#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?"

[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.

*

[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

[nicksbestie]

maybe y/n and Ashton having an argument? he seems like a really calm guy most of the time so it would be interesting to see how he is during a serious moment like that

Argument

word count : 1010

warnings : talks of alcohol addiction

enjoy!

<3

“Why do you keep doing this?! You keep shutting down and closing me out! I can’t help you if you won’t let me!”

“I told you! I don’t want to talk about it! You keep pushing me and I don’t want to! Yet you keep doing it!”

“Because I fucking care about you!” 

“I didn’t ask you to care about me!” 

Ashton spun on his heel, stalking out of the room and you could hear the front door slamming shut, knocking a picture frame off of the wall. You slid down the wall, sitting down. What had just happened? It was a stupid, hypothetical question. You knew exactly what had just happened. You’d tried, once again, to get Ashton to put down his drink and talk to you, but he wouldn’t do it. You didn’t even know the person you were in a relationship with anymore. He was completely taken over by addiction, and the fridge was never not stocked with strong liquor. 

You didn’t hate him, even though you maybe should. You wanted him to heal, you wanted him to cope, but he didn’t realize that he was just making everything worse. And while the aggravation of fighting with him hung heavily on you, the worry was worse. You hated fighting with him, especially because Ashton was downright scary when he was angry. With his broad frame it was terrifying to be on the receiving end, even though you knew he would never lay a hand on you. 

Luckily, he had left his location on, and when you noticed he was at Calum’s house, you sent him a text. It was late at night, and it wasn’t a long text, either. You trusted Calum to take care of Ashton. They had such a close bond, and you believed that if anyone could get through to him, Cal could.

12:31 AM : Please be safe. Get some rest. I love you.

*read 12:33 AM*

Checking your phone after showering to see Ashton had left you on read, you sighed, shooting off a text to Calum as well. 

12:50 AM : Take care of him. I’m heading to bed, but if you need me, call. Thank you &lt;3

*read 12:51 AM*

12:52 AM : I will. Getting him sober, and then we’ll talk. He’s staying here tonight, at least. He’s rambling about how upset and sorry he is for yelling at you, if that eases your mind. I’m the one who saw your text on his phone. He loves you too. See you soon &lt;3

Reading through Calum’s text really did help you relax, knowing that Ashton didn’t mean to start a fight, or to unintentionally hurt you. Hearing, or rather, seeing, the confirmation that he still loved you helped you sleep, when you finally did crawl into bed. You fell asleep still upset, but knowing that Ashton was in good hands made you much less anxious. 

You woke up to a soft knock on your doorway, having always been a light sleeper. Rubbing your eyes and sitting up, you saw a figure standing in your door, easily recognizing it as your boyfriend. You checked your phone to see the time, noticing another text from Calum that he sent earlier. 

9:45 AM : Ashton is refusing to stay here. I tried to stop him, he’s determined to fix things. I’m sorry if you still need space. I hope everything works out. 

You didn’t reply right that second, setting your phone down after realizing it was just past ten. You looked up, noticing Ashton hadn’t spoken, so you broke the silence. 

“How is your hangover?” 

He shrugged, not making eye contact. 

“Not terrible. Four out of ten.” 

You sat up, throwing back the blankets that were normally deemed as being on Ashton’s side. 

“You were an idiot, Ash. You drove drunk. I don’t care if it was just down the road to Calum’s. Rest assured that I am very angry at you.” 

The shame sunk into his face, along with a mixture of sadness.

“I know. Calum ripped me a new one this morning. And last night, too. I can’t believe I did any of that, including our fight. I’m so many different levels of sorry, and I know that won’t fix it, but I am.”

You could see just how guilty he felt and how much he was beating himself up for it, as while one part of you wanted to say he deserved it, the other part won. You patted the bed, motioning him over. 

“I’m angry beyond belief, and I don’t want you to think you’re off the hook here. However, I still love you, and I know you didn’t intend for this to happen. So come lay down, I’ll get some painkillers, and we’ll talk.”

The conversation lasted a few hours, and a conclusion was finally reached. Ashton swore he was going to get sober, and he got rid of all of the alcohol in the house. He called Calum, profusely apologizing for his actions the previous night, and thanking him for everything he did to help. He never wanted to see that look of fear and worry in any of his friends or loved one’s eyes ever again. 

Two years later, he hadn’t broken that promise. He was now two years sober, and was making consistent progress in his mental health, with the assistance of therapy. He knew he needed a better solution than drinking his problems away, but he hadn’t gotten that push to actually fix his behavior. 

At this point, you could look back on that struggling time in his life, knowing that he didn’t have to go through it anymore. He reminded you every day that you were one of his main reasons to stay sober, and his self control improved every day he didn’t touch a drink. All of the rest of the band were so accommodating, even doing a “Mocktail Chats” for their most recent album to make him feel more comfortable. All in all, things were, by far, better.

[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.”

[valentiyne]

𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖢𝖠𝖲𝖳 𝖮𝖥 𝖬𝖨𝖣𝖭𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳

(𝖡𝖮𝖷𝖤𝖱!5𝖲𝖮𝖲 𝖠𝖴)

FIND MIDNIGHT HERE

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

Sweet Dreams--Part 15

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!

CW: Smut/Smut adjacent in this part. 18+

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

Calum closes the space, his hand dancing over the fabric of the seats to slip into yours. Your palm is warm. He watches from the corner of his eyes as you smile and he smiles too. It’s silly, he knows. But the air surrounding you buzzes, dripping with an anxiety you don’t speak on. Calum’s sure anyone might notice the fidgets. The constant turn of your chain around your neck--the gold accents the burgundy of your suit perfectly. A color that makes you look regal. An outfit that makes him look a little longer than he usually might, fitted in the right areas without looking uncomfortable on you. He knows it’s been tailored, hemmed to fit you just right but goddamn, does he like you in a suit. However, the desire in his stomach doesn’t outweigh for long as he watches your free hand play at the chain yet again.

“I’ll be inside before you know it,” Calum offers. 

You’ve opted to skip out on the full carpet as the news cycle still attempts to extract every drop it can regarding the verbal altercation with Diana. A lot of the chatter is calm, but what remains continues to make enough noise that you worry anything regarding you on the carpet will be focused on that particular part of your life. Calum doesn’t fault your choice, but does wish he could show you off on the carpet. You deserve to be seen. He’s proud to be yours. He wants everyone else to know it too. But he understands why you’re opting to skip this particular moment. He might too if there still seemed to be so much heat on such a private family matter in his own life. But he’s grateful you haven’t skipped the entire event outright. 

“I know.” It comes softly, but still with an edge of uncertainty. 

The first time Calum attended he’d been nervous too. His parents did their best to explain what and why things were happening to calm his nerves. But it hadn’t really worked. He still worried and fretted. Until his father asked Calum to make a list of everything that looked good at the event. He’d been young at the time, but the smaller objective was much more manageable of a task. It made the lights and the people feel secondary. “Why don’t you scope out the drinks, yeah? Let me know what looks good.”

“Now that sounds doable.”

“Good, let’s focus on what’s doable.”

You give his hand a gentle squeeze, but don’t give any other verbal answer. With no planned outing to the public prior, it’s not unfair to think that the actual charity event might also be nerve wracking. But this too is something Calum knows you can overcome. Even if it’s small steps at a time, scoping out the drinks. The traffic gets thicker. Calum can tell by the row of cars around them. There’s more frequent stops. All signs that point towards the arrival to the banquet. It’s held off castle grounds, at a fairly large museum of modern art. 

You freeze next to Calum, probably also sensing that the countdown is reaching its end. He doesn’t want you to panic. Not now. You’ve done most of the hard work already. This really is the easy part. “Hors d’oeuvres. I also need a run down on those,” Calum offers in addition to the task prior. 

“Drinks and food. Sounds like you’re more worried about your stomach than anything else.”

A jab, one that Calum would take over and over again from you, if it meant even for just a second in time he could cut through your anxiety again. “Ah, what can I say. I am my father’s son. Besides, the portions at dinner feel like they’re going to starve you out anyway. Just wait and see.”

“I have seen. I think next time they could do away with the live band and put more money into the food budget.”

Calum winces at his own oversight. These events are advertised at the castle. Personnel staff--particular kitchen-- are offered additional compensation to take shifts at this event too. Rules he’d approved again this year, much like last year and the year before that one too. Yet, still forgotten. Only a few weeks at this new job and somehow Calum’s fallen so accustomed to the change. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. 

“No harm, love. We can always use some extra grace now and again. Like I’m sure once I’m inside, I’m going to positively embarrass you in front of your peers so I’m just getting a head start.”

Calum can say that you won’t embarrass him. He can say that you’re not even going to embarrass yourself. But it feels so dismissive. He’s done this before. He’s been raised in this. “Well, I’ll try to top whatever it is that you do. You drop a glass, I’ll break a plate. You stumble in a conversation, I’ll--oh, I don’t know, just burp in someone’s face. They won’t even remember your faux pas.”

You snort--the choked laughter leaving you in spurts. It’s silly. Utterly and entirely silly. Calum imagines the headlines now that would swirl. But it’s a storm he’d weather without hesitation. “Can you picture it now? I think Miranda might actually kill me.”

“Please, spare both our dignities,” you smile. 

“I make no such promises.”

“Are they now threats?”

“I prefer to call them dedications.” Because Calum knows he needs no dignity when it comes to you. He needs no etiquette. He needs no worry. It will come, the worry, the desire to do what is right for you. But they are not necessary. Just byproducts of his devotion, but byproducts he’d take all the same if it means you laugh next to him. If it means, you take his hand and kiss the back of it, lips pressing at the steady pulse, he will accept them hand over foot. 

“I like the sound of that,” you whisper. The air between you is gentle with the words and he almost doesn’t catch it. He’s not sure if the sentence is meant for him, or if it’s a thought that you verbalized without realizing. 

“We’ve arrived, Your Highness,” Jacky calls out from the front seat. She always tags along for events, usually just there and then again if Calum was headed to an afterparty. But the simple sentence she’s uttered is enough to suck the air form the backseat 

Every muscle of yours that had melted, relaxed thanks to Calum’s quips, freezes rigid again. The truck stops and his door cracks. But he takes the moment, slides across the leather saints next to you. The carpet is loud, the shutter of cameras goes off constantly. Voices rising higher and higher above the other to be heard. It is a cacophony of noise from the open door. But that can wait--five minutes, thirty, he doesn’t care. All of that can wait for you. He slips in close, lips pressed to your temple. “Remember, drinks and hors d'oeuvres.” 

“And you’ll embarrass yourself more than me, yeah?”

“I’ll tarnish the Hood legacy for decades to come for you, baby.”

“Thank you, love.”

Calum pushes on, stepping out from the relative quiet of the truck. And as expected, the already bright afternoon fills with the flashes from cameras. The dots in his vision turn silver and then fade, leaving behind a burst of reds and blues that dance. It only takes the first few blinks for Calum to adjust. 

“Oh.” It comes out a bit more shocked from you. Undoubtedly not quite prepared for the flurry of lights. 

“A little bright. C’mon. I’ll at least walk you to the door.” 

Though you freeze at the warmth of Calum’s hand, you follow him all the same. Not quite like leading a horse to water, more like directing a frightened creature from a distance to its own safety. From the crowd, there’s a roar, “Are you walking the carpet?” alongside, “Why are you skipping the carpet?”

“Sounds like someone is a popular guy,” you tease as the two of you approach the side doors. 

“Not as popular as you’re going to be after tonight and people see your amazing talents,” Calum returns. He pauses, poised to take the handle of the door into his grasp. 

“Didn’t they tell you flattery will get you nowhere?” There’s a twinkle in your eye, a small smile dancing over your lips as you speak. 

“Something tells me my flattery will carry me places.”

“Maybe only for you. And maybe only when it comes to me.”

“Those are the only places I need to go.” The air is a tad cold as Calum pries open the door. He’d anticipated the inside to be a bit more given the descent of winter. But it could be the sun that makes it all feel warmer and the air feel colder. 

“I’ll be sure to save you a spot.” You carry on, giving a quiet thanks as you walk through the door. Calum watches you down the hallway just long enough for him to see you get assisted by some of the event hands inside towards the main room. Assured that you’re settled, he turns back towards the carpet. His arrival is marked by another wave of roars. 

“Your Highness! Where’s your partner?”

“Your Highness! A little to the left.”

It’s a flurry of directions and questions--to be expected.  But as Calum steps onto the marks as directed, he slowly tunes them all out, tries to distance out his stare so the flashes don’t feel as blindly. He makes sure to look in all directions. He makes sure to smile and wave in all directions. It won’t be perfect, but it’ll be good enough to move on to the next spot. One of the assistants guides him down, another spot for more pictures and then onto the next. This part feels mechanical--an over-calculation of what people are going to be asking, always anticipating how long he’s going to be told to stay at one marker before being moved down to the next one. He always worries that in the pictures it’s always going to be obvious on his face that he’s thinking much too hard about it all. Yet, they also come out well enough. 

“We thought we were going to lose an appearance from you,” the lady laughs as Calum approaches for his interview. Her dress is pale pink and shines under the lights. 

Calum shakes his head. “No, no, I could never think of such a thing and miss the opportunity to speak to you? Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Oh, you flatter me. May I ask, when you first arrived, it looked like maybe your partner was here with you as well. Is that correct?”

“They are here. Yes.” It’s all he wants to say. All he thinks he needs to say but there’s a bit of anticipation that drips from the interviewer’s face. Calum knows what they’re waiting for. 

“And no carpet for them? We’ve seen some of those photos. The two of you look quite cozy.”

“No carpet this time. When they’re ready, they’ll walk it with me. But I highly doubt we should spend all our time on personal business. There’s a great cause at the root of why we’ve gathered.” A gentle redirect that seems to do the trick as the interviewer nods. 

“Yes, yes, we’ve heard there’s a lot of great things being auctioned off for the charities involved tonight. Is there anything in particular you’re interested in seeing how well it does?”

There--so simple and so innocent of a question, but he knows what’s underneath. All the items up for auction have already been listed. If he doesn’t talk about your painting, which he is sure tabloids and reporters have looked at the preview, then it’s going to look back. But if he does it’s yet another trap he’s fallen into. Calum takes a deep breath. “Well, there’s some interesting offerings of dinner with some celebrities, which always goes over well. Those pull in a lot of bids. There’s some original artwork that I’m also interested in seeing how well it does too.”

“Would one such piece be that of your partner?”

Calum laughs. He’s caught, even as he tries to tiptoe around it. “Yes, it would be. They worked incredibly hard on the piece and I think given how routine these things can start to feel, I am really hopeful that something like my partner’s art can strike up a good bidding war.”

“Well, we are certainly rooting for them and hope that they too can bring in a good momentum to the funds being raised tonight.”

“Thank you. That’s greatly appreciated.”

Calum takes the cue to exit and then slips down a little further to a couple other waiting reporters. They ask a similar round of questions, speculating about the lack of your presence and also wondering how tonight will turn out amongst the total for the funds raised. And all this happens amongst the flash, the shouts, the roar of everyone’s voice rising. Somehow each move makes things feel louder, like the noise will reach a critical mass. Calum’s never sure what the end result might look like. 

But inside is much quieter. The second Calum steps into the air conditioned lobby of the museum, his shoulders drop. The cool air is welcomed as the sweat starts to prickle on his back. Even the carpet gets to him occasionally. It is utter relief and just inside the foyer, up the second but smaller set of stairs, you stand next to the fountain. In the middle a sculpture of a woman sits, her marble stomach rolled as she arches herself forward. For a moment, Calum’s sure if he were to touch it, the stone might give under his hands like flesh. Her veil ripples down over her back. And Calum watches your face as you take in the work, something like awe writing over your face. 

He follows the lines down, taking in the bend in your neck to support your head as you tilt backwards to get a larger picture. Calum carries on all to your hands, where two plates. Each one stacked nearly the same. You rattle off the name of the artist. “Each time I see it, I can’t help but fall a little bit more in love with it.”

“I’m almost ashamed to admit I’ve seen it so often I forget it's a wonder,” Calum offers to your initial bidding. 

“Problems I think I’d kill to have,” you laugh before extending one of the plates. “You wouldn’t believe who I had to fend off for this.”

Calum takes the plate, noticing the skewers holding veggies and meat that he’s not sure what it is, alongside a few other finger sandwiches. They look much too small and thin to do much, but it’s the thought that counts. He thinks too maybe there should be less focus on the theatrics of such an event and more focus on the food. But he looks back up from the plate to you. “Who?” he asks. 

“David. He spotted me the second I walked up to the food.”

Calum snorts around his bit of the tiny sandwich. “Probably because he was headed for the line too. I love him, but he’s predictable.”

“I quite appreciate his predictability. It did lead to me being introduced to the art director for a local gallery, who is quite eager to see my work in person. And that absolutely has not shattered my resolve. Not in the slightest because it was Amy fucking Whitacker.”

The sudden inhale makes Calum choke on his bite. He sputters for a moment before catching air back into his lungs and keeping the offending item from going down into his windpipe. Amy Whitacker is not just the art director for any small local gallery. She has a direct hand in helping the modern art museum in selecting and showcasing talents in contemporary and modern artists. A well traveled legend in the art curation scene, always on the pulse of whatever is surely to become the biggest trend. She’s always right, even if at times she’s too early for her own good, having helped a couple artists who got caught up in the wrong avenues of the art scene before getting themselves clean. 

“Baby, that’s fucking incredible.” Even if all that becomes of it dies at the introduction, someone knows your name. Someone big knows your name. Someone big would’ve seen your art. The kind of strings that not even Calum can pull no matter how hard he might’ve wanted too at some point. But Calum doubts it’ll just end there. Your talent speaks for itself and though you think of art as just a hobby, it’s a hobby Calum knows with a little fostering could lead you to great realms. 

“Yes, why do you think I am trying not to lose my cool here?” Your laughter is soft and nervous. 

But Calum can’t fault that. He’d be nervous too. Hell, he might even be nervous now at the thought of it. What could today bring for you? You talked about wanting to be there for Charlie and Teagan, and something that paid your bills, but feeling stuck. Like you weren’t sure what you were supposed to do next and though that was in relation to finding a new job, Calum feels like maybe art could help get you unstuck. What could life look like for you should have wind underneath your art? It could be yours fully. There’d be no politics involved. Not even Calum’s life and reputation could take it away from you. He wants that for you. He wants you to have that kind of freedom. 

He switches hands to wipe his palms on the handkerchief in his pocket. It’s a much too formal touch to have it in his front facing suit pocket for the studded look he’s going for. He can see the wheels turning. The way you chew at the corner of your lips. For the jest, Calum takes the handkerchief and dabs at your temples.  “You got this. You’re going to remain so calm,” he laughs. 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Always.” It’s one word, but Calum hopes you understand what he means. That he’s always got confidence in you. That he’s always in your corner. But before he can utter the sentimental clarification, he’s interrupted. 

“Your Highness, it’s a pleasure to see you here again,” the voice is shaky and Calum pauses at the last dab to your forehead.

George stands next to you,  nearly shoulder to shoulder with you, hand extended out to him. He’s a retired Cabinet member, but keeps a high level of influence in some circles. Calum’s not sure what he really does anymore. But he does remember his father’s huffed complaints about George from his younger years. 

“Nice to see you again too, George.” 

“I hear you’re up for volunteer time again. An old staple,” he retorts, dropping his hand as Calum’s yet to move to take it. 

Calum knows George has to notice you. But his gaze wanders over nearly everywhere but you. “I am,” Calum answers. “I haven’t heard anything about you yet though.”

“Oh, no, nothing from me this year. Next year I think my efforts can be better served.” Calum knows what that means. This effort to focus on marginalized communities is not worth his time. There are better reasons to spend money has never sounded so sleazy before. 

Calum feels a part of him is thick now with disgust. This is the part of it that he was afraid of. That he’d turn into a George who forgets the merits of helping a wide variety of communities. That is the dirty part of the job are all the George’s in the game. But today’s not the day that he’s going to slip into the mud. “Well, I do hope you bid today at the very least. Especially on my partner’s work. Whom I’d like to introduce you to actually.”

And like Calum’s hand hasn’t been outstretched pressed against your temple and now at your shoulder, George turns. “Oh, excuse me. Poor manners. Nice to meet you.” There’s no extension for a handshake. 

Your smile in return is tight. “Nice to meet you too.”

“And, uh, what is it that you do? Here for this fundraiser, I mean”

“Art,” you return. “I painted and used mixed media for an art piece.”

“Ah, art. I heard you were a cook. Wasn’t sure if you’d whipped up some kind of desert,” he laughs, his jowls shaking at the action. 

“I cook too.” There’s a small bit of challenge to the sentence. As if you’re daring George to make a quip about it. Calum can’t fault you, but prays George doesn’t pick up on it. 

George nods, his face flat of emotion. “So you cook and you do art, that is indeed interesting. Well, I hope your art does well tonight for the cause.”

Just as quickly as he walked up, George walks away. If anyone would leave a sour impression it would be George and Calum takes a moment to place his handkerchief back into his pocket. Not how he wants your first few introductions to go tonight. You already had an expectation about the people at the vent. He’d hope that no one would stoop so low as to affirm them. “He’s an asshole,” Calum states. 

“The only reason he still walks is because the earth doesn’t want to deal with him either,” you spit. 

Calum would be a liar if denied the small surge of pride from his chest. But this is not necessarily the place for it. Even if Calum thinks you’re spot on. “I’m sorry about him. George has always been rather rude.” There’s no other way to say it. There’s directness--a trait that has its time and place--and then there’s blatant disrespect. 

“Well, if I’ve got nothing else to motivate me I think I’ll take spite. He thinks his efforts are better suited for something else? And I most definitely did note that he was quite noncommittal stance on bidding.”

“I was hoping I could catch him. But for as old as he is, he’s still rather squirmy. But he’s just one guy. Just one.” 

There are better people. There are. He knows it. You nod, but Calum’s sure it’s not the right foot for you to start off with. Not in a place like this, not at a time like this. 

“I’m not sure I got the memo that our uniforms changed colors.” 

Calum’s glad for the divinely timed quip. You snort, stepping aside and unveiling Cyprus behind you even in the thickening crowd. The tension at your shoulders melts as you face her. She holds the tray, only a few remaining glasses sit on top. There’s bubbles in the liquid in the glass. She smiles before holding the tray out. “Champagne?”

“Janet still likes me more than you,” you retort. “I can try my hand but it might be a hard sell.”

Cyprus nudges gently at your shoulder. “All efforts are appreciated. Good luck tonight, we’re all rooting for it. It looks gorgeous, the painting.”

“Thank you, Cyprus.” 

God bless her, Calum thinks as she grins at the two of you before she carries on, “But seriously, do either one of you want a drink? I’m sick of carrying this tray around.”

Calum takes one glass, leaving three more behind. It’s a small token of gratitude, not that he’s even sure Cyprus even heard the exchange. And if she did, he’s glad she stepped in. “It’s the best I can do.”

You take a glass too. “Halfway there.”

“Such caring people. Besides, if I weren’t working, I’d down both these glasses. Thank you for your efforts. They will not go in vain.” Then she’s off, sliding down to the next group of people. There’s an utter factualness to her statement that Calum knows it’s true. He doesn’t fault the sentiment. 

“I feel like I don’t know how to breathe in a place like this,” you mutter. You’ve yet to move, not that you necessarily have to. Most of the guests are still arriving. Soon there will be an announcement to help move all guests to the dining area. But there is a firmness in your stance that echoes the discomfort you’ve verbalized. “Not dressed like this, you know. I know the other side.”

Calum takes a moment, glancing over your shoulder to take in the all black uniform as the room echoes with stiff laughter and the click of expensive shoes that are priced a thousand times more than the materials cost to make. How even in a sea of suits, workers stand out. And no one looks at them. Invisible, but utterly necessary as the cogs that keep the machine running.  Glasses on trays that look like they float by if no one takes the moment to look at the human servicing you.  

“You’re doing great for what it’s worth. It’s all going to be okay.”

“You promise?”

It’s so soft as you utter it. Like you’re not sure if you really should be asking. It breaks his heart to hear it. The fear that underlies every anxiety you had. 

Calum nods. “I promise, baby. Just take a breath, okay.”

Your inhale is deep, chest rising with the action and your exhale is long. You repeat the action one more time. 

“You ready to prove that old man wrong?”

_______________________________________________

It feels like a simple question. It is a simple question. You ready? And you’re not. You’re not ready for this. But you’re already here. You’ve got the suit on. You’ve sat for hair. You’ve been adorned in the jewelry. You’re here dammit. But you don’t know if you’re ready. Such a concept relies on a sense of confidence, of such assuredness that you don’t have. But maybe you can use spite to create a false precursor for the necessary emotions. But even with the sour taste of George’s interaction, you find that your feet won’t move. 

“I wish,” you exhale, looking back to Calum. He looks calm. His plate is clear. You’re not even sure how. But the portions are small. He seems so unphased. Your shoulders are starting to ache. You’re gripping the glass too hard. You know that. Everything is too tight, too stiff. 

“I’ll be right by your side the entire time,” Calum reassures. 

And you know you have to move. The crowd’s pushing up and on. The announcement from overhead is asking folks to move towards the main dining area as the event will be beginning shortly. You are running out of time. Part of you wishes you’d skipped the whole thing. 

The glances are sharp as people look at you. You tried not to focus on them, but you could always feel them. And now they feel even heavier after Calum utters anything about actually moving on from the lobby. The plan had just been getting in, looking at the initial selections of food and drink. Somehow you’d tricked yourself into thinking that’s all there is to this. 

But that is not the reality. The reality is that you have to go deeper. And you can picture it now. The dining section around the corner from the lobby opens wide and in front of the stage all the items up for auction are displayed. Tables are strewn about, labeled for who’s sitting where. You know in the back there is an entire map, scaled down to show who’s sitting where, food allergies are assigned to specific color dots. Food preferences are labeled with various star stickers. The back is a lot more comfortable. In the back, in the kitchen, the untouchables reign and all the rich people are just colors and stars. 

In the lobby, in this burgundy suit, you are a colored dot; you are a star. But you know you don’t belong. Everyone else knows it too. You’re only here because of Calum, in this lobby. You’re only here because your submission was approved. You’re only here by whims and fates. It feels so unearned. But you can’t change that.

“Oh, there they are! Really, when you see this painting you’ll understand what I mean. The talent is out of this world.”

It’s Joy’s voice. You spin at the cadence of her words, some relief easing your chest open. God, thank the heavens for Joy and for Cyprus too. Joy smiles as she approaches in her navy blue dress, floor length as it dazzles in the lights. The dress looks like it cost more than you’ve ever made in your entire life combined. The shawl covering her shoulders echoes the ripples of an ocean. You don’t recognize the woman she’s leading across the floor. But you smile in return. 

Joy gives your name first as she introduces Lilith, the CEO of her own company. You think there’s more that Joy says but you can’t hear it all properly. Your heart is racing in your ears. Though you do catch as Joy explains that Lilith is an art collector.

Lilith laughs. “Oh, Joy, please. You say it like I’m an expert. It’s a hobby really. By trade, I find myself surrounding my code.”

“Oh, like software coding?” you question. It feels like a stupid question but you don’t know what else you’re supposed to say. There’s a heavy moment where you open that her introduction as CEO wasn’t linked to her coding. You’d surely make a fool of yourself if it was. 

Lilith nods, face opening up at the question. Her dark curls bounce with the motion. “Yes, software. I’ve dabbled in front end stuff, user experience, websites too. I prefer the backend though. I know people think that’s a man’s world. But I’m rather proud to admit that my small company’s been around for the last fifteen years. We’re focused now on funding STEM programs in underfunded schools to encourage girls in the field.” 

“Oh small. You all have started and funded over 20 different STEM programs in the schools just in your hometown. Small is not serving you in the slightest,” Joy reprimands. 

“Thank you,” Lilith laughs. “But enough about me. Joy speaks highly of your talents. Did you study art?”

The question stings. Will the truth make you look worse than a lie? But she seems genuine. Lilith feels like a total opposite to George. And maybe there’s more to this room to the people in here than you originally gave credit for. Joy nods when you catch her eye. It feels like a silent encouragement so you exhale and with it comes the truth, “Culinary by trade. But nothing formal in the fine arts.”

“Oh, you’re a chef who paints. That’s amazing. Do you think you’ll ever want to study it more formally? I think my wife’s been in talks with a few local universities and if you’re interested, I’d be happy to offer any support. Joy’s spoken so highly of your work and I, for one, would love to keep the art scene alive. Have you had a chance to speak with Amy Whitacker? I think you two should connect if you haven’t already. I do believe I saw her here earlier.”

The sincerity in the offering is unarming. She’s so close and yet still so far off about you. Yet you can’t help the laughter that presses at your chest. You keep it at bay. You swallow it back down. It’s not worth the correction that you’re currently nothing more than a line cook who’s finally got a license to bartend. But the generosity cuts through the cynicism. “It’s a hobby, really. But I do appreciate the offer.”

“Yes, yes, of course. If you ever change your mind, just give me a call,” Lilith pops open her clutch. You’re not sure what she’s going to produce until a small white business card moves across the gap towards you. 

It’s silly, but you take a moment to consider the plate and the glass in your hand. Before you can make a move, Calum slips his hand forward and takes it on your behalf. “Tha-thank you,” you managed to get out. “Really, it’s greatly appreciated.”

Lilith smiles. “Of course. But, truly, do call, okay? I’m eager to see what you’ve produced today and what comes next. It was nice meeting you.” She gives a goodbye to Joy before walking on past to another group. She doesn’t appear to be moving closer to the dining hall. Perhaps, she’s less worried about the overhead warnings. 

“You okay, sweetheart? You look like a deer caught in headlights.” Joy’s concern is palpable. But there’s something about the glances, you spot them as people come back. Do they know the terror locking into your joints? Are they going to gossip about you behind your back once they’re out of earshot? Are they thinking about whatever godforsaken pictures that have surfaced? Are they nice like Lilith or will you encounter more George’s in your time here? How do you prepare for such wildly varying encounters when everything in you is telling you to run?

“I don’t know what to do with my hands,” you confess with a laugh. 

You took the glass from Cyprus purely to save her, knowing how hard it can be to cart around a tray with drinks, how the quakes in the shoulder can start. But you don’t really want a drink. You don’t really want the food. You want to be invisible again. Though it saved you initially, maybe it was a smarter idea to actually know what the public consensus about you was. It’d at least give you a tougher skin. 

“Oh, okay. Fair enough. First, do you care to finish this drink or not?”

You shake your head at Joy’s question and she takes the glass from your fingers. “Never even started it.”

“That’s okay, sweetheart.”

Calum stacks his empty plate under yours and takes it. “The skewer thing or whatever is decent if you want something off the plate,” he offers. 

You look back at the item. Your stomach turns a little. Calum eases the plate away from you. “I’m good,” you answer. 

“Your face speaks for you do,” Calum laughs and takes the item for himself. 

“You’ve been to this event before,” Joy starts, taking a sip from the glass she got from you. “You know this place better than we do. What happens next? What would you do next?”

“I know the kitchen. I know that yellow is a dairy allergy and gold is a dairy free preference. I know greens are plant-only restrictions.”

Joy slips an arm around yours, both your elbows hooking. “Well, tell me who’s plant-only then, yeah?”

You’re walking before you realize it. You’re rounding the fountain and the dining section is opening up before you. The guests change a little year to year. But you do know that people with similar dietary requirements and preferences are usually grouped together unless they must be seated separately due to charting reasons--usually for press or affiliation reasons. “The northern quadrant is typically your strictest dietary needs. We try not to put them too close to the kitchen should anything be airborne.”

Joy hums at the news. “Aye, I can understand that.”

It’s easy to talk about what you know. The words are falling and you don’t really care to stop them. “Middle typically sits your people with some restrictions or preference but nothing severe. Closest to the kitchen either didn’t indicate a preference or indicated they had no preference or restrictions. You’re grouped, or I guess I am too, upon charting requests and dietary needs. If you’ve come alone, you’re usually sorted into tables by dietary restrictions. If you come with a plus one, you’re seated together, but if one party indicates severe restrictions or preference you get booted to the farthest end. Being at the far end does mean, you are served first.”

“To avoid cross contamination?”

“As much as possible.”

Joy grins, squeezing at your bicep. “Well, you’re inside it now, sweetheart. Do you think you’re a green dot?”

The dining hall is quieter than the lobby, but more and more people are trickling in behind you. And there in front of you in the 60 x 40 inches is your art. The red paint drips down the pages, but never reaches the floor. Frozen thanks to the hair dryer you had to use and gravity. A sea of red and gold. You know the pages up close are articles, missing posters, poems and songs from families affected, literature about the hardship of a community never believed. You know the imitation of bells you’ve etched into the corner do whistle if listened to closely enough. You know the braided fibers creating the border between the ocean of red and the black text doesn’t truly echo the vanilla and hay of the plant it’s created after. The painting looks so out of places, much like you feel. It’s big and bright. The other items are in glass boxes, small, and polite. Yet your art is bold.

“Why do I want to apologize for my art?” you whisper, mostly to yourself. It’s such a silly thing. You made it for the intention of selling, of raising not just a little bit of money but hopefully a sizable amount. You made it to make a statement. You made it as a reminder. It’s not meant to be a thing that can blend into the background. Yet, all you can feel is the hot sting of shame. 

Joy hums at the question. “Well, you don’t have to apologize for anything. You’re here because you’re meant to be here. What it actually looks like, only time will tell of course. Doors open for reasons.” 

It dances at the edge of your tongue that you didn’t walk through any doors to get into the hall, but you know what Joy means. Metaphorical, not literal. “Doors open for reasons and I wish I could see them.”

“In due time.” Joy slips from your side to the front of you. She lifts your chin and smooths at the lapels of your suit jacket in a fluid motion. A well practiced set of movements that you know she’s probably done a thousand times over with Calum. “I’m proud of you. Whatever happens today, okay? I don’t care if no one bids, or if everyone bids. I don’t care if you drop a glass, or two. I don’t care if you laugh too loud. I don’t care if you have to hide in the bathroom for ten minutes or twenty. I am so incredibly proud of you for showing up today and for putting in the time for this cause.”

She swims in your tears. Joy’s there, and then she’s blurry before you can blink her visage clear again. “Thanks, Joy.” Your throat quivers and you’re not even sure you’ll be able to get the sentence out fully. You know you’re truly going to steal her one of these days. Or perhaps, she’s already stolen you. But either way, you’re incredibly grateful for you. You wondered in the back of your mind how your parents might have reacted to the news of you getting into the banquet. You still wonder if Melvin’s caught wind, if he’s tuning into the live coverage. Will he text you at the end of this? 

“Would you look at that? Is that gold foil around the corner to make bells?” It’s pure awe. You know it’s about your piece. But you don’t look to see who it is. All you manage to focus on is the last warm comforting pat at your shoulder from Joy. She grins and you know what she is saying. You know that your fear might have caused you to suffer twice. 

“I am going to make a couple more rounds. Find me if you need me, alright?”

You nod. “Sounds like a plan.”

Joy doesn’t go terribly far, but you move on to look at the other items on the docket after wiping the tears from your cheeks. A few collectable items sit out--a watch, a necklace,--things that look like they mean a lot more to people who can afford to care about status. But as you move further from your own peace, you do watch. People seem rather uninterested in the display boxes but stop to regard your piece for minutes at a time. 

At the end of the stage, you take in the rest of the room. You can spot Cyprus shuffling back into the kitchen, empty glasses and plates on her tray as she goes. Valerie skirts around her, empty tray tucked under her arm and you know that means she’s looking for someone or something. You hope it’s not bad. 

“Yes, yes, we’ll have to arrange a time for drinks. I think after the holidays is best.”

Calum’s trying to pull himself out of the conversation. His hands are now empty from the plates he was holding earlier. He’s a half step from the group and you don’t know if they gathered while talking to Joy, but he looks back to you before facing the group again. You can hear someone mention needing to stay away from vodka though as the group laughs. Calum wiggles his fingers behind his back, as if attempting to reach for you through the several foot gap. 

You do feel out of place on your own and you’re sure you’re going to feel out of place in the group. But Calum’s there and you carry on, knowing that you’ll have at least one person. You do have to duck around a group paused now at the last display. “Sorry,” you whisper to them as you slink behind. 

“Oh, my apologies,” the man returns, looking back to you. 

You continue on, poised to slip your hand into Calum’s but someone calls back out. “Are you the artist of this here painting?” 

You turn, fingers just brushing Calum’s to see the older man you passed looking at you. His hair is graying, but still has some of the dark brown in there. You don’t immediately recognize him, but you don’t recognize hardly anyone else in here. Your lack of social media truly keeps you rather out of the loop though you paid attention to the things that mattered to you. You wish for a moment that you could place him. 

Your heart thunders in your chest. Though there was no picture attached to the display in the room. However, considering the website did ask for a headshot to pair with your work, you assume he might’ve noticed your picture there. You can’t help the wince that overtakes you. “I-I am.”

“Goodness, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything bad by that question. I, uh, I’m actually quite excited about it. It looks beautiful.”

“Thank you. Sorry about that. I-I’ve never really had my work out like this before so I’m still never quite sure how it’s going to,” you return. 

“Understandable. You know, about four, maybe five years ago, there were more artists that were commissioned to make pieces for this very event. Those pieces were always a favorite. I don’t know what happened. If they stopped commissioning because of optics or something, but I really hope after this year we get more art back. I hope your art comes back too, I mean. I really do think it’s such a worthy and important form. You might be on the edge of something truly, truly, special.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.” He smiles and then continues on at the beckoning of his wife. Or who appears to be at least his date for the event. You don’t really know the relationship.

Calum’s palm is warm against yours. Out of reflex, you thread your fingers through his. “I was sure I was going to have to unglue you from my side. But it seems like you’re getting quite popular.”

“I got sidetracked looking at the items up for auction. But you might be right that it won’t be all bad. I didn’t think I’d be getting this kind of response.”

“Oh, I might be right, huh?” There’s a small tuft of laughter exchanged between the two of you at the jest. 

“Sarcasm is a love language.”

He hums. “I’ve got Lilith’s business card in my suit pocket, so please remind me to fetch it out before I return this suit back.”

“Hey, Calum?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t forget you have Lilith’s business card in the suit pocket.”

“Smartass.”

“Yes, yes I am. That is quite the astute observation.” 

At the table, after about fifteen minutes or so of additional chatting, you settle between Calum and Joy. It’s directly in line with the stage and the podium. A spotlight that you cannot escape. But you know the order of events. There will be a few speeches, from the organizers, from the spokespersons of the charities receiving the funds today and one final speech from a keynote speaker. It then moves into a reading of the rules for bidding. Each plate is set with a corresponding paddle. On it is a number. The paddles have to be raised and have to be visible to the auctioneer when actively bidding. The interval increase is set by the parties bidding, but cannot exceed a five thousand jump at once. Each item is independently appraised for where the bidding must start. But no one, not even the original owners of the items know what that number is set. After all items are auctioned, dinner will be served. Refreshments will be served after on the back lawn until the very end. 

You know this, having caught pieces of this spill before. But still nothing prepares you as you look down at your number on your paddle, 827, after all the speeches and you know that eventually all the talk you’ve heard about your piece will have to find legs to stand on. You’re not sure if spite or the reassurance from Joy are truly a match for the wave of anxiety. The items are auctioned down the line, starting with some fine jewelry at the start of the stage. The camera zooms in for the screens hanging on the corners for everyone to see the item in question. 

The jade necklace sells for six thousand in a blink. 

The heirloom watch goes for ten thousand. 

Calum’s volunteer time is auctioned off at twenty thousand. 

Dinner with various celebrities for CEO’s range from ten thousand up to twenty-five thousand. 

Rugs go for twelve thousand. 

“We have an original painting with us today entitled, Nomenclature: A Calling. Acrylic paint with mixed media on a 60 x 45 inch canvas. As described by the artist, ‘Nomenclature is a call to center voices and literature of the women missing and murdered that the charities today strive to call back out to, to tell them they are not forgotten. With a history steeped in silence, Nomenclature asks the viewer to not only listen--or in some regards, to read the excerpts attached and highlighted in the piece--it also the viewer to speak as well. It asks the viewer to touch the braided sweetgrass imitated and to listen for the call. Each woman missing is a family begging for her return. Each corner of the earth must be searched. Each person here today, and who encounters this piece, must reflect on what we can do to help, to speak up.’”

The camera pans to the bottom angle and as it does, the bolded parts of the literature and posters attached make out the shape of a hand print, dripping down, the thick red paints only serves to illuminate the undercarriage and hidden symbol. The room fills with a low ‘ooh’ the new angle from below unveiling to them yet another layer. And you know, you know if they’re to study it from each angle too more would be revealed. You mentioned that they should show the bottom left angle before out of desperation. You thought maybe your vision would strike at a handful of people to consider a good bidding war. A round or two at the most. 

“Bidding starts at 5,000,” the auctioneer states after a few more seconds of silence. Five feels way too steep to start for the work. Not even Calum’s volunteer time started there. The camera moves back to a front on angle of the painting. 

You don’t know what number you’d expected. Maybe it was somewhere in the low ten’s. Perhaps in your wildest imaginations you might break thirty thousand. But the minutes are long as they go, and as they go, the price goes up. You count passing seconds in increments of five. 

“I have 50 thousand. Do I have a response? 50 thousand going once.”

“55!”

Your heart is swimming in stomach acid. Your plate feels like it’s spinning in front of you. You’re too afraid to look up. If you do it makes each bid real. Who’d spend 55 thousand dollars on your painting? It’ll stop soon. Besides, it’s all for a good reason. It’s all going to good use. But yet, it still feels much too steep, like it’s generosity that is undeserving. 

“60!”

“65!”

“Can I get 70?” the auctioneer eggs on. 

“70,” a voice returns. Where other bidding has been relatively quiet. You catch the lilt of something that sounds like a thrill to the bidder’s voice. 

Your bidding number 827 blurs in your vision. You hold onto the sides of your chair, hands clammy even to the wood beneath. Surely you can’t exceed 70. No one would want to spend that kind of money. 

“75!”

“80!”

“85.”

“90!”

Your ears feel thick. Every sound wave that hits comes in slowly. You can feel every curl of folks tongue as they shout out their bids. But it feels unreal. The air thickens. Everything is slow as the number continues to rise. There is no way. No way. No way. No way. No way. The number just keeps going up and up, and up. It’ll stop soon. It has to stop. It’ll stop. It’ll stop. It’ll--

“Sold for 135 thousand dollars to 955. All other numbers down.”

“I’m going to throw up,” you state. Your stomach flips and you know there’s nothing to come up, but know that’s an error. There’s no way your painting could’ve sold for that much. Your grip on the bottom of the wooden chair tightens. “Someone please tell me I actually hallucinated that entire thing.” 

“Hey, no, no hallucination.” Calum’s arm slips over your shoulders and he eases your head up from where you’d tucked your chin to your chest. 

With your head up, the cheers are much louder. An applause deep and echoes from corner to corner. You can tell if it’s sweat or tears rolling down your cheeks but it doesn’t slow Calum as he clears them away with the pads of his fingers. 

“I-I did that? Like my artwork?”

His lips press against the apple of your cheek in a quick kiss. “Yeah, you did. A hundred and thirty-five big ones.”

And even with the praise, the reality feels too far away to grasp. Everyone in the immediate vicinity of your table smiles at you when you catch their glance. You manage a smile back, but feel heavy with disbelief. You didn’t even look to see who 955 was. Could it be Lilith? You don’t even let the thought of it being Amy linger too long in your mind. Joy squeezes you, a hug that normally feels bone crushing but at this particular moment it’s a hug that lets you melt. You’d suffer twice, possibly even three times over. But the rewards pay out for it in the end. 

You don’t remember dinner; you don’t live it deep enough to remember it. You wouldn’t be able to say how it tastes, or if the chicken was dry or not. Yet, you know that once everyone’s excused to the lawn, you’ll remain in the hall for pictures. You’ll come face to face with the person who won your painting. But you’re still lifting a fork to your mouth. You’re still eating food without tasting it. 

The dining hall echoes with the whispers now. Above you are the photographers and winners. You can hear the shutter of the lens as the photos are snapped. Calum excuses himself to the restroom, a kiss pressed to your cheek before he goes. Most of the crowd is outside. You’re not sure why the event would move there, considering as the evening settles it will get colder. But perhaps, it’s meant to be the excuse. Folks can leave now, using the chill as the perfect out before they make moves to the after party at a few different clubs around the downtown area. All you can think to yourself as you stand just below the stage is that part of wishes you could slip out into the night too. 

Your name comes, a sound deeper than you’re used to. So it’s not David. In your peripheral, you can see a hand, pale as it extends out. “Sorry to bother you,” the man laughs. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” His nose is sharp on his face, light brown hair slicked back but you can still tell it’s long. “I’m Walter.”

You take the extended hand in the polite but firm handshake you’ve learned over the years. “Nice-nice to meet you.”

“I won your piece. Sorry, that might’ve been good information with which to also lead.”

“No worries. I-I hope you enjoy it, for all that you donated for it.”

“I do. You don’t need to worry about that. It is truly incredible work and the description you also wrote for it. I mean, goodness. Utterly moving. I don’t think I’ve seen you here at this event before. What brings you here this year?”

Saying my boyfriend feels too thin, too asinine to utter. But it is the truth. “Well, uh, I was originally just a plus one. But submitted a proposal in tandem with my boyfriend. He sort of asked if I would be willing and I agreed and it got approved based on some other art samples I submitted along with the proposal. And I am talking entirely too much.”

Walter’s laugh is short, but feels genuine. “No, no. It’s okay. I can ramble on myself. So you don’t do art full time then, I take it?”

Walter’s tactful sidestep around asking who is your partner makes you wonder if he already knows and wants to make conversation or if he truly just doesn’t keep up. You’re grateful for it regardless. “No, not right now.”

“Would you consider it? Taking more of it on?”

“Potentially. My life currently doesn’t fully suit it, but I guess we never really know the future.”

“No, no, we don’t,” Walter agrees. 

“I take it you’re a bit more of a regular attendee than I am, considering that you notice a newcomer.”

“I too started as a plus one. My father served in the Cabinet when I was younger and I never liked politics much myself. I come with him for networking purposes every year. I work currently in the nonprofit sector and help organize this event on odd years. Which I guess you could say nonprofit is adjacent politics, or at least responding to the political landscape of our country. But I digress. I really just wanted to let you know that it’s truly inspiring what you’ve created. What you so boldly demand of your viewers too with your work, specifically for this cause.”

The more you take in, the more you try to place who he might be related to, but you come up short. “Do you enjoy it? The nonprofit work?”

“Most days. But I think everyone has a day or two where things don’t seem to ever go quite right.”

“Yes, they do happen a time or two.”

“I--well, do forgive me for this. I know you said you don’t do art full time, but I’d hate to see talent like yours underutilized. I’d like to connect you with some people I know. They want to commission a mural for their shared office space and prefer to work with local artists.”

“That-that would be amazing. And I’m so sorry that I don’t have a card to give you. I am woefully under prepared for this kind of response. But thank you. For bidding, for speaking with me.”

Walter nods. “No worries. Here,” he reaches into the front suit pocket and unearths another white business card. “Keep this. When you get everything up, just give me a call. I can then pass along all the information. Thank you again. It’s really an incredible piece and I’m honored to be able to take it home. I was sure someone else would outbid me.”

You take the card. There’s no way for you or Calum to forget to check for all the cards before the suits are returned. Your pockets are full of them now. So are Calum’s. You look down at the full name: Walter George Thompson, Jr. “I didn’t think the bids would go as high as they did.”

“Well, here’s to the both of us being quite fortunate tonight.” You nod at the sentiment, unsure of where you should take the conversation next. But your saving grace is as the two of you are called up to the stage. You pose at the sides of the canvas, the corresponding charities spread behind you. And it all happens in a flash, the count down before the shutter comes. 

The photographer takes a moment to look at the photo in the preview. He throws a thumbs up. “Thanks, y’all. Turned out great.”

You and Walter both move down stage and back down the stairs. Calum’s at the bottom but before Walter leaves, he pauses. “Please consider that offer. I hope to see your work again next year.”

“I certainly will.” He leaves with a final nod. 

As you turn back to Calum, you notice his lips twitch into a smile. The kind of smile that tells you it’s just just amusement. “Do you remember our lovely friend George from earlier this afternoon?”

“The one whom even the earth detests. Yes.” Of course you remember that old man. You wish he had bid. Though there is some revenge in his earlier comments knowing now how much the painting sold for. 

“And do you recall how he very clearly didn’t answer about bidding on your work or anything tonight?” 

“Vividly.”

“Take a guess how Walter and George are related.”

The wheels turn. Walter’s long gone but you turn back to where he exited, as if somehow he’d still be there. You pull back out the business card with his name on it. Understanding descends and brings with it disbelief. “Walter is George’s son? That rude man’s son won my painting?”

Calum laughs, but nods anyway. “George is going to have a sour reminder in his son’s house of his lack of empathy.”

“There’s no way Walter knew about what happened between George and I though.”

Calum shrugs. “Walter knows his father just like everyone else knows George.”

A perfect irony. Even if Walter never knows, George will. George will have to carry the weight around with him.  You slip Walter’s card into your pocket, amongst the thickening stack already nestled there. “My first call I guess should be Lilith to see if she can help me put together a website,” you muse. 

Calum nods, his grin is soft. “Tomorrow though. She can be your first call tomorrow.” He takes your hand and tugs you into his chest. The two of you stand toe to toe, chest to chest. There’s still others posing for their pictures. But in the soft whispers of the nearly empty room, you don’t think you care enough to stop. The kiss is hardly a second long. But clearly not enough. Calum’s hand settles on your hips.  “No, no,” he laughs as you pull away. “That’s too little of a tease.”

The second kiss is longer, an exhale to how long you’ve been holding your breath. Your fingers tease at the button of Calum’s suit jacket. It’d be so easy to pop up, slip your hands inside. But that’s a bit too far. For now at least. You’re gentle as you pull away from the kiss. Though even in your own throat you can feel the whine of displeasure building. 

Calum presses one final kiss to the middle of your forehead. “Tonight you should celebrate. Your first original art piece selling for 135 thousand dollars. You’ve eclipsed my twenty thousand almost a full seven times over.”

“That number doesn’t feel real.”

“It is. It’s on record. It’s a number so big that I know for a fact Walter’s going to have to do several wire transfers with his bank.”

“It's unfathomable.”

“Fathom it, baby.”

You can’t. How can a number that big be real? You drop your head to Calum’s shoulder. Maybe it could be real. Maybe it’s a number so inconsequential to Walter that he’s not worried about how it has to get paid. Maybe it’s a little bit worth it for the sweet taste of small revenges. There’s nothing to say Walter heard that conversation, and there’s nothing to say that he didn’t. But you carry with you a little piece of you vindicated nonetheless. 

You’re not sure you can fathom anything in the sterile lighting. You still feel much too much clay in the suit, firmly molded by someone else’s hand and not your own. If you’re going to celebrate such an accomplishment, you’d like to feel like yourself. And you don’t feel like yourself here. “Can we get out of here?”

“Absolutely we can. I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

“Home, I think I just want to go home.” 

“And home as in your place?”

You shake your head at the question. “Yours.”

“Yeah,” Calum breathes. “Okay. We can go home.”

It’s easy to leave. Calum manages to flag down his parents and let them know about your early departure. David’s grin is wide as he embraces. “A stellar night!” he cheers. “I hope you’re proud of yourself like we’re proud of you!”

“Thanks, David.”

It’s strange to think that you should be proud, when you’re not sure if anything’s truly happened. But it had to have happened. Why else would your photo be taken? Why else would you have a stack of business cards in your pocket and in Calum’s pocket too? 

Joy’s embrace is still as strong as she presses a kiss to your temple. “Enjoy the rest of your night, okay? You deserve it.”

On the way out, you pass by the sculpture of the woman bowed as she picks up the basket to settle onto her hip. Her veil still ripples behind her. You wonder why in that moment, under what seems like such a mundane chore, she feels so compelled to be so bold. Yet you can’t ask her. She is a woman captured in motion but frozen by the marble she’s carved out of it. Held so perfectly still you’re glad stone can’t ache. It’s a craftsman ship you admire but not out of envy. You know you don’t want to work with stone. You know you don’t want the life of the chisel. But you get it. You understand why she stands where she does. You want your art in a museum. You want your art on more walls too than the shed and now Walter’s house.  It’s a thought that feels strange. It feels heavy but is light enough for you to carry it. Art’s always been a release, the place to escape when you can’t seem to escape the hardships of life. You thought it was something just for you. And it is--but maybe you can share that with others too. Maybe it’s okay if things are doing multiple things at once. 

“I’ll get a ride back. Give me two seconds.” There’s only one car that was meant to collect all four of you at the end of the night and you’d rather not leave his parents stranded. 

“I’ve got plenty of time,” you hum in return. Here, outside, things feel a bit more normal. Time feels right again, the seconds are seconds, sixty of them to make a minute. Sixty of those to make an hour. It’s as it always should be outside. 

The night is cold, but the chill feels great against your otherwise clammy skin. The breeze is an exhale. Even if the suit is well fitted, it feels like it breathes better outside. You can breathe better now. You momentarily regret not having an additional layer. But you shouldn’t be out long. You step in behind Calum, winding your arms around his waist. Part of it is out of warmth. He tends to always run a little bit warmer than you do. But you’re also acutely aware of the ache deep in your belly. The studded collar to the jacket gives Calum an edge, sets him out from the other boring black tuxedos of the night. He looks handsome, devilishly so. Your fingers dance over the buttons again, holding the jacket together. You know it’s a dangerous game. You know that every paparazzi is aware of the event tonight but you don’t care. 

You slip the top button undone, anticipating Calum’s going to say something. Yet, he says nothing. So you move on and slip the second one undone while planting a kiss at the nape of his neck. It is a dangerous game. The way you’re teasing at the other buttons of his shirt. It’s entirely too public. But there’s a little thrill to it all. If people are going to talk, why not give them something to talk about? Calum threads his fingers through yours, stilling your steady up and down over his buttons. The headlights cut through the evening well before the car makes the final turn onto the street. But it slows as it approaches and you assume it’s the car meant for you and Calum. Perhaps, folks were waiting nearby for people to pick up.

Calum brings your hand to his lips before starting forward to the car. “Think you can keep your hands to yourself during this ride?” he teases. 

“I could if I wanted to.” 

“Do you want to?”  

The question tastes sweet. It coats your tongue in a way that you never want to swallow it back down. “Do you want to?” you ask. It leaves you in a pant, but you savor the taste as try to regain some of your breath.  

Calum’s hair is in your hands. His tongue traces at the thumping vein of your neck. The front door is closed behind you, pressed against your back. Your right hip is in the palm of his hand. The grip firm as he pulls you in. Your leg hitching up, wrapping around his hip. This feels right. This feels so good. Calum ruts up against your clothed crotch and you know the answer to the question. Much like he knew the answer when he posed the question to you earlier. You know he wants to. You know you want to as well. 

Outside of that museum, you could feel yourself unthawing. Even with the fear, you had to admit to yourself that Calum looked good in the all black attire. You wanted a taste long before you got into the SUV, but all that flew out the second the car started towards the museum. You couldn’t think about anything else as you spiraled around your fear. Some of the anxiety stll lingers, but much less than before. The thought teases the back of your mind that you’re going to somehow wake up and not have actually lived any of it. It’ll just be a dream. 

But the thought is drowned out by Calum’s touch against your body. There’s no way his touch isn’t real, not when it feels like it can feel a burn. A stark contrast to the back seat of the ride here. You two sat comfortably in the back of the SUV. The drive was mostly quiet. Occasionally the driver posed a question and you and Calum. You’d answer and the volley would fall. But all underneath that was a current, a strong enough tide that was going to pull you both under the moment you got alone. You held hands, but it was tame. So much tamer than the second the two of you got inside. 

And now that you are alone, you are more than happy to succumb. But you can’t help the question, not at the way Calum barely got the door closed. He laughs against your throat, nose running the length of your neck up to your jaw. “Well, yes, I do want to. Thank you for asking. Do you?”

You drop your hold from his hair to cup his jaw to bring his face up for you to see. His gaze is lazy to meet yours but once it does, your stomach melts. His eyes drip, a gooey dark brown that you can feel. “I do,” you return. It’s breathy, but you laugh all the same. 

“Then I truly think you ought to tease me less.”

“Oh, I tease too little. I tease too much. Which one is it, love?”

The retort is primed, you can see it curling on his lips but you kiss it away. You don’t really care which one it is. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that your body is seared by his touch. What matters is that you get to taste every inch of him, that you get to consume him totally and utterly. And God, you know you will have everything when the retort from Calum melts into a whine from his throat that you swallow down.

“I think you might be the death of me if you keep making sounds like that,” you laugh. His whines have turned your insides into liquid. All you want is to hear them again and again. 

Calum hums against your throat, the vibration falling down your spine to your toes. “I’m not CPR certified, so please refrain for the time being.”

“I’ll be sure to pencil my metaphorical death into your schedule.”

 You’re not even sure how you manage to get from the front door. For a moment as shirt tails are pulled out from pants, you worry you don’t need to move from the front door. In a place this big, it almost feels like it’ll be impossible to get caught. But that’s only a thought. The reality is that you two do take yourself from the front door all the way to the back elevators. 

The reality is that you don’t wait for the doors to close this time. The inches feel like miles and you’ll do whatever you need to close them. It’s only steps, and you’re grateful for that. You’re grateful it’s only steps. You’re grateful it’s only buttons. You’re grateful it’s only hallways. You’re grateful when the edge of Calum’s bed hits the back of your knees. 

Calum laughs as you lose your balance. The backward shuffle is a little unforgiving if taken too far. But the bed catches you. From above Calum sheds the undershirt, leaving his bare chest on display in front of you. A sight you know you’ve seen a hundred times over, but never get over seeing. Perhaps, he should be carved next, molded into stone so that you don’t forget the sight. 

He holds himself above you, palms pressing into the mattress on either side of your head. A smattering of black ink across the cosmos of his body and you’re sucked into his orbit. “I think you worried incorrectly about those stars you painted over,” you whisper, finger tips tracing over his golden skin. Things just make sense when you’re with Calum, even if it’s not easy, at least he’s there. At least he’s always rooting in your corner. “They’re dying anyway, what we see of them. And I’ve never felt more alive.”

“Never?”

“Never,” you return. You’re not good at letting people in before now. You’ve always been too afraid of it. But you’re glad you have Calum. You’re glad he’s in your life. 

“I know I can do better though. We’ve barely gotten started.” 

Calum doesn’t need to do better. That’s the thing. It’s not a scale of passing or failing. It’s not a test. It’s a dial. It’s the antenna that needs just a little extra help to get a strong signal. It’s about what’s unearthed, and excavated. It’s about the fact that you know you love this man. Who else could’ve gotten you to showcase your art to the world? Who else could’ve gotten you to open up about your family? Who else would’ve gotten your permission to pervade? You knew you didn’t want to let Calum go and you knew it’d be hard work. But it would’ve been so, so much easier to stay locked away. 

This man has you dreaming of things you wouldn’t have dared of. Maybe you could do art full time. Maybe the entire landscape of your life has just opened up to you. You’d be a fool to think love was about passing, doing everything right and perfect. But you don’t correct him. When he dips closer to you, you happily take the kiss. When his tongue traces the valley of your chest exposed with every undone button, when he takes hold of your flesh, you wonder if you should carve yourself in his hold too. 

As if somehow the statute of Calum is incomplete without his devotee. All you have on your tongue is his name, all you have is the gratitude as he works down the length of your body. And though you’re on display, though you’re the one under him, you know you’re addicted. You know no touch will be the same. No one after will make you feel like Calum does. Your body is a prayer and only Calum knows the verses. Only he knows just where to bite, where to kiss in just the right way to bring every neuron to life, every nerve ending ignited. 

The stretch of his fingers, the whisper of his lips at your jaw of I’m so proud of you are your undoing. And over and over you want the words etched into your skin, I’m so proud of you. You don’t know if Calum’s talking about how well you’re taking him, how well you match the pace of his hips with yours, or if it’s about the auction, or if it’s all of them, but you love the sound of the phrase leaving his lips. 

“Oh, fuck!” It comes out hard, a strain over your lips and tongue and through your teeth. Your legs are shaking, muscles quaking from the exertion. But the crash of your orgasm is faster this time than before. You’re not sure you even expected it. You knew it was coming, but you’d gotten too lost. Between the final stages of undressing and you settling atop Calum’s waist, you’d gotten lost in the sting of Calum’s grip on your hips. You’d gotten lost in the way he thanked you. You’d gotten lost in the way Calum drove his hips up to match the pass of your hips coming down, a perfect coordination of ecstasy. Well practiced but always so divine as the two of you meet, body to body, soul to soul. 

And even when the release comes in blinding, you don’t worry to fight against it. Calum pulls you in, hands cupping both cheeks as he seals your mouth in a kiss. It’s slow--lips meeting and parting but so unhurried the seconds feel like they might be hours. You think you’d like to spend hours in his embrace, getting lost again and again in the soft brush of his lips, the entanglement of his tongue.  You’d be okay with a sleepless night, if the morning sun greeted the two of you as long as it meant that it was Calum you’d been buried in and up against. 

“Come back to me, my love.”

You hear the command, but you’re hazy. You’ve already kept track of the orgasms, but you think they’re definitely catching up. Your bones feel heavy but you blink back up and Calum’s hovering above--the inverse of where you’d been previously. His thumb strokes over your cheek and you cusp his fingers into your grasps. “I’m still here.”

“Barely here. But here.”

“It counts for something,” you huff. 

“You’re supposed to be more alive than ever, but alas.” The end of the sentence lilts up into a tuft of laughter. You take your free hand and swat at his chest. The tap barely connects. 

“I look so alive.” Your eyes are closed. The desire to sink into sleep next to Calum, under his sheets, warm in a way that’s beyond body temperature, is strong. 

“Something like that,” he returns. 

You feel him as he pushes in closer, a kiss to the end of your nose. “I love you, you know.” Your lips brush over Calum’s as you speak, not in a kiss, but due solely to the proximity. You two are sharings breaths, his exhale is your inhale. There will be a small part of him that is pressed into your lungs, a piece of him that you’ll carry around. 

“I love you.”

Calum’s smile is evident when with your eyes still closed. God, you should say that phrase more. The two of you had an exchange of actions that spoke more than the words themselves, but when you feel his lips turn up into a grin against yours, you can’t lie that it makes your chest warm. You did that. You make him feel that way. 

The blink of your eyes open is slow but Calum’s still smiling in front of you. “You’re pretty when you smile.” Calum’s smile turns shy and you already know he’s blushing even if you can’t see it fully. “And when you blush too.”

“Shut up. But don’t. Tell me more.”

“I’ll tell you as many times as you need.”

There’s a moment of silence, shared breathes passing back and forth. You can see it on his face though as the smile settles into pensiveness. He chews at the inside of his bottom lip. “Ask me,” you command. You know there’s a question. There’s no need to deny it. 

“When you called the palace home, what-what did you mean by it?” There is so much hope in the question, wrapped in a thin lace of fear. You know the sound all too well. 

“It feels like home. Like it’s safe. But more importantly, you make it feel safe and feel like home. Joy and David make this place feel like home. That’s what I meant by it.”

“That might be the third best thing you’ve said to me yet.”

“What’s the first and second?”

“First is every time you’ve said you loved me and second is still when you said you wanted to steal my mum. I’ve never had someone phrase their adoration for my mother like that.”

You snort. “It was a moment of weakness. And I’m actually offended second isn’t when i said I wanted you to fuck me, in lamest terms of course.”

Calum presses more weight into you. You sink a bit more into the mattresses, cradling his head as he buries his face into your shoulder as he laughs. “God, as much as that sentence was and still is quite hot, no, it doesn’t make the list. I’m much more romantic than that.”

“A near fatal flaw, but I excuse it.”

“Alright, Shakespeare.”

___________________________________________

Your phone vibrates against the table. You hardly think it could be Lilith. You’d emailed her, thanking her again for her kind words last night and to see if she could help you in the direction of getting a website set up. It’d taken you a while to find her card as you and Calum both work through the stacks unearthed from suit and pant pockets after rousing in the morning. Calum found her card in his stack after a solid five minutes of shuffling. You set it apart and then rubber banded the remaining cards together as to not lose them. You’re sure you’ll be headed to an office store soon to find some way to store all the cards you got properly, but for now the rubber band would have to work. But it wouldn’t make sense for Lilith to respond to your email a measly twenty minutes later. She seemed like a much more important person than that. Certainly, she would respond, but you expected at least a week before she got back. 

Calum slides you over a mug, instead the liquid is a lighter brown than his cup. “Two eggs or three?”

“Two,” you answer, flipping your phone over. Calum insisted on cooking breakfast for the two of you and though you’re not a big breakfast person, you obliged. There wasn’t much you could fight as he batted his big brown eyes at you. 

Melvin. New Text Message, reads the notification on your screen. Your first thought is that it’s about Charlie and Teagan. He’d agreed that he’d reach out to you if he needed a little extra help with Diana away. But you weren’t sure he’d take the offer. 

As you unlock the device and pull up the thread all suspicions about him reaching out about your siblings disappears. Saw this article about the banquet. Congrats on your painting raising 135k. Quite proud of you, kid. It looks phenomenal. The shakes in your hand nearly cause you to lose your grip on the phone. How’d he even see this? Was he looking for information about you? Had it just happened across his newsfeed? 

Quite proud of you, kid. 

Words you always wondered how’d they feel. Even if it’s not words you’re hearing, seeing them alone makes your chest constrict. Your lungs burn. You don’t want to cry. It could be nothing, but it’s Melvin. That is your dad and it doesn’t feel like nothing. It doesn’t feel like you have to keep him so far away from your life. 

Quite proud of you, kid. You are his kid, even if you’re closer to thirty than your teens. All you’ve wanted was for him to care. All those years fighting, hiding away, could’ve been used for something more restorative. Yet all the pain and anger wouldn’t have made you receptive towards it. Maybe you can now. Maybe there’s something there. But what happens if you jump the gun? What happens if you get your hopes up and they fall flat again? The tears are hot on your cheeks. 

Thanks. Your first move for the ‘m’ first and then you pause. Using his name doesn’t feel right. But you can’t bring yourself to use dad. This here is the gap. Do you leap it? I appreciate that. A lot. Probably more than you know. 

“Baby, chocolate chips or blueberries in the pancakes?”

“Whatever you want is fine,” you answer to Calum’s question, phone clutched in your hands. You catch the croak in your voice, but you don’t dare look up should Melvin respond quickly. 

“I was thinking blue-Oh god. What happened? Why the tears?” 

You can’t look up. You can’t. Not when your phone shakes again.  Think you could come over for dinner next week? I’ve heard around that my cooking’s not that bad. I’d love to hear more about the event. Charlie and Teagan are asking about you too. 

“Is it bad?” Calum asks. 

You shake your head. “No, just- one second.” Your fingers are swift over the keys. I can bring a dish too. Would Friday work?

Friday’s perfect. Please extend an invitation to Calum too. 

Your hands are trembling. You feel like you’ve run a marathon but managed to scroll back up the thread and hold the phone out to Calum. Words are going to fail you. Your throat is tight, even you can feel it. Furling your fingers into fists to get the tremors out. Calum reads over, lips whispering as he reads with half breathes. His brows raise before his eyes meet yours. 

“This-this is good. And you’re willing to meet for dinner?”

“I mean it’s Melvin, so yes. But-” there the words go. They’re all leaving you. He cares. He fucking cares. “It’s like-” The tears are choking you, closing up your throat each time you try to speak. “He cares.”

The embrace is warm. You settle your head into his sternum and try to inhale. “Baby, he’s made his mistakes, big ones. But he’s always cared. I’m glad you’re at a point to embrace that.”

You’re not sure if you embrace the right word. But something about him reaching out about the banquet, after how nervous you’d been, unlocks the dam. The thing you’d been swallowing back comes barreling forward. You can’t hold it back. “I hope the stove’s not on,” you manage to hiccup out. “I don’t think I want to be the reason for burnt pancakes.”

Calum’s laughter rumbles through his chest. “I turned it off. Take all the time you need.”

[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."

[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

[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 ❥

[starshipsofstarlord]

Steady Study

Summary: With his exams exhuming the next day, Luke wants to study, however he is realising that there are other things to do with his time, like spend it with you

Pairing: nerd!bf!Luke Hemmings x reader

Warnings: fluff, worrying of grades

“I cannot wait to ace that test tomorrow.” Luke mumbled as he allowed his azure eyes to scale through the words in the large study book that barely fit in his hands. He was wearing his glasses, the rims were circular with a winged hilt at the top corners, and his hair was askew from him ruffling his fingers through it earlier on. He was about to take his masters degree, and you were insanely proud of your boyfriend.

“You’re going to do great Lu.” You encouraged him as you stalked up from behind him after placing your steaming coffee down on the side table, and wrapped your arms around his giant shoulders. “After all, you already have all of this branded in your mind, you’ve been reciting it for the last month every time you’re talking in your sleep.”

His mouth tilted up at the sides from your voice as he leant down to give each of your hands an individual peck. “I know baby, I just feel like I have to keep reading it up until the last moment, because what if I forget something at the very last minute?” Luke stopped reading as he angled his head upwards to peer at your face, a slightly worried expression conforming his features.

“That’s not going to happen, and even if it did, you’re still going to pass with flying colours Lu. You’re the best in your class, so come into the kitchen and eat dinner with me pleeeaaassseeeee.” Apparently you were convincing as Luke inhaled deeply for the first time in hours and closed the book that had tried to starve him, he stood up on his long legs and followed you to sit down and eat.

The pair of you didn’t talk much over the meal, however it wasn’t awkward, in fact it never was, it was just comfortable. “Thank you for dinner baby.” He leant down and pecked your forehead as he grabbed your plate before you had a chance and headed over to the sink. He scrubbed the dishes, rotating the sponge around the radius of the ceramic, purposely standing in your way so that you couldn’t take over.

He was aware he’d been very distracted recently, and whilst it was for a good deed in consideration of his future, it had left you mucking out on most of the chores. He wanted to help, he had been stressed but so had you, he understood. “Go to bed darling, I’ll finish up here and join you. I won’t be long.” You obediently did as he said, walking up the stairs with heavy and tired lids as you eventually entered your bedroom.

You wanted to stay awake until Luke joined you, but you were just far too tired. When he finally came to join you Luke quirked a gentle smile, you were completely crashed out upon the mattress, your face mushed into the pillow as you gently breathed, the duvet drafted over your entirety like a warm cocoon.

He crawled in beside you, careful as to not awaken you, he was tired too if he were being honest. He glanced at the bedside table on his side, one of his many study books laying there, haunting him with an immediate passion. It wanted to be opened, and he had recently caved into continuously doing so, but instead he shut off the glowing lamp, ignoring it as he laid in silent rest with you.

[theshyspy]

bookstore au with ashton irwin - headcanon

Based on this request from the very talented @littledrummerangie,thank you for sending it in lovie🦋

He was a bookworm who loved the familiarity of the known. He didn’t even notice how everything was a routine: the way he went to the same cafe and browsed the menu but got the same coffee each time, before heading to the usual bookstore a few feet away.

Which was why Calum was so confused as he stopped outside a newly opened bookstore, his eyes fixed at you moving inside it. In no time he had pushed the door open and started browsing through the shelfs, waiting for you to ask if he needed any help.

He swore you had the voice of an angel as you moved towards him, smile on your face as you wondered if he needed anything. (He didn’t, but) shortly after you were recommending all sorts of books.

He was so quick to return the next day, claiming he forgot to get one of the pieces on his wishlist (something he definitely hadn’t). He was just hypnotized, adoring the way you strang your sentences together and how all your opinions was so reflected. He could listen to you talk about anything for hours.

Every other day he would come up with a new excuse and be back again, not that you minded. He was your favourite customer, always smiling and asking about your day. Once in a while he even brought you coffee (he swore the barista had made an extra on accident but it happened way too many times for it to be a coincidence)

You always looked forward to your meetings, but was getting impatient, kinda hoping he would ask you out.

He most definitely wanted to ask you out. But it had to be perfect, something you couldn’t say no to.

So when your favourite author came out with a new book, he figured it was his time to shine.

At the end of your shift, he was waiting patiently outside the door. A basket resting on his arm, filled with food you’d briefly mentioned you enjoyed. To say you were surprised was an understatement, but you followed with a smile plastered on your face as he said he knew the perfect reading spot.

And that’s how you ended up with your head in his lap, his fingers gently playing with your hair as you fell in love with both your new book and the man beside you.