.

His comment made you angry, “Is that it?”

“What else do you want me to say?” He shrugged “People die every day, Y/N, it just the way it is”

“He was murdered”

“Shocker” Ashton scoffed with sarcasm “He was never the brightest of lads.”

“It was an ambush,” You said, unable to stop. “They were driving back home in the middle of the night when a string of bullets came raining down on the vehicle. Jack could barely escape before they found him and slit his throat. They burned the car afterward. And Luke-... Luke’s missing, Ashton”

Ashton nodded, pressing his lips in a thin line “He’s probably dead”

“No, he’s not”

And maybe it was because of your determination, or the look in your eyes when you said it, almost as if you believed it. But Ashton grinned at your statement.

“No,” He said, “He’s not”

A small breath of relief escaped your lips. Finally, somebody believed you.

“Would you help me?”

“No”

“What?!”

Ashton shrugged “Why would I help you, little Hemmings? What makes you so entitled to come here and ask for my help after what your family did?”

“My family?” It caught you off guard, what did he know that you didn’t?

“And why aren’t they helping to find their beloved golden child?” Ashton mocked, standing up and circling his desk until he was once again in front of you “All the stories we hear about the young, promising Hemmings… I’m sure they were not talking about you”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the comment, grip tightening around the glass, nearly breaking it.

“I am shocked that they didn’t start a search party already. Has daddy Hemmings opened his eyes to his karma yet? Why should I care? Matter of fact, why should you?”

“He’s my brother,”

“Cute. Not enough, but thanks for trying” He nodded toward the door “See yourself out, angel. This isn’t your castle”

Ashton turned around, not even giving you a second glance. Your hand reached out to him, grabbing him by the arm and making him stop. There were probably a few people who could do that to him, even fewer the ones who were still alive to tell the story. He turned his eyes toward you, curiosity and anger hidden in those hazel marbles staring back at you and then at your hand on his arm.

The tension was clear, but it was a little too late to rethink that mistake. If this was your only shot, then you had to take it. You owe that much to Luke.

“I- I have no one, Ash,” You said, looking down, ashamed of your statement and how weak you sounded.

Ashton didn’t say a word, he didn’t move away either. He stood there, waiting for you to continue. And for the first time in a long time, you felt relieved that someone was at least willing to listen.

“I left them,” You told him, looking straight into his eyes “I left my family because they did not believe me. They can’t find Luke, they won’t even try. He’s the only person I have left and I won’t rest until I find him, with or without your help”

Ashton grinned maniacally, a shadow appearing in his eyes as he looked down at you. Now you understand why they called him Lucifer. For he once was one of God's most beautiful angels, but temptation and his own ego were his doom. And, as he leaned down, you couldn’t help but be entranced by that wicked smile as he said, nearly whispering.

“And what are you willing to do, angel?”

It was a challenge, you could see it in his eyes. A bait to lure you into a trap. And you took it.

“Anything”

Ashton’s smile widened as he freed himself from your grasp and walked over to his desk to grab a set of keys, pressing a little button on it.

“If I’m going to help you, little Hemmings - and I’m not saying I will just yet - you’ll have to resign your name and what comes with it. I’ll be dead before I help a Hemmings out of the sheer kindness of my heart”

You rolled your eyes “You don’t have a heart, Irwin. Is that all you want? I told you I left my father”

“I don’t need a rogue princess fumbling with my business” Ashton scoffed, “So whatever I say goes. You’re working for me, Hemmings, not the other way around” He walked closer to you again, his chest nearly hitting yours “If I say go, you go. If I say we stop, you stop. If I say get out of my sight, you better pray your little feet move fast. I don’t care who you are, what you are, or what you represent. If you fuck with me, I’ll fuck right back. And I go hard, angel. No intentions of having any kind of mercy. Understood?”

You challenged him with a look, trying to figure him out. But time was running out, and you didn’t have any other option.

“Yes.” You said, dryly.

Ashton clicked his tongue “Yes, what?”

“Don’t push it, Irwin” You took a step back “So, we have a deal?”

The doors to the office opened and two large, muscly men dressed in suits came in and stood quietly but threatening at the door. You crooked an eyebrow and looked back at Ashton.

“Friends of yours?”

“Acquaintances,” He said, walking over to them and getting out the door, only stopping for a second “You comin’?”

The two men walked behind you as you followed Ashton through the halls that first brought you there. The image of his broad shoulders walking under the low lights and out toward the club shielded you from any distractions. He would sometimes glance over his shoulder, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of his lips when he noticed you were still walking a few steps behind him.

People at the club were sweaty and unashamed. Bodies grinding against one another and along the beat of a dark EDM song. Some women and boys would walk up to Ashton, letting their hands grace the skin of his face and neck or arms as they each seductively said hello to him. It seemed as if they were enchanted by him, moved by a spell of lust as their eyes would meet his. They wanted him, they all wanted him. Ashton would smile, say their names, and acknowledge them with a hello before moving to another person, another step toward the exit.

Ashton led you through a door that led to another dark hallway. The music sounded muffled through the walls, blocking your ears at the sudden change of environment. Ashton walked a few steps ahead before he stopped and turned around toward you, hands in his pockets as he looked at you and grinned.

“Now what?” You asked, annoyed “Any other fan of yours that we need to greet?”

Ashton chuckled and shook his head.

“No, just precautions”

“Precautions? Why would you-”

“Sorry, angel”

And with a snap of his fingers, the world went black.

*

[valentiyne]

𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖢𝖠𝖲𝖳 𝖮𝖥 𝖬𝖨𝖣𝖭𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳

(𝖡𝖮𝖷𝖤𝖱!5𝖲𝖮𝖲 𝖠𝖴)

FIND MIDNIGHT HERE

[hischeapcigar]

You don't go to parties anymore

Modern Eddie Munson x ex reader

Summary: Eddie keeps looking for you in his parties

Word count: 1.9k 

Warning: angst, mentions of drugs, drunk eddie, curse words, small reference to smut (if you squint)

a/n: this was inspired by the song stuck in my head, “you don't go to parties” by 5sos and obviously i had to do something about it lol. Reblog and comments are appreciated <3 also comment if you want to be tagged in eddie one shots in future. Mwah 

Another Friday night, another party. Like a routine, like a spiral. Eddie Munson, big doe eyes were hidden by the bags under his eyes. Hair messed up like he fought a monster. And his well known smile, that everybody was attracted to like a moth to light, was gone with the wind, gone with you. 

He doesn't remember when was the last time he slept through the night. He stays up, drinking, distracting him with different things, or parties on friday nights. 

Why did he keep throwing these parties every week? He wasn’t sure. But his eyes keep searching for that familiar pair of eyes, those pretty eyes, your eyes. 

It was 5 am Saturday morning, and Eddie's apartment was crowded with every person he knew, while he laid on the sofa, drunk. Sweaty bodies are dancing, people are still drinking in the corner while some are passed out on the floor in front of him. 

He eyes them carefully, everyone, there’s Nancy and Robin talking about something, Steve is drunk dancing with this blonde girl he can’t remember the name of. 

It's 5:00 a.m. clinging to my couch

And everyone I ever knew is standing in my house

Oh, I wonder who I'm looking for

'Cause you don't go to parties anymore

“Eddie! It was my turn,” you whined as you reached out, snatching the joint from his lips. He chuckled as he watched you bring it to your lips, taking a deep breath. To say he adored you was an understatement. 

You both lied, on your backs, in his bed, taking turns smoking the joint. It was midnight and you had snuck out of your house to jump in Eddie’s car. Now you both were here, spread out on Eddie's bed, smoke surrounding you. 

He turned to face you and draped his arm lazily around you pulling you flush against him, 

“You’ve had enough, baby,” he whispers, gently taking the joint from your fingers and slightly getting up to smash the butt of the cigarette in the ashtray. 

“I can handle, eds” your voice was dreamy, low and distant. Your mind was in higher clouds, the ceiling was your window to the galaxy as you watched the shooting stars. 

He hummed, pressing his lips to your jaw. Eyes droopy, you both faced the ceiling, sides pressed to each other, hallucinating a whole new world until you passed out. 

I still think about the times we were heavy

Racehorse tripping on the dirt that you got on me

Vultures spinning up above for what's left of me

We go stupid every night, what a tragedy

Eddie’s mind started to darken with each passing minute, as every memory of you haunted his brain. He felt a pang in his heart, begging and praying to see you one more time. Just one more time. 

He looked at every corner of his house where he fucked you relentlessly, he looked at the balcony where you stood up all night to watch the sunrise  together, 

His lips started to tremble at the surge of memories, each one hitting him close to home. His mind was foggy, he was losing it. Like he always did everytime he let his mind wander to you, always back to you.

I'm still here in the darkness

Back where we started

You make me a heartless monster

I'm caught up in distractions

Fatal attractions

I'm starting to come undone

A part of him wanted to kick everyone out, he was tired, the voices in his mind too loud. He glanced, once again, at the bodies, hoping that you were there, hoping he overlooked your figure the first time. 

And now it's 5:00 a.m. clinging to my couch

And everyone I ever knew is standing in my house

Oh, I wonder who I'm looking for

'Cause you don't go to parties anymore

His eyes zeroed at the girl, whose back resembles yours. He stood up abruptly, seeing stars immediately, he shook his head to focus. Stumbling, he made his way to her. A bottle of wine clutched in his hand tightly. 

He tapped her shoulder,

 I'll talk to y/n. I’ll make it okay, we’ll be fine, this is it. I’m sorry y/n, give me one more chance, give us one more chance.

She turned around, and his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of a random person. She wasn’t you. Of course you wouldn’t be here

He nodded and smiled, or tried to, before he raised his bottle to her. She politely shook her head ‘no’. 

A string of curses left his mouth as he shifted his weight and leaned on the wall on the side. The girl immediately shifted her attention from her friends to him. 

“Hey, are you doing well?” she asked, obviously interested

“Hmm” he nodded, bring the mouth of the bottle to his lips, taking a swig

“You know i, uh, recently broke up with the most beautiful girl ever,” he slurred

She looked taken aback, she didn’t expect this. Anything but this. 

“We, uh, were together for 5 years,” his pitch went high for the last part that he uttered

“I thought you were her, but you can never be her” he chuckled, shaking his head, gulping the wine. 

“Excuse me?” she was furious, 

“Yeah… y/n…y/n was the best part of my life” his bloodshot eyes were distant as if mentally he’s still in the memory

“She used to make me laugh on my worst days and-” his words fell short as he saw the woman had gone away.

He shook his head, he really was losing it

I got the last five years running out my mouth

Always stay too late, I should kick me out

Oh, I wonder who I'm looking for

'Cause you don't go to parties anymore

“Watch your words, Munson” you threatened, your voice shook despite the efforts of keeping it strong

“I’m fucking done, y/n, i can’t do this, you want too much” his voice raised slightly

“Too much? Asking for your fucking time is ‘too much’? You elevated your pitch to match his

Another day, another argument, like a routine, like a spiral. y/n’s  big pretty eyes with tears swimming at the edge, dangerously close to falling. 

“I think it's time to put an end to this relationship,” eddie stated, devoid of any emotion

And there came all your tears, pouring on your cheeks as the words rang in your ears. 

You wanted to reach out to him, hold him, tell him you’ll make it through together, that this is just a rough patch. 

But you stood there still as you watched him walk out the door. 

-

He covered his ears with his hands as he headed for the balcony, running away from the bodies, from the loud music, from himself. His own last words to you haunting his mind, he wanted to scream to silence everything. 

He spotted Argyle and Jonathan being only physically here, their minds wandered off when they sniffed the powder. He walked up to them, seating himself beside them, reaching for the pills and crushing them on the table. 

Lost my limit 'cause I'm dumb and I'm passionate

Took my foot off of the break, it's not an accident

All my friends are up on Mars, we've been traveling

Another lonely night

“In time we’ll build a home for two” Eddie blurted out as you both hiked up the small hill.

“Eddie! You’re being-” your breaths were ragged 

“You can tell me i’m being corny, but it still won’t make me sorry,” he cut you off, grinning widely as he looked at you, nothing  but admiration in his eyes

“Don’t you think about our future?” he wondered  out loud,

“Of course, i do, all the time” you think about the nights where you think about two of you when you can't sleep 

“Yeah but i have a feeling you’ll have enough of my dramatic ass and leave me,” he teased

You glared at him. You both knew you hated whenever he brought up ‘you leaving him’ because you loved him too much to choose something else over him.

Ironic. How fucking ironic.

He glanced back at the crowd which had shrunken. He scanned the room from the balcony once more before he let the powder get a hold of his mind 

And now it's 5:00 a.m. clinging to my couch

And everyone I ever knew is standing in my house

Oh, I wonder who I'm looking for

'Cause you don't go to parties anymore

The sun had started to rise, the sky displaying beautiful colors. He smiled at the scenery, remembering how you used to get lost in the beauty of it all. 

“y/n used to love it so much,” he revealed to the boys beside him, but they were too high to listen to him. That didn’t stop him, only encouraged him

They’re not listening, I'll pretend they are

 And so he did. He rambled on and on about you. Anything he could remember about your relation, he voiced it, good or bad. 

He kept talking and sniffing the powder. 

Again

Then again

And once more

Until he blacks out. 

-

He doesn’t remember anything except the sky burning auburn, cocaine powder all over the table, your voice in head and then-

He opened his eyes, vision still blurry as he tried to get up. His hand  reaching on the other side of the bed, seeking your warmth, like a habit. He winced at the coldness that resided there.

He was in his room, in the same clothes as last night.

His head hurt so bad like someone banged his head against the wall. He tried to get out of the bed when he saw Steve entering the room with a glass of water in his hand. 

“You gotta pick yourself up buddy,” steve said

“I-” his voice was hoarse, mouth dry. 

Steve handed him the glass, which he gulped like a thirsty man in the desert. Steve took a seat beside him, legs dangling. 

“It was worse this time, eddie” steve tried to get his attention,

Eddie’s gaze was stuck at his door, 

Maybe you’d enter, laughing. Maybe you decided to return to him. Maybe just maybe he could have a second chance. Maybe this was all a bad dream,

Steve’s voice pulled him from his daydreams, 

 “your nose was bleeding, man, you gotta sober up, just try and get over her” 

In a beat, he replied, “i don't want to get over her, Steve” 

You 

 Just the mention of you has him talking. Talking non stop about what you two were, what you two could have been

I got the last five years running out my mouth

Always stay too late, I should kick me out

Oh, I wonder who I'm looking for

'Cause you don't go to parties anymore

His chatter was cut short when Steve’s phone rang, which he attended walking out the door.

Eddie was left alone with his thoughts. He turned and extended his hand to get a hold of his phone.

Once in his grip, he opened your chat, re-reading the countless texts he sent you. 

“Please come home” he sent one more, like every other day. 

Eddie put the phone away as he saw Steve approaching him with his phone extended to Eddie, “its y/n” 

Eddie couldn't believe his ears, or eyes or anything, he wasn't registering the situation. He scrambled on the bed, practically leaping out  to meet steve’s phone half way, as he practically snatch it and placed it on his ears,

“y/n?” his voice was shaky, his body was trembling 

“Eddie?” 

Oh, I wonder who I'm looking for

'Cause you don't go to parties anymore

[smuttyaf]

SouthSide Serpent

Word Count: 4.8k

Rating: R

features; childhood friends to lovers, loverboy ashton, literally ashton has been pining for y/n, & sum good old smut :)

a/n: idek what to say but hi! i’ve been in retirement for like 4 years and rediscovered this account. i got nostalgic & decided… shit why not write again?

please cut me sum slack tho! i wrote this on my notes app & it’s been years since i’ve written so i would love to hear feedback!

& yes i am hella descriptive and like to build suspense! i can’t help it >.<

also! y/n is heavily based on serena from mtv downtown ( i love her ) & this picture of ashton ( xx )

-

The crisp October breeze blew through your hair as the dull taste of your cigarette burns on your tongue; your forefinger and middle finger clenching the nicotine filled paper and pressing it against your lips, drawing in the vapour.

Your head nods along to the music playing before you just two doors down on the opposite side of your street. There was Ashton and his band, either playing covers of their current favourite songs, oldies, or new ones that they’ve all come together and created.

The usual guitar flow and drum beat of Maps by the Yeah Yeah Yeahs blasted through the speakers in the garage as the sound of Luke’s voice sang along on top of the tune.

You hum along to the lyrics as you glared in the direction, your lips peeling away from the filter and letting the smoke settle in your lungs before releasing it. The four boys were all dressed in their usual attire: white shirt, black trousers, beat up old chunky Doc Martins, and their signature SouthSide Serpents leather jackets.

As the wind picks up again you let your free hand tear away from your windowsill and tug the flying strays of your hair in front of your face behind your ear, the chipped black polish on your almond nails coming into view as you remind yourself you needed to get them done.

The bridge of the song is now blaring down the street, causing you to raise your cigarette back to your lips and think to yourself, what a coincidence this song is playing; the lyrics, the time frame, and the memories that all come flowing back as you hear the familiar melody.

It was 2009 and Ashton had invited you over during Christmas break to play Garage Band since Santa gifted it to him because that was the only thing he asked for on his wish list. You were both 8, banging on the drums and singing songs that you both were too young to know or remember from when your parents would play them on the drive home from school. But, for some reason this is the song that stuck with you both the most. Maybe it was the easy lyrics or the amazing beat but from then on it had you hooked to this alternative sound.

Now fast forward to a year ago, your now ex boyfriend Xavier was laying on your bed, finger pads heavy weight on your skin as he drew sloppy hearts on your hip. The wire of the headphones tangled between your shoulder and his wrist as you both listened to his playlist. The familiar intro notes to the song beginning to ring throughout the buds and the tug of your maroon lined lips turn into a smile.

“Already like the song?” He asked, brown eyes rested on top of dark circles scattered with freckles as he smirked down at you.

“I love it.” You sheepishly said.

The wind knocks you back into reality as it pushes through your window again, only making you remember how much you loved October; the weather changing, leaves blooming, smell of the rain just before it hit the concrete, the sound of the leaves dragging along the pavement, and the endless horror movie marathons that would run on AMC.

The orange, brown, and green leaves spin in the breeze and rustle along the branches as the sun stood brightly among the houses along the horizon. From your view on the windowsill you can see houses upon houses before you see the local water tower and old plazas that scream they need new merchant signs and fresh cement.

Your eyes flick to the lonesome string popping out of your black long sleeve before the sound of your phone’s text tone goes off, your eyes darting to the message running across the screen.

Stop watching me

Ashton’s text read, making you roll your eyes before placing them on the dark hair boy who had a goofy grin on his face from your view, his drum sticks were stuffed in one had and the other held his lit up phone.

With a smile on yours, you let the hand that rested in the crook of your neck tear away from the warm flesh and your middle finger stand in the air as a response.

-

Clothes were thrown in every direction of your room as you let your eyes drag along your frame in the mirror, your loose knitted black sweater hung off one of your shoulders as low waisted charcoal jogging pants rested on your hips. Your hair was in its loose waves as your curtain bangs swept against your temples, your fingers curling into themselves in frustration as you tried to not stress over how you look.

You didn’t want to over enhance your appearance to see Xavier since he wanted to meet up to get “closure” -even though he was the one who called it off despite your many pleas- but you wanted to make him feel bad for even deciding to drop you.

A frustrated sigh left your wine stained lips before turning around and sticking your feet into your ruined Converse. The low muffled sound of Xavier’s Prelude is heard out your window and you feel your heart drop.

You never understood why you always felt this way about him and why you couldn’t just get over this stupid boy who likes to break up with you every other month, a new reason every single time. The constant tears, text threads, and blocking to unblocking seemed to never get exhausting to you because you were always back in the same place, wondering if you overdressed to see your ex for closure.

The chime of Xavier’s specific text tone rings through your room and you already know what it says, so without checking you twisted your foot into your shoe to fit perfectly before you reach over and grasp your phone in your hand and tug your way to the window sill. Fingers pressing the frame up and letting the fall air sweep into your room before crouching down and fitting yourself through the frame and safely scale down the roof, onto the sturdy vine wall filled with dead clematis that prickled on your palms the way down before your feet landed on the short cut grass.

As you turned away from the wall and begin tugging your feet towards the black coupe, your eyes catch on the tall frame standing on their front step as an amber light glows slightly illuminating his face. You already know this is Ashton, so with a slight smile you let your index finger rest against your coated lips, a gesture to him to be quiet.

The only response he gives is his head nodding off to the side with smoke trailing out of his mouth.

The smile quickly falls as your fingers clench the car door handle and tug it open, the smell of him crashing down on you as you sit in the familiar leather, the hum of the engine vibrating under you as the car peels off.

~

The tinge of tequila burned on your buds as you felt the room spinning, the sound of chatter and shouts are heard from below you as the bass of Destroy Lonely’s song can be heard in the room you barged into when you gave up on waiting for Tabitha; who said she wouldn’t be long with the curly haired new kid in her history class.

Red solo cup was loosely clenched in your right hand as left was lazily running through your hair at random moments as you laid against the cottage floral bed sheets.

Here you were, back in the same spot you always found yourself in: drunk, heartbroken, and thinking about a boy who doesn’t even care about you. The constant routine of wanting him, then wanting to be far away but craving him every other second burned into your heart. The comfort and familiarity of him that you missed always overlooked every excuse he gave you whenever he broke things off.

Last month he said he needed time to himself, this month he told you that he was confused and didn’t know what he wanted; frankly he lost feelings for you, at least that was what he says now. Those words kept on replaying in your mind as if that was your favourite song. The way he sounded emotionless yet unsure that, that was what he really wanted.

And just with those thoughts, tears were flowing down your temples. Eyes blurring as the voice replayed in your head, the memory of him sitting beside you and saying that, to then recollect memories of how sweet and endearing the boy you loved in the beginning grew cold to your touch and looked into your hopeful eyes with detached ones.

The popcorn ceiling was fuzzy in your sight as the tears spill over your waterline and beads down the sides of your face. You already knew your cheeks were heated up, the liner and eyeshadow that was occupying your bottom lashes was smudged and probably slipping away with the liquid as a sniffle wrinkled through your nose.

God you hated this; the empty feeling of missing someone who you know you shouldn’t want but yet crave so badly. Why him? Why you?

As you were deep in thought you hear the rustle of the door knob before it turns and the music that pours from outside reaches into the empty depths of the room, the sound of footsteps halting and a sharp intake of breath being heard, but you don’t dare look away at the ceiling. Frankly, you could care less about who sees you crying your eyes out on this outdated duvet with ruined make up.

“Fuck my bad!… Wait Y/N?” The recognizable voice of your childhood friend is heard before the door is closing shut.

The weight of him sinks next to you on the bed as you let your eyes close and the final stream of tears leave your eyes.

“I look desperate don’t I.” You state, voice raspy from the strain in your throat as the usual feeling of a ball is formed.

“I think you look sad,” He points out, making you snort as the hand that was lazily playing in your hair tears away and feels the sheet below you.

“No shit,” You mumble before letting your eyes peel open.

“You and Xavier broke up again?” Ashton questions, the sound of his zippers clashing from his jacket as he shuffles around.

You only hum in response before you let both of your arms sit you up on the bed, your back standing straight as your hands cradle the solo cup. Your eyes stare down at your ruined pantyhose beneath your mini lace black skirt before they flicker to look at the hazel boy.

Eyes connecting with yours, you hear his breath hitch as he draws in your appearance. Cheeks with a glow of cherry red sweeping the bones under your eyes that are damp with black eyeshadow, your eyes were still puffy and red rimmed as they batted slowly up at him.

“He doesn’t know what he wants,” You let out, your eyes rolling before letting your plum coloured lips take a sip of the warm mixture of Pepsi and tequila.

“Oh?” He says in confusion, bushy eyebrows coming together trying to figure out how that could be since he saw you two together three nights ago.

“I’m so sick of being with these screwed up guys all the time,” You state, hand tearing away from the cup to dig your nails into the rips of your stockings.

“Really?”

“I have such crummy luck or taste? What is it with girls like me? All a guy has to say is, he can’t express his feelings or he listens to Deftones and it’s like my head tips right over and my brain start to slip out of my ear.”

Ashton lets out laugh, the beer bottle he’s holding by the neck resting on his knee as he stares down at you. “So which one is Xavier?”

“Both,” You scoff while sticking out your tongue in disgust.

“You know… if you wanted to, I’m sure you could have a different great guy to go out with every night,” Ashton assures, a smirk tugging on your lips as you decide to ignore the glint of promise in his eyes.

“No way, I’ve always been a mess. Remember Cleo?” Your second boyfriend that seemed to be stuck on your hip but ironically found someway to cheat on you every weekend yet you still dumbly went back to him every. single. time.

The feeling of your sheer button up rubs against your arm as you let your hand fall against your hip and feel your black crop top tight to your skin.

“Maybe you just need to talk to someone who isn’t your usual type,” Ashton points out. Your head nods a few beats as your thick wedged heeled boots run over the wooden flooring.

“Maybe I’ll be luckier if I tried dating someone nice for a change,” Voice hopeful as your eyes dart away from the bubbly dark liquid into Ashton’s brown hues.

“Nice guys,” Ashton says with a smile, both of his hands tearing away from his knees as if to gesture to himself in this equation.

A laugh escapes your lips before your eyes run over Ashton’s frame from head to toe.

“What are you getting at Irwin?” You say with a pointed brow, playing stupid to the implication.

“Oh nothing..” He sings while tearing his eyes from yours, toothy smile still spread on his lips before he takes a swing of his beer.

You shake your head with annoyance before your hazy eyes look down at your lap, your hands resting on the cup and drumming a random tune.

“Honestly Y/N… I think you’re a really great girl and…. I just think maybe…” His words a scrambled mess and trailing off. You smile to yourself before turning to look back at him.

“Mm?” You question, the fifteen percent liquor coursing through your bloodstream and giving you confidence as you lean into this chest, eyes never tearing away from his. Because if Ashton was going to give you hopeful eyes and stuttering speeches you might as well put the ‘nice guy’ to the test and see if he was really about what he said.

That only made his lips break into a smirk, his tongue sneakily gladding along his bottom lip to wet it before looking into you daringly.

That only made you squish your plucked eyebrows together in question. How did the stuttering boy from just a view seconds ago all of a sudden turn cocky and confident? How many drinks did he have? Or was it the weed that clung to his jacket that gave him the boost.

“I think you should give me a chance,” He nips back, and before you can even respond to him, you watch his neck crane down and press his lips against yours.

The crisp taste of his beer stung your lips as they opened and immediately danced along with his tongue. White liquor and brown meeting together to taste each other and leave an acquired flavour in your mouths.

You hummed along to the feeling of his tongue circling against yours before peeling away and molding your lips to sink against each other. Your heart was beating through your chest, nails now digging into your plastic cup and head ducked back as you continue to press your mouth against his.

The feeling of his cold hand pressing against your neck caused you to shudder and tear away from his lips for a second, your eyes peeling open as they look in front of you. Black hair loosely falling on his forehead, the smell of his husky cologne clogging your senses, and the feeling of his fingers now dancing along the back of your neck.

“What are we doing Ash?” You breathe against his lips.

“Something that I’ve always wanted to do,” He says, making your heart launch. You bite down on your bruised lip and tear your eyes away from his, your stomach twist as you try and gain some self control as you almost fling yourself on top of him.

Something that he always wanted to do? You never really found yourself desirable to the point we’re men would see you in that type of light? But maybe what Ash said was just a simple lie, just so he can get what he wants and frankly you don’t even care. You’ve heard lies your whole entire life when it came to boys and this wasn’t any different, maybe you should just let your mind shut off from your stupid ex and just be in the moment for once.

So with that final thought, not having a care in the world, you drop the red cup in your hand and let your lips launch back onto his. Ashton follows your movements and the sound of the nearly empty beer bottle drops onto the hard wood, his right hand now resting along your neck as you both kiss each other.

Warm breaths, beating hearts and the sound of music is the only thing heard in the room as you lick into each others mouths. Soon you feel the weight of Ashton nudging you to lay back on the bed as he lies on top, you feel the cold zippers from his jacket press against your skin and all you can do is moan.

The feeling of his left hand tears away from the hairs on the nape of your neck and dance down your collar bone before letting it cup your breast in his hand, kneading the soft tissue which only makes another moan slip through you.

He pulls away from your lips and begins to suck and press kisses along your pulse, your hands that lie by your side now running up the sleeves of his jacket and into his hair.

A whimper spills out as you feel his hand tug your tank down and free your naked breast, he engulfs it in his cold palm making you let a shaky breath escape before you’re curling your fingers in his hair, the feeling of him twisting your nipple makes you bite down on your bottom lip. The pleasurable pain you feel running up your spine making your shoulders slightly buck off the bed.

“Hmm…” Ashton hums in your neck before tearing away, his eyes once such a light brown and green hue, now a chestnut and forest green colour filled with lust.

Your fingers tug away from his hair as he now descends down your body, his warm lips pressing kisses to your exposed skin as you let your hands tear your blouse and tank off. Your eyes never leaving his as he watches you undress. His lips now press against your pieced belly button as his fingers tear away from your chest and roughly takes your skirt by the band and peels it down your hips, your stockings following soon after.

Not wasting a moment he lets his mouth press against you covered core, lips pressing small kisses against your heat making you quietly moan. You wanted so desperately to tug Ashton into you and make him start devouring you right there but instead you let your hands trail back into his hair and play around with his locks.

Small kisses soon turn into open mouth licks, his wet muscle running up and down your clothed slit that it had your head digging back into the sheets, your legs spreading wider and whimpers endlessly trailing out.

“Ash.. please..” The words slip out so quiet that you assume he didn’t hear from the pulsing music below you, but instead your met with the feeling of his finger pulling your panties to the side and his tongue finally meeting you were you desired.

It circles around your clit gently before you feel his lips suck it into his mouth, a moan drawls from your throat due to the sensation. Soon enough, he’s letting his mouth discover the way you taste which only elects a moan from him. His tongue now dipping in between your two lips and curling around your insides.

“Oh my,” You moan as your fingers dig into his hair, eyes closing shut as you begin to slowly move your hips to the movement of his tongue.

The feeling of his right hand breaks away from your thigh and flows to your hips, his nails leaving small indents as you feel his other hand move away from your panty and rub against your clit.

The feeling of him humming against you sends a vibrating pleasure down your back as he continues to lick you, this only made your toes curl and your hands to fall out of his hair and onto his leather shoulders.

“Fuck,” You moan, your hands tugging him gently away from you as you feel your climax about to overcome your nerves.

And just as you feel it on the tip of your toes, the mouth between your legs pulls away beginning to press wet kisses up your thigh, his hand that once laid against your heat now meeting with the other at your hips.

A groan leaves you as your eyes tear open and look down at him. He mischievously looks up at you, his kisses now run up your stomach once again to lead to your neck.

“Upset?” He teases, only making you shudder at the rasp in his voice.

“I want you Ash,” You say breathlessly, turning your head to knock his out the way and look him in the eyes. “Please,” You utter, fingers now leaving his shoulders and brushing against his rip cage covered by his white tee.

Without any hesitation, Ashton is pulling away from your embrace and leaning back. He shrugs off his jacket, tugs his shirt over his head, his fingers going to the back of his baggy jeans to pull out his wallet to dig through before you see a gold package flash. If your cheeks could burn any brighter they differently would.

The mixture of his clothes and yours are strung through out the room, both of your shoes kicked to the bottom of the bed as he now shuffles his way back up to his original position.

Without question your hand meets the band of his boxers as you begin to inch them down his waist, wanting to return the favour.

“I think that can wait love, I rather be in you right now,” He breathes against your neck, only making your heart stutter. A sheepish smile tugs at your lips as you feel him twist around and lay on his side, his hands laying on your hips, turning you into the same position.

Your head rested on his arm as your back laid against his chest, hips aligned with each other as the feeling of his smell overcomes you. His knees prop up your legs as you hear the tearing of the condom package.

Deciding to distract yourself you let your eyes fall looking at Ashton. His black hair a tossed mess from your fingers, hazel eyes drawn to wear you both meet as he begins to run his member against your heat.

A whimper leaves your lips as you close your eyes when you feel him push inside, his hand now propping up your thigh as he eases into you.

He nudges your head forward and begins sucking kisses down the expanse of your neck, the feeling of his heart beating against your back and the smell of his sweat mixed with his cologne was filling your nose.

“Feels so good,” He mumbles against your skin, his arm that rested under your head turning slightly as he runs his hand against your wrist and takes your fingers into his, lacing them together as you continue to feel him stretch you out.

You never expected Ashton to have a thick piece but you also didn’t expect to be in this exact position right now, literally. Your childhood friend having his way with you while you were both drunk off each other and the alcohol in your systems.

His hips meet your backside before drawing back and pushing back in, your walls expanding with each thrust as you feel him begin a good pace. Moans begin to fall from your mouth, your eyes fluttering open every few seconds as your skin burns from the bruises soon to appear on your pulse from the black haired man beside you, skin still stuck to his lips.

“You’re moans are so pretty,” He breathes against you, his hand that was holding up your thigh runs up your hips to your chest, letting your leg fall as he takes one of your breasts and squeezes it gently.

All you can do is hum at his words because you’re too overstimulated to speak. The feeling of his thickness drawing in and out of you so heavily has you nodding off at the sensation, his fingers intertwined with yours beings to squeeze them together as the hand that was on your breast meets with his head at your neck.

“You like me fucking you,” He says into your ear as his hand squeezes your throat gently.

You nod your head as you feel your eyes slip close, and you were completely wrecked. He was so dirty yet gentle with you, peppering you with kisses yet digging into you so devilishly that it had your mind distraught.

“You like the way I feel inside you,” He continues, his hand growing more tight around your throat.

“Ash…” You say breathlessly, as your hand that rested against the bed sheets rises up and places it against the one making you breathless but encouraging your climax.

“Mm I like the way you feel around me,” He eggs on, and that makes you cry out, your back pushing pack and meeting his hips.

The feeling of your stomach twitching and legs quivering to close makes your head tip back even more against Ashton as you feel your orgasm on the brink.

That has him taking his hand away from your throat and slips it to lift your thigh back up as he continues to thrust into you, his lips press more kisses against your neck.

Your toes curl as the knot in your stomach expands and releases, the satisfying sensation washing over you as you let a deep breath break through your lips with a moan.

“Fuck,” Ashton hisses as he feels you twitch around him, the contractions from your high throwing him into his; his hips stutter before rocking back into you slowly, teeth gently digging into your skin, his breath being blown over the expanse of it.

The thickness of him slips out which causes your eyes to open, his hand dropping your thigh to wrap around your hips as his head buries into your neck.

The room is quiet for a moment as the only thing that can be heard is your hearts calming down and the chatter from down below.

“I would give you more kisses but I’ve made a mess on your neck,” His voice vibrates against you, that only makes you let out a broken laugh.

“I don’t even wanna know what it looks like,” You reply, your hand that rested on the duvet linking with his that rest along your stomach.

This felt nice, the amazing sex and cuddling session after. The room just being quiet and the only thing that can be heard is your breaths and beating hearts. This was so spontaneous that you still can’t even wrap your mind around what happened.

“How would you feel about doing this more often?” Ashton says after a few minutes, his chest moving as he pulls his head away from your neck to lie back against the pillows.

Having casual sex with him? You ponder on the idea. It was definitely one of the best you have ever had, he felt amazing and checked off every box when it came to how to please you. You couldn’t even lie and say that you didn’t find Ash attractive, you are also now officially single, free to due what we you wanted, so fuck it.

“Like… Friends with benefits?” You say, your thumb running against his hand still linked with yours by your head.

“Yeah, friends with benefits,” He confirms.

You let your head swish from side to side as you feel the burning sensation of his love bites strain against your neck as you let out a sarcastic hum to yourself as if you’re thinking it over.

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

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

Sweet Dreams--Part 18

Calum and you have dance around reality for a few months now. But after Calum leaves and returns from a trip, the reality has to be confronted. 

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert. Tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible!

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It’s just a meeting. 

That’s what Calum tells himself when his email calendar alerts him that in fifteen minutes he’s scheduled to meet with his father. It’s just a meeting. He’s had plenty of them. They’ve talked plenty at the end of the day about things--how other meetings went, they’re plan of attack for future goals. This is not new for them. They do it all the time. But it’s never exactly been about this before. It’s never been about the transition of power. It’s never been Calum on his own, or on the brink of being on his own. 

He knows when he comes into power he gets to appoint a few seats. He’ll get to make a few little arrangements for his own personal counsel. But that always felt like a question of if it happened, or what to do if things aligned for him to take the throne. However, it’s not a question of if now. It’s a question of when. It’s a question of what Calum’s going to do about it now. It’s about Calum having to face the test and to pass it. 

But for right now, it’s just a meeting. Or that’s what he keeps trying to convince himself. 

Calum watches the minutes tick by. Fifteen turns into fourteen, fourteen turns into thirteen. Thirteen turns into twelve. His phone shakes and though Calum doesn't really want to look over, he does. It’s a message from you, the red heart next to your name calming the racing of his own heart, Don’t have a panic attack now, love. Do it after the meeting. 

Calum scoffs at the second part of your text. He’d been transparent about his fears when he added the meeting to his schedule. Calum was honest about the way his heart raced and his knees knocked at the thought that he’d really be taking over the throne. It was always going to happen. But it always felt like it would happen so much later than it is. 

I’d really appreciate a ‘don’t panic. you’ve got this’ text next time, but you’re right. I’ll save the panic for after.

Your reply comes swift, I know you’re always going to panic. Just want to spare you from happening it twice. 

The notification chimes again from his computer. A five minute warning. Calum pushes up from his desk, gathering his pad and pen as he goes. The screen goes dark as Calum puts the computer to sleep. The offices weren’t terribly far from each other. But Calum can’t be late to this. He only needs to go to the end of the hall and as he goes, his fingers blaze over the touchscreen. Too late. Am panicking now and will panic again later. Love you. 

Love you too. It’s going to be fine. You’ll see. 

He hopes you’re right. You’ve been right before and he’s praying that lightning will strike twice this time. 

Just as he lifts a hand to knock on the door, it creaks open. David smiles. “Heard you coming,” he laughs, pulling the door even further back to allow Calum to walk in. 

“Do you think the first order of business should be soundproofing the floors?” It’s a tease. A mostly light hearted jab at the floors of the wings echoing terribly. 

“I think it’d be a wee bit of a waste. Want anything to drink?”

Calum shakes his head. “Thanks, but I’m fine.”

David nods and the two men stand, a few feet apart. Neither one really makes a move. They usually sit on the couch. They melt into the worn leather. They laugh. They do drink. Perhaps, Calum’s not the only one unsure of how this whole thing is supposed to play out. Should they operate as normal? Should it be more formal?

Was it ever meant to be formal?

“I think I’ll have a little something,” his dad returns, moving towards the side. The bottle and glasses you bought him rest on the small side table. Calum places his pad and pen onto the table in front of the couch but doesn’t settle onto it properly, perches on the arm of the sofa. It’ll earn him hell, but he’s less worried about that. 

“Still have those anthills?” David asks. He turns now, his glass only a quarter full of the brown alcohol. 

“Some of them might’ve grown,” Calum returns. He’s still worried about him if he’s only ever meant for politics. He’s still worried that grief and humanity might knock him over. He’s worried he’ll fuck it all up. 

“Mind looping an old man like me in?”

“Dad, you’re not old,” Calum laughs, watching as his father sinks into the couch. There’s still feet between them, but no reprimand about Calum’s improper usage of the arm of the couch. 

“Oh, we can be honest. I am. But I’m not letting it keep me down.”

Calum shifts his weight, lets himself slip down the leather into the cushions. “I think it’s always scary, you know. Knowing that I’ll eventually be King. Guess I just want to do a good job if I’m going to take over.”

“You always do a good job. You’re a Hood.”

His father says it is like the family name carries more behind it than just the four letters. And Calum gets it in some ways. The Hoods have been ruling for decades now. But Calum’s not sure legacy means much if he doesn’t do well enough to carry the torch himself. His name won’t mean anything if he himself doesn’t ensure he puts in the work for such recognition. 

Calum drops his head into the back of the couch, posture slipping as he goes. “Yeah, I am. But I don’t know. I think about what could have been too.”

“What could have been?” David asks. 

The glass makes a soft clink against the coaster, Calum assumes it's been put down. “I wonder what might’ve happened if I wanted to be a footballer more than being tied to the throne. What if I wanted something else just a little bit more?”

There’s a hum. From behind the door there’s the click of heels on the floor. The person walks past the doors and carries on down further. “We’ll always think about that. I do too sometimes. What would happen if I didn’t make certain choices that I did? And the only thing that does is bring worry. But if it helps, if it brings even a small piece of comfort, those questions won’t go away even once you decide.”

“Gee, thanks,” Calum laughs, bringing his head up and gaze to his dad. 

David shrugs. “I have to be honest with you, son. You will always wonder what life would look like if you chose a different path. I don’t think that means you don’t choose anything though. I think it just means that when you choose, you have to accept that you’ll always wonder the opposite.”

“A shitty thing to accept.”

“But if you always knew how things would turn out, if you always knew if the grass was really greener or if it was poisoned, if you always knew what was the right thing to choose, life would be a little bit boring. The bad thing is you’ll always wonder. The good thing is choosing makes life adventurous.”

“I don’t know. I feel like I chose before I should’ve. Or maybe before I realized what I was choosing. Doing my duty sounds good. It feels good. But yeah, I always think about if I knew back then what I know now if I’d still choose this. And maybe I would’ve, you know.”

“I think I do,” David agrees. “Maybe you still choose all of this--politics, taking over the throne. Or maybe you wind up somewhere totally different and you’re not happy as you are right now.”

“A large game of what if,” Calum muses. 

His father grins. “And it never gets easier.”

It doesn’t feel cynical. It’s just a fact. It’s just how it works. Calum will always have choices to make and he’ll always wonder what would happen if he chose differently. And while you said maybe he didn’t always make this into a choice. Maybe he could be King and still enjoy a game of football with his old friends. Maybe he can be King and still tend to his mother’s garden when she’s ready to pass it along to someone. Maybe he can be King and still be human, still be himself at the end of it all. Maybe the title’s only that--a title, a job, not an existence. 

“Thanks for listening, Dad.”

“Anytime, anytime. Still don’t want that drink?”

“No, thanks.”

“Aye, your loss,” David laughs but picks up his pad. There’s already notes scribbled down from what Calum can read but he can’t make out the specifics of what’s written down. “Shall we get started?”

Calum exhales. It’s just a meeting. Only a meeting. Nothing would officially change just yet. It’s just a meeting. 

“There’s no time like a present,” Calum finally agrees, reaching for his own legal pad. He’d attempted to write down any semblance of rational thought for days now, but the most he’d conjured up were circles and loops. He did manage to print down the write up he’d done last week of the results from the direct form, so he is at the very least a little prepared. But not fully. God, he’s not fully prepared. 

“I had some ideas on the right timeline, but I wanted to check in first. What sounds reasonable to you? And no, not forever.” David grins as he says it, like he might’ve been anticipating Calum’s snarky response. 

Not that Calum faults him. He might’ve actually said forever, but it wouldn’t have been in jest. Calum considers it--what would be a reasonable request. He’s twenty-seven now. His birthday came and went now in a bit of a haze. His own batch of cupcakes--chocolate to his own dismay in giving into how right Ashton was about him--all consumed too. The sincere birthday card and small stuffed bear from you still sit on his personal desk in his room. The flowers you had delivered wilted too soon, but the vase remains on his coffee table in his office. It was a small affair, the way Calum prefers it with a small dinner with his family and a few drinks in the evening with his friends. But he’s twenty-seven now. A year at twenty-eight feels too soon, like it won’t work. And he’s not sure two will either. 

“Three years?” Calum offers. “I’ll have a decade’s worth of experience at that point.”

“Seats in Counsel will be vacant sooner than that. I’d hate to put you in a pickle because of that timing.”

Calum hadn’t fully considered how that sort of election and appointment would work, but it is a fair counterpoint. Though he understands his father to be a bit more strict on the rules, Calum had at least assumed empty seats would be for his choosing anyway. “Would a soft transition work? Perhaps I take on more behind closed doors for a little bit, so I can have more say in those seats and then a final public transition after that?”

David nods, scratching down a note. Calum knows it’s a non answer. There’s still nothing solid about how many years that plan would take. But for now, it seems to satisfy his father because he offers, “We can make that work.” 

Calum almost asks about his mother, if she’d offered any ideas on the matter. Joy respectfully declined to partake in this meeting. Calum doesn’t attribute her absence to anything malicious.  She’d been thrust into this world, much like you, by association. Though she took it with grace, Calum wonders if she’s always been sort of looking for her own escape. If his mother’s always been waiting for her chapter to end on the throne and to put herself back where she wanted to be--behind the scenes, and in the muck. Perhaps, her absence is her own way of easing herself out of responsibilities as Queen. 

David continues on. “We’ll need to put together a solid platform under you--show you as someone who does care and is a champion of the everyday man. I think that will help immensely in that public transition and it could help get certain folks in line early rather than too late.”

His father is all gas. “Yeah,” Calum nods, clearing his throat for a second. He’d have to talk to his mother after. No doubt, she’d be debriefed twice--once by him and once by David--but she never seemed to mind. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that too.” Calum gathers his notes into his lap, digging out the pie chart.  “I think taking some issues from the form would be a good place to start.”

David takes the extended sheet, eyes darting over the colors and the key. “I like the sound of that.”

It’s just a meeting. It’s just data. Calum can talk data. “There’s a lot of chatter about the state of the roads, which is a topic I think is fair but maybe small fruit considering we could work something out together now versus later. I’d like some time to look into the concerns about the public school systems. Look at how teachers are compensated, make sure schools have money for the most recent textbook editions, that technology centers in the schools are up to date.”

David’s head bop--left then right-- is noncommittal in tone before he speaks, “Public transit is also a sizable chunk too. But I don’t think you should spread yourself thin. The roads, public transit, schools--these are all topics that come up all the time.”

 It sounds like a warning, like his father might be trying to tell Calum to focus on something else. “If we can fund, or find ways to partially fund vocational schools like we did with two and four year institutions, we’d have more people going into trades. Kids in public schools need equity and they need to feel like they have real tangible options once they have that diploma. Some of them can’t afford to take four and five plus years to start earning more than what they get by dropping fries. Funding public schools and also looking into ways to make trade schools more affordable can help us fill some employment gaps.” And the more Calum speaks, he wonders too if he is biting off more than he can chew. But it doesn’t mean it’s still not viable and worth putting the work in. 

“We still need folks in waste. You still want your burgers in the drive-thru. The folks that check you out at the grocery store or stock the shelves. What about them? They keep the world turning in ways people don’t even realize,” David returns. 

“I’m not saying I’m forgetting about them. As much as you have made strides to improve the economy, you are right, there are jobs that people overlook as menial, that are the undercurrent of how we live our lives. But I feel like everyone’s talked about being there for the underdog and then gotten nowhere with it. They need protection. But I don’t want people to think I’m not listening. It’s not like you and I don’t have a little bit of time. I can’t fix everything but I need to fix the big things. Education is huge.”

The room is silent as David places it next to his drink on the table. “I just don’t want you wading into waters that look shallower than they are. Job protection and some amount of wage stabilization is truly a much smaller goal.”

“If we’re taking platforms, I think you exiting on a win is good too. I understand the importance of not only getting jobs filled but keeping those people employed by protecting them against excessive automation while ensuring fair and livable wages. But with the win of the stimulus and the boom it’s created in the economy, I think there’s much more potential if we focus on that as your exit rather than my entrance.” 

And maybe--if Calum were to ponder long enough--the truth would come out too. Calum wants the person behind him, the kid in the back of the classroom doodling in his notebook and dreaming big to have a real chance to leap for the stars. Maybe if the silence were to settle for long enough, Calum can admit that he wants for his past self the chance to make it as that footballer, to make it in a band, to perhaps even think on a smaller scale as a teacher. 

His father speaks slowly, measuring each word out on his tongue and Calum swallows back down the truth. “You are right that there’s more momentum now for more economic pushes in the job market to stabilize. It would seem rather strange to cut the tide short. But tackling education won’t be an easy or quick task. You’ll need a lot of time to talk, as well as recruiting help on any orders and bills you want to bring to the floor for it. What are people saying about public transit? What’s happening there?”

Calum can see the wheels turning in his father’s brain. His pages snap with a crisp crackle as he flips through them. Once Calum finds the summary page, he pauses, eyes looking over words. “Hmm, it looks like some of the buses aren’t as reliable. A lot of stops are not served or delayed because of mechanical issues. I think,” Calum continues, handing the summary over to his father, “that some of this could be mitigated by some bus upgrades over a couple years. Maybe extending a route or two. I would need to look more into the railroads. I don’t think they’re too bad, but some of those tracks are getting older. There might be a couple people mentioning high speed rails for longer distances.”

Calum hadn’t really wanted to tackle public transit at his first initiative. He wanted to work on it slowly and bring it to the Summit floor. There were areas and countries with much better train and bus systems that he wanted to learn from before touching the matter. 

“High speed rails means cross country, which means a lot more diplomacy,” David counters.  “You’ll need to make friends with a lot of folks to not only get it up and running but maintain it. But it is a job sector and if we do get it up, it can help.”

“I’ll be honest, I don’t know enough to take public transit on as a platform issue. I think we can work on upgrading buses if need be and routes. But the high speed rail is going to require an entire committee.” Calum’s not backing down. He just don’t think he or his father are in any sort of position to tackle anything big. 

The exhale David gives is heavy. “It will. But it begs the question, does this fit inside the momentum we have or not?”

“Getting operating buses helps folks get around. Perhaps, it’s a budget question for now. How much money do the repairs cost? Is it more cost effective to get new buses? That sort of thing. Our new fiscal year just started a few months back, in September, so maybe it’s tabled until May.”

David reaches for his drink. He doesn’t quite take a sip, just rests his lips to the rim of the glass. “Now, you are right. It is a budget question for right now. We’ll need the director of transportation to get back to us with short term and long term goals.”

Calum nods before speaking, “We can do phases, I think. Long term goals that will be my platform to take on and/or to continue. Short term goals that can be tackled while you’re still at the helm and that way it looks like a continuation.”

David grins, placing the glass back down to the coaster. “You do realize it’s my job to be worried about you. It’s not your job to worry about me.”

“Some might say that it’s becoming my job to worry a little bit about you. The tables turn after a while.”

David nods, a small smile still gently etched into his face. “Perhaps they do. But not yet. Though, I must agree. It’s a rather sound arrangement. We should look into doing phases. But the big thing will be the time frame.”

Calum’s ears start to ring--the worry and anxiety come flooding back like an assault to his senses. There’d never be enough time. He knows that. Yet, the conversation has been going well so far. They’d been able to talk about what matters were important and in what order. Now it’s all unraveling. The veil’s dropping yet again. 

“What are you thinking?” Calum asks. It’ll hurt like hell, but it’ll be easier to get an idea of where his father is. And by extension, his mother too. The band aid doesn’t hurt any less when it’s his father taking it off, but Calum doesn’t have to worry so much about the anticipation of the pain when someone else is doing it. He just has to brace for when it comes, because it always will. Asking his dad about the anticipated timeline means all Calum has to do is ride the wave when the answer crumples him. All he has to do is brace. 

“Two years? Maybe three? It’ll be fast no matter what, but I think having a cap will help.”

His heart drops. His stomach flips. If an esophagus could shrivel up and die Calum is sure his just did. Three years is generous. But two feels much too short. But there’s no real room for negotiation. He can’t ask for more. “I can work with three,” Calum agrees. His heart hammers against his chest. The veins of his neck thumping against the thin skin. 

“Three it is then.”

It’s uneven, wobbly, but Calum nods and casts his gaze back down to the papers in front of him. The blank ink means nothing, carries no shape of the letters they’re meant to be making. The whiteness of the printer paper burns his eyes just a little. Three years and then everything would change. Not that things aren't changing all the time. The seconds carry the tide of time and they stop for no one. 

But in three years, everything for Calum would change. He’d be on his own, settled into a Cabinet of his own assemblage. It would be Calum’s face on initiatives. It would be Calum’s name on the line for everything that transpired--whether it was his direct doing or a consequence of someone or something else. It’d all go in three years. It’ll all happen faster than Calum can blink. Faster than he can brush his teeth it feels. 

“Three years,” Calum whispers to you. 

You’re perched on the corner of his bed, tying up the laces on your sneakers. Calum asked you about visiting the aquarium a couple days before he and his father met. You’d offer to wait until after the conversation to go to ensure that either it was a celebration or a pick me up depending on how it turned out. Calum won’t lie, he’s grateful for your forward thinking. Having the day to spend not focused on things work related and allow himself to digest the changes even subconsciously is more deeply appreciated. 

The realization still hasn’t settled. It probably won’t for a little bit. But Calum still’s not sure if he’s inside his own body. The kiss to his cheek helps. The press of your body into his makes him feel a smidge more grounded. 

“Three years is a long time,” you offer. “It’ll feel short, but it is sizable. You can earn degrees in that amount of time.”

While true, this is much more than a degree--than some piece of paper to prove that he can be taught. But Calum understands what you’re saying. That a lot can happen in three years. That three years isn’t the infinite loop he’d been hoping for, but it was a gracious amount of time. Calum hums at your comment. “I think I’m just glad he’s letting me platform on education.”

“It’s a pretty big sector. A lot to undertake.”

Calum hears what you’re not saying. The question you’re really getting at is: Do you think you can do it without getting overwhelmed? Calum slides his hand into yours, threading his fingers through yours. “I plan to make some changes to the Cabinet and build a committee before making any solid stances. I have opinions but I do know I’ll need help along the way.”

“Good.” It leaves you softly, behind it Calum hears the relief and the care you have for him. 

“All set?” he questions. 

You nod. “Yeah.”

“And you’re sure about this--such a public facing date?”

You sigh at the question. Calum’s sure it’s annoying. He’d wanted to visit, just to watch the animals and clear his head. But it never surpasses his awareness that people will be watching once they realize it’s the both of you out. “I’m sure. It’s not like social media isn’t still blown to smithereens thanks to New Year's Eve,” you return. 

New Year’s Eve--it feels like a decade ago, but it’s only been a few weeks. The kiss at the end of the countdown had been inadvertently captured by someone attending. The picture originated from someone’s significant other as they attempted to snap a selfie to ring in the New Year. In the background, you and Calum were snapped, wrapped up in the kiss. It only took mere hours before the zoomed in cropped photos popped up on every blog and gossip site in existence. 

“We have a track record. At least we’re consistent,” Calum laughs, sliding his wallet into his back pocket and grabbing his keys as well. 

“The ice cream incident shouldn’t even count. But it is quite incriminating,” you grin, back pressed into the bedroom door. You hold the door open for him, and Calum, fully assembled himself, nods for you to carry on in front of him. 

“I think it has to count,” he laughs. 

You huff. “It doesn’t have to. But I think not counting it only proves a point that we probably shouldn’t try to prove.”

“Which is?” Calum whispers against your ear as you two wait for the elevator. 

“That we’re bad at keeping our hands to ourselves,” you snort, reaching back to palm him through his jeans. 

The pressure is fairly light, but the squeeze as the doors slide open make Calum’s spine tense and tingle. God, he loves it when you get handsy. Though he liked the comfort of you, liked it when the two of you were doing separate things together, Calum will always be a little weak in the knees with the physical affection. 

“We’re terrible at it,” Calum agrees as he corners you in the elevator. The doors are still gaping wide as he leans in to capture your lips in a kiss. “This damn thing could tell so many stories about us.”

“I’m sure security gets an eye full.”

“Nothing wrong with a little show.” It isn’t an unpleasant thought that swirls in his brain. Calum was sure there were cameras for safety reasons but it doesn’t make him as uncomfortable as he thought it might to think about the fact that someone out there was watching and has most likely caught the two of you in pretty compromising positions. 

You snort before sealing your lips around Calum’s. Your voice vibrates over his jaw and down his throat as you speak, “Want to give another one?”

The question makes Calum’s stomach knot. Desire churns in his stomach. The levels are ringing above you. There’s not enough time. You both know it. It’s running the risk of the doors opening with every second that. Calum’s counting. There’s not enough time even if he were to say yes. The elevator drops, takes a small bounce and then the doors open. “Next time,” Calum whispers against your lips. 

“Holding you to it.”

Calum’s holding himself to it too. But he keeps that to himself, slipping his hand into yours and leading you out of the elevator. The hallways are quiet. It’s nothing shocking given it’s a Saturday morning. Breakfast’s long done at this hour, and now in the interim, he imagines there’s a bit of breathing room for most of the staff. 

“Be careful driving,” you warn as the two of you step outside into the chilled morning air. February’s chill isn’t as bone deep as December or January but it gives no real break or hint of the dawning spring. Calum prays for a warmer March. “They’re doing construction off the Lafayette exit, about a mile from the aquarium. I had to pull over the other day and make sure I didn’t have a nail in my tire.”

Calum takes a look at your sedan parked next to his SUV. The front tires look good, well inflated. He nods at the warning nonetheless. “Will do. Thanks for that. Do you know what they’re working on?”

“I think it’s some apartments? I couldn’t really get a good look at the sign. Teagan was less of a help because she said I was going too fast. At a whopping 30 miles an hour because of heavy traffic.”

Calum snorts at the twinge of annoyance in your voice. “Hey, that is fast. Give her some slack.”

“I think she was too distracted by her new ballet shoes, so perhaps it is a bit too much to ask her to pay attention to a boring sign. Teagan does say thanks again about the shoes.”

“She’s welcome.” Calum overheard Teagan’s rant about the floor of the dance studio snagging her shoes when she called you a couple weeks back. He hadn’t meant to be spying that hard, but he noticed you checking your bank account in the midst of the conversation, he knew that you were trying to see if you had the cash to help replace them. Given recent increases to your rent, things were a little tighter than usual so Calum offered to help fund a sibling trip. His only stipulation is that you’d set the limit on the cost so as to not feel like you were taking advantage of anyone’s position. The offer was met with only light resistance. 

“Is Charlie still going out for the team next season?” Calum asks, fingers pressing at the screen to change the radio station. Once he’s happy, he starts off towards the gates. The dip out of the parking lot bounces the truck only a smidge before it evens out the road off the property. 

“I think so. Sounds like his plan. He’s a little sad he didn’t get much play time this season.”

“He’s got an arm on him though. He’ll get more time if he keeps at it.”

“Don’t know if he’s interested in pitching though. I think he likes playing outfield. He gets to be a little more active.”

“Coach won’t ever risk injury to his arm. Not with the way Charlie can pitch,” Calum counters. Not that Calum doesn’t understand Charlie’s desire to play a different position. But Calum knows that with what the coach sees in Charlie, it’s a smarter bet to reduce as much risk for injury as possible. 

“You’re not wrong, but I’m biased. Charlie should be able to play outfield.”

Calum laughs, resting a hand on your knee after merging up onto the highway. “I’ll be sure to add: was always honest to your obituary.”

“If you don’t, you will be haunted.”

“I will happily be haunted by you, should I fail to include that in your obit.”

The drive falls into a relative silence, occasionally only broken by the ads from the radio station. Calum laughs when you sing along to the jingles. It’s clear you’ve heard them plenty of times now. “Is this the classic rock station?” you ask as Calum pulls to a stop at a red light right off the Lafayette exit. 

He’s caught. He knows it. Your car’s always tuned into this station and you never deviate, unless you have Teagan and Charlie in the car. But in the absence of them your car radio is always tuned into classic rock. It took Calum a few tries to land on the right one one afternoon, but once he was positive he’d tuned the setting correctly, he made sure to keep it on for you when you rode with him. 

“It might be,” he offers. It’s not as coy as he wants it to be. His heart hammers into his ribs. He can feel the thrumming of his veins against the skin of his neck. 

“Did you do this because of me?”

“Possibly.” Not coy at all, Calum reprimands himself. The construction becomes more apparent the further down the street he gets. He’s praying he doesn’t get a nail in his tire. He’d just replaced the whole set after nearly failing his car’s inspection. 

“Why’d you do that?” you ask it softly in between the thumps of the kick drum of the song playing over the radio. 

“Because it’s always on in your car. Do-do you like the station? I can change it if not.”

“No, no, it’s-it’s fine. Thank you. I just-I didn’t think anyone else noticed.”

Calum’s sure you’ve given rides to folks, helped a roommate of yours out time from time, a coworker here and there. But he doesn’t think those people could or would even pay enough attention to the station. He dares even think you might not even let many others in close enough to notice. But Calum does. He always would. He’d carry each and every tiny piece of you cradled in the palms of his hand if he could. 

“I always notice,” Calum offers. 

“The car came programmed to the station.”

A confession, Calum can tell. Your voice is soft and even though he’s pulled into a parking space, you’ve not made a single move muscle. He slips the seat belt from around his torso. “So, you never changed the station?” Calum questions. 

“No. I-I hadn’t ever owned anything before. Or left like I should. I don’t know. Changing the radio station feels like something I couldn’t do, like it made it feel like the thing is actually mine. And now it just feels sort of right, so I leave it. I like the songs.”

“Well, it is signed over in your name. But I get it, I think. I hope you feel, one day, like you’re allowed to have things. You’re allowed to make things feel comfortable for you and you’re allowed to want things and to have them.”

You turn now, in the seat, facing Calum. A smile has lifted the corners of your lips as your eyes filter over his face--starting at his eyes and falling down to his chin and then returning to his eyes. “I think I’m getting there.”

The gaze is soft. It holds Calum tenderly and he knows. He knows that you’re talking about him, and the new turn in your life you’re taking. But he’s glad there’s improvement. He’s glad you want things. “Good,” he states just as softly. The kiss is soft and sweet, the press of lips with a smile. If Calum listens closely enough, he swears he might hear a love filled laughter in both his and yours chest. 

Or maybe it’s even real as you do help him curve the brim of the baseball cap. A precaution that he may not need to take, but does so regardless. “Are you sure you can even see from underneath that thing?” you ask with a snort. 

“I can see fine,” Calum retorts before he unveils a second navy blue cap as well. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to of course. But I do keep some spare in the back just in case.”

Pictures have already made their rounds. People already know. But he still gives you the option. He’s not sure if you’ll take it. Things seemed to have calmed, even if it turns out to only be momentarily. But he doesn’t want you to feel like you’re doing this alone. The picnic at the park was one thing. The dinner was another. Some of the previous outings were more spontaneous than others. But now it’s a growing reality. Now it’s real and it would be put through the gauntlet. 

“Are you embarrassed to wear one by yourself?” you tease but take the outstretched cap. 

“No, not in the slightest.”

“Doesn’t it seem a little backwards?” you ask. 

“Maybe,” Calum agrees. He only suggested the cap to you in case you’re worried. “Some days a cap just makes more sense to me than others to me, I guess.”

“Would those days coincide with days you don’t want to be bothered by others out in public?”

He shrugs. Maybe it’s not exactly when he doesn’t want to be bothered, but he has a feeling given the recent pictures from new years should he be more visible it might cause more of a scene. “Something like that.”

You give a nod, hands cupping the brim of the cap and gently pushing it into more of a rounded shape. “Am I in the ballpark?”

Calum exhales his laughter though it’s not a fully humorous moment. “Sometimes it just helps, when I need to stay under the radar as much as possible. Don’t know how many more public dates will be as interruption free as they’ve been.”

You slip the cap on over your head, tugging it down low to your brows. “This is my hat now, just so you know. So the next time you need a low visible day this one is off the rotation list.”

The smile is small but Calum nods. “Noted. It looks better on you anyway.”

“Your check’s in the mail, love. Thanks.”

Inside of the aquarium, there’s the quiet whisper of voices. A few parents with young children stroll by and the kids babble, but it’s a hush over the visitors. Calum pulls the tickets out from his pockets for them to be scanned and once through the interior of the reservation desks, Calum tucks you into his side. You hold the map, though the place is truly a bit of a loop, you snag a physical map all the same, a pen clicking in your fingers. He’s not sure why you might’ve had a pen on you, but he’s not shocked. 

“Anything that we must see?” you ask, angling the map closer to him. 

“Sharks for sure.” You put a small star next to the spot on the map. The blue ink of your pen barely stands out against the blue and green of the map, but stands out just enough to be clear as an addition to the paper. “You?” Calum asks. 

“Otters,” you return. “Looks like it’s in the secondary building though. So there’s a brief outdoor excursion.”

“I don’t think I’ll freeze,” Calum teases. “Any special exhibits?”

“It looks like there’s something on the trails, but it might be a bit too cold to be on trails for a beach bunny like you.”

Calum laughs at the tease. “We can always come back. But not all of us are born for the snow.”

“I never said I was born for it. I just like it.” Your correction comes with a light jab at his ribs from your elbow, but it barely connects in the end. 

Calum slips the pen from your grasp and presses his left palm underneath the section of the map that the otters are notated on. He places a star on the dot with enough pressure for it to show up but soft enough to keep the paper from ripping. The two additional marks are vastly different from each other, even though they’re both meant to convey the same thing. Your marking is a bit more of an asterisk and his being the five point rendition of a star. But all the same those stars encase their respective dots to signal required stops along the way. 

“And we’ll make sure to hit the gift shop at the end, okay?” Calum promises. “I need a new design for the collection.”

“Collection?” you ask, taking your pen back and pocketing it in your jacket. 

“Mum and I collect keychains when we visit places. It’s been a few years since I’ve last visited this aquarium so I figured they’d have at least one new design.”

“How-how long have you been doing that?”

Calum shrugs, unsure of when the tradition truly started for his mother. “Ever since I was young from what I can remember.”

You fold the map back up but don’t pocket it. “Huh. That’s cute.” 

There feels like there’s maybe more behind that sentence but it never comes. So Calum doesn’t push it, even with the question burning his tongue to ask if you’ve collected anything to commemorate all the places you’ve been. It’s not that he doesn’t care to know the answer. Calum just knows better. You haven’t really been to many places, even if you did yearn for it. “Do you want to start collecting something? For us? Or for yourself too. Whatever you prefer.”

Your response is slow, but it’s clear you’re digesting the thought. “Oh, I’m not sure. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Think on it some more,” he offers, slipping his arm from around your shoulders down to your free left hand. “We’ve got a couple of hours to kill and if you’re not sure by the time we get to the giftshop, we can still come back.”

“Okay.” A little bit of disbelief settles behind the word, like maybe you’re still trying to figure out what it even means to want to start a collection. But Calum doesn’t take it personally and instead carries on, fingers threading through yours. The good thing is that there is time. So much of it lived, but there’s so much of it still to come. He would not be bothered in the slightest if the remaining hours and days are spent with you doubling back to aquariums, not if it means in the end you get so much more out of it. 

The fish exhibits are all near the front. The tanks filling up walls, glass bottom arches above your heads. It’s a leisurely stroll the two of you take on. There are pauses to point out fish with interesting color combinations. There’s giggles and laughter as you two point out turtles in the midst of a feeding time squabble. There’s no clear indication on what caused it, but you two watch as the turtles stare each other down for a moment--a battle of wills ensuing. 

“How much do you want to bet they’re siblings?” Calum whispers to you. 

“I don’t think we’d have to bet much,” you laugh. 

The dispute is easily settled as more food is handed out to the offended turtle. And the two of you carry on. It’s an even slower pace than Calum assumed, you pause to watch the tank where the stingrays swim around other patrons of the aquarium. It’s a wading pool at most but you watch the brave souls and the creatures that float through the water as well.  “Want to give it a go?” Calum asks. 

“No, I’m good. They’re just interesting creatures. Sorry.”

“No, no need to apologize. We can stay as long as you want.” 

A kid laughs behind you two. Calum hears the slight thud of feet stumping and the giggles before a deeper voice calls out. “Be careful, bud.” The thumps don’t quiet, just slow in pace and soon the slight squeak of wheels passing behind the two of you. Calum turns and spots the stroller passing by but up ahead the small toddler struts up to another small display in the room--Calum suspects it’s a freshwater exhibit. Calum knows he’s watching a little too long but the sight warms his chest and he’s glad that small moments like this exist in the universe. 

“That’s us if we were sharks, of course,” you tease, pointing into the far left corner of the tank. There are two sharks huddling close to each other. A third one swims over a few seconds later and joins in the pile. 

It’s a disgustingly cute tease and Calum swears his chest might burst at the toothy grin you beam over to him. “Have I said I love you today?” he asks. 

“Not in those exact words today,” you return. 

And it’s not that you two don’t have a habit of saying. It’s not that Calum’s scared of saying it. It’s perhaps just the fact that there’s so many other ways to say it between the two of you. I love you’s can sound a lot like,  I don’t want you to worry twice or Think about it more. But nothing sounds quite like, “I love you.” Calum squeezes at your hand as he says it. 

“I love you too.”

The shark tank is vast. Even as Calum walks on, to continue on to other exhibits, he watches inside of the tank and spots more sharks than he could see from just a foot in his previous spot. It’s as if each new angle provides a new view into the tank. Though he’d been sort of leading the excursion it’s his moment to stop and watch, in awe of the creatures in front of him. They don’t look so menacing here and now. Calum’s not fooled by that--he knows should he find himself in open water he’d be frightened by the possibilities. 

That’s what’s scary. The possibilities come and the possibilities that have passed him by. In open waters or behind those doors with his dad there were possibilities that Calum knew about and those they didn’t know about. He doesn’t want becoming King to change him at his core. Calum still always wants to be Calum at the end of the day. He wants to be himself. But he’d be a fool to think that the change in title wouldn’t come with its own challenges. He’d be a fool to not anticipate the crashing wave of reality. 

“Oop, let’s be careful so we don’t run into the lovely couple.”

Calum turns to the voice and sees a mother steering a stroller. Inside is a baby, possibly only a few months old. The baby is bundled up tight in a hat, jacket, and blanket. Just under the mother’s hands are a set of smaller fists holding tightly to the handles of the stroller. Calum smiles as they pass and she smiles in return too. 

“I can push,” a small voice protests. 

“Yes, and you’re doing so well. But we were just a little wobbly for a second. You got it from here straight on back inside,” she encourages. 

“Have you thought about kids?” 

The question comes gently from you. You’re a couple steps ahead of him as Calum paused to watch the family proceed on towards the doors that you and him just exited. Calum turns now, the slight bit of loose gravel under his sneakers scratches at the concrete with the movement. “What do you mean?” Calum asks. 

“Kids. Have you thought about whether you'd want them or not?”

Calum can’t say he hadn’t thought about kids ever. But he too is worried. Have you ever thought about them? “I have before. I think I’d like to be a dad.”

“I think you’d make a good dad,” you agree, smiling as you tug Calum in a smidge closer. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re too busy watching families than you are watching animals.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you know me.” He doesn’t want to say more. Doesn’t want to make you feel like you have to agree with him, though he would love it. 

“You’re talented. You can watch babies and animals, yes I know. But, if-if you ever want to talk more about it, I’m here.”

An invitation. Did it mean that you thought about it too? Or did it mean that you were just noticing? That you wanted Calum to feel safe enough to broach those topics even if they scared you? While the aquarium’s not the best backdrop, Calum’s grateful for the option. “Is this your way of saying the teasing New Year’s Eve proposals are more than teases?”

You scoff, smiling all the while. “That was no jest. I like living life with you. But I only have so much patience. If one more child walks past squealing about otters before I can see them, I’ll leave you in the cold.”

“Alright, alright, alright. I can take a hint. Let’s go see your otters, okay?” Perhaps, that can be a stand in for I like living life with you too.  

_____________________

Your yellow legal pad confession is answered on white notebook paper. The perforated edges tell you Diana took the precious time to hold the pages taut enough only to tear along the edges and not leave behind the scraggly ends. Her penmanship is as sharp as ever. “I was told to hand deliver it,” Melvin states. 

You look up from the trifolded pages--plural you can tell by the thickness, but how many pages you don’t know. You can’t quite get your fingers to peel the stack open. “Must she one on up,” you try as a tease. You’d stamped yours, put her address as the forwarding and your as the return. And someway, her response to you came back by hand. Only your name written across the top of the white envelope. The flap had been tucked inside but not sealed, as if she never planned to ever send it through the postal service. 

Melvin chuckles, knuckles tapping at the wood of the bar. “I think it’s less about upstaging here. But I’ll admit, I’m biased.”

The printer behind you spits up more drink tickets. You hear the whizz of the paper feeding through the machine. You put the pages back inside the envelope and slip it all into your back pocket. “Perhaps,” you return. “Be thinking about what you want to order please. The dinner rush will be coming in the next half hour.”

“We’re not scared of a dinner rush,” Teagan boasts.

“But I am,” you laugh, pulling the three white tickets from the machine. 

Melvin asked if he could stop by the restaurant, said he’d passed it by but hadn’t stopped by to eat because he didn’t know your schedule and didn’t want to intrude. The question shook your phone earlier in the week and when you replied that he was more than welcome to visit, you’d even obliged with your schedule for the week. Thus landing you here, with your family behind you--Charlie and Teagan fussing over the laminated menus and what they wanted and you with the letter from Diana in your back pocket. 

Melvin conveniently did not mention having anything for you until he was settling into the barstool across from you. You wouldn’t hold that against him. Maybe he’d only gotten the weekend before. You’ll never really know because you’ll never ask. It doesn’t matter when Melvin acquired the letter. It matters much more that Diana had replied. You pour in the tequila, watching it skate down the ice in your shaker. What would she even say?

“Tequila Sunrise, Mule, and Martini,” you call out, watching a server come in and pluck up each of the drinks as you call them out for her table. You’re not really paying attention to your face, much more focused on if anyone else has approached the bar--thankfully not--and what you’re going to do about this letter in your pocket. 

“We’re ready,” Charlie calls out and you look back over your shoulder, holding your fingers at the ready for the next drink ticket you can hear whizzing through. 

“I’ll be there in just a minute.”

He gives you a thumbs up and you turn back to see thankfully it’s a rather easy order. As you pull down on the level for the craft beer, you watch for the head on it. Slow and steady you remind yourself. But you’re not sure if it’s a reminder for the beer or for the letter. With that drink picked up, you slide back down to Teagan, Charlie, and Melvin. “Alright, what are we doing today?”

Teagan rattles off her order of chicken parm with a side of mac ‘n’ cheese. Charlie opts to try the vegetable stir fry with a side of fries and Melvin goes with one of the grassfed burgers with the mashed potatoes. “Excellent choices,” you return. Part of it is habit, but it slips anyway as you collect the menus. 

“So you do this all day?” Teagan asks. You swipe into the register and put in their orders. 

“Every day I’m here,” you laugh. 

Just as you get the last of the order in, your name’s called out. You turn to find Harley at the edge of the bar.  “I need some help at table 18. They’re being unruly about this menu update. I don’t know what else to do. I’m trying to reassure them, but it’s going nowhere.”

You nod. “Yeah, I got you.” 

You slip out from behind the bar and follow slightly behind Harley as she tries to recount the disgruntled customer about the update back to the normal menu. There was a holiday menu that came in two weeks before Thanksgiving and was only in rotation until the second Sunday in January. It was advertised as such and you know because it was standard practice now that servers--and by extension you-- were trained to make customers aware of the limited time frame. You roll your eyes at the news, but you know that customers will be customers. As you approach the table you can see the huffy face of the suspected displeased guest.

“Evening,” you start as you approach. Harley falls behind you but you settle squarely at the end of the table. “I’ve heard there’s been a bit of a commotion about the menu. What’s the exact problem?”

“A commotion, I hope you don’t talk to all your patrons like that. This menu is entirely wrong,” the older gentleman taps at the laminated  menu on the table. Beside him, you assume it’s wife and across from him are two older teens--they might even be in their early twenties. They’re slinking down in the leather seats and you think if they could, they’d disappear in a heart beat. His wife on the other hand appears to hold no sympathies for children or for the staff as he holds her chin up at you. 

“Do you intend to dine at Forrest?” you ask. 

“What-what are you saying?” he huffs. 

“Did you intend to eat dinner today at the restaurant called Forrest?” 

The two teens snicker a little. You can tell they’re attempting to swallow them down, pressing them deep into their bellies so as to not actually laugh. But they fail in some regards. The shocked laughter leaves them in squeezes. The older man puffs up his chest. “I’ll have you know I am an important person in this community.”

You wonder if there’s a guidebook on how to be the most obnoxious customer ever given the number of times you’ve heard a line like that. If such a book does exist, an updated edition is in order. “I don’t doubt it, sir. Now, explain to me how this menu is wrong? We’ve established that you did in fact intend to dine at Forrest. From where I am standing, all four menus have our name and logo on them. You should see on the first two pages, appetizers, soups, salads, and chicken entrees, pages 3 and 4 are seafood, beef, vegetarian and the kid’s menu. Pages 5 and 6 show you desserts and drinks. Would you like to quiz me on a particular dish? To verify the fact that we are in the correct restaurant?”

“I’ll have your job. You will not speak to me that way,” the man spits. His face turns red as he speaks. He wags his shaky finger at you like it’s supposed to mean something. All the while his wife chastises her children for the laughter, but dares not say a word at you. 

“Then take it,” you retort. You even go so far as to take a step back from the table and point towards the bar. “And with it, you should know there’s a family at the bar waiting for their meals. Drink tickets are undoubtedly spitting up from the machine that I’ve had to walk away from. Harley,” you start, throwing your thumb over your shoulder to her, “your server here, has a section and a half by herself because we had someone call in sick today.”

You point behind the dividing partition that their table is nestled into you, back towards the kitchen. “The entire kitchen’s preparing for the dinner rush as we speak. There are breaks that haven’t been taken yet, so please don’t forget about scheduling those in as well. You can have my job. If you can handle it. But you don’t want the barely above minimum wage job I have. You want to fight over a menu. So let’s focus on that. What’s wrong about this menu?” You tap at the menu just as he has, rapidly with a distinct click of the metal tips hitting the wooden table. His type isn’t new to you. But his inability to get to his own fucking point has irritated you. 

“I keep telling you it’s wrong! I was just in here at Christmas and it was a totally different selection!” he shouts. 

“Ah,” you smile. “Now we can get somewhere. The menu you saw at Christmas was seasonal. We only served it until the second Sunday of January, which has passed. By over a month, sir. You can try us again next year for the holiday menu again if you enjoyed it that much. And please, do share that in your feedback too. We’d be happy to keep the seasonal menus coming if we know there’s a desire for it. But you will not raise your voice at me or any of my servers today or on any other visit of yours to this establishment. If you cannot keep your composure, I will ask you to leave.”

“I’ve come here to spend money, do business! I’m important around here.”

“Sir,” you start, moving back closer to the table. The smile you had earlier is long gone. “Quite frankly, I don’t give a damn. Now, you have two options here, since you continue to shout: you can either stay, order off the menu that is indeed correct as the seasonal one is no longer served, and keep your attitude in check or you can leave and take your money elsewhere.”

“Where is your manager? I want to speak with your manager. I told this young lady here earlier to get me the manager and clearly she can’t listen. The manager, please,” he huffs. 

“I am the manager.” If it weren’t liable to get you written up, you’d laugh in his face. But you don’t. With Turner’s early departure due to her feeling ill and vomiting in the bathroom stall, you were the only one closing tonight. 

“I-But-” he sputters, jaw opening and closing like words should be coming out but none are coming to him. You only watch as the man chokes on reality that he’s at the end of the line for his tirade. There’s such a deep satisfaction at sight of his deflating jaws. 

“Dad, please,” a voice from the other side of the table cuts in. “Even the other waitress said the menu wasn’t wrong. Either we eat here or we eat somewhere else. But you really are an embarrassment with this behavior. You’ve been rude for far too long.”

“This isn’t the same menu as before,” he persists. It’s quieter now. Like a child who’s learned that they’ve lost the fight but still won’t give it up fully. 

A hand creeps out and pulls the menu from in front of the older man. Then another hand collects the menu in front of his wife--the nails painted a bright red. “You two have done enough. He’s getting the 12 oz ribeye, medium rare with mashed potatoes. Mom’s taking the shrimp pasta with roasted sweet potatoes. I’ll have the garden burger with a side of fries and sis? What do you want?”

The older man shakes. His eyes a tad glazed but still a dimming fury behind them. “It’s-it’s wrong,” he whispers. His wife clutches at his elbow, but doesn’t move to speak. 

You turn now to the boy who’s rattled off the order. He’s looking over his shoulder to his sister. “I’ll take the fire grilled chicken with sauteed broccoli as my side,” she answers looking up at Harley. 

You collect the outstretched menus and turn to Harley. She scratches furiously at her pad. “So I have a 12 oz ribeye medium rare with mashed potatoes. Shrimp pasta with roasted sweet potatoes. A garden burger with a side of fries and fire grilled chicken with sauteed broccoli.”

Her recount earns a nod before the two of you step away. It’s not until you’re near the bar that Harley taps at your shoulder. You nod to let her know she can continue. “I’ll vouch for you. If anything comes back because of this.”

You shake your head. “You don’t need to. Just make sure their order is right and hot when they get it.” If he’s going to leave a complaint, it will not be because the order was wrong or that he waited too long to get it. He’ll have to wallow in his own stupidity and misery. 

“Yeah, yeah of course. Thanks for stepping in.” Harley adds on. 

“You’re welcome.” Behind it you nearly add that it’s your job, but you hold it back. Harley’s young and you get it. The first few run ins are rattling. Your body flashes hot and your  brain’s not sure how to keep up with what’s going on around you. You are utterly desperate, but hate how unprepared you are. She’s usually pretty well equipped to handle the picky and sometimes ridiculous quips. But occasionally the right circumstances means one is flustered and frazzled.  

“Besides, he’s an old fart anyway,” you tack on. “Who can’t listen to anyone himself. Trying to talk about someone else is laughable.”

Harley snorts. “He-yeah. Thanks, seriously.” 

“You’re welcome, seriously.” Harley punches in their order and then slips back to the kitchen. 

You leave the four collected menus behind the bar, knowing they’ll need to be wiped down when you get a spare chance. “That man seemed very mean,” Charlie notes, watching you approach. You add a bit more water to his cup. 

“Just a misunderstanding,” you tell him. The man’s old and an asshole, but his children forcing him to eat at the restaurant he threw a fit in is karma enough. You don’t need to add onto the pile. 

“Does this happen every day?” Teagan asks. “I don’t think I could work in a restaurant if so.”

“Good thing you’re going to be a doctor,” you laugh. Her drink’s hardly touched. Melvin gives a gentle head shake when he spots you eying his own glass too. So you step back to the machine where a string of tickets are waiting for you. By the time you get all the drinks fixed and waiting on their tickets, you notice PJ walking from the kitchen with three plates on his arms. 

“Oh, thanks,” you call out, noticing the plates all look like the plates for Melvin, Charlie, and Teagan. 

“No problem. We heard you were dealing with a situation. Wasn’t sure if it was still ongoing or not,” PJ states, letting you pick up the plate of chicken parm. You slide it in front of Teagan who grins in response. 

“It’s all good now. Charlie’s the veggie stir fry. He’s the burger,” you relay as PJ places the meals down. “Thanks again, PJ.”

“Any time. Just don’t forget us in the back,” he grins, eyeing some of the bottles on the wall. 

You know that look and you forever will. But you don’t fault it. Things are bound to get crazy for the next hour and a half. “I could never. Get us through the thick of it and whatever you want is on me.”

“Aye, captain,” PJ salutes before moving back towards the kitchen. A few more people slide up to the bar, so you move over to them. The blessing is that you’ve gotten used to the juggle--you’ve gotten accustomed to serving people at the bar and the drink tickets. You’ve gotten used to prioritizing and re-prioritizing again and again. By the time you really get a second to breathe, you know it’s only temporary. Teagan, Charlie, and Melvin have long finished their means by the time they say their goodbyes. But you wonder if they’ve waited longer in order to get a more proper goodbye. You take the small respite though and slip out from the bar to give them a quick hug.  

“I hope no one else is mean to you today,” Teagan offers in her hug. 

“Thanks, Teag. I hope not either.” You can’t tell if she’s saying it for her sake or for yours, but either way you take it. Charlie’s hug is quick too and when it’s over, you stand up to your full height to face Melvin. It’s awkward, him still sliding his arms into the jacket and you think you might understand the hover as an invitation. You almost take it. The shuffled step forward happens well before you bring it to your conscious awareness. 

But Melvin smiles in the end, a brief pat to your arm. “We’ll see you around, yeah?”

“Of course,” you return. “Yeah.”

You want to say more. You think you should’ve given Melvin that hug. The fact that you didn’t lingers with you well after they’re gone. Next time, you tell yourself. Next time you’ll initiate it, so he feels less like he might be invading and more like he can ask. 

By the time you’re counting tills, you don’t even realize how quickly the night’s gone. The back of the house cashed in on the offer for a drink from the bar but only managed that about an hour from closing. However, they’d done their job--gotten the place through the thick of the storm. So, you sent a few shots to the back, in exchange you might’ve gotten an extra side of fries but somehow that feels many miles behind you. It feels more like days than hours. 

The till comes up correct and you exhale. More than once you’ve been short, sometimes only by a few coins and a couple times by a few dollars. You’re happy that tonight is not a night that you have to scramble to figure out what went wrong and where. 

The chairs rest against tables. The servers have wiped menus. Silverware is wrapped. The floors are swept. You know the back of the house is a little slow as there was still a decent flow of orders up until the last half hour so you’re taking it slow with the tills to help ensure that once everyone’s ready to go, it’s all done in one final swoop. At the bar, the servers count through their tips and you can hear the flick of paper bills as people count them. 

“Hey, you remember table 18 earlier?” Harley asks as she slips in next to you. “Who wanted to fuss about the menu?”

You nod, signing off on the receipt for the till. “I do remember.”

“Got a fat tip,” she laughs. You can see a stack of bills in her hands and let out a whistle. “Whether it was the old man’s doing or not, I don’t know. But, here.” Harley slides you over two bills. A ten on top and when the air blows, you spy the twenty that’s nestled behind it as it falls. 

“Keep it,” you tell her, making no move to take the bills. 

She huffs and tucks it into the pocket of your apron. “I know you’re dating the prince and all that. But you saved my ass, so let me be nice.”

“This job pays my bills just as much as it pays yours. It’s my job to save your asses when you need it.” You find the bills from the depths and hold them out to her. 

“You don’t make that much more than me being behind the bar,” Harley quips. “Turner approached me about it. I know.”

“Neither one of us gets paid enough to deal with a quarter of the shit we deal with day in and day out.” Harley laughs at the quip and takes the extended cash. It’s hesitant and you can tell she doesn’t really want to take it back. But you hold steady in your decision and she finally takes it. 

  You’re a little shocked that Turner approached Harley about the bar. But maybe she’s just getting feelers, considering you’d be leaving. You hadn’t given Turner anything definitive about your departure. Part of you was waiting for the post holidays pick up to get a little bit more cash before you called it with the restaurant. You definitely needed to make a decision sooner rather than later, but maybe one more full holiday season wouldn’t hurt either. Yet, you had to be honest with Turner, that you weren’t sure how much longer you’d stay. She was respectful about it and only asked that once you had a definitive date you only supplied her with a two weeks notice. Giving away too many details was not industry standard and this job is vastly different in terms of the political game than that of the palace kitchen. Turner’s respectful, and nice, but she still has a job to do. A restaurant to run and you’re still just an employee. 

The keys jiggle in your hands as you lock up the doors--front and back. The alarm’s set and you blow your breath into the cold night air. You watch the hot air of your breath smoke in the cold, stretching up and out only for an inch or two and then disappearing fully as the temperatures even out. You don’t even want to look at the time. You know it’s late, but closing with only one manager takes longer than usual. You’re just grateful, everyone takes it in stride. The parking lot starts to clear slowly but surely. People piling into their cars. You and PJ have a habit of waiting back to make sure that everyone gets to their car and they start fine or that everyone has a ride home. It feels silly sometimes, especially on cold nights like this when you see everyone scurrying to their cars and rides to beat the chill, when you want nothing more than the heat of your own car. Yet, the two of you persist. 

“Gonna read whatever that is in your back pocket when you get home?” PJ asks. 

You exhale deeply. “When the hell did you notice?” you ask with a dry laugh. 

“Didn’t think much of it, until I saw your name on it. Didn’t look like Turner’s handwriting or anyone else that works here. Call it intuition,” he laughs. 

“Letter from my mother. The lady who was out here that one time. Yelling.”

PJ nods. “I remember. Yeah. Got a nice little picture out of it too that was all over the news.”

“Yeah, that time.”

“Still doesn’t answer my question, now does it?” PJ laughs. 

You continue to stay quiet, spying Harley as she waits a few feet from you and PJ. You see a pair of headlights approaching. You can’t make out the car type, but you know occasionally she gets picked up by friends and sometimes a guy. But you don’t really know much about it outside of that. Not that Harley hasn’t talked about it, but you try not to listen to it much. The SUV stops just in front of her and you notice the guy that’s picked her up before. She climbs inside and throws a wave back at you and PJ. 

“Tonight, if I’m feeling masochistic. Never, if I’m lucky,” you answer watching the truck pull away. 

“I hope you like inflicting pain.”

“I hope I don’t,” you retort. You know you will read it tonight. Even if it keeps you up the whole night after the fact. The last of the cars starts up. A few cars have pulled off already. You and PJ start towards the parking lot now. 

“We’ll see who’s right come tomorrow.”

“However, unfortunate,” you huff. You know you shouldn’t smile, but you are. You two aren’t parked next to each other directly. You’re a few cars down from him. 

“Enjoy the rest of your night,” PJ calls out unlocking the doors of his car. 

“Same to you.” 

You slide into the front seat and immediately get the car turned on. The heat hits your palms and you’re grateful for the exchange of cold air into something warm. Part of you somehow wishes that maybe it could be cold enough to snow, but you know better than to wish for that. From the passenger seat, the letter stares up at you. You watch it in brief glimpses all the way to the palace. You nearly want to damn PJ for being so right. The moment you’re in the spot next to Calum’s vehicle, the gear thrown into park you reach for the envelope. Your name followed by a comma is the only address. 

I’m glad to hear from you. I’m glad you found a space to collect all your thoughts. Thank you for sharing them with me. 

I underestimate how much hurt I’ve caused. I underestimate you, I fear, in ways that I hadn’t realized. For that, I apologize. 

I do want for you, for myself, for Charlie and Teagan. I want and I want and I want. I think that’s what mothers do. We crave. In all the ways that hurt. You understand this in some ways. The way you want for your siblings, in the ways that you care for them. 

It’s maybe a cynical belief to hold--that all I’m destined for is pain. Perhaps, it’s the belief that ruined me before I ever had a name for it. I won’t lie to you. It hurts to know that we’re still in such an awkward phase. It hurts to think it might not ever heal. My therapist urges me to make peace with the possibility. It’s holding me back, she thinks. 

It hurts to say she might be right. But if one possibility exists, then so do all the others contingent and adjacent to it. I think we can get there. I just wish I knew when or how to get there. But you’ve asked for time and space. And I’ll get to that, I will. Just indulge me, please, for a little bit longer. 

I hope he treats you well, like you deserved to be treated. I hope you continue to be happy with Calum. Teagan, Charlie, and Melvin have told me a lot about him, and the relationship. You should continue wanting things, for just yourself. 

I hope your art takes off. I hope you find so much peace and happiness in it that work you never want to stop, save for old age taking the ability but never the will. I hope you paint yourself into art history books. 

I hope your current job is going well--that patrons are civil and that you’re never tight on cash. I hope that people see the work ethic in you no matter where you are. 

I hope that forgiveness is not a well run dry. I think I need to forgive myself first, much like you and my therapist and Melvin have all pointed out. But I do not know how to do that, right now, without the forgiveness from you. 

And I could be reading this all wrong, but when you said I’m afraid I’ll be the kid again begging I couldn’t help but think I’m afraid of that too. I am afraid, just like you are. I have fear just like you do. I am afraid of failing you again, after failing so many times. I’m afraid of failing myself, after failing myself so many times. 

Only time knows where we go next. Only time tells if I’m failing you, myself, or both of us. Only time knows in the end. 

I have a long way to go, it seems. I’m willing to see where time takes the both of us. For now, maybe it’s best I get serious and focus on myself, not my past failures. This doesn’t mean I want to leave you behind or that I am leaving you again. I’m not. But maybe I too should take some more time and space to reckon with the things I’ve asked for myself. 

It appears that you and Melvin have a more stable line of communication and I know I should not come back home and destabilize that or your relationship with your siblings. I won’t. That I will promise. That I can promise. 

So please continue to see them. Please continue to talk to them. You can call the house anytime. You can come by the house anytime. I think it’s good for them and for you too. That house is still yours. Your room is still waiting should you ever need it. The fridge will stay stocked. Come, as you are, when you feel safe. 

The sentence chokes you, Come, as you are, when you feel safe. Had you ever felt safe with Diana? You don’t know. But you do feel safer with Melvin. You do know that Charlie and Teagan feel safe in that house. Perhaps, not all hope should be squandered. 

You flip to the next page in the stack, turning the previous page over and setting it into the passenger seat of the car. The stack is upside down in the seat so you don’t lose the order of them. 

I’ll be home, should all things go well, in the middle of March. The details are a little hazy right now. Melvin will know more when I know more. And you should know more when he does. I’m happy to give us both time. Even if it scares me. I think it is our only hope. 

You know your eyes are red and your face is puffy. You know because you cried in your car for a solid five minutes before you could get out of it. You know you look haggard because as you chug down a bottle of water from the fridge, you listen to your own rough exhale and it sounds just like you feel. You feel rubbed raw and exhausted. I think it is our only hope. But neither one of you would know for certain if time was for hope. Diana and you hover-however unfortunate- over the spectrum of time at opposite ends and never know if you two will meet in the middle. 

But she’s willing to give you the space to figure it out. And you’re willing to give her the space to figure it all out too. 

“Long day?”

You turn the sound, only noticing Calum's presence at the threshold. The kitchen lights flicker on around you. Valerie should be coming in a few hours, but the thought that she might’ve come earlier did cross your mind as you walked through the walls. You were thankful when you arrived in the dark kitchen that no one else was around. You’d let the light of the moon and your memory carry you to the fridge. Now the whole room is now lit by the flip of a switch. 

“What gave it away?” you quip, staring down into the half drank bottle. 

“You always hear me coming. Said once the walls have ears,” Calum answers. 

“Need to get the wax cleaned out.”

The slap of his slippers against the floor grows louder as he grows closer. And there in your tight press is the letter from Diana. You slide it across the counter as you speak, “She wrote back.”

Calum doesn’t take the bait. He slips his arms around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest. “Is it good or bad?” he questions in a whisper against your forehead. 

“Good, I think.” It is good. But somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re more positive it’s all a figment of your imagination. 

“Want me to read it and verify?”

“Please,” you answer, your lips pressed into his throat. His pulse thumps against the sensitive skin holding back your teeth. You want nothing more than to crawl into his chest. A minute reprieve from the emotional avalanche crashing over you. 

Calum presses a kiss to your forehead and gingerly pulls the letter from your hands. You turn into him, arms winding around his waist. He’s warm in the robe and you hadn’t realized how cold your body got after you cut off the car. It’s eerily silent, not even the wisp of Calum’s breath as he reads breaks through the room. It’s just the thudding of his heart in your ears. 

“It’s good, baby,” Calum whispers at the conclusion of his read. “Hopefully it means that she continues in this direction.”

Your shoulders drop. Relief rises to the roots of your hair. You’re glad you didn’t bet with PJ. He was always going to be right. You’d always be a little masochistic when it came to Diana. You’d always be a little bit hopeful that things wouldn’t be so bad between the two of you. 

"C'mon. Let's get you ready for bed, baby," Calum urges. It's gentle; he squeezes at your shoulders but doesn't move until you do.

"Thanks, love." You want him to know it's for reading the letter. It's for being there. But you stick with the plain gratitude and hope he understands the depth of it.

"Anytime."

[moonlitstay]

[12:03 am] badboy!chan

chan smiles as he watches you walk in, wearing one of his baggy shirts. he wastes no time in grabbing your hand in his, pulling you down and onto his bed with him. enveloping you in his big arms, you giggle.

you look at his arms, covered in tons of beautiful tattoos, leaving no skin untouched. you find your eyes trailing to one tattoo in specific though.

your name.

your name in an arrowed heart.

you reach a hand up to trace a finger over the tattoo and chan smiles.

"god, i love you so much."

[33-81]

The danger gets me high, and I can't help myself

[sinning5sos]

angst | Michael

Requested: Yes but A LONG TIME AGO. this was sitting in my drafts WHOOPS

“Can you do an angsty piece where y/n & Michael are best friends but he’s dating someone he doesn’t love?”

Word Count: ~2.5k

Smut: no :/ just angst

“I just, I don’t know what to do with him.” You vented to your friend, and she nodded her head as she spun her coffee around in her fingers, “There’s so many different signs, like his parents keep saying that I am so good for him and that they want us together, his siblings love me and they want us together, but he’s still dating her.”

“Yeah, but she’s no good for him. Hell, his family doesn’t even like her. They absolutely adore you because you continuously push him to be better, and he does the same for you. You guys are so good for each other, you guys are best friends, you two are so cute together and honestly it’s like you’re dating already.” She said, and you sighed as you shook your head.

“It’s not fair to her or him. They’re not good for each other, but every time I try to talk about it - he just gets like...defensive? I don’t know how to phrase it. He’s never upset with me, more that he’s upset with himself.” You said, and a frown etched onto your face.

“Yeah, because he knows he shouldn’t be with her. Plus he never sees her,”

“That’s not either of their faults.” You interrupted and she shot you a pointed glance,

“Oh it kind of is. They broke up already, there was a reason for that - do you remember? He broke up with her. And look, the only reason that he even got back together with her was out of pity. He doesn’t love her, and they’re better off as friends. He loves you, he just doesn’t want to address it because of the fact that he’s still with her.” She snapped back and you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know,” You muttered, and she chuckled. She raised the coffee up to her lips and sipped at it, and set it back down dramatically.

“No, you do know. You know that you guys would be so good for each other and that you two belong together. You know that you have feelings for him, you just don’t know how to go about them. So stop saying you don’t know,” She said, a small smile on her face as you stuck your tongue out at her.

“No words? It’s because I’m right.” She said, and you dryly laughed as you slumped in the chair.

“Help,” You whined, and she smiled as she reached across the table and squeezed your hand.

“What’s her address?” She said seriously, and then started laughing as you swatted her hand away, “No but really. You just have to wait it out. If he was in love with her and she was good for him, it’d be different. But you guys belong together, and eventually he’ll realize it. Just be there for him now, be his friend and then it will work out.”

“Things always have a way of working out for you in some bizarre yet fantastic way. I guarantee that something is going to happen, he’s going to have a moment of realization that he should be with you, and you will end up together.” She said, and you nodded as you looked down at the cup in your hand.

“I hope you’re right, I don’t think I can take much more of this.”

* * *

“Mikey, are you here?” You called out as you walked into his apartment, and set your keys down on the end table. His shoes were at the door, his keys up on the rack as well and you frowned as you looked around downstairs but still hadn’t found him. You heard something shatter upstairs, and immediately went up to find the source of the sound, “Michael?” 

“Bedroom,” His voice came from behind his bedroom door, and you walked down the hall and knocked on it gently as you opened it.

“Hey bub,” You said, and you saw the shattered picture frame near the wall first, and then you saw him. He was sitting at the edge of his bed, his shoulders slumped forward as he looked down at the ground. His leg was bouncing quickly, his hands clasped together, “What’s going on?”

“She fucking cheated on me, she slept with someone at school.” He muttered, his head staying down and you gasped quietly as you brought your hands up to your face. You could hear the brokenness in his voice, the complete and utter betrayal evident. You walked over to him and sat beside him on the bed and wrapped your arms around him.

“I’m sorry Mikey,” You whispered, and he leaned into your touch. His shoulders lifted as he took a deep breath, before he pulled away and sat up straight again. You wiped at the tears in his eyes as he looked at you, before he was looking down again.

“I should have fucking known,” He snapped, and you shook your head as you brought your hand up to the side of his head and ran your fingers through his hair, it always seemed to help calm him down, “God everyone’s going to fucking say I told you so,”

“Nobody is going to say that bub,” You whispered, and he scoffed as he pushed off from the bed and began to pace. You folded your hands in your lap as you watched him. You knew that he had to work off the anger, to just rant and vent and then he’d be a little bit better.

“Everybody is going to fucking say that. My dad especially, we just got into an argument last week about how she’s not good for me. I’m so fucking stupid,” He snapped and you frowned but continued watching him.

“Jesus Christ, how could I have been so stupid? ‘No Michael, he’s just a friend. You’re being paranoid.’ ‘No Michael, you’re overreacting.’ ‘Michael, I’m with you - not him’. God, I honestly can’t believe that I fucking listened to her. And after everything that I’ve done for her? Fucking bullshit.” He snapped, and groaned as he stopped and looked at you.

You gave him a soft smile and shrugged your shoulders.

“What’s going through your mind right now?” He muttered, and you shook your head. He began pacing once again, and you pursed your lips as you really were trying to figure out what was going through your mind at this point.

On one hand, you were furious. So furious that she could hurt someone like Michael, that she could even think of cheating on him when he thought the absolute world of her. You couldn’t believe that she could have done this to him, but you let your anger fade away as you realized you needed to be strong for him.

On the other hand, this may be a blessing in disguise. Not for the fact that you wanted to be with him, but for the fact that he was finally rid of her. He could now grow and flourish once more, instead of being held back by her.

“Please, I need to hear someone else’s voice right now. And you always know what’s best for me, so tell me what you’re thinking.” He murmured, and you sighed as you nodded.

“I’m so sorry that it had to go down like this Mikey, but in the long run...I think that this is good for you. Granted right now, it’s shit. But Mikey, you broke up with her the first time around for a reason. Why did you get back together with her?”

“Because her grandpa had just died and she needed someone,”

“So you got back together with her out of pity, right? Not because you still loved her. You guys were great friends, but terrible for dating.” You interrupted and he rolled his eyes but nodded, “I think that you can take this as an opportunity now to move on, to let that part of your life go.”

“Okay,” He mumbled, and you stood and went over to him. You cupped his face in the palm of your hands and looked up at him.

“I’m sorry Mikey, I am. You deserve so much better and she’s a goddamn idiot for this. But this will be okay, I promise.” You said, and he gave you a soft smile. 

“You’ve always been so good to me, I freakin love you.” He murmured, and you smiled back up at him as you dropped your hands and wrapped your arms around him. He followed your actions and hugged you back, and kissed your cheek as you hummed gently.

“I love you too. You’re my best friend. I’m always going to be good for you, and I’m always going to be there for you - no matter what.” You said, and pulled away. The smile from his face faded as he got lost in his thoughts, before he was leaning forward to press his lips against yours.

You held your hand up and shook your head, and his mouth fell open in shock as he pulled away, “Michael, no. Not right now. I don’t want to just do this because of what just happened. Take some time, figure some things out and then we can talk.” You whispered, and his face fell as he backed away.

“God, that was a mistake. I’m so sorry, I just..it felt right.” He muttered, and he slumped back down onto the bed and you smiled as you walked forward and he wrapped his arms around your waist and held you tightly.

“It wasn’t a mistake. That’s why I want you to wait. I want you to figure yourself out first, I want you to take time for yourself. To really think this through, okay? I’ll still always be here for you, no matter what you decide.” You said, and kissed the top of his head as you backed away slightly and crouched in front of him.

“I really guess I should have listened to my mom, huh?” He said, and attempted to joke but you shook your head.

“She always does know what’s best for you. But we can talk about that later. Right now, let’s go play some of those dumb video games and I’ll order us some take-out, okay?” You said, and he nodded as you stood. You offered your hands out and helped him stand, and he took a deep breath as he looked at the shattered frame on the floor.

“I’ll fix it. Go downstairs,”

“Can you clear out some of the pictures or just things of hers? Don’t throw them away, just...hide them. Please,” He murmured, and you nodded as he squeezed your hand gently in thanks and you nodded as he walked out of the bedroom. You sighed as you looked around at the room as you attempted to distinguish things of hers and pull them out, to try and remove some of the traces of her she left behind.

* * *

It had been a few weeks since Michael had found out that his ex had cheated on him, and you had been giving him some space to figure out what he wanted. It had been weird, the two of you talked every single day and saw each other at least five out of the seven days in a week - but you decided that space was best.

You missed him, that was obvious. Your nerves had been going crazy the more that the two of you didn’t speak. You were wondering what was going through his mind, what he was thinking about and what he was ultimately going to decide.

You had talked it over with your other friends, weighing the options and you were still unsure of what to do. You wanted to be with Michael, you loved him more than anything but you needed to put him first instead of your own feelings.

You sprawled out on the couch as you continued talking on the phone with your friend over what to do, and listened to what she thought of the matter.

“Well, it’s like what I was telling you about… what was that nearly six months ago? You had to wait it out, and you have. You stuck by his side, you were there for him when things didn’t work out between them and you’re still there for him now.”

“Yeah I get that, but I still don’t want to just be a rebound for him. I want him to figure things out for himself instead of just going straight for me, you know?”

“Yeah yeah, but you guys are still going to end up together.

“Don’t jinx it,” You muttered and you heard her scoff on the line.

“Yeah, I doubt I could jinx it. How did his parents react?” 

“Well, I talked with his mom last week and they were pissed that she cheated on him, but they were also happy that the relationship was over. She even made a little comment that hopefully now he’ll realize what he’s had in front of him this entire time,” You said, a small smile on your face as your friend shrieked slightly over the phone.

“I told you. Every single person that’s involved with the two of you, wants the two of you together.” She said, but your phone vibrated and you pulled it away to see who else was calling you.

“Hey, it’s him. I’ll call you back later tonight,” You said, and she mumbled out a quick goodbye as you ended the call and switched over to answer him, “Hey bub,”

“Hey, can I come over?” 

“Yeah, obviously. How far away are you?” You asked, and he chuckled slightly as you heard a horn honk outside of your house.

“I’m in your driveway already,”

“Then get in here you goof,” You said, smiling as you hung up the phone and got up to go over to the door. You opened the door and watched him walk up to your place, obviously holding something behind his back and you leaned against the doorframe as he stood in front of you.

“Hi bub,” You greeted him, and he smiled down at you as he rolled forward on the balls of his feet before he took a deep breath.

“Wow, I’m nervous about this. Can I take you out on a date?” He asked, and your smile grew wider as he pulled out flowers from behind his back. Tulips, your favorite.

“Mikey, we’ve gone out on countless fake dates.” You said, and he nodded as you took the flowers from him.

“Yeah, but I don’t want this to be a fake date. I want this to be real, I want us to be real. I’ve really thought about this the past few weeks, and I realized that I want it to always be us. I want to take you out on a real date because it’s what you deserve. So, will you go out on a date with me?” He asked, and you smiled.

“Michael Clifford, I would love to go out on a date with you.”

[ughkat]

ur camera roll if luke was ur boyfriend/boyfriend luke moodboard ❥

[thepersonnamedsam]

✶ prompt list ✶

this is my prompt list, if you have a request and don’t know what to wish for, you can take a look here and get inspired or ask for a specific prompt :)

also check out the list of who i write for and my masterlist

masterlist / who i write for / taglist

prompts

„do you want me to seduce you?“

„we‘re just friends, i swear“

„let’s eat cake by the ocean“

„have we met before?“ - „i don’t think so, i‘d remember your gorgeous face“

„we‘re not exclusive, you know that right?“

„i think i love you“

„i don’t like you“

„would you maybe want to get coffee with me?“

„just kiss me already“

„what it’s like to be with you“

„just shut the fuck up already“

„ i wan‘t you, how can you not see that?“

„how do you like your coffee in the morning?“

„how haven’t we met before?“

„it’s impossible to miss you“

„i want to play with you“ - „play with me? like with water guns?“

„i‘m dump“ - „only a little“

„how do you not see that i want to share everything with you and i mean everything“

„i love spending time with you, even if we do nothing“

„how are you feeling?“ -„i’m just so tired“

„she’s my wife, for god‘s sake“

„beautiful things don’t ask for attention“

„i want us to be more than friends“

„if you want my attention so bad, just ask“

„do you really want this? beg.“

„for you, my love, i would do anything“

song prompts

karma - taylor swift

ghost of you - 5sos

northern attitude - noah kahan

lucerne - richy mitch & the coal miners

home - edith whiskers

steal my girl - one direction

starboy- the weeknd ft. daft punk

jet black heart - 5sos

pierre - ryn weaver

matilda - harry styles

something in the orange - zach bryan

yellow - coldplay

just a little while - the 502s

human - dodie ft. tom walker

stick season - noah kahan

strip that down - liam payne

mamma mia - måneskin

[ashtons-lemon-tree]

A/B/O au + SKZ + pack alpha! Chan’s not there = chaos ensues