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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 6 months ago

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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+

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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.”

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood imagine #calum hood au #prince!calum #calum hood x reader #calum hood x gender neutral reader #5sos #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic

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let-the-bands-take-c0ntrol · 2 years ago

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12 Days of Holidays: Day 5

Calum HoodXFemale Reader

Warnings: pure fluff, winter weather, mentions of food, soft touches, rambling moments, first kisses

“What are you doing for New Year’s?” Calum questioned. His back was pressed up against one of the bookcases. A crunch followed right after his words and you looked over to see him munching on potato chips, a large bag that was usually shared with a family.

“Uh as far as I know, to my dad’s for a barbeque in the afternoon and that’s about it,” you said, placing one last book on the shelf and wheeling your cart to another section. Calum was hot on your heels, stuffing another chip into his mouth and once again taking a spot on the edge of a bookcase. “What are you doing?” you asked, face frowning at how chaotic the shelf looked. You sighed in annoyance as you grabbed the handful of books that didn’t belong in the section.

“I was invited to some party downtown, but. . .I thought maybe you and I could meet up at Cane’s Park and watch the firework show.” There was a tinge of hope in Calum’s voice and you understood where it was stemming from. It had been a week since your official first date with him. The two of you had been trying to plan for a second date, but since the holiday traffic was picking up neither of your schedules would align. Right now Calum was spending his lunch with you while you worked to get the bookstore ready for an author meet and greet. There was a definite shift in your dynamic now that your feelings were out in the open. For starters, Calum wasn’t hesitant about touching you more. He’d give you forehead kisses, squeeze your hip whenever he passed behind you, the hugs you two shared were longer too.

“You want to spend New Year’s together?” you asked. The dating part only just started, but you had practically been spending most of your days with him before the first date. Even went on a skiing trip with him and his friends, so you weren’t sure why Calum asking you to spend New Year’s Eve with him made you nervous.

“Yeah. Is that weird?” Calum thought for a moment. “Like I know we just started dating, but I thought it’d be a good second date. I could get some blankets, and snacks. We don’t even have to go all the way inside the park, we can just chill in the back of my truck and watch the fireworks from there.” He was starting to ramble.

“Calum-”

“Or we can wait until after the new year for our second date,” he continued on.

“Cal!” the volume of your voice raised higher, but he was too wrapped in his rambling to hear. You rolled your eyes, setting the books down and grabbing Calum by his cheeks to pull him in for a kiss to shut him up. It took Calum a second to realize that your lips were on his, frozen in his spot for a second before kissing you back. The hand that was holding up his bag of chips lowered. After a few seconds you pulled away.

“Y-You kissed me?” he blurted seemingly perplexed.

“I did,” you laughed, “I had to shut you up somehow.”

“That was our first kiss,” Calum said this time. You chuckled again and went back to reshelving.

“It was,” you replied, finally turning to face him. Calum still seemed a bit shell-shocked, his fingers going up to touch his lips where yours were just pressed. Calum wanted to kiss you again, and he glanced over to see you had been watching him. His cheeks felt heated at being caught and he cleared his throat.

“Can I kiss you again?” Calum timidly asked, taking a step closer to you. You smirked at his words, lifting on your tippy toes to reach his height again. Calum smiled down at you, his hand grabbing at your waist this time to pull you closer even more. His head dipped, but you weaved your head so that your lips were near his ear.

“You can get another kiss on New Year’s Eve,” you whispered, pulling away from him and receiving a groan in return. Calum licked his lips and he gave you a playful glare in return. He wasn’t opposed to waiting another day or so, but he had wished the kiss you just had lasted longer for him to at least think about it until you kissed again.

“Fine, New Year’s. It's a date," Calum smiled, pulling you into a hug and kissing the top of your head.

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unlikelyempathpruneauthor · 1 year ago

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Nothing Lasts forever nothing stays the same pt:4

A/N: hey hey hey, sorry for my terrible absence, so this is from the continued series in the Calum master list, this is probably like super old stuff but I figured I would continue it for those who have been waiting for ever. again so sorry I never came back up here. so here we go! thank you love you all!

2014

Today was the release of your 3 eps and you were all pretty chaotic at the house today.

At the moment you were calling your mum, “you sure you aren't spreading yourself too thin? Are you guys eating and drinking water?'' She asked, going momma bear on you two, “yes mum we are fine, the stress comes with the job,'' Luke said as she hummed, “yes I know darling, but you don't need to work all the time. I trust you two to take care of one another,” she said as you glanced at luke and nodded, “yeah mum don’t worry, we will,” you said as she sighed, “alright well i love you both, please be safe and lord don't get any tattoos,” she said as you looked at one another with a smirk, “yes mum we won't, don't worry benny is here all the time,” luke said as you giggled and ended the call heading downstairs.

“So, you didn't get any tattoos yet?” he asked as you purse your lips, “uh no, haven't gotten one yet, why?” you asked as he shrugged, “would you want to get one with me? Like… a twin thing?” he asked you glanced at his eyes, “are you for real?” you asked as he nodded softly, “yeah, do you have any idea what we could get?” he asked as you shook your head, “i'm not sure, lu are you serious? When would we get this done?” you asked as he sighed, “not sure our 18th birthday maybe? And also it could be a part of your graduation gift?” he said as you rolled your eyes at him.

He was using this as a way to get a tattoo, your graduation, you ended finishing school overseas and well you finished thankfully, luke on the other hand decided to just drop out of it because he was not being able to do work any of the work, and when you finished he was really proud of you for finishing school and he thought why not get a tattoo.

“Lu, you can still finish school, you know that? And you don't have to do anything for me,” you said as he shook his head, “nonsense, we are getting a tattoo bean, we have a couple months, so whatever you think looks nice, we’ll get it done,” he said walking away leaving you as you shook your head with a smile.

After the release of your ep’s you were now filming your very first ever music video that included other people than just you guys..like an actual crew. You were all so happy that your ep’s were a hit, especially, she looks so perfect. Ash and Micheal had worked on this song together fast one day and we all immediately chose it for one of our main ep’s.

You were getting dressed in your dressing room as lu walked in asking for fashion advice, “y/n! Should i wear this top or this one?” he asked as you looked between both of them and chose the black one, “it's more punk i guess, i don't know, now help me,” you said as you pulled out two tank tops of your own, he looked at both of them and shook his head, “No? No what lu?” you asked as he looked for a t-shirt as you frowned, “what lu i don't want to wear a t-shirt, help me pick out between these two,” you said as he glared at you, “y/n as your brother i don't want to choose a shirt that will make guys want you, but since you asked the black one is nice,” he said as your lips formed a line and you shook your head, “in that case i will wear the red one, i don't want to match with you in a music video, we have enough christmas photos as is,” you said as he rolled his eyes leaving to go get his makeup done as you finished getting dressed.

Once you were all ready you all got into places and started to film. You felt so much excitement, the energy in the room was exactly how you wanted it, your lives were going to change after this. You were finally living your dreams.

“CUT…okay y/n you and Luke have a bit too much eye contact and chemistry, try looking at uhh calum more,” the director said as you nodded, “okay let's roll these two scenes one more time…and ACTION!” he said as you moved over to calum who was singing and looking with a smirk making your chemistry public in the music video and well of course to all your fans.

Weeks later as you were scrolling through twitter you had seen 5sos trending in the hashtags. You quickly sat up in excitement wondering why you were trending in the first place. You were quick to click on it and it had clips of you and Calum in the SLSP music video. You sighed then clicked on the tweets, you then looked at the comments.

@mikeycult2011: Is it just me or are y/n and Calum announcing their relationship in this video?

@calumy/nclub: so i think it's settled, y/n and calum are dating and not holding back.

@hemmotwinsdaily: y/n and calum are def dating, have you seen the behind the scenes?

That comment caught your eye, you clicked on the video with a small clip inserted…

You two were standing next to one another as you danced to the beat, then it moved on to a clip where you were being asked questions, “so y/n is this song about you?” the camera man asked as you giggled, “why?” you said as calum spoke, “its because shes so perfect, that is why we wrote this song..” he said as you giggle, “well who wrote the song?” he asked as cal grinned, “well i didn't, but i sung it..” he said and you looked at the camera man, “he's just jealous that i'm so perfect and he isn't,” you said looking at calum with a smile as he playfull rolled his eyes, “y/n..” he says softly making you smile, and then it cut to the others.

Okay maybe it was a little flirty between you two, but i mean how were they assuming that from one clip. You knew luke would be all over it because as soon as you were getting out of bed luke walked in slamming your door, as you looked at him with wide eyes, “Lu! At Least knock! You can't come in here like that!” you said as he shook his head, “NO there is a reason, you and calum are blowing up on twitter and instagram- uh pretty much everywhere, PEOPLE ARE EVEN SHIPPING YOU!” he yelled as you rolled your eyes, “Lu i was just following directions from the director, it's not a big deal,” you said as he walked back and forth, “what? Of course it's a big deal, we can't have people thinking your dating,” he said as you rolled your eyes, “luke robert hemmings, your being dramatic,” you said as he nodded, “okay fine i'm being dramatic, then why are we meeting with our media team later?” he said as you went pale, “what?” you said as he raised his eyebrows with a glare and walked out.

It was mostly true, there had been a meeting at the label to talk about our album but then Luke went on so they would talk about how we all wanted to continue with this, of course it was routine for us to do this when we release stuff.

As you walked in, Calum was looking for you, but you just looked away because of Luke and when he grew distracted, you sat next to cal. He then whispered, “why is he freaking out?” he asked as your lips formed a line, “uh, its about uh- wait have you seen twitter?” you asked as he shook his head, “no why?” he said as you purse your lips and took out your phone and showed him as he scrolled for a good few minutes as his jaw dropped and looked at you, “yeah that's why he's freaking out and apparently that's what this meeting is about,” you said as he nodded, “oh, but what exactly?” he asked as you shrugged and that's when the team walked in and you were all paying attention to what they had to say.

They pretty much told us all that this happened with every band and or artists, a scandal of some sorts, especially if there was a girl in the band. But you and cal behind the doors were together, you were dating. So how was this going to be resolved without hurting you two and the band.

“Okay, y/n your brother has told us that he wants these rumors to go away, but this is about you, and we suggest that we keep doing what we are doing, which is not say anything about it because this way in their eyes we are not confirming nor denying anything. You two clearly are good friends, and we can keep it that way from now on in the production, it's just how you two continue to act and if it's like this, we are more than happy to keep it that way, it's good publicity with the album coming out,” she said very eager as you looked over at luke who was a nervous wreck of course, but it was your life, “i think we should keep going like this, me and calum are just friends and if people can't handle a conversation between me and cal then they just have to get used to it. And also I think the fans are freaking out a bit just because this was our first music video and behind the scenes,” you said very blatantly as she agreed with you but seemed a tad bit upset but you knew if you agreed to what she said, it would have been worse.

As you and cal were in your booth together for the meet and greet, you two talked before fans were coming in, “i'm tired,” you spoke as cal looked over at you worried, “do you need a break? You can take a nap if you want,” he said as he looked over at Benny as you shook your head, “no i'm not that kind of tired, i'm tired of hiding us. I want to be with you, I just- i want to be with you, I'm tired of lying..” You said as a small sob escaped your mouth as his eyebrows knitted together softly as he held you despite eyes on you two, “I know love, I'm tired too, I know it's not easy, but we will make it, we just gotta let this pass, and well hopefully luke will be okay with this” he said as you nodded, “i hope so, i'm tired of this,” you said as you looked over at him while cal bit his lip, more than anything he wanted to hold you and kiss you but he knew he couldn't do that, especially here..

“Hi! How's it going?” you asked the girl that came through first, as cal was signing some stuff and having his own conversations, “its going good, how are you doing?” she said as you nodded, “it's going well, you gonna go to our acoustic show later? It's gonna be fun!” you said as she nodded, “oh yeah i am, you guys are amazing, when will you be doing stadium tours?” she asked as you looked at cal who shrugged, “i'm not sure when, but when we do you'll be the first to know,” he said with a smile as she nodded saying goodbye as the next person came through and after a while when fans were going over to your brother you and cal looked at one another with wide eyes, “stadium tours?! Like our own, not with one direction? Don't get me wrong they are awesome to open for but could you imagine doing our own?” you said as you laughed as he nodded, “i mean yeah we already have a bunch of ep’s out w-we have a whole selection! And with our album out we could,” he said as you nodded, '' I know! Oh my gosh!” you said as you two freaked out for a whole 5 minutes before talking to fans again.

As you walked down the stairs you had seen the house was quite empty, you looked around seeing no one was there, as you walked into the kitchen you made yourself a cup of tea. As you were waiting cal had crept up behind you giving you a big hug as you freaked out, “cal! Put me down!” you whisper yelled as you slapped his arms, “Cal! I'm serious! What if they catch us?!” you said as he kissed you placing you on the counter top as he grabbed the side of your head and you grabbed his neck. When he pulled away, you got down and slapped him, “Cal! Give me a warning next time,” you said as he smirked as you just stared at him, “cal what am i missing here?” you said as he sighed and kissed you again, “well love, you're brother and our best friends are going to london, which i think leaves us to…do, well anything you like..” he said as you frowned and you had totally forgot that this weekend your brother was going to london and you jumped hugging him and giving him a few more kisses.

As you two laid in bed he smiled admiring you, “what is it?” you asked as he shook his head, “no nothing, just looking at my girlfriend…which reminds me, we have a date tonight,” he said as you looked at him, “We do? What since when?” you asked as he chuckled, “starting right now, don’t worry it's later, which is why i will leave you to get ready, i'll be here to pick you up at 7,” he said as you giggled, “Cal you live one door away,” you said as he kissed you before leaving, “i'll be here at 7,” he said reminding you as you smiled. As soon as he shut the door you were quick to shower so you could plan your outfit and have enough time to do your hair and make up.

Your mom then called you up as you were getting dressed, “hey mum!” you said putting your shoes on, “hey darling- oh are you busy? I can call you back?” she said as you shook your head, “what no mum, i'm not, just getting ready is all,” you said as she nodded, “oh really for what may i ask?” she said with a smirk as you smiled, “a date with cal mum- i know what you're gonna say its too risky with eyes all over me, but i've never actually really gone on a date, so i just wanna experience this once, please?” you said as she smiled as you looked over at her with a frown, “mum what?” you said as she sighed, “i'm really happy you two are finally going on a date, i was gonna ask you if you and cal were up to anything because this would be a good chance to go out together without your brother knowing,” she said as you sighed, “oh mum- you should have just said,'' you giggled as she smiled, “oh darling, you know i'm here for the both of you, joy will be so happy to hear this, please send us pictures,” she said as you giggled.

As you said goodbye to your mum, on cue, cal knocked on your door and you opened it with a smile, you gasped as you saw him with flowers in his hand, “oh cal, you didn't have to get me anything,” you said as he brought you into a hug, “of course i did, love i have been waiting to do this, even if we had to do it like this,” he said as you giggled, “oh cal, i am the luckiest girl in the world,” you said as he brought your lips into his, “and i'm the luckiest guy in the world…now lets go, we have a pretty huge night might i add,” he said as you nodded as you left the house hand in hand getting into the car.

When you arrived you saw that you were downtown and he had been leading you towards an abandoned building, you looked towards it then spoke, “bubs, where are we going?” you asked as he smiled, “it's a secret love, the whole point is that you don't know, i know how you love surprises,” he said as you two walked in and you glared at him playfully, “you better not be planning to kill me,” you said walking up the stairs as he quickly turned at you as he laughed, “love, i'm not going to kill you,” he said as you giggled and arrived to the top of the building..It was a rooftop dinner, Calum had managed to set it all up while you were getting ready and he couldn't be more proud.

You walked up to the top, and you were fascinated with the view, you turned over to him as he admired you. He loves how your smile curved onto your cheeks and your dimples followed, “what?” you whispered as he looked down hiding his cheeks that were currently blushing, “nothing, just…im so in love with you,” he said in a whisper as he brought you close as you looked up at his brown eyes that told you everything you needed to hear, you knew what he meant was forever, you two never said i love you yet, so you knew that this was forever.

“I love you,” you said as he looked at you in awe of what you said, he knew he loved you since he met you, “you..do?” he said as you nodded, “i do, i love you more than words can describe, you make me feel safe. You are my person cal,” you said as he fell in love with you even more than he could ever describe, “i've loved you since the day we met, can't really describe it, but i knew that you would be in my life more than you already were…i can't believe this is our first date, and we have been together for 2 years already,” he said as you smiled, “i know i'm sorry, i promise you soon we will have many more dates to come,” you said as he kissed you and you grabbed onto his neck bringing you in closer.

As you ate dinner the night flew by so fast as you were in the park together walking hand in hand. It was a private park, so no one would be there to spy on you guys. You walked into this flower area, you were amazed by the flowers and how many there were. As Cal pulled you in closer to his chest, you looked up and kissed him. He put his hand in his pocket to get something out. It was a small box, you gasped as you looked at him, “what-” you said as he cut off, “i'm not proposing…yet, but this is just a promise to you, that i'll be here for you forever, no matter what you are first for me now and forever because i love you so much, i would move the sun and moon for you if i could, you're home to me..okay maybe i am proposing..” he said as you smiled with a giggle, he opened the box that revelaved the small ring and placed it on your finger. It was a simple ring, no attention would be brought to it, but you saw that inside it had engravings of the year you started dating, as well as a C in it.

As morning came you woke up to cal sleeping on your chest as you giggled, you laid there a while rubbing his head as you felt his every breath and heartbeat that came through. You smiled seeing how peaceful he was sleeping in your arms. You then heard a loud thump as you jumped quickly heading to the door as you heard through it and the other 3 have finally arrived, you were quick to wake up cal, “babe, cal, wake up. Things 1, 2, and 3 are here,” you said as he moved around and looked at you, “what?” he said as you began to worry, “hemmo, clifford, and fletcher are here!” you yelled slightly as his eyes went wide and was quick to get out of bed he put his clothes on before heading out as he looked like hell coming out of your room.

On his way out he bumped into your brother, “woah, cal you look like hell, what did you do this weekend?” he asked as cal hesitated, “nothing just slept, wrote music, the usual,” he said as luke nodded, “and y/n? What did she do?” he asked as he shrugged, “not sure, but i think her friend came over to hang last night and slept over, but she left a while ago,” he said as he nodded and headed over to your room.

On the other side of that, you were hiding everything that had Calum's name on it. So of course his hoodie, his sweats, the rings, anything that was given to you. Just then you heard a door knock as you ran over to the door and then turned to your room seeing everything was fine, you opened the door and you were faced with luke, “hey!” you said as you opened the door letting him in as he jumped on your bed and laid down, “hey, how was your weekend?” he asked as you gulped and looked at him, “good, one of my friends came over to hang last night and slept over, but she left over an hour ago,” you said as he nodded, “oh thats what calum ment?” he said as you nodded, “yeah, wait was he here?” you said as he nodded, “yeah- wait did you think he went with us?” he said as you nodded, “uh yes? I'm sorry you said that you were going with the guys, so I assumed everyone was going,” you said as you two laughed for a good minute as he caught you up with the news in london.

After the good weekend you were all back in the studio, your manager and well the rest of your team was there to deliver quite the news to you guys. You were going to have somewhat of your own tour, star stripe and maple syrup tour, and one direction had requested your presence in their stadium tour which left you all pretty speechless. You looked over at Calum with wide eyes as you two both said under your breaths, “stadium tour!” as your team was going over everything you were so excited than ever. You were gonna have your tour first before heading to the 1D tour, as well as your album being released before 1D as well. Things were all set for you.

Your tour had creeped up behind you quickly, you were on the road within hours. Right now you were heading over to your show in your tour bus as everyone was scattered doing their own thing.

Luke was next to you as he was on his phone doing god knows what, but you saw him smile a lot, “what are you doing on your phone lu?” you said as he hid his smile and looked at you, “what nothing bean? Just watching some videos,” he said as his smile crept as you squinted, “hemmo what are you doing?” you said getting close to his phone as the name Arzaylea popped up as you looked over at him, “who is Arzaylea? How ever you say that name,” you said as he rolled his eyes, “her name is Arzaylea, and she's is this girl im talking to, no big deal,” he said as your eyes went wide, “no big deal? Seems like it if you're smiling lukey poo,” you said teasing him as he groaned, “y/n stop that! She's just a girl I like, okay?” he said as you giggled, “that's good lu, you're meeting people, that's what it's all about lu,” you said as he smiled, “you think? She's really nice. I think you'll like her if she and I keep it going,” he said as you nodded, “yeah i think she seems nice. If you like her you know I'll be okay,” you said as you smiled knowing your brother was happy.

Once you arrived at your location you were all up and ready to rehearse your setlist for tonight then hang out for the rest of the day since the show was tomorrow. As your team was setting everything up you headed to your dressing room placing everything that you needed out. Just then luke walked in as you looked up, “hey bean, this guy shawn mendes, wants to know if we can hang, i said yes, unless you're not up for it,” he said as you nodded, the name was familiar, “yeah for sure, after rehearsal?” you asked as he nodded leaving you back to what you were doing.

As you were rehearsing you were in the front taking lead, halfway through the end you let Luke take lead as you were playing guitar. You had been practicing for a long time and you were now comfortable playing in front of the fans, they even loved it when you started posting, they couldn't wait to hear you, so far they were amazed by you and the band.

As you took a small break, due to luke needing to pee again, you all dispersed besides you and calum who stayed on stage, “so you excited?” he asked as you nodded, “yeah of course, i mean i'm playing a tour with my best friends and my boyfriend, how good does this get?” you smiled as he smiled, “i would say you're living the dream love,” he said as you smiled. Once everyone was back you all got back to rehearsing before hanging out with a friend of lukes, “oh by the way luke said we are hanging out with shawn mendes? Do you know him?” you asked as he nodded, “yeah he's got some good songs, check him out, but no yeah he's a cool dude,” he said as you nodded back to work. After rehearsing you are almost always allowed to go out for the night before the big show, so now you were out and about meeting Shawn mendes. As you all arrived to this party, you had no idea of, you wondered why you were meeting him at a party, but that's 5sos for ya at the moment.

As you walked in you went through this crowd and at the very end of it was shawn, luke had introduced you all to him as you all waved. As you were all hanging out he sat next to you as you smiled at him, “so you and luke are related?” he asked as you nodded, “yeah he's my twin brother,” you said as he nodded, “so what's it like being famous, is it as good as they say?” he asked as you shrugged, “well yeah i guess it is sometimes, but i never thought of us that way you know? I feel like we're still that band that does gigs every weekend, but now it's turned into more of an everyday thing which is cool,” you said very humbling as he nodded, “that's the dream huh? How old were you when you started,” he said as your conversation took off.

As the four guys looked at you two from afar luke was smirking and looked at the rest of the guys, “what if shawn and y/n date? Would that be the worst thing in the world?” he said as cal looked over at you as his jaw clenched, “i guess not, but should you really be getting in her business?” clifford asked as luke shrugged, “i don't know she was really supportive with me and this girl im talking to and well i wanna be supportive,” he said half drunk as ash looked over at cal who was ignoring all of this, “i don't know maybe they're just talking, they could just be friends?” Ash said as Luke smirked, “oh yeah you're just saying that cus you still like her,” he said as cal had enough and walked away.

From where you were sitting you noticed how angerly he was, you excused yourself heading to the rest of the gang, “hey where’s cal?” you asked as luke shrugged, “oh i think he went out- omg are you and shawn like..talking?” he said as he wiggled his eyebrows, “oh my gosh luke how drunk are you?” you said as ash spoke, “cal went over there,” he said as you nodded, “okay i'm gonna check on him, mike, watch luke please?” you said as you walked over to the door that lead to a balcony. You saw his shadow as you smelled and saw puffs floating around as you stood next to him, “since when do you..smoke?” you asked as he looked over with a frown, “i only do it when i'm stressed,” he said as you nodded, “oh okay..” you said as you looked around as he turned it off and held your hand, “im sorry, i just- with tour i don't know how to control my stress,” he said as you nodded, “it's fine cal, just please be careful with how much you smoke, people get addicted really easily,” you said as he nodded, “i promise,” he said as you nodded and got straight to it, “so why did you walk out so mad?” you asked as he rolled his eyes, “i know your brother is drunk and everything, but he has you already set with a guy? And ash still likes you, i c-cant win can i?” he said as you frowned shaking your head, “cal, hes my brother he says stupid stuff all the time, it doesn't mean he’s always right, and besides, shawn has a crush he was asking me to help him, he’s young as well and needs to be lead, we were him a few years ago. And ashton, he is my friend, nothing else, you already won a long time ago..” you said as he gave you half smile, “you always know what to say in the moment, i swear you have to be rehersing this,” he said as you giggled, “oh cal, i just say what i feel, and that's what i feel okay?” you said reassuring him as you two headed back to the party and had fun the rest of the night knowing that no one would remember it the next day.

….

Near the end of the tour, you were of course doing press or interviews and today, you were doing quite a fun one. You were asking each other some questions that the fans asked on twitter.

You went first asking your brother questions fans were curious about, “okay lukey poo, who in the band is your favorite?” you said reading it as you looked at him and he hesitated a bit, “uhh, for promo reasons i would say calum, but for non promo reasons i would say you,” he said as you giggled, “What- promo reasons? It would make sense for it to be me..” you said as you two laughed.

Next up was michael as you two couldn't even be serious not even for the shot, “i'm sorry michael is just too much…anyway clifford, what is your favorite condiment?” you asked as he shrugged, “what is a condiment?” he asked as you giggled, “its like what you put on food, like ketchup, ranch, mustard..?” you said as you looked over at the interviewer as she nodded, “yeah that's about right,” she said as you looked over at michael who twisted his mouth, “i don't know, i'm not a huge fan of any of those, but i'll say ranch,” he said as you giggled looking over at the camera.

As Ash came up you smiled as he smiled back, “Ok Ashton irwin, who is the best dancer in the band?” you asked as he really thought about it, “i would have to say you y/n,” he said as you nodded and put your hands up in the air, “nice!” you said as he smiled nodding back.

And finally your boyfriend who was far more nervous than you making you laugh, “okay calum, cool guy cal! What is your favorite song to perform?” you said as your eyebrows rose looking up at him, “Can we say unreleased songs?” he said as you shrugged looking over at the guys who nodded, “oh we can, okay this song isn't out yet, but i have to say disconnected,” he said making you laugh.

As you moved on into the interview everyone had their turn with everyone, the same way you did with the guys. Ashton had gone up next as he was currently asking Luke questions. Later on Calum was now asking questions and he was asking Luke, “Okay Lucas, who in the band would you not let date y/n?” he said making a face as all of you giggled, “uhh i don't know, probably none of you guys…yeah none of you guys,” he said very confidently as you were next, “okay y/n, who is your best friend?” he said as you glared at him playfully, “i would say you, i don't know but i mean i've known you longer…sorry michael,” you said as he giggled, “suck it michael,” he said as you two giggled and moved on.

Now it was micheal turn and you were up first, “okay y/n hemmings, who in the band have you had a crush on,” he said as you smirked, “no one,” you said giggling as he moved his head side to side, “doesn't seem like it, wait have you had a crush on anyone?” he asked as you shook your head, “nope no one,” you said, popping the p as he nodded, “hmm okay i believe you,” he said as you giggled.

…

Summer time for you guys had just meant more work, your album was out and you were starting to make your footprint in the US, while touring with 1D once again. You guys even worked on a couple music videos that were from the album which was a success. As the tour with 1D ended you were all able to hang about letting things settle for a bit as fans endugled on the new album and the music videos.

You guys had gotten news that you were attending the VMA’s, just after attentings the ama’s in which you won the new artists award which was shocking to all of you. You couldn't not believe that 2 years into your career you were now winning awards, and honestly you had to thank your fans, they were the reason you were all here.

As you all sat in the living room you were thinking about what you were all going to wear, “wait, what are we wearing? We have to match, cus last time we were very bad at matching, we all wore what we wanted,” you said as luke scoffed, “no you went all out, i thought we decided on black and red, you were the one mismatching by wearing a dress,” he said as you frowned, “it was black, i thought we were supposed to go fancy? Or at least dress nicer than we usually do?” you said with your eyebrows rose while ash and micheal sat there in silence while cal had just walked into the tension of the room, “geez, what's going on?” he asked as michael spoke, “y/n wants us to match at the VMA’s, cuz apparently a black dress was not our style,” he said towards luke as he glared, “what was wrong with the dress? I thought you looked nice?” cal said as you smiled, luke had seen the smile you gave him, it was quite different then the smiles you gave to luke, “thank you! Thats what im saying, lu, i think we should be a little more serious with what we wear,” you said, looking at him as he glared at you but then softened his face, “yeah, okay fine, we will, is red our color still?” he asked as you nodded which then made you all disperse. Besides Luke, he was still going over the interaction you and Calum just had…this would change everything if it was true what he was suspecting.

#calum hood fic #calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood 5sos #5sos #5 seconds of summer #calum hood fanfiction #calum hood au #calum hood x reader #calum hood fluff #calum hood fanfic

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styleshood4evr · 10 months ago

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not proof read, no title yet

calum hood x mc

this part doesn’t really have any warning just swearing, sexual context

18+ only minors dni

please please leave feedback I’ve been trying to develop this story line and decided just to post what I have so far.

word count 2,075

Violet and her father had a relationship somewhat reminiscent of Lorelei and Rory Gilmore. Her mother had run off when she was just a toddler leaving her dad with her and his new, but growing company. She grew up with him as her best friend, spending as much time in the office with him as possible, limiting the times he had no choice but to pawn me off to a sitter. That was a perk of being the boss and owning your own business after all.

Violet stands in his office now, the sun barely peeking the horizon, and holding the framed picture of her, four years old dressed in one of his button down shirts so big on her that it dragged the floor. The photo was taken in this office when it was still brand new to him. She stood where she is now in front of the big glass windows with a cheesy grin, hair in braids. She’s clad in the same thing now, the same shirt from all those years ago that now brushes her mid-thigh (with a pair of bike shorts underneath just in case). Every year for his birthday Violet recreates the photo with the same shirt and hair in braids. And ever since she’s been old enough, she “sneaks” into the office early to give it a little organizing and cleaning as well. While he may be great at what he does, creating a successful business with employees and awards from nothing, he lacks in that of keeping his own space nice and tidy.

This year felt even more special since it’s been nearly 6 months since Violet has seen him in person, since she’d been away at college, taking summer courses directly after spring semester to get ahead. While she has never missed his birthday, She hadn’t out right mentioned her arrival, opting to surprise him here, with his clean, organized office, and obligatory birthday morning shot of tequila. Traditions are traditions after all. His party had been fully planned with the receptionist, Susan she’d grown up around helping iron out all the details for her. It was grand that his birthday fell on a Friday this year. Friday’s have always been half work days, so it made perfect sense to have the party tonight.

She was sitting in his chair, having finished the organizing, watching the sun make it’s arrival over the city. He should be arriving in the next 30 minutes at least, so she opts to look over her to do list for the day and scroll tiktok until the door opens.

“Fuck!” Violet hears as she spins around in the chair and meets the face of a man who is definitely not her dad.

“Well, good morning to you too,” She smiles at the man. “I take it your Calum?”

She knew her dad had a new assistant but had yet to put the face to the name.

“Y-yeah, I’m so sorry, I thought you were Mr. Hart.” He says.

“Oh, just what every girl wants to hear.” Violet quips back as he approaches the desk, setting down the coffee he brought every morning as part of his assistant duties.

“No- shit, ‘m sorry, you must be Violet? I just definitely wasn’t expecting you to be here, and I didn’t see Mr. Hart’s car so I thought it was empty.” Calum had heard of her of course. He’d been in the office now for almost a year and almost immediately asked about the adorable photo sitting atop his boss’s desk. She definitely is a woman now, and he can see just how much she does look like her father.

“Don’t worry,” she giggles at his obvious embarrassment. “Just a little birthday tradition.”

He notices then how incredibly clean and neat the office is compared to how he left it last night, and the odd outfit she wears.

“I try to keep him organized, but he won’t have it, this place looks incredible.” He smiles at her. “The outfit is from the photo, right?”

“Thanks, yeah he’s a masochist in his mess, and yes I always recreate the photo for his birthday. Speaking of, would you mind?” Violet returns his smile, standing from the chair and hands him her phone with the camera open.

“Oh, yeah, of course” Calum takes the phone, trying not to be too obvious in his eyes dragging down her tanned legs.

“Would you do a regular, and .5 too please?” She poses the was she was in the original, hands by her side and a closed lip smile on her face.

“Here you go, I took a few if you want to check them out first.”

Violet takes her phone back scrolling though them and thanks Calum. It’s then her dad makes his appearance.

“Now, what do we have here?” They both snap their heads up and Violet immediately rushes her dad throwing her arms around him causing her shirt to ride up. Calum takes notice of the tight shorts covering her bum.

“Happy birthday, daddy!!!” Violet says when she finally releases from the hug.

“Happy birthday, sir.” Calum chimes in.

“Oh, you spoil me V, and thank you both.” Her dad replies taking in the office. “And I see you’ve wreaked havoc on my chaos, it looks great.”

“Coffee’s on the desk, sir.” Calum says starting to exit to his own desk right outside Mr. Harts office.

“Wait!” Violet says causing Calum to halt. She grabs a bottle of tequila front her bag and smile. “It’s tradition.” She grabs the two shot glasses she brought with her and pours them each handing one to her dad and one to Calum, taking the bottle for herself since she didn’t account for Calum, but felt the need to include him anyhow.

“Um, is this a test?” Calum asks looking between her and her father.

Violet wears a shit eating grin and tips the bottle towards the men, her father clinking his glass to Calums with a wink.

“Here’s to hell. May our stay there be as fun as our way there!” Violet says. Calum watches as Violet takes a swig from the bottle and his boss shoots his own letting out a snort laugh in surprise.

“Cheers,” he replies following suit.

“Alright, Calum go ahead and get started now.” Mr. Hart tells him as Violet is packing away the liquor.

“Yes, sir.” He replies heading to his desk without protest this time.

Violet hauls her tote bag over her shoulder and goes in for another hug with her dad.

“I’ve got to get going, there are preparations to be made.” She says.

Her dad gives her a smile and shakes his head. “Oh, my little girl, all grown up. Thank you for this, really. I love you and I’ll see you later.”

“Love you, dad.” She replies heading out.

Calum is sat at his desk now starting to respond to emails and flagging anything important for Mr. Harts attention.

“You got the invite for tonight, right?” Violet asked Calum stopping in front of his desk.

“Yeah! Susan said it’s alright to bring a friend, that’s cool with you?”

“Of course,” Violet smiles. “Like the invite said, very casual. Think college party but the beers cold and everyone is actually civilized.”

“Great, I’ll see you later, then.” Cal replies.

Calum was giddy the rest of the day. With finishing school and working he didn’t have too much time for social activities. He was already looking forward to the party, even if it was for his boss and would probably be filled with his older coworkers, but now he had Violet. Violet who he took a tequila shot with at 8 am. Violet who was fucking hot and seemingly kind enough to show up at the ass crack of dawn to surprise her father with a clean office and an adorable photo recreation. Not to mention when he checked his phone he had a new follower on Instagram. Violet. Her account was private but he saw that they had a couple mutuals which must be how she found him. She looked for me. He immediately requested to follow her and texted Luke, his roommate, best friend, and plus one for the party.

Cal: I met Mr. Harts daughter

Luke: yeah?

Cal: She gave me a tequila shot before work even started. “Birthday tradition” with her dad.

Luke: it’s giving cool girl

Cal: It’s giving she followed me on Instagram, and I didn’t even give her my handle. No personal conversation.

Luke: woah

Cal: So, this is love?

Luke: she must be hot

Cal: Guess you’ll find out tonight. Maybe there will be more young folk than previously expected. ;)

Luke: here’s to hoping

Violet couldn’t help herself. As soon as she made it back to her dads house she searched Calums name on instagram. It was a shot in the dark but it worked considering they actually had mutuals. Susan had told her that the new assistant was young and hot. She had failed to mention the aussie accent, or his tall stature. He must be at least 6 foot compared to her dad who he was only a bit shorter than. She was intrigued, and wanted to know more. His instagram wasn’t private but it was very resume friendly. Pictures of him and his friends, even some from the company christmas party that Violet couldn’t make it back for. She also discovered a few tattoos on his arms, that she couldn’t see earlier since he was wearing a dress shirt. She had a rule, though about “stalking” people. So even though he wasn’t private she still hit that follow button. Plus, it would give him the opportunity to request a follow to her. Which he did a couple hours later and she accepted immediately. She spent her afternoon prepping for the party. She made sure her dads house was clean and stocked the fridge with beer and seltzers, as well as put together a couple different pre-mixed cocktails in those big drink dispenser things you always see at barbeques. As far as food prep, she pre-placed an order for pizzas and picked up the cupcakes and cookies she had ordered. By the time her dad got home around 4, Violet was lounging on the couch with her best friend, Josie, or Jo for short. They were already ready considering the casual nature of the party. She wore a pair of denim overalls with a ringer tee, while Jo wore a band tee with jeans. (photo inspo below) Violet left her hair in two braids and pulled on a denim dad cap that had “gone fishing” embroidered on it.

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/761530618269233551/ Violet

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/27654985204269331/ Jo

When Calum got off he drove straight to his apartment he shared with Luke. He was reeling over Violet. It was fucking ridiculous honestly, like he’d never met a woman before. He had already looked through all 137 of her Instagram photos. Almost all of the recent “dumps” included her with another girl. He was a little worried that she was already in a relationship with said girl based on the photos. But maybe they were just best friends, who posted suggestive photos together. He wasn’t judging and he was really trying not to be a dick imagining the two girls, being intimate. When he got home, Luke was sitting on the couch scrolling his phone.

“Dude, look at this. Do you think she’s into girls?” Calum asks tossing his phone to the blonde boy with Violet’s insta open.

“Huh, aren’t all girls into girls nowadays? Doesn’t mean she’s not into guys too.” Luke replies. “Did you look at her story?” He asks noticing the pink ring around her profile photo.

“Wait, no click it.” Cal replies leaning over the couch.

The photo popped up, a mirror pic of the two girls. Violet clad in overalls and a backwards cap, the other in a t-shirt, both of their tongues stuck out touching at the tip. (inspo - https://www.pinterest.com/pin/491666484332704814/

“Fuck,” Luke says. “They’re both pretty fucking hot. I say, the photos don’t prove any sort of committed relationship. You’ll just have to find out, mate.”

“I feel feminism leaking out of my body at the thoughts in my head, ugh.” Calum sighs taking his phone back and heading into his room to get shower and get ready.

#calum hood #5sos smut #luke 5sos #calum 5sos #smut #calum hood au #calum #calum 5 seconds of summer #writing #calum imagine

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freshrained · 2 years ago

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i want to start a single dad! calum au UGH

#freshrained #calum hood #writing #fic #calum hood imagine #calum hood au #calum hood blurb #calum blurb #calum imagine #calum au #calum hood fic #calum fic #imagines #blurb

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kateisinwonderland · 1 year ago

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Remember my story, Black Ink

8 years have passed since I published it and now it may become a complete novel and a published one...What do you think about that?

I'm gonna leave the link to my inbox here so you can give me your opinion!

https://kateisinwonderland.tumblr.com/ask

Or go to my wattpad and leave a comment on the chapter I just posted about this (or send me a DM!):

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Black Ink | Tattoo artist Luke Hemmings fanfic

He worked in the tattoo parlour across the street and she worked in the florist around the corner.

He was the dark guy and she was the colourful girl.

They didn’t have anything in common but when Luke buys flowers in Noelle’s shop for the first time they realize that sometimes opposites attract.

Read and vote and comment if you like!

Love you x

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carryonafi · 2 months ago

Text

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.

#5sos fanfic #ashton irwin #luke hemmings #5 seconds of summer #calum hood #michael clifford #5sos smut #5sos x reader #5sos one shot #ashton irwin smut #wwe au #5sos blurb #5sos #ashton irwin x reader

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suchalonelysunflower · 9 months ago

Text

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.

62 notes · View notes

sinning5sos · 1 year ago

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Having a baby with Calum would include...

2/4 in the father-to-be series :

Calum ~ would be really fucking excited but also really fucking nervous

“Okay so our baby is the size of a lime right now. A lime. Can you believe that?” Calum read off, scrolling through his phone in the bathroom as he got ready for bed. He looked over at you, and smiled as he looked at your stomach, a tiny yet noticeable bump there.

“A fucking lime!” He repeated, “That’s insane. We did that. We made a freaking baby and it’s living.”

“The three month mark is an important one too,” You said, continuing to read your book and Calum hummed to himself as he started brushing his teeth.

“Baby, did you know that it’s good for your pregnancy for you to cum?” Calum stated, and you burst out laughing at your husband. He looked up from his phone as he finished brushing his teeth in the bathroom.

“Calum,” You breathed out, holding your stomach slightly as you looked over at him. He spit into the sink and rinsed, then tucked his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants.

“I’m telling you the truth!” Calum exclaimed, and you continued to laugh at how incredulous he was.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe you.” You giggled, and he threw his hands up over his head as he collapsed onto the bed beside you.

“Then let me show you,” Calum murmured and he turned over in bed. You put your book down on the bedside table and

“Before you do that, explain. And Cal, I’m only three months along.” You reasoned, and he chuckled as he knelt between your legs.

“Orgasms cause a release of endorphins and oxytocin, and orgasms apparently help you prepare for giving birth. And that will help you in six months. So obviously, we need to practice.”

“Hmm. Fine, come on baby.” You said, winking at him and he chuckled as he pushed your (his) tshirt up, and kissed the inside of your thighs gently.

Other pregnancy things from Cal would include -

Ice cream runs at any time of the day

Helping you shower/bathe, especially toward the end of your pregnancy

Lotioning your stomach and giving you light massages

Lots of innocent touches

Lots of naughty touches too

Playing music for the baby and slipping in some old school rock music to educate the baby

Reading to the baby too

Just lots of enrichment for the baby

Him researching everything that can help and nearly passing out at the information of when you’re about to give birth

Having three different bags and birth plans ready to go in case of anything

#sinning5sos #calum hood #5sos #5sos smut #5sos imagines #5 seconds of summer #calum #cth #cth imagines #Calum imagines #Calum au #Calum hood imagines #calum hood 5sos #Calum 5sos #dad!calum

143 notes · View notes

33-81 · 2 years ago

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

171 notes · View notes

ughkat · 1 year ago

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ur camera roll if cal was ur boyfriend ❥

189 notes · View notes

be-ready-when-i-say-go · 8 months ago

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Sweet Dreams--Part 12

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.

Weeks are passing and maybe more is blooming between you and Calum than might meet the eye.

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

The snap of the camera sounds well after the flash of the light. Then behind it, what sounds like a thousand more shutters erupt. The flashes blink like the silver dots Calum used to call angels when he was a child in his vision. As he approaches the podium, Calum thinks less about the blinking lights. The lights don’t slow him down like they used to. They don’t hurt as much as they used to. This is all well practiced throughout the years. He smiles, lifting a hand in acknowledgement at the crowd that’s gathered. Since the vote, Calum’s been keeping an eye on the way the funds have been helping those in need, continually surveying those that took place in his initial conversations and polls. Things seem to be going well. But at the conclusion of this year, there still are four seats that will need to be filled.

It’s unconventional for Calum to even bring this discussion to the floor for the public. The truth of the matter is, he knows he can’t serve a community and people that he knows very little about. He doesn’t know their concerns. He doesn’t know what specific things are plaguing the majority. He’s sure there’s even more pressing things for select groups--everyone has their own prioritization but still Calum’s not on the pulse like he wants to be. So, he’s here now to re-introduce the surveys and forms available to the public. He wants them to know he is listening. Though it is tedious work to review those surveys on a quarterly basis, Calum’s happy to have a team willing to do the nitty gritty work--him included.

“Thank you for joining me here today. I know we’re closing in on the holidays soon and food and family are most likely at the forefront of everyone’s minds, but still it means a lot that you’ve still shown up here today,” Calum starts, working at the button of his suit jacket. “I’m also happy to see some pretty familiar faces too.”

And it’s true, as Calum peers out at the swarm of reporters, there are a few faces he’s learned to anticipate to see. A few laughs rise from the crowd and Calum takes a moment to glance down at his notes. It’s not a full on written speech, but it is a pretty tightly packed list of talking points.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time today, folks. It is a Friday afternoon after all and I’m not a cruel man. We’re at the tail end of the year and after a particularly tight win in ensuring that additional funds are processed for those in need, it is still very much my intent to keep on the pulse of public concerns. I may be a man a little removed from the day to day struggles of the average person. I am a man aware that the reality of my day to day is vastly different from others. This, most likely, won’t be news to some. But I am hoping that by taking just a few minutes here today, I am able to encourage people to participate actively in their politics and re-introduce them to a tool to express their voice directly.

“As it has been for the twenty years or so, on our parliament’s website there is a section which allows the public to write into us about concerns they have--whether it be about your specific counties roads, or library, or school--you have the space to let us know what is and what is not working for you. Now, to address concerns, I am sure people will have: yes, this was originally buried and hard to navigate to from the home page. There is a lot of news that we do try to share with you all and information we know you need to access more easily. Yet, I do not want this to be a continued excuse that frustrates people to the point where they believe that their feedback is not valued.

“It is, in fact, the opposite. It is important that I know exactly what challenges are being faced day in and day out for my people. I am here to serve you. Given this goal to become more increasingly aware, I’ve worked with our designers to create the “Talk to Us” button.”

Calum waves now to the screen behind him, which in the reflection in some of the glasses from those in the front row, he can see the slide is now showing. The home page--a stale blue--lights up behind him. “The home bar will now, at the conclusion of this press conference, include a direct link to the form, entitled, “Talk to Us”. When you click on this link, you’ll be asked to inform us of location specific details, if necessary, as well as being able to write directly and freely to your government on the actions you see that we need to take or directions you’d like us to head.”

A small murmur starts from the crowd, but it remains low and dies down soon too. Calum knows that soon a new slide should be appearing that showcases an example of the form itself so he continues on, slow and clearly as he speaks, “We will be launching in the new year the opportunity for you to respond to surveys we have created as well once you click on this link. These surveys will be no more than 10 questions at a time and participation is voluntary. The contents of these surveys will be a combination of concerns we have as your government and concerns brought up by you individually. Consider it a feedback loop. The more you tell us about issues, and the more you participate in those voluntary surveys, the better we can serve you. Concerns brought up through the Talk to Us function will be reviewed on a quarterly basis. We hope to hear from you soon.”

“Any questions?” Calum prompts, taking in the faces and notes being scribbled down. A couple hands are being raised after a few seconds. “Yes,” Calum notes, seeing a man in a sky blue button up start to raise his hand.

He introduces himself and his associated press. “Considering that this function has existed on the website long before now, do you have any thoughts on why previous administrations haven’t taken to making this more accessible until now?”

A question Calum anticipated and he hates the way it pits administrations against each other. “I can’t speak for why previous ones haven’t considered reorganizations of the public website. But as we gain more literacy about user experience and design, it has become clearer than ever that the front page of any website is the most important in getting people to what they need as quickly as possible. We are working with some SEO strategies as well to help ensure that this link does show up in the first two pages of search engine results as well. There’s an entirely new field in politics revolving around online presences and social media. Our drive now is also tied to the direct evolution of this technology in the last few years as well.”

It’s a lot of hot air, even Calum knows that, but he has to say it this way. Has to make sure he’s careful of those that have come before him. Something so simple as adding a link seems obvious now but may not have been obvious before.

Calum moves on to the next person--a woman, in a pink almost orange top, who gives her name and associated press as well. “Is there any plan to move these functions to an app perhaps in the future?”

“Not currently at this time, no,” Calum answers. “But the page itself will allow users that need it to use speech to text, screen readers, dark mode backgrounds and ensure to adhere to accessibility guidelines as well.”

Another man raises his hand, a white and black striped shirt. Calum signals to him for him to ask his question. After his name and press, the man continues on, “Are there concerns about backlash? People feeling like their concerns aren’t being addressed fast enough or feeling like there’s a ranking system when it comes to concerns.”

“Our team has assessed as thoroughly as we can the best way to sustain the use of this forum and survey platform. We won’t be able to get to every concern sent in and we will have to look at volume as it relates to each individual item raised. But we hope that by establishing the quarterly review timeline, we can be transparent enough to the public about why things may seem to be moving much slower than they anticipated. I have a team established, me included, who will be continually reviewing what is coming in and how efficient are current practices as well.”

“So, you’re really not afraid of the dirty work,” the man teases. The room bubbles with a soft bout of laughter.

Calum laughs as well. “No, I’m not afraid of the dirty work. It is valuable work to do as I’ve come to learn.” Calum is a little afraid he might be spreading himself a bit thin by taking this one, but should he need to take a step back, he already has people he can pull in to help the team as well. Right now, there’s a lot of the paid interns doing the footwork, but Calum hopes this plan creates a big enough need that he can hire some of them on as full time staffer positions in the next two years.

Calum, keeping an eye on the time, makes mention that he can only take two more questions to ensure he sticks to his early promise of not sucking up their entire afternoon. So he moves on to another lady in purple. She stands with a smile. “It appears that your special friend seems to be making an impression on you. My particular question--”

“I’m sorry, what?” Calum interrupts. “Who’s making an impression on me?”

Her face falls for a moment, but she recovers with an awkwardly thick laugh. “I think it’s quite obvious.”

Calum’s brows furrow. Part of him wonders if this person is referring to you. But this hardly seems like the place for it. Perhaps there’s something else he’s missing. “Well, color me surprised, because I am genuinely unable to follow your logic and statement. Could you clarify what you mean?”

The woman laughs again, but she begins to fidget with the cap of her pen. Maybe Calum’s not wrong about his initial assessment. But the seconds tick on and he’s not sure if he’s going to gloss over it or let her sit in her discomfort. She finally speaks but her voice shakes, “I just-I mean it’s obvious between your speech before the vote and the photos now that have repeatedly surfaced.”

More now than ever Calum’s positive what she’s been trying to hint at--you. There’s hardly been news of the two of you lately, seeing as you worked, painted, and fussed over your siblings, Calum and you hadn’t been out in the public much over the last few weeks. Maybe there were pictures of your late night run for cookies at Calum’s insistence last week. But that hardly feels worthy of being brought up in a political press conference.

“I’m sorry. Can you remind me of your name again?” Calum asks. “I think I missed it initially.”

“Pamela,” she offers though she does have to repeat it given how softly she says it the first time. Like how Calum imagines a child reacts to getting in trouble--sheepish and embarrassed.

“And your press?”

“Times--Politics division.”

“Thank you, Pamela. I think given the particular reason for this conference this is not the place to divulge into personal affairs--mine, yours, or anyone else’s. Now, I do believe that Times sees you as talented and nuanced at political coverage, lest you wouldn’t be in the room responsible for covering their story about our meeting. I know this news is relatively small and for someone like you it may not take you more than an hour to write, edit, and publish. So let’s ensure that we continue to show Times your brilliance at politics. That sound good?”

She nods, fervently so that the strands she’d tucked behind her ear fall out again. “Ye-yes, Your Highness. I’m sorry.”

Part of him wants to say no worries. But he is a bit annoyed by such a comment she attempted to make, the things she might’ve been trying to insinuate. It could be harmless and it could’ve been so much more sinister. Calum merely nods. “Apology accepted. Now, what’s your question?”

“Thank-thank you. My question is, uh, in regards to the longevity of this new launch, can we expect this to be a long term investment in your tenor when you transition to take over for your father?”

Calum nods at the question. “As long as I remain at the helm, I do intend to continue to promote and invest in transparency on how the public can and should influence their government. The ‘Talk to Us’ is essentially launch zero, if you will. It’s, again, a function that’s been integrated into the site for years now. But I hope that these initial changes to its location help open the door for much more political discourse between the public and parliament.”

Her descent back to her seat is not graceful by any means. Pamela dives back to her seat and Calum feels a small pang of guilt in his gut. “Thank you again for your time,” Calum turns to address the entire room. “I fear we’re out of time for today. But I do greatly appreciate you spending your Friday afternoon with me. I hope you all have a great weekend.”

Calum steps away from the podium and sees Pamela still buried in her pad. Perhaps, she hadn’t meant harm, but the more Calum let slide, the more people would feel brave with their off handed comments, or worse probes into his personal life. This is a world he’d learned to navigate thanks to the years he’d been raised in. You deserve any and all amounts of privacy that can be scraped together.

His phone is returned to him when Calum returns to the wings. “Great work out there,” Miranda comments before she turns back to her iPad.

Calum watches her squint, releasing a sigh before he reaches up to her hair and takes the pair of red glasses down. She’d finally caved in getting the prescription but still refused at times on wearing them. “You might even be able to tell me I did a better job if you could see it.”

“Well my hair’s made the lenses greasy,” she huffs.

Calum offers his spare handkerchief tucked away into the inner pocket of the suit jacket. “Keep it for the sake of your eyeballs please.”

Miranda hums at the offer, which Calum knows will most likely be her only response to it. “I’ll keep an eye out for the response about Pamela’s probe. Should we ask Times to not put her back on the rotation?”

This question sounds genuine and when Calum turns the corner, he risks a glance over to Miranda. Nothing follows the question--no quip, no retort. For a moment, Calum’s positive it’s a trick question but the silence lingers and weighs for longer than usual. “Uh, she asked a good question in the end.”

“Yes, she did. But from what we’ve discussed, we are in the ‘loose lips, sink ships’ position. And this is your relationship, so speak now before I make the call.”

“Don’t box her out,” Calum returns. “Doing so might send too strong of a message and we’re not really in a position to bring down the hammers.”

Miranda nods. “Could make us look desperate and unfair too. You handled it exceptionally well though today, so I am very proud of that. Next week, the fitting is scheduled as a heads up for the charity event. This does mean, I have to ask, will you and your partner be walking the carpet together? We wouldn’t want to use this event for any sort of announcement, but if the two of you are comfortable with the idea, then we’ll need to just review the etiquette for the event with them.”

Now that’s the kind of question expected from Miranda. Direct, no nonsense, objective focused and lasered in. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll be on display with their painting though and my volunteer time.”

“It’s whatever the two of you decide. I’m just saying should you two walk the carpet together, we make no announcements. You walk, you talk to a couple reporters that are outside but you don’t say anything about the relationship. Even if asked.”

Calum nods, tucking his folder up under his arm after pressing the call button for the elevator. Miranda’s right. The charity event would not be the right place for him to say anything. And he’d be a hypocrite now after handling Pamela to try and steal the stage for such an important event. The two of you could walk it separately in blocks close to each other--he goes first for a minute or so and then you follow. But the two of you would inevitably wind up locked arm in arm as the night progressed. But to walk the carpet together and explicitly not answer any questions would be more awkward in the end. Though, it would matter at the end of it what you preferred.

“How much should I bet that you need a final decision by the time we meet for the fitting?” Calum asks, letting Mirand into the elevator first.

Miranda snorts at the question. “I wouldn’t bet anything you couldn’t afford.”

You’re supposed to be going back home tonight after your shift. Though it feels like a good portion of your belongings have drifted into the palace, you spend a decent portion of your time at your own place too. Where you live is technically closer to your job and easier on your car for sure. Calum takes a look at the time. It’s pushing just a couple minutes past four pm. The dinner rush would undoubtedly be starting in the next hour or so and Calum knows he can’t squeeze any extra time out of his day.

But he spies a text from you, from ten minutes ago, and wonders if he could snag you still once he gets back to his office. The preview of the text stares back up at Calum, Have I ever told you just how…. It piques his interest and he swipes to start input his passcode. “You’ll have an answer Monday,” Calum returns to Miranda.

“Sounds good.”

Have I ever told you just how hot it is to watch you in that suit dealing with the press? Because if not, I really should tell you how hot it is to watch you in that suit dealing with the press.

Another text comes through just as Calum starts to type.

In all seriousness, thanks for handling that particular comment like you did. I know sooner or later things will come out in the open, probably the charity event undoubtedly, but it means a lot for you to still keep this close to the vest still. And you are hot too, which helps. Love you.

The doors open again and Miranda gestures in Calum’s periphery. He looks up to see her holding out his handkerchief. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t I tell you to keep it so that you have no excuses for not wearing your glasses?” Calum laughs.

Miranda’s body half way between the doors keeps them from shutting but she eyes him, lips curled up in an unamused smile. “I think it’s a little inappropriate.”

“And I think you should be able to see.”

“Take it,” she orders, waving the cloth at him to take it. “I have a lens cloth in my office.”

Calum edges closer to the opening of the machine. She refuses to meet his gaze and it makes the suspicion increase tenfold. “Show me. Because if you’re lying.”

“Oh, fine,” Miranda huffs. “I lost it. The same fucking day I got the damn glasses and I lost the cloth.”

“Then keep it,” he laughs. “I’ve got too many of them anyway.”

“Thanks,” she mutters and then starts down towards her office.

“You’re welcome,” Calum calls out watching the doors slide closed.

His attention turns back to your text even with the tuft of laughter he releases at Miranda’s stubbornness. I hope I wasn’t too harsh on her. But thank you, baby. I’ll keep that in mind for later. He adds a winking emoji before continuing on, Is it bad yet for you guys? Love you more. He asks even though he’s sure he won’t get a response until either your next break or until you leave for the night. But he sends it anyway and swipes through his other missed messages.

There’s one from Luke in the groupchat, We’ve got Forest reserved at 5:00 PM the Saturday before Michael’s birthday. The restaurant does close earlier than most at 8 just as a heads up.

Calum hadn’t been fully aware that Forest was even an option for the dinner. He’d tossed out a few options, one was a sushi place that Michael loved for late lunch or a really early dinner and the other was a French inspired cuisine. But it wouldn’t shock Calum if he’d lost track of the names. It does make Calum wonder if it would be feasible to ask you to join. Would it be too awkward for you?

There’s a few more texts in the chat so Calum scrolls down. Ashton asks about the other options they’d discussed and Luke replied that they’d been booked for the time for the time or wouldn’t let reservations be made this far in advance. Forest has a three week window for reservations which allows them to get to the slot now. Given how rapidly schedules shift, Calum knows it’s better to take this now rather than wait too much longer.

Luke, how many did you confirm for? Calum asks.

They can only support a group of 12 max. So I went with that. I can keep checking other places too in the meantime.

Calum settles into his office chair, popping a few more buttons at his dress shirt. A text from Michael comes through. Forest is cool with me. My parents and I are doing things on my actual birthday. We should be good at 12. There’s you three, me, our plus ones and then a couple dudes I worked with previously I’d want to do dinner with. We can say 9 for a bigger group at some local bars and then call it a night by midnight if that’s cool?

Sounds good to me, Luke replies.

Cool with me, Calum answers and Ashton replies with the same sentiment of an affirmative.

Calum wipes to take him back to his text message threads and taps on your name. Michael’s birthday dinner is going to be 5PM on the 17th. It’s at Forest. Do you know if you’ll be working?

The answer feels like a no. You wouldn’t know because he doubts the schedules made that far out in advance. But Calum prays. He hopes maybe by the cosmos divine art you can see the text message here soon. A watch pot never boils and his eyes glued to the screen won’t make you respond faster. So Calum turns back to his office computer, saves some work for the templates, and data collection. It is a Friday and there’s very little work that he’ll be able to get done or want to get done at this moment.

The elevator settles and the doors open up to the residency hall. Calum, if he ever had a tie on, would absolutely be tugging it off his neck as he walks towards his bedroom door. Instead, he only has the buttons he works at on his shirt. There’s still no text from you. He knows the dinner rush has gone up in its major swing. But when his phone buzzes, and Calum checks it to be sure if it’s not you, he contemplates if he’s going to agree to the schedule he made of working out in the evenings. He knows he should. There’s been a lot of time spent indoors, cooped up by his computer and various documents. It’ll be good for him, even if it’ll hurt just a little, so Calum pulls himself free from the dress pants, shirt, and shoes. He dawns himself into the basketball shorts, his workout sneakers and a t-shirt. He even takes the stairs back down.

The air is crisp outside; it hits his lungs sharply and Calum’s grateful for it. The grass crunches just a little under his feet as he settles the free weights down. Calum starts with stretches, trying to loosen the left hip that likes to get a bit stiff on him. It’s an old injury, probably from one of the few times Calum pushed himself a little too hard in games. He hardly feels it when he’s on top of his physical therapy regime. But he falls off every few weeks when things get busy and the stiffness makes itself known more and more. Calum knows he should coordinate another appointment with his physical therapist about it. Maybe during the holiday break he’ll snag an appointment.

His headphones play a thrash of guitars, the high tssing of the symbols on the drum kit come filtering through. Calum pulls the dumbbell up, the tightening of his bicep letting him know he’s doing the exercise right. As much as it can feel like a drag, as much as the weights do get heavier as the sets go on, Calum finds the small sliver of peace. When he’s got no thoughts but keeping track of his reps. The motions are up and down, the brace of his core, the inhale and exhale. Calum focuses on the press, the pushing of the ground away from his body as he goes through a round of pushups.

Twenty-nine, thirty.

His music lowers for a moment, a chime louder than his music. Calum keeps pushing up, taking himself back down, and then pushing back up. Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six. Another chime cuts through.

Forty.

His knees brush the ground first as he releases his plank and digs out his phone. I wish I’d seen this sooner, reads your reply. Turner just asked me if I was okay with working that day because of a large party and I said yes.

Calum pants, the sweat running down the lines of his face. Though it’s cold outside, the jumping jacks, the exertion of his exercises have made him sweat. Calum can’t lie, part of him is tempted to ask if you could switch out the hours, but he knows. You’re not just working to kill time in the day. You’re working to survive. You’re working to take care of yourself and potentially as it looms your siblings too.

Calum wipes at his brow before working over the screen to reply. Well, the invitation for you to join for drinks after will still stand if you’re up for it.

Sounds good. I’ll make sure Michael’s well taken care of though. Promise. To make up for missing out on the festivities, could you find out his favorite sweet treat?

Calum nods without thinking. I will. Let me know when you get home, yeah?

Of course. Also, to answer your earlier question: it’s busy as fuck. I’m literally in the freezer right now trying to compose myself just for a second.

Calum snorts at the mental image--you in your uniform tucked into the walk-in freezer. But he also knows what it means, just how busy things have gotten. A piece of guilt rises up in his throat, like bile it burns. He’d never meant to make things worse. He never meant to put you in such positions. But nothing changes what’s happened. The only thing now is forward. The only thing now is what could be made of what’s happening in the present.

Tell the tomatoes to be kind to you, Calum replies.

“Don’t tell me I need to call the nurse with the way you’re breathing.”

Calum looks up to his father, who grins down at him. Calum laughs at the quip, as patchy as it comes. “No, no need to call the nurse.”

“Dinner’s ready, you know. Pretty sure it’s some fancy pasta I’ll never be able to pronounce."

With how thick the early evening is around them, how dark it is for only how early it feels, Calum is not shocked that it is dinner time. He nods, wiping at his dripping brow again. “I need to clean up but I’ll be there in a minute.”

His dad lingers and the words are pressing at the back of Calum’s teeth, if everything is okay, but his dad beats him to the punch. David grunts as he lowers himself into the grass next to Calum. “You’ll help me up, right?”

“Yeah, Pops, I will. What’s up? I thought dinner was ready with some fancy pasta you can’t pronounce.”

“It is, it is. But I was, well, I know there’s been a lot of conversation that’s sort of up in the air about when me and your mother are going to take a step back from the game. And I know it’s something you’re thinking about. You did real well in your press conference today. I do think that sometimes the best solutions are the most simple ones. I just wanted to see when the two of us could really sit down and talk about what that transition will look like and when we’re both comfortable with it. And, and I’m not asking we do it right now. But soon, in the new year, we look at our schedules and find a good day for it.”

It’d been an ever approaching deadline--something that would happen and would happen sooner rather than later. But it still felt far away in praxis. Transitioning of power was a thing that was approaching but it hadn’t hit the horizon. Now, though, as Calum watches his father, he thinks perhaps he’d been counting on at least a couple more years, something closer to thirty than not but nothing ever happens like anyone wants for it too.

Calum nods though at his father’s request. “Yeah, we can find a time for that.”

“Good, good,” David returns, patting at Calum’s knee. “And things are okay? Anything you need to talk about?”

��Things are okay.” They’re far from perfect, but they’re not bad. Yet, Calum doesn’t voice that. The balance in the universe was not to make things perfect by his definition.

“That doesn’t sound too convincing. You alright?”

“It’s--it’s just life, Dad. You know? Every up has a down.”

“What kind of downs are we talking?”

From the night, Calum catches the scratch of the crickets tuning up for the night time songs. The darkness is closing in rapidly and ruthlessly. As much as Calum did want to voice his concerns, he also knows his father is going to be a solution oriented person. The second a problem crops up, his father wants to find a solution for it. Calum’s not really looking for solutions right now. “It’s anthills,” Calum answers. Because they are, they are small concerns in the grand scheme of everything. “But I can handle them. I know I can.”

“Well, if you need reinforcements, I got your back.”

“Will do, Dad. Thanks.”

“And, and if you need to just vent, I’m here for that too.”

It’s anthills. And they were small, but still mighty. “Guess, it’s just sort of scary to know I’ll actually be taking over, you know? It was real, but was always sort of in the distance.”

“It is scary,” David agrees. “It’s very scary. But just because you’d be taking over doesn’t mean I’m not there to help. Consider me a consultant.”

“What’s your retainer fee?” Calum jokes, watching the grin bloom on his father’s face.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. But it’s okay if it’s scary. You’re human doing something new for the very first time. It’s going to be scary. And the next time you do something for the first time, that’ll be scary too. But the more you do the things, the less scary it gets you know. It’s like when you learned to drive. You were terrified to get behind that wheel. But look at you now. A driving whizz. It’ll take you some time, but I’ll still be there for you. Promise, son.”

It’s reassuring, certainly. Calum won’t be doing it all alone, but it’ll be his face and his name that’s riding on everything that comes after the transition. That’s the part that terrifies him. Yet, Calum can’t control what hasn’t happened yet. To worry about what hasn’t happened wouldn’t only serve to paralyze Calum in the long run. But the fear bubbles, like a pot left on simmer, Calum can feel it in his gut. It’s going to be a strange time. “Thanks, Pops,” Calum offers softly.

“You’re welcome. Now, help me up, yeah?”

Calum laughs as he works himself up. “No one told you sit down on the grass.”

“Oh, hush.”

It’s with a few grunts, but Calum helps his dad up. “You good?” Calum asks and gets a nod in response. “I’m going to get these weights inside and at least wash my hands and face before joining you and Mum.”

“See you inside.”

Calum’s left with a pat on his back, but as the night chirps around him, he hopes that he’s not really alone in all of this. The weights are a little heavier than they were before but Calum gets them up with no issue. He ducks into one of the bathrooms on the first floor, washing his hands before splashing water over his face. He watches the water drip down his chin. He wants to tell you--how scared he is, how much he doesn’t want to do this, but knows he’s got no other choice. But will it seem trivial?

Yet somehow right behind the doubt, he hears your voice, telling him that it doesn’t matter if it’s small, all that matters is that he’s scared. And that it’ll be okay. It’ll be okay, Calum chants to himself down the hallway and back into the kitchen. It’ll all be okay. Because it has to be okay. Because it’s been six years of Calum in Cabinet and it’s all worked out so far. So it’ll keep working out in the end.

“Oh, you stink,” Joy laughs, as Calum slides into the bench across the table.

“I washed my hands and face at the very least,” he grins-- a rule ingrained into him from his childhood.

She shakes her head, sliding the plate closer his way. “At least there was that.”

The warm water is a welcomed reprieve, after dinner and clambering his way back upstairs, Calum can feel himself craving bed. It’s early, he knows. But the fear from transition is heavy on his bones. It’s not even late enough for you to be off work so he can’t call as you drive back to your apartment. And he wants to stay awake long enough for that, for the hum of your drive and the soft lull of your voice.

But in the stillness, Calum holds to the quiet voice in the back of his head. What will it all mean when he takes over? All the while you asked him what he wanted to do, what really made him happy, and all the while Calum answered that he would always do his duty, he would serve. And he’d be proud to serve; he is. But his father has already been the crutch. Calum’s never been on his own doing this. Does he actually want to do it? Or is this just the natural reaction of fear?

It all feels like being underwater. When he falls into his mattress, Calum feels the whoosh of air like a head ducking under the surface of water. There is a world above him--the duty he’s always followed, the path that always felt like loomed before him no matter what twists and turns he took in his life. But he is in the water, arms scoping water at his sides to keep him afloat and his movements feel slow and sluggish. Is this really all that he’s wanted? Could it all be just the things Calum’s told himself to believe so it makes it feel less like force and more like choice?

The ticking of the clock is long, but at some point his ears goes numb to the sound, focused instead of keeping up with the race of his thoughts. He chases them round and round as they go.

The ringing of his phone pulls him back up and out of the rush and thump of his internal dialogue. Calum fumbles for a moment to get the phone off the charger, but when he finally gets a firm grip, he answers the call.

“Hi, love,” you answer--certain and confident that it’s even Calum who’s answered.

“Hi, baby,” he returns, falling back down into the mattress again.

“What is it? Something on your mind?”

“How’d you know?” he laughs. To him, he sounds all the same. But the immediacy in your question makes him wonder if he’s really as good as he thinks at keeping things under wraps with you.

“Just a feeling,” you return.

“I think my number’s been called. Dad wants to talk in the new year about transitioning out of power.”

You hum. In the background, Calum hears the beeps of cars, the rush of the wind as you walk, probably to your car. “It was always coming. But I sense something more.”

“It’s scary. Didn’t think it would be so soon. Don’t know if it’s fear or genuine how much I’m worried about taking over.”

“Fear of what?” you question. “Fear just because it’s new or something else?”

Calum pulls his phone from his hear, tapping to switch the conversation to speakerphone. It’s buying him time. Because if he says it out loud, it feels like he’s making it true. But he’s not going to hide from you. He won’t let himself do that. “Fear that I don’t know what I really want.”

“We’re all afraid of that.” Your voice echoes against the four walls of his room, fills the space in such a way that he could hardly imagine that you’re just in the bathroom.

“You seemed pretty confident about cooking.”

“It’s a means to an end. Something that I can use anywhere to make ends meet. I like cooking, at the end of the day it helps me not feel so bad about life. But I don’t know if I was put on this planet just to cook or not.”

“I guess that’s the question, huh. Have I been put on this planet just to work in politics?”

“Well,” you start, a pause echoes with the thud of your car door. “Have you? Have you been put on this planet just to work in politics?”

He wants to say no. But if he’s honest, this has always been the end of the line for him. Taking over as King was his finish line. That was the stamp on his youth, to mail it off and close down the chapter. Calum’s always thought that this is in fact the end. It’s a means to an end. But even if Calum wants to agree that he hasn’t been put on this earth just to wind up as King, he doesn't know what else is there?

“But what am I if not meant to be King?”

“Well, you’re Calum. Who trained for a summer in Brazil for football, who plays the guitar, writes some songs. You’re Calum who loved his dog for every second he walked the earth. You’re Calum who baked his mother a birthday cake and it actually held together. You’re Calum, who manages to find just the right words when they’re needed, who loves deeply and selectively. And you’ll be so much more too. But the truth of the matter, you will never find that answer in a day, in just one conversation. It’ll take years. You’ll be a King, and work in politics, and be so much more. This is not an either-or situation, maybe. I know I asked previously about it. And I apologize if that made it seem like you had to choose. Perhaps, you don’t have to choose.”

Perhaps, you don’t have to choose. “Yeah,” Calum agrees, gaze focusing in on his ceiling. He does actually miss those stars now that he thinks about it. He wonders where he could find the stencils again. Would it be stupid to paint them back? “Maybe you’re right.”

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