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badomensbaby · 1 year ago

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above the law. lrh

pairing: luke hemmings x fem! reader

summary: luke's so sick of his assistant, you, talking all the damn time. he finally does something about it.

warnings: 18+ only. minors DNI. smut, thigh-riding, unprotected sex, verbal degradation, rough bj, slightly dubious consent, office sex, cum-swallowing, cursing.

word count: 4,173

a/n: i wrote this originally back in early 2023 as an au using one of my wattpad original characters. through some editing, i've decided to change the pov and post it here! i hope you enjoy x

feedback and constructive criticism welcome. requests are open!

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"Hemmings, get your head out of your ass for once and finish this goddamn deal."

The curly headed blonde's eyes snap away from the project he's currently in the middle of, various folders scattered amongst his desk, drowning him in useless paperwork all for a stupid fucking merger.

"The fuck do you think I'm doing?" Luke grumbles under his breath, snapping the Bolton file shut and tossing his overly expensive fountain pen on top of the mess he's created. Ashton Irwin, one of three named partners, stands with his arms crossed in the doorway of Luke's corner office, an unamused expression on his face.

"I think you're trying to do all this shit on your own instead of utilizing your associate, that's what I think," the honey blonde scoffs, thick brow raising, "Where's Y/N anyway? You send her across town for your stupid coffee again?"

"No," Luke's quick to defend, though it is the easiest way to get you out of his eyesight for a little while and focus, "I've got her on the Mansfield settlement."

"The Mansfield- that's Mike's case, idiot," Ashton shakes his head, "What's the deal, Luke? You really hate Y/N that much?"

A sigh of exhaustion leaves Luke's lips, head cocking back as he stares at the ceiling. "She's just chatty," he says vaguely, "Can't get a single fuckin' thing done 'cause she won't shut up."

"She's your associate, Luke, stop pawning her off on Mike or he'll swipe her out from under you."

"Good," he forces out a low chuckle, meeting the man's eyes, "He can have her."

"Don't say things you don't mean, you know she's one of the best associates we've got." Luke's eyes roll at his boss' words, sitting up straighter in his desk chair.

"Whatever," he mumbles softly, not willing to admit your brain is undeniably better than half the fucking people he's met. "Can I get back to work now?"

A defeated sigh escapes Ash's lips, "If I don't see Y/N in here working with you I'll make sure to send Calum your way."

"Calum?" the curly haired boy's nose wrinkles, shaking his head, "That's like giving me a fucking puppy, Ash, literally useless."

"Your call." he responds, a little smirk on his lips before pulling Luke's office door shut behind him. A groan leaves Luke's throat at this, the urge to rip every last blonde ringlet from his head at the idea of spending the remaining afternoon going over these stupid files with you.

Regardless of the fact that you’re distracting, which he'll never admit aloud, he shoots you a vague text requiring your presence in his office, no more than twenty minutes from now.

And of course, your dainty little wrist began knocking on the dark wooden door of his office precisely twenty-three minutes after he'd sent the text, only fueling his annoyance. A curt "come in" leaves his lips but his eyes remain on the file, instead of the sinful black dress on your curvy frame.

Tasteful and tightly fit, your fingers instinctively tug at the material resting on your mid thigh, a worrisome look on your features. For as long as you can recall, Luke's always teased you about your wardrobe, especially the bright colors and silken skirts.

"You're late," his tone is flat, hand scribbling away at the paperwork he's nearly memorized already, "I swear to god if you say some bullshit about the elevator again-"

Luke's words die in his throat as he lifts his head, eyes landing on the tight fabric on your frame, hugging every fucking dip and curve of your body. You meet eyes, yours widening, worried you’re going to be lectured again. Was your dress too plain, too boring?

The sweetheart neckline alone almost makes Luke lick his lips, stifling the urge to say something far, far more inappropriate to his associate. "Doesn't matter," the blonde rushes out, "We're gonna be here all night. Preorder from Machi's while you're at it."

"Okay," is all you say, walking closer to his desk, the click of your heels echoing Luke's ears as you bend over, just slightly, grabbing his desk phone and beginning to dial.

After nearly four hours and neither had made a miraculous discovery, a whine of agony leaves your throat, sat across the moderately sized office, snapping yet another useless file folder shut. "Luke,"

"What?" he rasps, tearing his eyes away from the file, meeting your eyes, his own filled with annoyance. "Don't tell me you've got nothing, Y/N."

"There's honestly no reason why Bolton should be merging with Daniels," you sigh out, running a hand through your hair, "Seriously, it's like Pampers merging with Microsoft, they have no interest in one another."

"Christ," Luke mutters under his breath, jaw tensing as you continue to ramble useless information, "Do you ever shut up?"

Mid-sentence, your lips snap shut, a warmth spreading across your cheeks. "Sorry," you respond softly, and Luke almost feels bad for being so curt, but god you never close your fucking mouth. "Did you find anything?"

A huff of air leaves Luke's nose, "Maybe," he says, twirling his fountain pen between his fingers, leg bouncing aimlessly as he scans over the documents for the umpteenth time. "But you keep fucking talking and it's throwing me off."

"Sorry."

"Damnit, Y/N," his curls bounce slightly as he shakes his head, rifling a hand through them, glancing over at your position on the small sofa, dress slightly ridden up your smooth thighs. "Come here, let me show you something."

Hesitantly, you toss the file on your lap onto the cushion, standing and making your way over to Luke's desk, oblivious to the fitted material of your dress riding a bit higher than intended. Luke swallows thickly, attempting to keep focus on the file in his hand. As you lean over slightly to see what Luke's underlined, his eyelids fall shut, the smell of your perfume annihilating his senses.

"But that means-" you cut yourself off, lower lip tucked between your teeth, palms flat on the corner of Luke's desk, "This isn't about combining their companies, is it?"

"No," Luke finally says after a moment, slowly blinking his eyes open, "But we need to convince the judge it is."

"That's impossible, Luke, it's clear they're only doing this for-"

"I know, just figure it out, Y/N."

"That'll take all night," you whine softly, "I'm not sleeping in the office two nights in a row." Luke's teeth grit together at your response, frustrated and fed up with your goddamn attitude.

"If you can't do it I'll find someone who can," he cranes his neck to meet your eyes, narrowed and darkened, "You wanna whine about a few more hours be my guest, but you're not doing it here."

"But-"

"Jesus fucking-" he abandons his pen with a thud, rubbing the palms of his hands against his tired eyes, "I seriously have never met someone so goddamn annoying. All you fucking do is whine and complain and talk my fucking ear off," Luke rambles lowly, "You wanted to be an associate, so be a goddamn associate and shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you."

You stand upright, embarrassment washing over your features, attempting to remain composed as tears threaten your eyes. It's not a secret that Luke's always harbored some sort of annoyance toward you, but he's never spoken to you in such a vile manner before. You swallow the thick lump in your throat, fists balled at your sides. How dare he say those things to you?

"You're an asshole," you say, voice wavering slightly, "You're always a dick to everyone. Nobody's ever good enough for you. I wanted to be an associate to learn and do what I love, not be talked to like a child."

"The fuck did you say to me?" Luke counters with a raised brow, ringed fingers slowly rolling up the sleeves of his fitted black dress shirt. "I think you forget who you work for. Not Ashton, not Michael, definitely not Jessica. You work for me, Y/N, and if you want to keep your fucking job I think you owe me a goddamn apology."

Luke's eyes flicker between yours and the hemline of your little black dress, the skin of your thighs soft and tempting as he widens the distance between his legs, splayed open. "Come here," he says, a bit quieter this time, though he's fucking seething internally, he can't deny how fucking hot it is talking down to the you. Hesitantly, you step closer, stomach swirling with uneasiness.

"You don't wanna go through those files? Fine," Luke forces out a low chuckle, "But I've got work to do and I'm not gonna let you get in the way of that. So what you're gonna do is sit right here," he taps on his clothed thigh, "Shut your fucking mouth and make yourself cum on my thigh."

"What-"

"You heard me."

"Luke, I-"

"It wasn't a question, Y/N. And so help me god if you complain or make a fucking sound you're more than welcome to leave."

For the first time, you’re speechless. Standing so close to the man you swear hates you with every fiber of his being, asking you to make yourself cum on his thigh, you can't help the clench of your own thighs at the thought. Sure, you’ve had those kinds of thoughts about the tall blonde, but never did you imagine his request.

"So? What'll it be?" Luke asks impatiently, a thick brow raised as he grabs his pen, clicking it profusely, leaning back in his chair.

Wordlessly, and swallowing your pride, you step closer, slowly lifting your leg over the blonde's thigh, his foot firmly planted on the small rug beneath him. His eyes almost widen, as if he didn't expect you to comply, and he stifles a grunt when your warm center meets the fabric of his slacks. He can feel how fucking wet you are through the thin material of your underwear, your dress sliding a bit further up your thighs, almost exposing yourself to him.

"Alright then," Luke clears his throat, leaning forward slightly to grab the Bolton file, relaxing in his desk chair. "Get to it."

With her heart rattling in her chest, you grasp the armrest of Luke's chair to ground yourself, filled to the brim with shame. Are you really going to do this? You can still back out, you don't need to show Luke how pathetic you are, fucking leaking on his slacks just from his crude words. You don't even register the rock of your hips against his thigh until a soft moan slips from your lips, catching Luke's attention, his eyes briefly flickering to you.

And fuck is it hot. Your eyes slowly flutter shut as your hips roll in slow motions, the friction from the fabric forgotten, sensitive clit throbbing from your movements. Luke's jaw tenses, tearing his eyes away from the tempting sight, his cock twitching in his slacks.

Shame and embarrassment are out the window as you near your first orgasm, the explicit images of things you’ve only dreamt of unfolding behind your eyelids. You can only fucking imagine how Luke's fingers would feel inside you, the things he'd say as he's bottoming out inside of your tight heat. And it's suddenly overwhelming as you clench pathetically, throbbing against his thigh and your own legs shaking as you finish. "Fuck-"

Luke's eyes widen, biting hard at the inside of his cheek to keep his composure, the sound of you falling apart on his thigh sending a jolt straight to his aching cock. He wants nothing more than to bend you over his desk and fuck the daylights out of you until you’re drooling and forgetting your own goddamn name.

Reality comes crashing down as your orgasm passes, ragged breaths leaving your parted lips. Did you really just make yourself cum on your boss' thigh? "Luke-"

"Do it again."

"What?" You ask breathlessly, straightening your back, "You- you want me to do it again?"

"What did I say about shutting that pretty mouth of yours, Y/N? If I tell you to do something, do it," he scoffs, acting as though the sight of you cumming didn't turn him on even more, "If you're pathetic enough to do it once I'm sure you'll have no problem doing it again."

Your sensitive clit throbs helplessly as you swallow, white-knuckling the armrest and rocking your hips yet again. The swollen nub continuously brushing Luke's slacks has you choking down whimpers and whines, fearful of Luke's reaction to you making noise. Though, the idea of what he'll do if you don't comply lingers in your hazy mind.

The intermittent bounce of Luke's leg isn't doing you any favors either, little uh uh's leaving your parted lips.

You’re fucking drenched, the thin fabric of your lace underwear doing nothing to keep your arousal from coating Luke's thigh as you roll and rock your hips a bit quicker, your second orgasm creeping up on you, your head tossing back when a low, drawn-out whine leaves your lips, cumming for the second time like a pathetic whore.

And Luke fucking loves every goddamn second of it.

Attempting to calm yourself down from your release, thighs still trembling, Luke tosses the file onto his desk. He hadn't read a damn word of it anyway, not when you’re grinding your pretty little cunt against his thigh like a slut.

Suddenly embarrassed, your cheeks flush a deep crimson shade as you realize what you’ve done. You’ve soaked the fabric of Luke's slacks with your release, your own goddamn boss. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"Don't say another word," he firmly cuts you off, "Get on your fucking knees."

"Why-"

"I'm honestly so fucking tired of listening to you, Y/N," Luke's tone lowers, a scoff leaving his lips, watching as you scramble to the floor. "Gonna shut you up, make good use of that stupid fucking mouth of yours."

Catching sight of the wet patch on his slacks, he nearly groans, ringed fingers fumbling with his belt buckle in record time, desperate for the release of his achingly hard cock. You seem to catch on, widened doey eyes flickering up to Luke's, your hands neatly folded in your lap. Luke pulls his slacks down just enough to allow his length to be exposed, not wanting to show an ounce of vulnerability to you. You don't deserve a sweet intimate moment, you deserve to be fucking ruined.

"Open your mouth," he grunts, hissing as he grasps the base of his cock, your lips parting slowly, the blonde stepping forward and guiding the tip past your lips. "Wanna see you choke on my cock."

He doesn't give you a moment to register his words before he's thrusting fully into your mouth, tip poking the back of your throat and a choking sound emitting from your lips. You scramble to grasp at the backs of his thighs to keep yourself steady. The sight of your sparkly lipgloss coating his cock is so fucking intoxicating and he wonders why he hadn't thought of it sooner.

Using his hands to grasp your hair quite roughly, he continues to fuck into your mouth at a degrading pace, not allowing you to adjust to the forceful movements. Choking and gagging sounds fill the otherwise quiet room, spit dribbling from your lips. "Yeah, you like choking on my cock, Y/N? So much better than hearing you fuckin' talk."

Your nails dig into the fabric of his pants, a grunt leaving Luke's lips as his hips continue thrusting his cock into your mouth. You can barely take all of him, the base nearly untouched. "All you're fuckin' good for, hm?"

And suddenly he's removing himself from your mouth, chest heaving from how fucking wrecked you already look, the small tears pooling your waterline smudging the mascara you'd put on. "As much as I wanna watch you swallow for me," he heaves out, "I wanna feel that pretty fuckin' pussy of yours."

A pathetic whimper leaves your lips, clenching around nothing as you remain on your knees before him, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips and the reddened, aching tip of Luke's cock. "You want me inside you?" he asks.

You have no words, honestly, the burn left behind in your throat from Luke's forceful thrusts halts you from speaking. Instead, you nod. "No, I want to hear you fuckin' say it, Y/N. I'm not an asshole."

"Yes," you weakly respond, "I want you."

"Good. Take that fuckin' dress off while you're at it."

Your shaky and frail fingers grasp the hemline of your dress hesitantly, eyes flickering between his leaking cock and his firm gaze, pulling the fitted material over your head and tossing it aside. Now sat in nothing but a pair of soaked, white lace panties and your heels, Luke's eyes fall on your bare breasts. "So fuckin' pretty."

"Luke-" you whimper quietly.

"Shut up," his hands reach beneath your arms, pulling you to your feet. Luke reaches around you, large hand swiping the array of documents off of his desk, sending them to the floor with a thud. You release a soft gasp when your bare backside meets the cool wooden desk, "Can't say I've never thought about this."

Luke's hands fall to your hips, gripping the skin roughly, and guiding you down until your back is flush with the desk, legs spread pathetically, displaying your clothed core to him. "God, you're so fucking soaked it's pathetic," he laughs lowly, shaking his head, and trailing a finger along the dampened material, coated in your previous orgasms and current arousal. He sends a soft smack with the back of his hand to your swollen clit, causing a whimper to leave your lips. "You'll let me have you any way I want, huh?"

"Luke-"

"Don't talk, I already know the answer," he raises your legs so your heels are resting on the edge of the desk, fingers ghosting the inside of your thighs teasingly, "Because here you are, spread out on my fucking desk like the whore you are."

"Please-"

"God, you just can't listen, huh?" his hands retreat from your skin, fumbling with his necktie, folding it into a neat little square. "I said I don't wanna hear you, Y/N." leaning over you, the tip of his cock pressing against your clothed core, he forces the folded tie between your lips, gagging you. "There, much better."

Luke works quickly to pull the pathetic excuse for underwear down your legs, tossing them alongside your dress on the floor. His cock twitches at the sight of you, fucking glistening and leaking just for him. He trails two fingers up your wetness, slicking his cock with your arousal, and prodding the tip against you. "Look at me," he says, hovering over you, hands on either side of your head. Hesitantly, you meet his eyes, your own widening, "Wanna watch you take my fucking cock."

You look so fucking pretty all gagged up for him. Running his tongue along his lower lip, he roughly juts his hips forward, instantly bottoming out and a muffled scream leaves your lips at the stretch. The tears that brimmed your eyes previously begin to fall, feeling so full, "Fuck," he hums lowly.

He rocks his hips a few times, watching as your eyes practically roll back into your head. And god does that make him so fucking proud, staring at you as drool slowly dribbles from yourr lips. He halts, roughly tugging the tie from your mouth, fingers gathering the spit and shoving it between your lips. "Don't be messy," he tuts, before placing the tie back, "Already fuckin' droolin' like a whore and I'm barely getting started."

Luke retracts his cock, hands grasping at your hips and flipping your body, the sound of your stomach colliding with the wooden desk echoing through the room. "I don't wanna look at you," he says, palming the skin of your backside before smacking the smooth flesh. He realigns himself with your entrance, one hand splayed on your bare back to hold you in place.

Roughly thrusting inside once again, the moans and muffled choked sobs barely reach Luke's ears, too fucking entranced by the feeling of your tight little cunt taking him so well. "This," he rocks his hips forcefully, "Is fuckin' mine. Anytime I goddamn want it, you're gonna give it to me."

You scramble to grab the opposite edge of Luke's desk, white knuckling it as he forcefully pounds into you, so fucking deep and quick you can barely breathe. "Such a tight fuckin' cunt," he groans, fingernails scraping along your back, "Taking my cock like a good fuckin' slut."

Instinctively you clench around him, eliciting a deep borderline growl from Luke's throat, hand previously raking down your back finding your hair, fisting the strands between his fingers and yanking you backwards until you’re halfway to his chest. You rest your palms flat on the desk, eyes pinched shut in pleasure while he continues fucking into you at an unruly pace.

"Clench again for me," he moans out, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten, his orgasm slowly beginning to build. You comply, your thighs trembling, clenching as hard as you can. "Fuckin' god," Luke tosses his head back, eyelids fluttering shut in pure bliss.

You choke out another moan around the tie in your mouth, unable to warn the blonde of your third orgasm that's quickly approaching as he continuously pokes the perfect spot so fucking deep inside you’re nearly a drooling mess. The hand not entangled in your hair grips one of your breasts roughly, sending you over the edge in a series of muffled cries. Tears stream down your cheeks, cunt tightening around Luke yet again, the blonde hissing as he feels your release coat his cock, the slick sound of his thrusts growing louder.

"Fuckin' milkin' my cock like a whore," he spits out, grip tightening on your hair as he pulls you closer, thrusting into you impossibly harder. You can't fucking think, you’re a dizzy mess and can hardly form a thought. You can't even feel the drool pooling from the edges of your lips. "Gonna fill up that sweet little cunt of yours and make you mine."

Luke pulls you flush to his chest, your head lolling against his shoulder. Though he isn't one for kissing, he doesn't hesitate to graze his teeth against your exposed neck, sinking them into the supple flesh as his hips begin to stutter, groaning against your neck as he releases inside. You wince at the rough bite on your neck but you’re too spent to care, leaning fully against him as he rocks through his orgasm.

You’re in a daze when he pulls out of you, nearly falling against the desk, the blonde quickly reaching for you to keep you upright. Though he's smug and feeling overly satisfied for ruining you, a swirl in his stomach tells him he needs to make sure you’re alright. He pulls the tie from your mouth, not commenting on the drool spilled from your lips. "Y'okay?"

You can't fucking speak.

Luke's brows furrow with worry, hand delicately grasping your jaw and searching your hazy eyes. Pupils blown out just like his, fresh tears lingering on your cheeks. "Oh, baby," the pet name falls from his lips effortlessly, "C'mon."

Tucking his softening cock into his pants and guiding you away from his desk and towards the couch, he plucks your heels from your feet. Though he'd never in a million years consider aftercare, he's stripping his button down from his broadened frame and slipping your arms inside, buttoning it to cover your exposed body. "Luke," you toss your head back onto the plush couch.

"Hm?" he hums softly.

"I need to- need to clean up," you rasp quietly, a hint of a blush on your cheeks, head reeling from the soreness between your thighs.

"That's what m'here for," he coos sweetly, though the smirk of his lips has you swallowing thickly. His ringed hands trail along your warm and flushed skin, parting your trembling thighs, the sight of his release slowly dribbling out of your sweet cunt nearly has his cock stiffening in his slacks again. "Mm, such a pretty wrecked little pussy."

A gasp leaves your lips as he leans forward, nose brushing your lower stomach, tongue gathering his cum from your sensitive folds. Lapping up every fucking drop, Luke straightens himself out, reaching a hand towards your swollen lips and parting them with his thumb. You’re beyond confused as he tightly grips your jaw, before spitting the contents into your own mouth. Swiping any remnants from his own lips, he narrows his eyes. "Fuckin' swallow."

Clasping your pretty lips shut, you comply, feeling a stir in your stomach when your eyes meet, and swallow.

"My good fuckin' girl."

#luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings fanfic #luke hemmings x you #luke hemmings smut #5sos smut #5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #5sos x reader #smut

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calumsargwife · 1 year ago

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"You Are In Love"

calum hood x fem!reader

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

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

word count: 4.7k (damn)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, you are in love.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, he was nervous.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You kiss on sidewalks. You fight and you talk.

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

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

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

However, this has brought several discussions in the relationship.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that's when it hit him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Calum was sure you were meant to be together.

Because he was in love.

And he wanted to believe in love for once.

#calum hood x reader #calum hood x y/n #calum x reader #calum blurb #calum imagine #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum hood #5sos x reader #5sos blurb #5sos fic #calum hood fluff #calum hood one shot #Spotify

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ughkat · 1 year ago

Note

hi! could you write calum x reader where calum has a crush on her and ashton exposes his crush on her during a live or something?

pls and thank u

i might do a part two of this idk 😳

crush | c.t.h

calum x fem!reader

part two here

got excited writing this sorry ab the lengthiness!

alcohol, swearing

not proofread

"I'm heading over right now."

"We'll be here.".

I finished my phone call to Ashton, who had just minutes ago invited me for a routine hangout with him and the other three boys.

My friendship with Ashton had sprouted prior to his band forming. We were best friends, some would describe as inseparable. Once joining the band, they immediately brought me in as well. Though never having the same connections as I did with Ashton with them, Calum, Luke and Michael never failed to make me feel at home.

Since then, we've grown up and blossomed into larger things in life, yet we still keep our bond close. Routine effortless hangouts and conversations on almost a daily has kept out growing friendships alive.

Recently, I had began to notice a shift in energy with Calum. I tried to think nothing of it, but the conversations began to get shorter, and his words for me grew small. He almost made me feel as if I did something wrong.

I gathered my belongings, checking my outfit before heading outside to my car, shivering at the cold weather. I dressed lazily in a large grey hoodie, along with black leggings and converse. I quickly turned on the heater after starting my car, and pulled put of the driveway.

I drove quietly as my mind wandered about confronting Calum for his change of mood towards me. I knew I was safe to bring up an issue to my friends, but I was concerned this was only a me problem.

My wandering mind passed the time quickly, arriving me to Ashton's apartment. I pulled slowly onto the curb in front of his apartment, sending off a quick "I'm here" text before exiting my car.

"Heyyy!" Ashton cheered goofily, raising his arms as he appeared from the front door. I giggled as I made my way up his driveway towards him. He reached an arm out for a quick hug as he spoke.

"How ya' doing?" He smiled, ushering me inside. I sighed dramatically.

"Could be better." I raised my eyebrows with defeat as I made my way inside. I set my bag and keys down on his kitchen counter which was decorated with various alcoholic beverages and snacks. I turned to the living room, being greeted by Calum, Luke and Michael at the couch. I watched as Calum's eyes quickly met mine, then shot back down to his hands.

"Well..." Ashton began, moving behind me swiftly, "Have a shot." He grinned, I turned to look at Ashton who had presented me with a small glass with a shot of mystery alcohol in it. The three boys from the living room shouted dramatic miscellaneous cheers and encouragements from behind me. I let out a laugh and reached for the drink. I looked at Ashton and shook my head laughing. With a shrug, I tossed my head back, taking my shot quickly. I scrunched my face briefly before frantically searching for a chaser.

"Give me a drink. I need a drink." I mumbled, shaking my head. Luke whistled from the couch with a laugh, holding out a Coke can. I hurried to the open drink and took a large swig.

"You didn't take that shot, that shot took you." Michael joked as I found my seat on the couch. I scoffed with furrowed eyebrows.

"Fuck off." I giggled. I glanced to Calum who had been awfully quiet. He was heavily focused on picking at a loose string on his t-shirt, faking an amused look on his face. I immediately noted his off mood. The boys continued whatever conversation they had before I arrived, laughing and cracking joke's beside me. I watched Calum carefully as he loosely followed their words, more in his own head than present with us. I decided to finally speak up.

"Cal." I chirped, snapping him out of his trance. His head perked up quickly as the room fell silent.

"Hm?" He raised an eyebrow, his eyes darted to everyone in the room nervously, then back to mine. I anxiously slouched back down at the unexpected and unnerving silence before speaking.

"Are you mad at me or something?" I questioned, keeping a cool tone. I watched from my peripheral as the boys eyes flashed to Calum. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion and he shook his head slowly.

"No..?" He muttered quietly. I bit the inside of me cheek and looked to the other boys, hoping one of them would agree with my observation of Calum's negative mood. Instead, they watched Calum like a bomb.

"You've been so quiet and weird with me lately. I know they see it too." I laughed anxiously, motioning to the boys. I widened my eyes at them, begging for some help. Calum looked to the boys, licking his lips anxiously.

"I-.." He began nervously, "I've just been feeling kinda off recently. I'm sorry." He stuttered nonchalantly, his eyes failing to connect with mine. "Kinda off?" I thought to myself, "Bad excuse.".

"I think he just means in the studio and such. We've all been pretty tired recently." Ashton jumped in quickly, glancing at Calum after speaking.

"Right." I replied, not buying whatever game they were trying to play.

We continued the night many hours into the early morning, as we normally would, we watched a few movies and ordered a bunch of junk food. Calum kept up his unusual behavior, trying his best to fake it, but I never let go of the thought that I would find out what was going on with him.

"You sure you don't wanna spend the night? It's late, and you've been drinking." Ashton offered as we walked to his front door. I gave him a hug and stepped outside.

"No, it's okay." I looked down to my phone, noting the time of 1:45 am. "I have work tomorrow and I'm okay to drive. My last drink was hours ago and all those snacks and fast food have taken over my veins." I groaned dramatically. Ashton giggled before nodding gently.

"I'll see you later." He patted my back and sent me down his driveway, watching me as I entered my car.

On my drive home, I was left unsatisfied with my confrontation with Calum. I thought our closeness would have led him to be more open, but he was so blatantly lying. Ashton obviously covering the lie for him only grew my suspicions more. My mind raced of the possibilities of what could be bothering the boy.

I lazily kicked off my shoes as I entered my apartment, tossing my keys of a small side table beside the door. Filled with junk from Ashton's house, I skipped my kitchen and headed straight for my bedroom.

I slipped out of my black leggings and hoodie, changing into a large shirt and underwear. As I tossed my laundry into the basket, my phone let off a ding on my bed. I flopped onto my bed, reaching for my phone and reading the notification. It read that the boys had started a live stream on twitch. I let out a giggle, amused at the boy's inability to rest. Clicking on the notification, I settled into my bed.

"We just saw each other 20 minutes ago!" Ashton cheered sarcastically from the livestream. I smiled at the faces on the screen.

"Hey, Y/n is here." Ashton chuckled, looking closer at the screen. I watched as the boys talked to the viewers of the stream and to each other, making jokes and messing with filters.

"Calum's sad cause Y/n yelled at him." Michael joked. Calum sent Michael a death glare, earning a chuckle from me.

"She didn't yell at me." Calum scoffed with a forced smile. I rolled my eyes sarcastically at his stubbornness, continuing to tune into the stream.

"He's sad cause he's in love with her." Ashton mumbled looking down to his phone, widening his eyes quickly and looking up at his screen after speaking, realizing what he had said.

"Dude." Calum spoke quietly. I narrowed my eyebrows at his words, him looking just as surprised as me. Ashton turned off his camera, followed by Calum, as if he had said something controversial. I put the speaker to my ear as the live suddenly fell quiet. Incoherent whispers came through before Ashton appeared again.

"Alright we'll see you guys later." Ashton forced a smile and a wave to the livestream before ending it abruptly. I stared at my empty screen in confusion, trying to make sense of Ashton's words. Did I hear him wrong? Was my phone glitching? I decided to play it cool and text Ashton calmly.

"Hey, why'd you end your live?"

I watched the three dots appear and disappear repeatedly before his message appeared.

"You should text Cal.".

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bloodhoundluke · 1 year ago

Text

for the love of strange medicine ✧ luke hemmings

pairing: luke hemmings x friend! reader

description: luke loves y/n in secret and his flirty comments make y/n's head spin. after calum's party, y/n finally gets an answer to luke's strange behavior.

warnings: alcohol consumption, cursing. please let me know if there’s anything else.

word count: 2,7k. a/n: hi there! this won the poll, the title was supposed to be 'it's impossible to ignore you' but i like for the love of strange medicine more :) i'm a bit rusty so please forgive me <33 and because i loved writing this so much, i think i'll do a pt. 2 to this!

The Californian sky was covered in haze that one Thursday. Luke stared at the cafe arguably named after a Steve Perry song: For the Love of Strange Medicine. It was fitting since Luke basically considered coffee to be his medicine, not to mention the delicious pretzels he had bought from the very same cafe a few days ago.

Luke rubbed his eyes and yawned, taking in the last smokes of the cigarette he had been inhaling on for the last three minutes. He swore to himself that it would be the last day he'd smoke. It wasn't. He pulled his phone out: 6:58am. He hated early mornings, and he hated how the cafe still wasn't open. Two more minutes, he told himself. He was growing impatient. Maybe it was the stress of recording a new album, maybe it was the fight he had with the manager last night.

When the clock hit 7am, you opened up the cafe. You gave Luke a soft yet tiresome smile which screamed It’s too damn early for this and he returned the favor. Luke saw the name tag on your black t-shirt: Y/N.

As time went by, Luke visited the cafe several times in an attempt to see your face again. To his misfortune, you weren’t working during any of those shifts. You had cut down your hours because of the intense lecture schedule. Luckily for Luke, you bumped into each other at a local festival while you both were watching Green Day play.

Your and Luke's friend groups emerged that night and you enjoyed his company too much for your own liking. You didn’t do men. You didn’t hang around them. Not even as friends. They all caused trouble for you. But with him, everything was different somehow. The night ended with you and Luke in your hotel room. There was nothing sexual about that night if not counting your lingering gazes at each other. You and Luke stayed up until seven in the morning, sharing your love of Green Day and Stranger Things, and talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

Luke and you started to grow closer since spending time together. It had been nearly 3 months since you had met and you felt as if you've known him for your whole life. Then Luke went on tour and he didn't want to believe he couldn't see your face as frequently anymore. You made him feel seen and most importantly, safe.

One time Ashton, Calum and Michael caught Luke looking at your Instagram pictures before a show. The boys couldn’t let it go and stop teasing about the way he was biting his lip nervously while scrolling through your Instagram page. Luke convinced them there was nothing to tease about. You were just friends, and that’s the way it would always be. Your lives were so different from each other; you, a part-time barista and a university student and Luke, a touring rockstar. It could never work.

You tried to forget your feelings for your friend, you really did. But you couldn't. Every corner of your flat and everyone you met reminded you of Luke. Even if it was someone’s blonde hair or a tiny detail in their jacket. Everyday activities such as going grocery shopping which you normally enjoyed couldn’t get him off your mind. You’d see the Australian-grown coffee beans. Boom, Luke. Lavender-scented laundry detergent he used. Luke again. And the fact that Luke texted you every day didn't help in the process of trying to forget the feelings you had for him.

—❦

You were attending a party tonight. But not just any party, Calum's party. His parties were known for a good time and endless bottles of free booze.

You wiggled on your black leather dress, which you had just bought. It barely covered your knees and you loved how it hugged you from all the right places. The combo of the leather dress, red lipstick and curly hair gave you all the confidence you needed to go out tonight and see Luke. Yes, he was your friend but you still felt nervous around him. And you blamed him for that. His James Dean glossy eyes and irresistibly long curly hair. His charm and his stupid dad jokes. You were whipped for him and it was a wonder no one around you noticed that. Or that’s what you thought anyway.

You recall the last time you had seen Luke. He had called you and asked to pick him up from his apartment a week ago. You knocked on his door and saw him with someone. A tall, gorgeous woman. Seeing the model-looking brunette beside Luke made your stomach flip. He seemed so happy with his arms around her waist. Maybe he had met her when he was on tour. You greeted them both and bit the insides of your cheek. That memory reminded you of the time you were helping him to pick out an outfit for him for his date a few weeks ago. Maybe it was for her. He had just returned back home from the tour and the poor man was all over the place. Maybe it was nerves, maybe he was just tired from touring. You imagined how Luke would get ready for your date and ask for assistance from Ashton, Michael and Calum. But that would never happen, so you snapped out of the thought. You were only hurting yourself by having these thoughts. You were such a fool for him, and you didn't know how to make it stop.

You sat down on top of your bed and decided to check Instagram on your phone. “He’s so pretty I think I’m gonna faint”, you whispered mainly just to yourself.

“Who are you talking about?”, your friend heard your little comment and frowned their eyebrows.

“Uh….maybe I’ll keep it a secret”, you winked.

“C’mon Y/N!”.

“Okay, I was talking about Timothée Chalamet. He looks so pretty”, was the lie you came up with. You couldn’t tell them you were talking about Luke. You had just seen his new Instagram photo and can’t get over his pretty blue eyes. And his curly locks. And that god-damn jawline. And his….well, everything.

“I know right! Maybe we should go watch the new movie so we’ll have some eye candy”, your friend winked.

“It’s a date”, you laughed.

You were still waiting for Luke to pick you and your two friends up. But he was late, like he always was. You had lectured him about his tendency to be late countless times. But he could never learn, could he? It was needless to say that you were pissed off.

Twenty minutes rolled by and Luke finally showed up. He offered his apologies to you and your friends. Your friends had already gone out and got themselves seated in the car, while you and Luke were still inside of your flat. Luke needed hairspray to lock his hair in place. Then Luke made his way to the hallway while you were checking that you had everything necessary with you. That one time you forgot your keys back home still haunted you, hence you had to double-check everything now.

“You got everything?”, Luke held the door open for you and the button of his already opened black and white star-patterned collar shirt popped off. “Oops”, he chuckled to himself. He didn’t bother to fix it. Not when he noticed you basically drooling over him.

“Yeah”, you answered nonchalantly and avoided eye contact with him. You had been on the edge the whole day and Luke being late didn’t exactly make you feel any better.

“I hate that you’re mad at me, but you look so hot right now”, he smirked at you. Luke was always like this with you. He flirted with you and you flirted back when it felt natural. But since he started to hang around the brunette woman - whose name you didn’t even know - you started to think that maybe you should stop flirting back. But you didn’t know if they were exclusive or not. Luke didn’t exactly bother to open up about the romance department in his life. Not to you anyway.

“Thanks. I like your hair”, you commented. You noted how he saw you fiddling with your bracelet. It was the one Luke won from Push A Prize that one Saturday night in July. Its pearls were your favorite color, blue.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too long?”.

“I think it’s good”.

“Just good? Don’t you mean gorgeous? Perfect?”, the blonde rockstar snarked.

“Shut up”, you slapped his hand gently and giggled.

"You okay?", he asked quietly as you were still fiddling with the bracelet.

"Yep, let's go", you gave Luke a small smile and received a nod in return. You took the passenger seat and he sat next to you and fired the engine.

“Took long enough”, one of your friends commented. “Blame Luke and his Prince Charming hair”, you rolled your eyes and looked at your friends in the backseat, and then at the man beside you.

"Geez, thanks for throwing me under the bus", Luke answered sarcastically, tapped the steering wheel with his fingers and turned the music up. Nickelback, of course.

You arrived at Calum’s house. You were walking side to side with the blondie, hand in hand. It was natural. You gravitated towards each other all the time, but you took it as a sign that you felt comfortable with him. Not just anyone could make you feel this way.

“We’re in public, you know that right?”, you asked him as he was still holding your hand. You couldn't even count the times people mistook you for a couple, and doing these kinds of things that could be seen as couple-y felt a bit odd for you sometimes.

“Yup”, he popped the p and offered you a cheeky grin.

“So why are you still holding my hand?”, you genuinely asked Luke whose eyes were fixated on the crowd of people mingling.

“Don’t want you to get lost. I know you’re bad at taking directions”, he smirked and saw you looking at him with a questionable look. Those words sounded like honey and you hated yourself for it. Oh, only if he wasn’t as charming as he was. It would make everything so much easier for you.

“Right”, you laughed it off and rolled your eyes. It’s not like you haven’t been to Calum’s house a million times before…

“You should wear that dress more often”, he cooed confidently into your ear and let go of your hand.

“Okay, Mr. Leather Pants”, you laughed and avoided his eye contact. You disappeared into the sea of people and fixed yourself a drink. You didn't really know what to think about Luke's behavior. He was flirtier than usual and you couldn't pinpoint why. The next few hours were spent by dancing with your friends and having conversations with drunken strangers.

—❦

Later, you noticed Luke navigating through the crowd to get to you. He spent a few minutes explaining how his leather boots got stuck in the mud in Europe while touring and how you would have laughed your ass off if you had seen that. Then, the unimaginable happened and he started spinning you around the dance floor. He had always been a fun drunk, that's for sure. He dropped you down carefully from the air and his hands laid comfortably on your waist. But not for long as the upbeat song shifted into a slow one, a shortened version of Give Me Love by Ed Sheeran. Shit.

You wrapped your hands around his neck almost intuitively. “Fuck it, let’s show them how to dance”, you lifted your left eyebrow and thought of how your hands will be sweaty in under a minute. Or twenty seconds, if you were being completely honest.

Luke placed his ring-covered hands, noticeably bigger than yours, back to your waist. “We’re so much better at this than these amateurs”, he looked deeply into your eyes and it felt like he scanned every little feature in your face. It felt intimidating. Being that close to Luke. Being that close with Luke.

“You should definitely consider Dancing with the Stars”, you commented and smiled as you intertwined your fingers behind his neck.

“You reckon?”, his eyes lit up and it's like you could almost see a blush creeping upon his cheeks.

“I see the UK accent has made a mark on you. Has a nice ring to it”, you confessed as you slow danced with your best friend.

“Thanks to you, ms. English Love Affair", Luke gave you a dirty look and chuckled semi-nervously afterwards.

"Oh, you wish", you replied with a nervous giggle and you two continued dancing in silence.

—❦

At 3am the party seems to die out and as usual, Luke walks you to your apartment. About half of the 15 minute walk you have talked about utter nonsense, like how many squirrels Luke saw during the tour and how many latte macchiatos you did during the time he was away.

“Can I ask you a question?", you asked as your heels clacked along the concrete.

“Sure”, Luke answers almost instantly, coughing afterwards.

“You were flirting with me the whole night and…”, you started your monologue which you had planned during the party.

“That’s not a question”, he interrupted and gave you a wink.

“Let me finish, you dumbass”, you answered, your tone being a mixture of playful and irritated.

He zipped his mouth and smiled back at you. You were standing in the front of your apartment, feeling a little cold in the chilly autumn air.

“I just wonder…why?”.

“Don’t we do that, like, all the time?”, he chuckled and stared down at his hands, then scanning your face for a while.

“I guess so, yeah. But it’s innocent. It wasn’t like that today. Or am I crazy? Am I imagining this? Please tell me it was just my imagination, I can- ”, you explained and could already feel how humiliated you'd feel soon.

“I don’t really like to tell you to shut up, but just for once, shhh Y/N. It wasn’t just you”, he took a step closer to you and placed a strand of your hair behind your ear. “I like you. Definitely have for a while. Maybe the whole time I’ve known you. I like spending time with you. You are the funniest person I know. And you give the best fashion advice. And beneath that sarcastic exterior is such a soft and empathetic soul. You don’t brag about your kindness, which makes it real. And I could talk to you for hours and never get bored. And for you, I would do the dishes happily. Believe it or not, no one has ever managed to bring out that side of me”, he chuckled as you remain speechless. His sudden declaration of love - well maybe not love, interest perhaps - made you grin like a child who just got a new toy.

“And shit, Y/N, I just adore you. And the way your laugh reminds me of home. I lo-, like how you play with your earrings when you are nervous. It’s adorable. And I-”,

“I don’t need to hear a novel of how much you like me, Luke”, you interrupted him.

“I know, but you deserve it”, he spoke softly and his lips turned into the classic Luke smile, which you found incredibly sweet.

“Save it for later”, you took a long look at those eyes that reminded you of the ocean and down to his pink and plump lips which you had dreamt of kissing for so long.

And then it happened. His lips were pressed against yours, making the time stop for a while. And his hands in your hair, tugging them slightly, not enough to hurt. Your fingers held the waistband of his pants. The way he moved his lips against yours was hungry, desperate, full of emotion he had never been able to release. It was electric, enough to make you release a little moan into his mouth.

“What the fuck is happening here?”, you heard all of the sudden and both of you turned to see none other than the Michael Clifford pressed against the door.

“And what the fuck are you doing in my apartment?”.

#luke hemmings imagine #luke hemmings fanfic #luke 5sos #luke hemmings fluff #luke fanfiction #my writing #5sos fanfic #5sos imagine #luke hemmings x reader #luke hemmings x y/n #luke hemmings x you

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souperbloom · 1 year ago

Note

Hiiii! I had an idea for a fic where reader is part of the band and is dating ashton. After their performance since their adrenaline is so high they get high and have high sex 🤭

fucking obsessed with this one. had a blast writing it too. soup nation hath spoken, so sativa you shall receive (sorry it took so long)

enjoy <3

————————

sativa. [A.I.]

🍃 boyfriend!ash x bandmate!reader

after the curtains close, you and Ashton let out that post-show adrenaline the best way you both know how.

a/n: i’m picturing black hair ash for this, but feel free to picture any era you’d like!

CONTENT WARNINGS: smut!, weed/smoking, strong language, pet names, oral/faceriding(f!receiving), switch!ash :3

WORDCOUNT: 6.1k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

Tonight was a night like no other. You and your band had just bid adieu to yet another incredible crowd, the lot of you filled with so much energy that it left you feeling as though you were about to burst.

"…Fuck yes, dude!"

"Who has my bag?!"

"Your shoe’s untied, mate! Slow down!"

You and your bandmates barreled through the parking lot of The Kia Forum, buzzed out completely on vibes. You had been running so fast, and for so long, that you had completely forgotten what you were running for.

It wasn’t much longer than a few minutes before you remembered, and reached, your destination— the tour bus, which was parked all the way at the back entrance of the arena. Each of you stopped accordingly, catching your breath.

"Why did we even start running?" Your bassist, Calum, has always had a gripe with running.

"Who fuckin’ cares?! That shit was awesome!" Michael blows out a breath, resting his hands on his knees.

"I like running… but not in these shoes… Dear God—" Luke had found himself on the ground, letting out a long, and loud groan.

"I could go again. Fuck it! Who wants to race me?" Your boyfriend’s voice pipes up from behind you. You whip your head around to see him jogging in place with a smile.

You let out a giggle, still breathless from the strides you had taken to keep up with his pace on your initial run into the parking lot.

"Nobody’s racing anybody, Ash," Calum huffs, stretching his legs, "We’ve gotta pack up our shit on time before they leave us here like last time."

Ashton blows a raspberry, "You’re no fun."

"I’ll race you," you shrug to him, still completely clouded with adrenaline. The running barely made a dent in the energy that was coursing through your veins.

He wraps a broad arm around your shoulder, hugging you into his side.

"You say that now, baby— but the last time I beat you in a race, you didn’t talk to me for like, a week."

"Hey," you scoff, "I had good reason! You teased me about it every time I opened my fuckin’ mouth!"

"She’s right, Ash," Luke finally pipes up from his resting place on the concrete, "you bullied the shit out of her."

"You clearly just don’t understand my comedic repertoire."

Michael and Calum laugh, each patting Ashton on the back as they walk by to step onto the tour bus. You glance over at Ash, who had been staring at Luke on the ground.

"You alright, Lu?" You ask, slithering out of your boyfriend’s grasp.

"Yeah, yeah— I’m fine. Just— give me a second." He holds his hand up in the air, almost surrendering to the cold, hard ground.

"C’mon, mate. Let’s get you on this bus. It seems like Y/N is the only one matching my energy tonight."

Ashton takes Luke’s hand, pulling him up by his torso. You watch in awe at how effortlessly your boyfriend hoists him up, the butterflies in your stomach still floating around just as they did when you first got together with him.

"Okay, I’m good now." Luke blows out a breath, adjusting his heels in his boots.

Ashton, Luke, and yourself all make your way back onto the tour bus, each with your own respective bags and belongings. By the time you had stepped on, Michael and Calum had already found their seats on one of the couches. They were browsing their phones, occasionally showing each other something and giggling at the screen.

"Got room for one more?" Luke asks, moving Calum’s spread out legs to make a seat for himself.

"There’s a whole ‘nother couch, mate," Calum huffs, so entranced by his phone that he hadn’t even looked up.

You and Ashton had made your way to the other couch in question. Your eyes find Luke’s, his find Ashton, as you each toss each other a knowing glance.

"Nah, I think I’m alright sitting here. Why, you don’t want my company?"

As the other three bicker, you and your boyfriend find a comfortable position on the couch. Your head is resting on his shoulder, his arm extended over the top of the couch and resting along the back of it. He pulls out his phone to check the time.

"It’s half past eleven and I’m fuckin’ wired." Ashton mumbles. You feel his body vibrate with the words he speaks as you rest your head onto him.

"Me too," you admit, your leg starting a cadence of bobbing up and down, "I’d usually be down for the count by now."

"Y’think it’s the adrenaline rush? I’m not sure why but— I feel like I could scale a goddamn mountain right now."

You shrug, trying to close your eyes as the bus starts to move, "Could be. But— it’s hard to believe we’re the only ones feeling it."

Ashton’s hand was gently lingering around the nape of your neck. He then started to toy with your hair, resting his head on top of yours.

Your leg had continued to bounce, still feeling as if you were about to pop off into the sky like a fucking bottle rocket.

It was only about a 20 minute drive from the venue back to the hotel, but the anticipation of getting there was absolutely killing you. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to stand sitting quietly, especially now that Ashton’s hand had traveled to your shoulder.

He twists his head, planting a kiss on your temple before whispering in your ear.

"Why’s your leg doing that?"

"Dunno’. Just energized, I guess."

Your boyfriend nods in understanding. "Isn’t being on this bus right now just the worst?"

"Don’t remind me," you say, as Ashton is removing his arm from the back of the couch.

He puts his arm back at his side, yet his hand finds your leg like a magnet. His fingertips creep towards your inner thigh, your leg still bouncing impatiently.

"Really wish we were back at the hotel…" He then dips down slowly to be level with your ear.

"…’Wanna put all this energy to good use, no?"

His words send a shock wave down your spine, similar to the ones that had been coursing through you all night long. You knew exactly where his head was at, but whether or not you wanted to acknowledge it while the rest of the band was three feet away from you was a battle you did not want to fight right now.

"Ash, knock it off," you whisper sternly, pressing your hand down on his in order to keep it from inching any closer to its’ destination.

"They’re not even paying attention. Look at ‘em." He gestures towards the boys on the couch, all either buried in their phones, or passed the fuck out.

"Still— If they saw anything I’d fucking kill myself."

Ashton’s tongue juts out to wet his bottom lip, now looking at you as if you were a dessert waiting to be devoured. You roll your eyes, trying your best to seem unbothered by his gaze.

"Fine."

The rest of the trip was uneventful. Ashton would occasionally squeeze your thigh, or his knee would knock against yours when Calum let out a particularly loud snore. You had finally made it back to your hotel, and were filing out one by one from the tour bus

"It’s amazing how you fast you can fall asleep," You hear Michael poke fun at Cal, who had been yawning and stretching as if he had gotten a full night’s sleep.

"The art of the power nap, my friend."

"Even after all these years, you still snore like an animal," you giggle, reminiscing on the many nights you’d spent on the road together.

As Calum opens his mouth to retaliate, Luke is stepping out of the tour bus and joining the conversation.

"Everyone has their shit, right?" he asks, hoisting his bag over his shoulder.

"Yup."

"Mhmm."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now get out of my sight. All of you. Don’t wanna see your faces ‘till tomorrow morning a nine." Luke teases, wagging his finger at the rest of you.

You each gave hugs and said your goodnights, all while Ashton was glued to your hip. His body radiated off an aura that you couldn’t quite put your finger on— you didn’t know if it was just the energy, or the fact that the tension between you two was thick enough to cut with a pair of scissors.

But you knew full and well that you were feeling it too.

"That was the longest bus ride of my fuckin’ life," Ashton huffs, fumbling in his pants pocket for the keycard to your suite.

"I know— I feel like I should be tired," you shrug, "I probably won’t be able to sleep for a while though."

As Ashton pushes open the door to your shared hotel room, he tosses you a smirk over his shoulder. You blush, adjusting your bag strap and trying not to make too much of a face.

"We should stay up all night."

"Do you really think that’s the best idea?" Now, his eyes were wide and glassy. Your boyfriend’s energy had skyrocketed at an alarmingly fast rate.

"No, not at all. But— I think it would be fun, don’t you?"

The thought of staying up all night made you tired in itself, but you couldn’t push past the adrenaline still rolling through your veins.

You think for a moment, mulling over the pros and cons.

It’s already after midnight. Call time for tomorrow was at 9am. What’s 8 and a half more hours gonna change?

"It would be fun… But what would we do for that long?" You drop your bags on the carpet with a sigh.

"I could think of a thing or two," says Ashton, wiggling his eyebrows. He rifles through his bag on the floor for a moment, while you flop down on the king sized mattress.

"Like what? ‘Cause I’m not about to just sit here and stare at you."

"I don’t see a problem with looking at your gorgeous face for eight hours straight," Ashton chuckles, "but that wouldn’t be realistic…"

He digs down into one of the pockets of his backpack, pulling out a small rolling tray, a pack of papers, and a jar of bud.

"…So how about I roll up and we see where it takes us?"

You can’t help but bite your lip at the thought of Ashton rolling up for you. He always gave you the princess treatment when it came to smoking, and tonight was no different.

"I’m down for that." You hum, shifting yourself up on the bed and resting your arms on the pillows.

"Perfect. It’s settled then."

You watch with patient eyes as your boyfriend stands with his belongings. A rolling tray, papers, and a grinder in one hand, the bud, and a pack of filters in the other. His gaze drops down your body, landing on your torso.

Without a word, he finds his way onto the bed on his knees, a sly smile sprawling across his cheeks as he moves around you slowly.

"Whatcha’ doin’, baby?" You ask innocently.

"Nothin’."

His timid reply made your stomach flip, not long before he’s reaching his leg over your body to straddle you. He rests himself gently onto your thighs, putting his rolling supplies down at your side.

"Gonna roll up now, mkay?" He finds your approval with his eyes, as he slowly starts to dip his body down to lay flat onto you. Confused, you lift your brow, but you’re immediately shut up when he starts tugging at the hemline of your shirt.

"Ash, what—"

"Shhhh," he whispers, before pulling up the spandex material of your stage shirt and leaving a gentle kiss on your belly.

Your heart flutters at his simple gesture, just watching in awe as he starts to lay out his rolling supplies on your stomach. You were still very confused, yet you didn’t have the heart to question him.

Now with a rolling tray, papers, and a grinder all splayed across your body, Ashton starts his routine. He takes out a nug from the jar, popping it into the grinder and using his elbows to keep himself hovered over your body.

"What am I, a table?" You giggle, the movement of your stomach causing the rolling tray and other things to move around.

"Your giggling is fuckin’ up my work station, baby. Try to hold still f’me."

You clamp your giggly mouth shut with a straight face, still oddly amused by this strange scenario. Ashton had never used you as a rolling tray before, so pardon you for seeming weird about it.

Once he was done grinding up the weed, he grabbed a filter, all while balancing himself over your body. He made his next moves tediously, laying out a paper flat onto his tray and sprinkling the plant onto it.

Your first instinct was to hold your breath, but something about his face of concentration was making you want to bust out laughing. He’d occasionally glance up at you, those green, honeypot eyes tossing you warning stares.

"Almost done—" He says, now folding up the corners of the paper and actually starting to roll it.

What you loved most about watching Ashton roll was the pure concentration that overcame him, every single time. His eyes would go narrow, his tongue poking out slightly between his lips. It took everything inside of you not to sit up and start showering his face in kisses, but you held back.

For the sake of the joint.

"She’s a beauty," you say, watching Ashton tongue the rolling paper and leaving you with nothing but intrusive, sinful thoughts.

"Mhmmm," Ashton hums in return, before giving the paper one more lick. He twists up the end, finally getting to admire his handiwork.

"Your belly makes one hell of a rolling tray, baby— might have to try rolling up your tits next."

"Yeah, right. Good luck with that one."

You both laugh as Ashton starts to remove his supplies off of you, haphazardly tossing them to the side.

He then pops the joint into the corner of his mouth, and uses his fists to crawl up to you. He stops at eye level, fully straddling you with the jay between his lips and a devilish gleam in his eye.

"What are you looking at?" You ask, already knowing the answer.

"You." He mumbles through the side of his mouth, the joint stuck to his bottom lip,

"Yeah, no shit," you laugh, "But why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like there’s something on your mind."

He cocks his head, "Well, there is this one thing…"

Feeling daring, you pluck the joint from between his lips, taking it between your fingers.

"If ya’ tell me what it is, I’ll let you take the first hit."

"Psh," he scoffs, "like I wasn’t gonna do that anyway."

A bout of confidence rolls down your body, absolutely entranced by your boyfriend’s floppy black curls. He looked absolutely ravishing. The gaze in his eye flicking from innocent to lust fueled, just with a blink.

And if there’s one thing you always knew, it was exactly what he wanted.

"You fuckin’ wish… Tell me what’s on your mind, pretty boy."

Your nickname for him made him close his eyes, taking in a deep breath as you ran the back of your hand along his cheekbone.

The joint was still dangling between your fingertips, but you were debating putting it down after the way he had sighed.

"You always know how to get me, don’t you?" His voice was quiet, and sultry.

"Contrary to popular belief, Ash, I know a lot about you. Enough to know what you’re thinking about."

"You’re such a fuckin’ tease," he grumbles.

"Hey, you started it. Just trying to match that energy from before, y’know?"

"Trust me, it’s still here, darlin’. It never left."

Your mouth pulls to the side, watching his eyes flick between your lips and your chest.

"Oh, really?… You catch your bottom lip with your teeth.

"…Prove it."

In a flash, Ashton is flipping you over, bringing your hips to straddle his waist with your calves digging deeply into the hotel mattress. The action practically knocks the wind out of you, all with the joint still dangling between your fingertips. But you used Ashton’s broad chest as leverage for your palms, so you didn’t fall.

"I’ve got the time to prove it… and a lighter."

Ashton reaches over to the bedside table, practically knocking everything off of it as he reaches for his black Zippo. It was like a piece of him— never leaving his sight for more than a few minutes.

And on the rare occasion in which it wasn’t on him, it could be found right in your back pocket.

"Well then, if you insist— light me up, baby."

You place the joint between your lips, making a sly effort to dig your hips downward and grind into his crotch. A shaky hand approaches you, the heart shaped ink on his wrist reaching out to you with a burning flame.

He toasts the end of the joint as you inhale, the crackling, earthy feeling funneling down your throat while you take the first pull. Those golden fern eyes surveyed your every move; from the inhale, to the exhale.

"Y’look so pretty smokin’ my weed."

"Do I?" You hum, now feeling his hands as they palm at your thighs.

"Mhm."

Your cheeks flush pink, going in for another hit of the joint as Ashton just watches you; like he was in some sort of trance.

But as the smoke travelled down into your lungs and left you feeling a bit fuzzy, something inside of you perks up. A yearning to be in control; to tell Ashton whatever perfectly fucked up words were left in that adrenaline-doused brain of yours.

"You look even prettier under me."

His eyes flutter closed, and you’re left with a cheeky, prideful smile.

You loved getting under Ashton’s skin, more than anything. Calling him pretty, pretty boy; it was like a drug to you. You craved the rush that came with the change in his demeanor. It was something he tried to deny enjoying—

Yet he always came back for more.

Without another word, you pass the joint to him, placing it between his plump lips and allowing him to take his first pull. He sighs to himself, still clawing at your pants like he would strike gold by digging his fingers into them.

"Fuck— that’s great."

"Isn’t it? She's a beauty."

"Mhmm… tastes nice."

The residual smoke clouds the air above you, as you continue to pass the joint back and forth between your lips and his.

It wasn’t long before you started feeling high; and the same went for Ashton. You shared glances through heavy, bloodshot eyes, completely entranced by one another.

"Told you this was a good way to pass time," says Ashton, whose hands had become a bit more fidgety down at your sides.

The fog in your mind was clouding your senses. It had come to a point where you felt like your voice wasn’t working— you’d open your mouth, but nothing would come out. Just a puff of air, or a soft little whimper as Ashton’s hands danced around your calves.

"Baby?" He asks you, shifting his hips beneath you with a twinkle in his eye, "You okay?"

You wanted to reply, but you were too mellowed out to even utter a word. Shooting him a soft smile, you toss your head back, and run your hands down your chest.

"I’ll take that as a yes."

Ashton was an avid smoker. You, not so much. But on the off chance he was willing to roll and smoke you up, it was very rarely that you’d say no. Ash loved to smoke with you, you loved to smoke with Ash.

It was a match made in heaven.

"Whatdaya’ think the guys are doing right now?" Ashton always blurts whatever the fuck is on his mind. High, or not.

"Mmmh, I’m not sure… Probably sleeping." It took you a minute to gain the moisture back in your throat in order to reply.

"Fuckin’ losers. They don’t know what they’re missing. I wonder if any of ‘em are staying up late…"

You can’t help but let a dreamy sigh fall past your lips, before leaning over to put out the joint over your shared bedside ashtray.

"I don’t know much about them, but I know about me n’ you."

While Ashton’s hands are dead-bolted to your waist, yours roam his torso, toying with the black button-down he had slipped on after leaving stage. You fumble with the buttons, mess with the collar, all with your bottom lip stuck between your teeth.

"Can I help you?" Ashton sighs, rather sarcastically, starting his own trail of greedy fingertips.

"You know what I want."

"I'm not sure I do, my girl. Need you to be more specific..."

"Don't play dumb, pretty boy," your hands find the first button of his shirt, "I want you."

It isn't long before all of Ashton's buttons are undone and your lips are leaving a trail of sloppy kisses, making headway towards the buckle of his jeans. He whines beneath you, hands wandering along the motions of you as you shift down his body.

"Fuck me, you're an angel," he sighs dreamily, but you just smile between kisses, already feeling the wetness pooling in your lower half.

"Am I?"

"Mhmm, heaven told me so."

With his words, you shoot up to his eye level, giving him a good stare down before slamming your lips onto his. He melts into the kiss, as do you, still writhing beneath you for any inch of release.

His tongue explores your mouth, searching for something sweeter than the feeling of his own stoned mind. Your hands caress his face; his cheeks feeling much softer than usual.

"Oh, Ashton—" You whine, not long before his teeth are sinking viciously into your bottom lip.

A hiss falls past your teeth, his blistered palms gripping your exposed sides for dear life and pushing you down onto his growing erection.

His direction of kisses starts to lead towards your jaw— then your neck, then your chest.

"Want me that badly, hmm?" You coo to him, somewhat condescendingly. All he can do is hum beneath you, absolutely mesmerized by the taste of your skin.

"You know I fuckin' do."

As he works his way back up your throat, he leaves hickies in his trails. Also known as, a story to tell the band tomorrow.

"Hey, Dracula— knock it off. We've got a show tomorrow." You giggle, as Ashton pops his head up with wide eyes. He still looks entranced by you. Could’ve been the weed, but you swore you could see little cartoon hearts bursting within his irises.

"You’re right, you’re right—"

Ashton begins to toy with the hemline of your skirt, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he practically undresses you with his eyes.

"Want this off?" You ask, motioning towards the article of clothing in question.

He thinks for a moment, rolling his mouth inward on itself and seemingly picturing the whole ordeal before it’s even began.

"Nuh uh. Keep it on— I like it."

"Can’t really argue with that," You shrug casually, as if being high and now horny wasn’t already causing the both of you enough grief.

Ashton clears his throat, grabbing your attention away from his wandering fingertips.

"Hey, wanna try somethin’?" he mumbles, his tone a bit whiny. Needy.

"Hm?"

"Want you to ride my face."

Your eyes widen, face flushing of color as your mindless hip rocking comes to a slow. You can barely compute what he had just asked of you, let alone find enough saliva in your throat to reply.

"Wh—"

"You don’t have to— If ya don’t wanna. Just thought it’d be fun, y’know, since we’re lookin’ for ways to pass time."

You chuckle lowly, regaining your confidence as you watch his eyes shimmer just from looking at you.

"Baby, I don’t think that’d pass much time," you sigh, stomach lurching at merely the thought of it.

A smile spreads across Ashton’s cheeks, "Why not? Don’t want me to tease you with my tongue ‘till you can’t take it anymore? I’d say I could get a good thirty minutes out of that."

"That— that’s unfair!" You screech, the butterflies in your stomach dancing along and making you shiver.

"Don’t think so. Especially since you hogged the joint. Smoked all my fuckin’ weed. I’d say we’re equal."

"Kiss my ass, Irwin." you bite back.

"God, I’d love to."

You and Ash have tried a lot of things as a couple, but this opened a completely new door. At this rate, as late as it was, you were willing to do just about anything to get your hands on your pretty boy.

"Y’know what? Fine… Let’s fuckin’ do it."

You finally give him the reply he’d been waiting for. His eyes practically shoot out of his head when he hears it.

"Really?"

"Mhmm."

Ashton tosses his head back into the plush pillows, running his hands up your waist and finding himself beneath your spandex shirt, "Gonna' make a meal outta you, baby. Promise it'll be worth it."

With his words, you're dipping back down to kiss him, feeling his hips eagerly bucking up into yours and revealing just how hard he was beneath his jeans.

"Need you," he whispers into your lips, "please. Soon?"

His incoherent babbling was already telling you everything you needed to know, his breathing picking up with the slight feeling of release he was getting by feeling you through the confines of fabric.

"Sit tight, pretty baby. Let me get situated." You part from his lips, planting one last kiss on his cheek before you're de-straddling yourself from his hips.

Your eyes zone in on his, reaching beneath your skirt to meticulously dance your way out of your lacy panties, as per his request for your skirt to stay on.

He watches through hooded eyes, discreetly moving his hand to palm himself through his jeans. You catch him out of the corner of your eye, as you partially undress yourself.

"Slow down, tiger. Save some for me."

"You're not making it any easier, ya’ tease." He grumbles, the corners of his mouth coming to a catty point.

You decided that a strip tease was enough, already feeling bad for making him wait this long. A nervous swirl settles in your stomach; having never done this before, you weren't sure what to expect.

But you knew that whatever was about to happen, Ashton would make it worth wild.

"C'mere," Ashton calls to you with two fingers, and you oblige, straddling his lap once again as his hands find you like a magnet.

"Where do you want me?"

"On my face."

You scoff, "Well duh, Ash."

"I'm serious. Don't know if I can go another fuckin' minute without your thighs as my earmuffs. Get up here. Now."

"Yes sir," you joke, shifting upward on his body. Your bare core was hovering over his chest, and he was practically drooling at the sight of you.

He gives you a quick asking glance, eyes wide and glassy as they had been since the second you two stepped off of the tour bus. You could tell how elated he was merely from the size of his pupils.

"Ready?" He asks gently, noticing you lingering.

"Think so." You suck in a deep breath, finding comfort in your boyfriend's eyes.

"Gonna start nice and slow. Nothin' to worry about." He runs a hand up your thigh, pushing up your skirt and exposing your body to him a little more.

"What makes you think I'm worried?" you quip.

"I can just see it in your eyes, baby."

The room did feel like it was spinning, but you were more bashful than nervous. But you could tell that Ashton didn’t care about the semantics of it all.

He just wanted to taste you.

After taking a moment to regain your confidence, you raise your hips. Ashton shifts down below you, peeking under your skirt at the mess you’ve already made of yourself.

"So wet, already? Damn Y/N, I’ve barely even touched you yet."

"You talk a big game for a man who practically melts when I call him pretty."

Ashton rolls his eyes, "Less talking, more ‘sit on my fuckin’ face, please’."

His hands cradle the backs of your thighs, which makes you sigh. You loved the feeling of his weathered palms; and how tenderly they scraped against your skin. Being high was only furthering that euphoria, enough to distract you from how antsy you were.

You finally let yourself lower onto his face, immediately feeling his nose nudging against your clit.

"Shit—" you hiss, for Ashton wastes no time in licking a healthy stripe up your slit.

Your muscles start to relax as his tongue moves within you, paying attention to your sounds and the jolts of your hips. He braces himself on your thighs, as you look down to see his face engulfed by your flesh and the fabric of your skirt.

"Can— can I watch?" You ask through shaky breaths, only for Ashton to knock his nose against your clit once again and release a moan from the back of your throat.

When he hums in response, a course of electricity shocks your veins. You knew that meant he was saying yes, but the feeling of him vibrating against your core brought your heart rate to double.

You start to rock your hips slowly, feeding into the motions of his tongue chipping away at you. You reach your hands down to lift your skirt, only to reveal two bright green eyes staring back at you between your thighs.

The sight of him beneath you, so eager to please you, could’ve had you cumming right on the spot. But you were enjoying this far too much to let it end right now.

"Ash, oh my god—" You whimper, the combination of his pleading eyes and nimble tongue having you doubled over in ecstasy.

You’re too busy staring down at him to notice how he’d closed his eyes and started to move faster. The speed at which his tongue was lapping against you brought your hands to fly to your chest. You started to pinch your own nipples above your shirt, but Ash was quick to notice.

His arm shoots up to knock against yours, moving it out of the way so that he could get his greedy hands on your tits.

"Fuck— please, please," you beg, although you weren’t really sure what you were begging for. It was taking everything in your power to hold off on your orgasm and enjoy this for as long as possible.

You look down at his face again to see the tip of his nose glittering with your arousal, sweaty black curls stuck, and rearranged to his forehead.

You can’t help but smile, letting out a few more whines and whimpers as you grind your hips. He was still toying with your nipple, but made the executive decision to slide his hand beneath your shirt.

He pinches your nipple between his fingers, receiving pleasure merely from the sounds slipping past your lips. Your entire body felt like it was set ablaze, your core warm and fuzzy from the weed and attention you were receiving from your boyfriend’s tongue.

"Ash, please—" You plead again, as Ashton’s hand switches to massaging your entire breast, still working up into you and lapping at your clit from time to time. "—Gonna cum’ soon."

A muffled groan could be heard from beneath you, sending a course of electricity through your veins. He was letting you know that he heard you loud and clear, but he wasn’t quite ready to give in just yet.

When the feeling of your impending orgasm gets to be too much, you start to panic.

"Wait— I—"

Without thinking, you lift yourself off of his face, instantly whining at the loss of contact from his mouth and the feeling of accidentally edging yourself.

“Baby, my God," he sighs, breathlessly, “don’t stop. Need— need you t’ cum on my face.”

His cheeks are slick with your arousal, lips glistening as he darts his tongue out to clean some of it off.

"Are you sure?" You mumble in return, still slightly dizzy from the whirlpool happening in your lower half. But Ashton then anchors his hands on your waist, giving your flesh a gentle, pleading squeeze.

"Yes please, baby. Fuckin’ soak me. Let me taste you while you cum for me."

He’s nodding frantically, reciprocating that energy of never wanting this moment to end.

"Ashton, I--"

"Keep saying my name, darlin'. Sounds so fuckin' hot comin' out of your mouth."

You can’t shake the feeling of your orgasm being on the brink for any longer, so you waste no time. His heavy breathing and bloodshot eyes has your stomach in knots.

You re-mount his face, starting your rhythm of rocking hips once more in time with his tongue.

That wave of bliss hits you again, picking up right where you had left off. You’re whining and groaning, still feeling his fingertips digging into you and holding you stable.

"Oh, Ashton."

He groans beneath you at the angelic sound of his name rolling off of your tongue. For extra stability while you grind into him, your grasp flies to the headboard, holding on tightly as you ride out your high.

"I’m so close, Ash… keep— keep going… fuck!"

Your body was shifting into overdrive, your head tossing back to let out a guttural whine from your chest.

”I’m— I’m cumming… Fuck, Ashton!"

The knot in your stomach finally snaps, sending a wave of chills rumbling down your limbs and practically taking the headboard off of the wall with the sheer force of your orgasm.

You whine as the sensation rolls out, gradually slowing down your rhythmic hips above your boyfriend, who was as stiff as a board.

"Ashton, holy fucking shit," you giggle, letting out a long sigh. But he was unresponsive. You look down between your thighs again at those glowing fern eyes, pupils large and wavering.

"You good, pretty boy?" You move to sit on his chest, his head resting between your knees and revealing that slicked face for a second time. His shocked, lust-fueled expression morphs into a wicked smile, before he runs his hands up and down the tops of your thighs.

"You're fuckin' crazy."

You shrug, "What can I say? You bring out the best in me."

He laughs again, taking a moment to breathe and run a hand through his sweaty charcoal curls.

"Jesus Christ, Y/N," he breathes, still admiring your body as if he hadn't just sent it into shock.

"What? You asked for it."

"Honestly, I could go again."

"I know we've got time but let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you tut, taking a hand to grab his cheeks, still between your legs, "A warm bath would definitely be nice, though. I'm still a kinda high."

He nods, "I could do that, yea... But the question is whether or not that tub is big enough for the both of us."

"Who said you were invited?" you joke.

"After what just happened on my face? Baby, I think ya' owe me one."

Your head was still a tad foggy so naturally, you found yourself giggling at everything coming out of your boyfriend's mouth. He smiles up at you warmly, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip.

"Hey, what time is it anyway?"

"Not too late for you to run me a bath, if that's what you're implying."

He scoffs, using his broad hands to shift you down onto his lap so that he could sit upright.

"It's never too late for a bath, darlin'. I just wanted to know if I killed some time." He turns his head to glance over at the alarm clock on the bedside table, as do you.

"1:30." You say in unison.

"And only..." he looks at his wrist, acting as if he has on a watch, "...seven and a half more hours 'till call time."

Both you and Ashton laugh, while he's still tracing little heart patterns along your legs. "What if we took a seven and a half hour bath?" You suggest, feeding off of his teasing energy.

"We'd come out looking like fuckin' prunes."

"I'd say it's worth it...if it meant seven and a half more hours with you."

He moves his wandering hands to cup your face, cocking his head subtly to the side. You felt the sparks practically flying off of his fingertips as he looks at you with a beaming grin.

"Seven and a half hours doesn't mean a thing. We've got all the time in the goddamn world."

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin smut #5sos #5sos fanfic #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton 5sos #soupster requests

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calumsrockstar · 1 year ago

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Bare - Poly 5SOS

a/n: I saw this album cover and had this idea...

Contents: smut (exhibitionism mostly)

Word count: 1.1k

In which the reader is a band mate and agrees to do the rolling stone cover photo.

5sos x bandmate!reader

Luke was working on his computer, while Calum, Mike and Ash were sitting next to him. "What the fuck?" He said to himself. Calum laughed, "What happened Lu?" He asked. "You guys gotta see this man." Luke laughed.

What was on the screen was an e-mail from the Rolling Stone magazine asking if they were interested in doing a naked photoshoot, nothing too explicit, they would be covering their genitals, and they would have writing all over their body.

Ashton started giggling loudly. "Well, that´s punk rock dude!" Luke paused. "Wait, are you actually considering doing this photo shoot?" He asked raising an eyebrow. "Well, it would be good for publicity, and also, we wouldn´t actually show anything, and it´s the Rolling Stone!" He uttered.

Mike paused for a few seconds. "Well, we would have to talk about this to y/n." Luke looked at him. "Yeah, i didn´t think about her...how would she even do that?"

"Well, she could wear underwear and just cover her tits? We would be wearing dick covers too, wouldn´t we?" Calum said. Luke started blushing. All of the boys had been having thoughts about her, but they had never admitted it.

"Well.... who´s gonna tell her?" Michael said. He, Calum and Ashton said "not it!" at the same time, which left Luke being the responsible one.

"You guys are such assholes." Luke muttred under his breath. All of the boys started laughing.

You were in your room listening to music. Luke knocked at the door while the other boys were listening in.

"Come in!" You said to Luke. "Hey y/n, I was just wondering if I could talk to you about something." Luke said quietly. "Yeah, what do you need?" You asked curiously.

"So... There´s this photoshoot we got asked to do." Luke told you. "That´s amazing Lu! How will it be?" Luke paused. "Okay so basically we gotta be naked." You raised an eyebrow. "It´s nothing too explicit, we´re gonna be covering our stuff with our hands." Luke asserted. You started laughing, and Luke rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.

"Wow, you´re not kidding." You said, smiling. "Yeah, if you´re not comfortable it´s totally okay, you don´t need to do it." He cooed.

"I want to do it." You said sternly. His jaw dropped. "Really?" You laughed. "Yeah, it´s gonna be good for publicity, and well, it´s not gonna be that explicit." You said, winking.

He stopped and started thinking about how your body looked like naked, he´s seen you before after a shower with your tight pijamas, but nothing too lewd.

His jeans were starting to get tighter around his crotch, he needed to get those thoughts out of his head now. "Lu? You there?" You asked. "Yeah! Yeah! I´ll tell the boys!" He exclaimed while leaving the room. You chuckled to yourself.

"Guys, you won´t believe this, she said yes." Luke said quietly to everyone. All their jaws dropped. "Oh my God" Ashton muttered.

The next day came, and you were all getting ready for the photoshoot. "This is so weird man, never thought I would be naked in a room with all of you." Calum said. Everyone laughed. The boys felt a pit in their stomach, knowing you could come out at any time.

You were in your dressing room. You had black lace panties on, doing your makeup and you were completely topless. What you didn´t know, was that your door was half open.

Calum saw the open door with the side of his eye. You looked amazing, your hair was curled and your body looked like it was sculpted by gods.

The other boys were quick to notice too. They all looked at each other. "Dude..." Michael uttered quietly. "Are we gonna ignore the elephant in the room?" Ashton said. "She´s so fucking hot." Calum said.

"I don´t think I can do this anymore." Luke said. Ashton started giggling. "Why? Did the blood go to the wrong place Lu?"

What they didn´t know, is that you were enjoying this as much as they did. This was your fantasy. A room with 4 naked men, that you´ve had a crush on forever? Sounds like a great plan.

Every boy there was mesmerized, all of them had imagined you naked before, but this was even better than anything their imagination could create.

You opened the door. The four boys immediately looked the other way. "Come on guys, we´re all adults here." You said, while smiling. Michael coughed awkwardly. "Let´s do this." Calum said.

The photographer had specific requestes. You had to take a photo next to each one of the boys. "Be sexy and bold!" The photographer exclaimed.

The boys could not ignore their growing erections, it was getting uncomfortable to all of them. They could only hope it would be over soon so they could go to their rooms and stroke their cocks thinking of you. You on the other hand, were loving this.

In the first picture, you were in the middle of Calum and Luke, both standing awkwardly. You posed for the picture. "Luke, put your arm around y/n." The photographer said. Luke coughed. It was getting hard enough to cover his boner with one hand. He put his hand on your waist.

The sensation was amazing, you were wet immediately.

"Now y/n, go next to Ashton and do a kiss on his cheek." The photographer exclaimed. You were happy to do what you were told, covering your tits, you placed a soft kiss on Ashton´s cheek. He started blushing.

Now, it was your turn to go to Calum´s side. "y/n, stick your toungue out." You did as told. "That´s amazing, the fans will love it." Calum looked at you while the photographer took the picture. Calum´s mind was racing thinking of what you could do with that toungue. "Calum, look at the camera, not at her." The photographer said sternly. Michael laughed.

In the last photo, the photographer told Michael to stand behind you, and for you to make a surprised expression on your face. While he was behind you, you adjusted yourself in front of him, wiggling your ass around on his cock.

You could feel his dick close to your body, you smirked, then the final picture was taken.

"We´re all done here!" The photographer said, with a smile on his face. All the boys sighed.

"Good work guys." You said, smirking, and returned to your dressing room, closing the door.

The guys were in silence looking at each other for a few seconds. "I really need to go to the bathroom." Luke said. The boys laughed. Ashton looked at him. "Touché."

#5 seconds of summer #5sos smut #calum hood #michael clifford #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #ashton irwin smut #michael clifford smut #calum hood smut #luke hemmings smut

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nobitchs-world · 9 months ago

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Me after realizing I look like my father

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prettypinkporkchop · 1 month ago

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Do ya have any wlw fics pendin or should we send ya some

SEND THEM PLZZZZ

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 1 year ago

Text

Sweet Dreams--Part 7

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.

CW: Smut across the series. This particular part is smut adjacent (mentions of BDSM, kinks/fetishes)! Mentions of parental neglect, and alcohol abuse across the series as well.

Series Masterlist

My Complete Masterlist

Calum checks his watch. The face stares up at him in blinking gold and lets him know he’s still got a little over an hour before he should pull the plug on work and get ready for the date. The black dress shirt he wore for sessions is overkill for the date. He’d already promised that you didn’t need to dress up. Besides, if Calum’s honest the starch on his collar has made it stuff to the point he’s worried he could chaff him. Thankfully at this point in the day, he doesn’t need it buttoned up so he takes a moment to undo a few buttons. The air rushes in, cool as it skates over his now exposed chest.

78% of constituents responded no when asked if they felt Cabinet responded in a timely fashion to major crises (historically). The cursor stares back at Calum now. The data’s on his other monitor. He could see it with just a glance of his eyes, wouldn’t even have to move his head entirely, but something about the words feels hollow. They’re true. It doesn’t feel like it’ll be enough. Calum’s not lying, nor is he stretching the numbers to fit his narrative. It’s a haunting thought that no matter what Calum does it will never be enough, yet, this is all he’s got. This is what all his effort is culminating; this is all that he has left for this vote.

It’s the anxiety, Calum knows. If so much weren’t riding on this, Calum is sure he would continue on with ease. But there are stakes. Every word feels like it must carry twice the weight. So Calum’s twice as slow to put the words down on the page and to string together sentences. By the time he gets another two sentences down, the blink of the cursor is burned behind his eyelids. Calum can recite the paragraph by heart as he reads and rereads the sentences that precede each new one he writes.

This isn’t a new anxiety; Calum feels it when he has to deliver a speech at events. The intent is very much different. Calum is not speaking to a crowd, gathered for the same agenda. He is antagonizing. He is directly pointing a finger and it will no doubt cause a ripple. People will squirm. They’ll push back and rebel. He can imagine the disappointed stares, the murmurs that might arise between members. But this is what they need--a fire, a disturbance. Someone’s got the rattle the cage in a way that they’ll actually fear.

Though, Calum can’t rattle a cage with a cursor blinking at him with no words.

A knock sounds from his door. He huffs before pushing up out of the chair. No one should be at the door. He’s not late to any meetings. His phone and email would’ve alerted him to that. It could be someone from the cleaning crew coming through for quick rounds but they usually make last rounds around 6:30, sometimes 7. “Coming,” he calls out as he rounds the edge of his desk.

The other person remains quiet. With another glance at his watch, Calum wonders if this will be good enough to call it quits. He still needs to change. He’s got half an hour but he worries that if he forces it, he’ll become so frustrated nothing will come. The door creaks and Calum just happens to take note of the shoes first before taking the long glance up. There you stand, sneakers and jeans with a button up and motto jacket to seal the deal. The jacket looks well worn, molded around you, but well kept. While there are some spots that look a little lighter than others, Calum knows when leather’s been polished after doing it to his own jackets plenty of times.

“Hey,” Calum greets, pulling the door open further for you.

“Hi, I know I’m early. Is it okay if I hang out with you until you’re ready to go?”

“Of course, baby. C’mon.”

Your steps are slow as you cross the threshold, head circling to take in the sights. Calum knows his office isn’t that impressive. A lot of the decor was well established before he acquired the office--namely the desk, office chair, wall color, couch, and table. There are a few pieces--pictures of family, Duke, and friends-- that Calum’s framed and put up. The thought pops up to do more, but Calum never gives into the command.

“If you’ve got suggestions for how to decorate an office I’m all ears.”

“It’s nice,” you return with a laugh. It’s soft as you spin on your heel to face Calum again. “May need a new paint job.”

The beige walls are a bit drab, but they do their job nonetheless. “Got a color in mind?”

“Red,” you answer. It’s definitive, leaves you with little hesitation.

Calum whistles at the answer, pressing on the door until the locks click. The noise of the hallways--mostly folks shoes on the floor--is shut off from the interior. “That’s bold.”

You settle into the couch, right on the edge as you peel out of the jacket. “I’ve heard that about myself a time or two.”

“Is it cold out?” Calum asks. He doesn’t imagine it to be that cold. Not yet anyway. There were hopefully still a few more weeks left before the chill of October descends. Granted, Calum’s always liked the warmer weather anyway. He doesn’t want it to go away ever.

You shake your head. “It’s my fanciest casual jacket,” you return.

Calum pauses. He has a hunch, but doesn’t want to come across as insensitive. You don’t have any need to worry about what you dress like. That’s not a concern of his, but more and more he wonders if this is a manifestation. “You can always borrow something from me if you want,” he offers. “But I don’t think I have anything as cool as that jacket, so.”

“It’s silly, isn’t it?” you return, placing elbows onto knees as you hold your face up on your knuckles.

“What is?”

“To worry.”

Calum has guesses on what it is that you worry about. Yet, again, he won’t make assumptions. “About?” he asks.

“My looks. I’m not really dating the public, am I?”

“Technically, no, you’re not. I know the pressure exists. If they’re talking about me and scrutinizing me, whomever I date gets some fall out too.”

You nod, falling back into the cushions now. If this didn’t feel so important, Calum might make a joke about it being a fainting couch now with how you’ve thrown yourself into the corner of the arm and the back piece of furniture. However, it is serious, so he reframes.

“It’s just the worry talking. I know it is. I know it doesn't matter.” It’s soft as it leaves you, deflating your chest as you push air behind the words.

“Worry’s got a loud mouth sometimes,” Calum concedes. It is a loud voice at times, even for him.

“That it does. How’s it going with you though? I hope I’m not interrupting.”

Perched onto the edge of his desk, Calum shakes his head. “I’d never dare call it an interrupt. Perhaps, a distraction though.” It leaves him with a grin and your smile is all the return Calum needs.

“Oh no, I’ll leave and bug Janet instead.”

The threat doesn’t sound hollow either. “I’ll behave, I swear. You need anything? Water? A snack?”

“I still technically work in that kitchen and this palace for at least another two weeks, I can get it if I need anything.”

“Fair, fair. I have to ask though. As your boyfriend, it is my duty.”

“A job you do very well,” you whisper. The space hardly carries it to Calum’s ear, but when it does settle it makes his chest warm. “Now, you do have work I suppose, right?”

With a shrug, Calum lifts from the desk. “I mean there’s always work. But if you’re asking where my priorities are, it’s not with Cabinet bullshit.” It’s a bit of an odd angle to bend over the couch, but Calum does it, holding himself up by the back of the couch and the arm, effectively caging you in with his body.

“How dare I do such a thing?”

“How dare indeed,” Calum whispers in return before pressing a kiss to your lips. “You’ll help pick out my outfit, yeah? Once I get done?” It’s a small request, but he hopes it helps. The two of you can be on the same caliber this way. It’s more symbolic and still Calum prays the offer is enough.

“Of course.” You press another kiss to his lips and then slip back down further into the plush cushions.

“I can take a hint,” Calum laughs.

He does take the moment of your soft laughter to gently nip at your cheeks, it’s just his lips, but he still takes a little chomp before pushing up. At his desk, settled back into his seat, Calum watches the way you curl up into the arm of the chair. Your socked feet slip a little on the leather, but it doesn’t take long for you to settle.

“I’m not the work,” you laugh again.

Calum huffs, but does turns back to face his screens. It doesn’t help that he can spy you out of the corner of his eye. It really doesn’t help that the cursor is still a blinking curse. His fingers settle onto the home row of the keys and the dread trickles back in. The first draft doesn’t need to be perfect. He has two days before he’d address the Cabinet. Yet, he does still need to get the first draft done. Just a first draft, Calum reminds him. He just needs a first draft. His fingers are slower this time. The tap of the keys holds a longer echo, but the words start to fill the page.

With another half page filled, Calum glances at the time. It’s about eight minutes from when he originally said he’d stop and get dressed. Though he could press on, he’s worried that he’d lose track of time too much. So he saves the document and jots down some mental notes of the things he wants to mention next. It should be enough when he comes back later on tonight to help jog the memory.

A bit of moment catches his eye and he turns, to find you peering up at the bookshelf in the office. It’s a lot of legal stuff. There are some history books scattered amongst the shelves, with the occasional self help and nonfiction books. It’s a rather boring collection, but they’ve all got their own practical uses to Calum. There’s more interesting ones in his collection in his room, he knows. But you seemingly hold each one with a high regard of interest as you trail a finger down the spines.

“See anything interesting?” Calum asks.

“You’ve read all these yet?” you ask in return.

“Most of them. There’s a few I didn’t finish all the way, but keep as references.”

“Well read,” you tease as you rattle off one of the nearby titles.

It’s a book about the political soundscape of grassroots movements at the turn of the century. It’s outdated now by a thousand miles and reminds Calum to see if the authors have anything more recent that they’ve published.

“All a part of the job,” Calum laughs. It can feel like a boring part, but a part nonetheless. “But I’m at a good stopping point right now. Okay if we leave out a little earlier?”

Your nod is immediate. “Yeah, that’s okay.”

It’s a rather quiet walk up to his room, palms pressed into each other as your fingers thread through his. It’s a welcomed and comforting silence, warm as it fits between the two of you. Calum lets you into the room first and then follows with an immediate action to remove the dress shoes. The exhale is heavy from his chest. “Hate those things,” Calum mutters to himself.

Calum stops behind you. There’s a bit of anticipation, how you’ll stay rigidly at attention in the threshold of his closet, but you lean back just a little. It’s just enough to bring the scent of your detergent to Calum’s nose. The heat of you starts to seep through the dress shirt. Then there’s another small step back. Your back is pressed snugly against Calum’s chest. The touches have always been easier here, in private. Yet, they still always send a surge of electricity through Calum’s body. They never get old.

“I’m going to get you out of these button ups,” you remark. Your fingers slip through the racks. “I don’t care if it kills me.”

“I’ll care,” Calum whispers against your ear.

He watches as you pull out yet another button up shirt. The red snake stitched into the collar stares back at Calum. It feels so silly to say the snake knows the exact secret Calum is holding. It’s more than likely less that the snake knows and more that Calum’s uneasy about withholding from you. It’s all for good reason, but it still makes his stomach quake. Nonetheless, the shirt does not fit the particular atmosphere of the restaurant.

“No, too formal,” he interjects.

“Is this fucking Gucci?” you hiss. It sounds less like an accusation and more like disbelief.

The name is tacked into the back of the shirt. Calum squeezes gently at your waist. He'd forgotten that he had been given this shirt previously. It'd just been hanging and he hadn't worn it a year. “If I say no, does that change anything? I think that was a gift, if it helps.”

“Oh,” you return and then place the item back onto the rack. You eventually settle for a yellow button up and hold it up to Calum. He takes it with ease.

“That doesn’t sound like a very convincing answer,” Calum states. The long sleeves of the dress shirt roll a little as he peels himself out of it. The black ribbed tank underneath will be fine even with the new shirt. But he will not be leaving the ends tucked in.

“No, I am convinced.” It doesn’t take long for you to pull a pair of jeans down from the tiered rack. They’re more of his work jeans, given by the hole forming at the knee, but Calum doesn’t object to the item as he takes it from you. “Only time I’ve seen Gucci in real life was from a window. Call it disbelief.”

It’s all you say before you pass Calum his pair of black Doc Martens. How utterly simple: call it disbelief. Perhaps, that’s all it is. The reality of the two of you wrapped into one phrase: call it disbelief. Disbelief that you felt so bold enough to reciprocate when Calum cracked open the door. Disbelief that when you needed slow, you were given iy. Disbelief that even the threat of outside voices have not yet broken inside.

With the boots laced, Calum grabs his keys and wallet from the desk. You’re leaning against the door, arms folded over your chest. While it could be so easy to say that you look displeased or bored even, Calum sees what’s just behind those eyes. There’s a small twinkle. Your lips turn up and Calum can’t think of a time he’d fight his own grin in return. “Do I look good?”

You nod. “Really good.”

Calum’s yet to see himself fully. But he doesn’t need to. “Hair looks okay?”

Like a dog, you tilt your head just a little. Calum wonders if the angle is to hear or to see better. It’s only a few seconds later that you’re pushing up and towards him. It only takes a few rakes of your fingers before you smooth and comb through the strands. “There you go.”

“Thanks, baby.”

“You’re welcome, love.”

Oh--that’s a pet name that Calum’s not sure he could get used too. It’ll always make his stomach flutter. It’ll always make his heart race. His tongue becomes heavy and awkward in his mouth, so much so that he doesn’t trust himself to even work through a response. He takes your hand instead and just smiles, feeling the heat lick at his cheeks.

“Oh, he’s blushing,” you tease, but walk through the opened bedroom door hand in hand with him.

There’s nothing to say, no way to deny the truth so Calum continues on down to the elevators. He’s always happy to accept his fate with you; that is no shocking revelation. There’s no need for disbelief with the thought.

“I did some research on Forest,” Calum confesses as he pulls out of the back lot.

Your laughter is soft. “I’m sure you did.”

“The owners seem really caring. They do a lot of community events.”

“That’s what Turner said too.”

He knows that. You relayed it to him. “And you’re sure this is a good fit for you? Seems like a great place, but I also don’t want you diving into just any old thing.” Calum’s sure if it weren’t the right option you’d know. You sounded so enamored after the interview; he just wants to make sure that none of that has faded. It’s his responsibility, a duty to make sure that regardless of what you were doing it was the best thing for you. Even if it changes, of course.

“Does the perfect job really exist?”

Calum knows he doesn’t have much experience to articulate an answer. But he waits. He knows there’s more. Perhaps, there is no perfect job--just better and better fit ones.

You continue on, “I don’t think it’s perfect, but it’ll work for now. And if I hate it, no one says I have to stay there forever. I could always move on.”

“How freeing of a thought,” Calum returns. For you, he means. You don’t have to say some place that’s not working for you forever.

“Are you now saying you regret your duties?”

A valid question, even Calum can admit that. “No, I think it's a job with flaws though. Things that would be nice to change about it, but ultimately, I’d waste more energy on those things than truly necessary.”

“If you ever do start to hate this, taking the throne, could you not leave?”

“Hadn’t considered the thought,” Calum returns honestly. He never had much of a reason to consider what it might be like should he leave. Calum��s not even sure if he’d ever want to leave. Not without something major of course. It’s not his own volition that would send him away. It’d be something external, something that weighed more and mattered more than his own sense of responsibility.

Your hum acknowledges Calum’s answer. But the more the streets unfold in front of him, and the more Calum considers the thought, he wonders if you’re asking something else. “Do you not want this? You can tell me truthfully.” It's not meant to corner you, just to open up the conversation should it need to be had.

“I want you; I’ll tell you a thousand times if you need it. I understand what comes with it.” It’s such a simple response, but it levels Calum. You have the ability to speak plainly, to say if something wasn’t working. You are aware that each choice you make has its own consequences.

Calum knows it’s ridiculous to keep dancing around the same fire. You are more than capable of making your own decisions, of understanding what comes with it. The hard reality to face is that Calum knows it’s not fair. He knows you’re not asking for scrutiny just because of him. He knows you’re not asking for crushing worry or guilt because of him. He assumes if given an easier option, you might choose that. Perhaps, that’s the true fear. This is not the easy choice. It’s not the choice Calum thinks he would make if he were you. Maybe he’d taken it slower, much slower than the two of you are right now.

Yet, you continue to make the choices that all lead to him. Yet, he continues to make the choices that all lead to you.

“Worry has a loud mouth,” you state at the red light. You cup his cheek.

Calum can feel the sting behind his eyes. He turns to you, blinking away the haze of tears casting shadows over his eyes. “Yes, it does.”

Over the console, you stretch and press a kiss to his forehead. “I’m still here. I’m still choosing us.”

It’s a whisper over his skin--a prayer Calum wishes to carve into his bones. When the light turns green, Calum takes just a second longer to take in the warmth of you before facing forward again. The confession bashes at his teeth, but today’s really meant to be a celebration. It’s about you. It’s about the victories you’re facing. Besides, Calum’s worried about what he’d choose if he were in your position, a path that his life hadn’t lead him down. No one knows what they’d choose if their positions were different. It is a terrifying beauty of life. The worry of his what-if is not from a position of current reality.

In the parking lot of the restaurant, Calum takes your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. You are choosing him and he is choosing you. You nudge his face upwards from the kisses along the back of your hand and the two of you share a small kiss.

“Love you,” Calum whispers against your lips.

“Love you.”

“Now, don’t move a muscle, I’ll be on your side in a second.” Calum offers the command knowing the risk of it falling on deaf ears. But he does command it anyway. As he shuffles to the passenger side door, he finds your head peering out of the car. He helps close the door behind you though. “You don’t listen too well, I see.”

“Only when I know it doesn’t matter too terribly.”

Calum’s gut reaction is to take your hand, lead you inside, but he remembers. That you need things to be slow. His only concern is that undoubtedly the longer he’s here the more word will spread about the location. It’ll get busy, but not unbearable. “Let’s head in, yeah?”

“Please.” The simple phrase is coupled with you reaching out to hook your pinkie around his.

“Of course.” Calum’s sure to keep you side to side with him as the two of you take the short walk inside. It’s a hole in the wall kind of place. Run by one family for the last sixty years or so. But the food’s always good and the patrons that frequent are usually older--a softer and quieter place to visit. Even with the sports on and the older men grumbling at the bar, there’s very little in the way of ruckus.

“Just the two?” the hostess asks. She’s new--Calum can tell that much. But she doesn’t seem phased by his presence which is more than welcomed.

“Yeah, just the two of us,” Calum returns.

“Booth or a table then?”

He turns to you and you shrug in response a fraction of a second before you speak, “Booth, I’d guess?”

“Booth,” Calum confirms and lets you walk in front of him as you’re directed on where to sit.

Settled into the cracked and squeaky leather of the booth, you and Calum both take a moment to look over the menus. Though it’s a menu Calum’s seen a hundred times, he still eyes it to see if his favorite mushroom stew is still on the glossy lamented menu. Once he’s sure it is, he takes a look up at you. He watches you, the way you’re looking over the menu and everything threatens to come up this throat again--the secret in the back garden, the worry on the drive over earlier. It’s all too easy to think you’d make space for it. But he withholds. He can bring that up all at a later time.

“What do you suggest?” you ask, looking up finally.

“What are you in the mood for? Soup and salad? Burger? Something else?”

“Burger,” you return.

“The Double Stacked is pretty good. It’s thick though, so if you don’t want too much meat, I’d suggest Barn Raised. It’s got a fried egg on it.”

“You clearly come here often.”

“It’s good food,” Calum defends.

“I’ll try Barn Raised. I don’t think I have the appetite today for Double Stacked.”

“Everything okay?” He hadn’t asked about your day before. By your early entrance and his work, it hadn’t been a topic, but it wasn’t off his radar.

“Yeah, things are good. I just, I have to tell Janet. A little nervous about that.”

Janet won’t be an easy person to tell about your departure. He doubts anyone on staff would be happy to hear about you leaving, though he’s sure they’d all know the reason behind why. Though Janet especially is not easy. A benefit is that she was there when Calum advocated for you to have more time and better benefits in your severance. Yet, he distinctly recalls that she left that meeting with a wobbly chin.

Calum nods, reaching out across the table. It’s an offer, if you want his comfort through touch. “It does sound hard. I know she cares about you a lot.”

“I care a lot about her. And everyone else. I stay late a lot to help folks out, things that don’t feel like they should be a problem, but are.”

The confusion pulls at his brows. Calum feels the frown on his own face. “What do you mean by that?”

“Do you know the last time new uniforms were ordered for the folks that work in the kitchen?” you ask.

Calum’s not sure how this is supposed to answer his question, but he pauses. He hasn’t looked into anything about kitchen staff if he’s honest. Not at least in a year or so. No one had brought it up as something that was pressing. “I-I don’t remember the last time. At least a year.”

“Two,” you correct. “I mend what I can when people need it, but new uniforms haven’t come in in two years for us hosting. Do you know how many people eat at the castle because the chefs over prepare?”

Yet another question Calum can’t answer. So he shakes his head no, though it’s already starting to dawn. “I wouldn’t have a clue.”

“I’d hazard a guess that about 60% of your staff live with roommates because they can’t afford it on their own. Another twenty percent or so, have second jobs. Some are still at home. And it’s not to say that we aren’t paid or we’re getting scraps. We’re just not getting enough sometimes. People have other responsibilities that money goes to first. You, Calum, are not immune. As much as I don’t want to hurt you, you are not immune to economic disparity blindness. It has always been right around you. You just never knew what to look for. Not in your own home.”

It feels like sinking, Calum realizes it only after the drinks have arrived. Only after he’s spun his cup around, stunned into inadequate silence. He’d been right in the middle of his own web. The very thing he was about to accuse a Cabinet of doing, he’d done it himself. He wants to say something, wants to disprove the point. Yet, he can’t. He doesn’t recall the last time he spoke to anyone or anyone had spoken to him about the budget for salaries inside the castle. He can’t recall a time where there wasn’t an overabundance of food in that kitchen at breakfast and lunch for everyone to eat. It always felt purposeful, like they were doing this because it was the right thing to do--give the folks there a good meal or two for their shift since they were working and the food would be there. Calum considers-a bit selfishly-it was the right thing to do at some point. At some point it is just a thing they did because it made the most sense, but now it carries on out of desperation.

Now after ordering food, after he’s worked open his jaw from its clenched state, something like disbelief works itself over his tongue. “But-” and yet there’s no real rebuttal. He could ask why no one’s brought it up before. But why hadn’t he looked into it himself? Why hadn’t anyone demanded higher wages? But why did someone else have to do all the work? Calum knows he can’t do it all myself. He’s one person. It’s too much weight for one person to bear. Yet, none of his advisors had brung it up.

To say, I’ll look into it, feels too dismissive. Though it bashes against his teeth and it is true, Calum can’t say that. He doesn’t want to belittle the sentiment or the vulnerability needed to express your thoughts. Instead he nods, lifting his gaze from the worn wooden table of their booth. “Thank you. For telling me.”

“Thank you for listening.”

The sip of Calum’s sweet tea is sour. Not that the drink has gone bad, but because the guilt coats his tongue. He is not immune, not that he’d been willfully ignoring obvious signs. He hadn’t been taught what to look for. He hadn’t questioned it because it hadn’t been questioned to him. He just simply did not know; an ignorance born out of circumstance. An ignorance Calum can’t afford to keep swimming in. If he wants to make real change, he’ll have to start with himself.

The whole night isn’t soured thankfully. You hum around the first bite of the burger you’ve ordered and note that you plan to come here without Calum more often. It’s a bright spot to see the delight crossing over your face. He’s glad that you’re enjoying the food. He hadn’t run into an issue with the place and enjoyed it, but there’s always an unknown with others. It’s warming to know that so far, you’re enjoying the place. However, no celebration is complete though without dessert. The dessert and drink menu coexist and Calum memorized the desserts by heart at this point. But he still slips it closer to you.

“We can’t call it a celebration and not get dessert,” Calum teases.

“I think we could.” You take the menu though. “I won’t tell if you don’t tell.”

Calum laughs with a shake of his head. “Get whatever you want.”

“Would you have some of what I got?”

“If you were sharing, of course. If not, I’d lick up the crumbs.”

You snort. “God, Calum. I wouldn’t torture you like that, unless you asked of course.”

“Well, I’ve considered dabbling in masochism once or twice.” It’s not a whole lie. He has found himself vaguely intrigued by the idea, but has never once seriously considered it enough to bring it up to any previous partners. Not that they stuck around long enough for him to consider breaching the topic with them. It’s not all inherently malicious of his or their own doing. Most of the time it’s quite clear what lines should be crossed and which ones shouldn’t.

But something dances in your eyes. Calum watches the way you watch him. You seem to dance down from his face over his neck and chest down the length of his arms. He wonders if you’re imagining something different than the scene in front of you; would it include rope or wax? Perhaps, there’s something much more sinister behind the deep irises.

“Are you saying all I need to do is ask?”

“I’m technically implying it, but yes.”

It’s a heavy stare that you level him with; intense eye contact and a smile that lifts one side of your mouth higher than the other. He knows that look, knows what it means. His toes curl in the boots and the cracked leather under his thighs is suddenly way too hot. The denim feels damp when he shifts a little and the stiff construction of the jeans brush over his growing erection. He is damned but it does not matter. His heart races, a prickle of sweat forming on the end of this nose and under his pits. Yet, Calum feels no obligation to move. The panic doesn’t make him want to flee. He wants to be consumed. Swallowed whole by whatever desires you have.

“But perhaps another time,” you shrug and then smile as the waiter approaches.

“Oh, looking at the dessert I see. Anything catch your eye? I recommend the apple pie. Best thing on that menu,” the waiter comments.

You hum, casting a quick glance down to the menu with a nod. “I’ll go with that then. Is it served with ice cream by chance?”

The water nods. “Sure is. Always,” they laugh.

“Perfect. Could I get it with two spoons?”

“Absolutely you can. I’ll be right back with it.”

Calum is sure he resembles a stone carving, held in place by a prickle of fear that if he’s not careful more than just pictures of a date may surface. Something caresses his ankle, it’s a dulled sensation thanks to the thick leather of the boots but the pressure remains as the movement traces up along his shin before it drops. There’s an uproar from the bar, men and women huffing about some game. It’s not quite football season yet. Teams should be headed into conditioning now and games starting in about October if not a little earlier. But the noise is a perfect backdrop. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss the back of it. The action is coupled off with a tease bite--hardly with enough pressure to cause redness, but just enough pressure to start the recognition of pain-- and the whimper slips. It’s swallowed on the outside of the booth by the roaring crowd but inside of the booth the sound resonates.

“There he is,” you tease, reclining back into your seat.

Before Calum can blink himself back to the reality of the restaurant, the plate is settled into the middle. Two spoons sit off opposite sides of the apple slice. The dollop of ice cream is starting to melt and trickle over the sides. All Calum feels capable of doing is staring. His muscles are locked, part of it is a small bit of embarrassment. He’s hoping no one heard it, and another part of him is wondering what happens if someone did. What might the world think of him if they only knew?

“C’mon,” you encourage.

Calum blinks now and sees the spoon near his face. It has a good scope of ice cream and pie on it, too much that it looks like it’ll topple at any second. But a balanced portion of both items. The ice cream drips just a little onto your lower, waiting palm. It feels like it falls in slow motion until it hits the crevices of your palms. Time speeds back up. The noise of people talking, the clink of forks on plates sound back up in Calum’s ears. Always a sneaky one, you are. Always looking for those buttons. And you always find them. Calum never shies away from their exposure.

Calum inches forward to swipe the sugary concoction into his mouth, but not without taking hold of your now sticky palm. The urge to lick your palm clean hits Calum. After swallowing down the bite Calum swipes up the melted ice cream onto two fingers. He sucks his fingers and watches the shift of your weight from your side of the booth. “Tastes better that way,” he grins and then takes a spare napkin to dab up the excess.

“I am sure it does.”

The pie doesn’t last long between the two of you. While it was a decent size slice, the apples are cooked to perfection; melting every so slightly with minimal chewiness. They don’t melt instantly, but they are soft and cooked thoroughly without turning into a slurry mush. It’s all too easy to take scoop after scoop. The spoons settle against the empty plate with a perfectly synced clink.

“Anything else?” Calum asks. He starts to rattle off about the fudge brownie they have but the shake of your head is vigorous.

“No, no, if I eat anything else I’ll pop,” you huff.

Twilight is settling by the time Calum and you push off the leather seats and start back to the car. The purpling sky is interrupted by the distinct flash of a camera only a few moments after Calum opens the door for you. It’s clear to tell the sight startles you and he takes your hand, sliding now to block your body with his.

He wishes he’d prepared you more for this. He’d prayed that no one would show up. Yet, as fate would have it, someone always does. The second flash is slow to come. There's probably just one person hanging around. “You okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I’ve got you if you want to keep your head down. Just…just stay close, alright?”

Another flash blinks through the darkening evening. Your step is small but inches you into Calum’s space. “Okay.”

Thankfully, it’s a short walk. You stay just a half step behind him and the entire walk is just bursts of light. There’s a voice that calls out, but Calum ignores it, listening instead for the thud of your shoes on the concrete. Calum’s already palming the fob to his car to be ready to have the doors unlocked and get you inside as quickly as possible. Two more shutters sound before the pair of you get to the car. The lights flash as Calum unlocks the doors and helps you inside, still attempting to shield you as much as possible.

“C’mon, Cal. Give me something. We’ve been at this a long time together.”

The voice of the pap is clearer now and when Calum does look up, only briefly, he notices it’s the same guy who started a rumor nearly two years ago about Calum out with a friend, Nicole. She and Calum met in college. She went off to Physician’s Assistant school a year or so after they graduated college. Nicole comes back into town for the holidays to see her family. It’s usually then during that break that she and Calum get together anymore--usually for dinner with other friends if they can all manage a good day in their schedules. That one dinner, which had dwindled down to just Calum and Nicole due a bad flu season, had been captured on film though that year. Like fire only needs oxygen--the platonic dinner went up in tabloids like a new sparkly romance. Save for the fact that weeks went by with no new updates or sightings so it quickly quieted down.

“Fuck off,” Calum returns to the pap and lifts up into the driver side of the SUV.

“I take it you don’t like him,” you quip after Calum’s pulled out of the parking lot.

“I don’t think I really like any of the paps that harass me. But him in particular, I don’t care for.”

“What’d he do?”

The thing about the photos is that it hadn’t caused a ripple in the slightest for Calum’s life. Though Nicole did have to eventually move practices where she was working for safely. “Jeopardized a friend’s safety,” Calum answers. “He didn’t doxx her, but it was still pretty bad.”

“Is he particularly fond of stalking your favorite places to go?”

“Sometimes.” He’s not there often, but he is there frequently enough that Calum knows him by sight now. Though Calum can’t pinpoint the car the guy drives, Calum can always pick him out in a crowd now.

“Are you okay? Guy seems like he comes up a lot then.”

“Yeah, I’m fine. What about you? I know the flash can be dizzying.”

“I’m okay. The first time it went off it was a lot. I finally understand why deers freeze sometimes. I would’ve been roadkill.”

“Sorry I didn’t give you a proper heads up.”

“No harm, no foul, Calum.”

He catches that. No pet name and though Calum is dying to hear it again, he understands. It’s still a nice sound, the way you say his name--soft like coaxing a scared animal out of hiding; needing to exude as much gentleness as possible as not to unravel the fragile moment.

“Sounds like you’ll need some new hang out spots though? A place you can just breath with no nosey Nancy’s around.”

“I had a place,” Calum returns. “Well, I guess I still have it. It still exists. Just needs some sprucing up.” He could say that, though it is in the middle of already being renovated. And it’s not really his anymore as it is something he’d like to share--something he can include you in on.

“Could I see? I know it won’t be in the most pristine condition so you literally don’t need to warn me.”

It is killing me. He wants to show it to you but he thinks about what your reaction might look like should it be revealed when it’s all done. Calum knows he can't keep this secret for too long. It'll kill him if he does. He wants to tell you about all the updates on the project.

The roof was repaired a couple weeks ago. Now there’s some paneling in the midst of being fixed up. Once that’s done the outside can be painted. The inside’s been gutted and waiting for the wall and the floors to go down. Next he’ll see what he can do about getting at least a space heater and a tiny area for at least a kettle in the winter and a fridge. It may be more than It’s not a long project but it is one they’ll need to get complete before the weather gets too cold or the rains come. Fall can be weepy at times and would only serve to set them back if the take too long to finish it.

Perhaps, you’d enjoy knowing now. Calum knows he would. He’d appreciate not trying to hide on the calls the work he’s been doing or trying to shower before he sees you, a bit more difficult given that he works on the renovations mostly on the weekends and you’re at the castle too at the same time. You’re working usually, or asleep in his room, but it’s still right on the edge of being caught it feels.

“You don’t have to show me. I don’t want to push you,” you state.

“I-No, it’s not that. It’s not that I don’t want to. I started some work on getting it in good shape. So, just be warned,” Calum laughs. “It’s still a little rough.” He doesn’t know when the project will be fully done anyway. But the building still stands, there’s still a place Calum goes when he wants to get away.

“I’ll be sure to give it some extra grace.”

It’s like you give either a little extra grace lately with him. Calum is grateful to hear you say that, the way you don’t seem phased at the prospect of something not being complete. Calum guesses the irony in all of this is that nothing in your life has probably felt complete. Maybe you don’t worry about that because even when you get somewhere that feels like you could settle it’s pulled out from underneath you. Maybe turbulence has become akin to peace. The only hope Calum has is that he can ease the rocking seas, that he can help you get to a point where you’re not always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He can’t brute force it. You’d asked him to promise that and he wouldn’t break his word. Yet, as the skies continue to darken and the light of dying stars twinkles above his head, Calum hopes this can be a small respite. A small place for you to have peace like he did here. The garden’s aren’t necessarily lengthy as they are wide. To walk it lengthwise would only take a couple of minutes, but to take in its depths is a journey of many more yards. There are rows of bushes and flowers outlined on the grass path. There are containers that rest above the ground near the back. It’s easy to spot their shadowy figures amongst all the flora around. There’s some vegetables his mother grows. She likes to still work the land with her hands when possible, so they keep up the container gardens for her.

But back in the depths, back behind the new gardening shed lies the place Calum used to escape too. Even before the old shed was gutted out and replaced, he’d walk the soft path down and down and down until he reached the edge. The old shed remains only because Calum insisted on it. Had it not been for him, they’d taken it down fully, used parts of the innards and exterior for the new one. But Calum asked to keep it up. So when he couldn’t sleep, when the worries pressed so loud in his own ears, he’d walk using stars as light to the old shed. Even in the rain, bundled in a coat, his boots sloshing in the wet grass, Calum would come out to the old shed. He’d unhook the latch, shimmy his way inside and watch out the window across from the one folding chair he kept at the ready to the stars. He’d listen to the sounds of the night--in the summer chirps of crickets, in the winter the soft whisper of snow.

“Your mother’s spinach might be ready to pick.”

Calum turns to the right, where he knows his mother’s planted spinach just a few weeks prior. “How can you tell? I can’t tell ever when it’s ready to be picked.”

“Just a guess since it’s dark right now. I watched her when she planted them and I know they won’t last too much longer if they aren’t picked now. The night and morning temperatures are getting dewy.”

“Do you garden?” You hadn’t mentioned it before. Calum would be intrigued to know if he might be able to find another link between you and his mother, something else to keep you two close.

“Mrs. Shirley did. I’d help her sometimes.”

“And Mrs. Shirley, were you close with her?” Calum can’t place the name, but wants to be sure he hadn’t missed something important. He also doesn’t want to be made a fool if she’s important.

“She’s who taught me how to make the biscuits. It’s her recipe.”

“Oh, wow. Was she an instructor in culinary school?” Calum never considered to ask where it came from. Just knew that yours were vastly different than the last chef--sweet without sacrificing the savory integrity. Soft, but never chalk-like.

“No, I met her when I was volunteering at a homeless shelter while in school. I worked early in the morning to help prepare breakfast like I do now.”

“You’ll have to tell her that her biscuits are a big hit amongst our family and the entire staff in general too.”

You nod. “Yeah, I’ll let her know.”

Your eyes look a little glassy, not quite like tears are falling. But they could. They are threatening at the edge. Calum pulls you in closer, hands slipping down to your waist. The jacket has kept you well and warm, as he can feel heat radiating off you. “What is it, baby?” Calum asks.

“I just--I haven’t talked to her in a while. I hope she’s doing okay, you know?”

“We can call her next week. How does that sound?” He doesn’t want to put the onus just on you. There’s few things in life that a five minutes spared can’t help or fix. The least he could do is be there as emotional support if you needed it. Calum presses a soft kiss to your forehead, nose burying just a little in the hair at the top of your head.

“I’d appreciate that.”

“Anytime, baby. C’mon, we’re almost there.”

It’s past the probably ripe spinach, and the containers of cabbage when the newer, brighter green building opens up, Calum continues on down, off the grass onto the gravel. Just behind the hedges that outline the gardens rests the old shed. There’s lumber still out, leaning and resting against each other. The work table is stationed a yard away to the left. The power tools are tucked inside or housed separately in the garage. But the old shed still looks like it used to in some ways. Still a rectangle with chipping blue paint.

“I didn’t know this old shed was still up. I thought they tore it down,” you comment. “Or at least that’s what I was told that it was torn down.”

“I asked them to keep it up but they told me the only way to let it stay was to put the new one directly in front of it from the farther vantage points so it’s not so much of an eye sore. But I come here, when I want to get away. The inside’s a lot cleaner now too, thankfully.”

“Inside? Who do you have working on this project?”

He watches you take a few steps closer over where the bench usually holds the blueprints. They shouldn’t be still out, given that this week did have the potential for rain in the later half. From what Calum can tell, they've been collected. “Well, it’s me and a few others actually,” Calum answers.

You hum as you softly inch closer and closer up. “Any plans for it once it’s restored?” Your cough is swallowed by the innards as you poke your head inside. Calum holds onto the door so you can cross through fully.

“Uh, not sure yet,” he cautions. “But could I run some ideas by you?”

“Oh, yeah, sure. But I mean it’s your spot, so whatever you want will probably suffice.”

Calum nods. He is sure whatever he did choose would be okay. But still he wants to make sure he’s going in the right direction for you. “I just need a second opinion, that’s all.”

“Well, I’m happy to assist.”

“So, here, I’m thinking about adding a little mini kitchen island. Cabinets at the button and an outlet for a little mini fridge and maybe at most an electric kettle. The back wall would be mostly storage--shelves. Books, or something.” Calum shuffles to the wall opposite of him, where he normally sits but is currently now housing more lumber, stain and miscellaneous tools. “I might keep something else on those shelves too.”

“Like what?”

Calum shrugs. “Some art supplies. Don’t know. But here,” Calum motions around him. “I’m thinking of a little couch. I don’t know. Some kind of seating. I was considering building some benches into the wall like in the kitchen with a little table and then some stools or other chairs to be scattered about. Just a little cozy spot to hang out.”

You’re nodding, attention elsewhere as if you might be trying to picture what Calum is describing. But Calum’s breath is caught in his throat like a pill that didn’t get washed down with enough water. It is a lump, poking, and Calum won’t be able to release it until you address the one little line, some art supplies.

“Is there a safe way to get the power out here? Looks like it could get awfully cold in the winter. There isn’t much else around to break the winds.”

“We’re looking into some solar panels. I’ve got a time scheduled with an electrician next week to make sure it’s all good.”

He wants to tell you more--how he envisions you out here, stopped up on a stool or possibly standing while he’s on that bench in the corner, watching. The strokes of your brush are faint in his imagined scene, but the windows are open with a spring breeze coming through. Perhaps another puppy is soaking up sun at Calum’s feet.

Yet, you haven’t cracked the code.

“Good. Sounds like you’re really going to breathe new life in this old place.” The smile that you bestow on Calum is bright.

“I’m going to try. I figured there’s decent space to share too.”

“With friends?” you ask. “Is there anyone else you know who likes to paint?”

There it is. That’s what Calum was waiting for. His shoulder drops and he waves you over with a wag of two fingers. You shake your head with a laugh, backing into what’s almost the center of the gardening shed.

“I think an easel stand would look good here, don’t you?”

Calum’s response is a nod. It’s where he imagined one too. “I’ve got an old buddy from college that’s into the arts too.”

“Ceramics? Illustrations?”

“Music, actually. But I think he knows another guy who is into ceramics now that I think about it.” The gap is short to close and when Calum’s pressed into your chest, he wastes no time to wrap you up into his arms. “So what’s your second opinion?”

“I think you should match the original blue when you paint the outside again.”

“I’ll take that as you like it.”

“Yeah,” you nod, taking Calum’s cheeks into your palms. “I do like it. Thank you. For thinking of me. I don’t know what else to say besides thank you. I can’t imagine the effort it’s taken and will take.”

“I figured you’d like a little bit more elbow room than what your room has right now. It’s not all that hard if I’m honest. The guys are a good bunch; even when I’m slowing them down.”

“Is this what I have to thank too for the deliciously sweaty photo that may or may not be my home screen background now?”

Calum laughs, quick and from his chest before shrugging. “It may or may not be.”

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips, “my love.”

______________________________

Irony is how the paper shakes in your grasp, how you’re knocking but not quite sure if it’s loud enough and you want nothing more than to slip the page under the crack at the bottom of the door, but your feet don’t carry you an inch out of place. You are here, now, bolted to the floor in front of Janet’s office. You can’t back out of this, can’t just slip it to her. Not after how integral she’s been in you securing the new job, in how long you’ve stayed, in getting you out of the monotonous routine you had for yourself.

“One second,” Janet calls back. Her keys click though as she shuffles about. The door creaks open a few seconds later and when she sees you, the single page in hand, her face crumbles. “No, stop. Already? I thought--oh,” she sighs. “I wanted you to get something else quickly. I know it’s gotta be stressful, but I don’t think I’d ever be prepared.”

“That makes two of us.” Your throat quivers as you try to force the words out and you know the words are all shaking too. “This-this is for you.” The words feel like concrete, heavy thuds as they fall to the floor.

Janet nods, taking the letter. You watch her read over the words, the date for the middle of September sticks out like a sore thumb you know. It was the last part you put in, knowing that once you put that down your fingers wouldn’t be able to type anymore so you came back to it. Janet’s eyes are glassy when she looks back to you. “I’d ask if there’s anything we can do to keep you, but it might be a useless question.”

“I’d never go as far as to say useless. The priorities are different.” They’re vastly different now. No longer is this a game of pay, of trying to find the top dollar and best benefits. It’s a matter that’s utterly out of even your own control. You want to see how far things will go with Calum. You want to go on more dates. You want to see how that old shed comes together. You want to have him in your kitchen, laughing as popcorn sounds in the microwave and the movie is queued up. You want a simplicity you’ve never fucking had--even if it means gardening with Joy and being a terrible caddy with David.

Janet nods, arms opening up. “Can I have a hug?”

It’s easy now, to slot yourself into her embrace. Though you two hadn’t previously been this affectionate, there was always a jab or two, you can’t deny such a simple ask. Her hold is firm, a squeeze around your shoulders that feels like it could crack your bones. You don’t object though. You hold back tighter. Even though Janet was a boss, you know that you’re not just leaving a job. You’re leaving a little piece of your family-- a family that you choose but you’d choose a thousand times over.

The sob racks up your chest. It’s a cry that blindsides you but you don’t hold back. Janet gently shushes in your ear. “We’ll still be here. I’ll call your new job like a mom and tell them not to overwork you and to not let you overwork yourself. We’re not going anywhere.”

Janet’s words are comforting, but you know that you’re not crying because it’s change. You’re crying because this places feels like home. It’d never dawned on you--not even as you dished up everyone’s individual breakfast orders or stitched buttons back onto uniforms or tagged in to help set up for events. But now it’s all crashing down. This was a job and it will always be just that. But the folks here have become home.

“Thank you,” you sob into Janet’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her voice is tight and you think she might be crying too. “Tell him he better not ever break your heart or I’ll make sure the next breakfast shift makes burnt pancakes for him. Everyday. No one will fix them for him either. I promise.”

Your laughter is choked, torn between the amusement and trying to suck back down the snot and tears. Only Janet would ever consider such a thing. “I’ll let him know.” You try to break the embrace, peel back because you know without a doubt Janet’s business.

Yet, Janet squeezes you tighter. She clings to you and you don’t fight it. “You have to visit us. You can’t forget about us.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

It takes you ten minutes in the bathroom to get the stains off your cheeks and for them to lose the flush thanks to your tears. The cool water is a welcomed addition to the heat that’s flooded through your body with the emotions. You know soon you’ll need to get into the kitchen, not that your shift is anytime soon, you’ll actually need a nap between now and then, but there’s a CCTV in there to watch. With the voting happening, everyone’s wondering if the ratification of the emergency funds will go through. It’s been dire straits now to think about what you could do with the cash--your dental bill’s been paid off now, all important bills are up to date. Perhaps you could get ahead on the Christmas shopping or save it for a rainy day.

There’s commotion as always in the kitchen, the creak of the door seems to hardly register as the crew’s gathered around the kitchen island. Declan’s at the stove, manning dinner it appears. Yvonne and Cyprus are at his right and left, dawned in their chef coats too. “You feeding the whole Cabinet today or what?” you ask, leaning against the wall next to Declan.

He laughs. “Nah, not today. Gotta get the meat ready though now.” His focus remains on the hunk in front of him for a moment. You can spot oregano, basil, thyme, salt, pepper, and a few other spices that already decorate the cut. “Janet would’ve lost her whole head if we were, you know that already.” His brows furrow as he takes you in. “You okay? Your eyes are a little red?”

You nod, though your throat threatens to close up again on you at the thought. You’ll have to tell him, and everyone else soon too. Before the week is out of course. They’ll need to know. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you squeak out and then clear your throat to relax the muscle. You can’t cry again. Not here.

The TV crackles a little, voices still far away come floating in through the speakers. You watch for a moment as members of the Cabinet come filtering in. You spot Joy and David, and find yourself with your heart racing trying to spot Calum. He’d been long gone by the time you gained full consciousness though you barely remember giving him a good luck kiss before he left in the morning.

“You don’t sound okay,” Declan counters. His voice tears your focus from the screen back to him. “Did you and him get into a fight? I’ll kick his ass.”

“No, not that. Also, Declan, I think I could hold my own in a fight if it came down to it.”

“You can tell me what’s going on, you know? Whenever you’re ready of course. But if it is the prince, just let me know. I know some guys,” Declan teases with a wink.

“Declan I will deck you if we don’t got the rub together before the new fucking year,” Cyrpus snaps. She stalks over, a mixing bowl held to her body as she whisks away at the bowl. You’re not sure what it is, but think it may be a dessert.

“It is my turn as head cook. Things get done when I say they get done not the other way around,” Declan huffs, but turns back to his work of getting the rub on.

“But he still listens to me,” Cyprus teases in your direction. The door opens behind you, you catch the squeak in the hinge.

“Good afternoon,” Calum’s voice cuts through the chatter of the kitchen. The silence falls instantly around the room. A hand rests on your shoulder and you know Janet’s joined the room too. “Thank you for joining me today. I know we are here today to vote on a long debated and much needed issue. I understand for the members of Cabinet present here today that me taking the lead on this voting is a little bit different to previous times. And I greatly appreciate your willingness to hear me out today as the last speech; it is an honor. Over the last few weeks, we have borne witness to an economic leap--one that’s leading our constituents to face decisions no one should be forced to make. Should they get grocery? Are they able to forgo medications? How much can they pay on a bill before the service gets cut off fully? Questions that should not be plaguing the people we, in these roles, take responsibility in helping.

“I wanted to write this speech with two matches under it; a fire to make big progress and prove to myself that I could be a good leader and to prove that I could make real change. I had an image of myself built on the years I spent in university where I am aware of the crevices. I’m reading up on the latest news. I’m watching what laws go into effect and watch what the impacts are. I’m watching how the people I am meant to lead and care for are impacted by the small things. I suppose, I had an imagine of myself with quite a high nose. I thought just because I was younger and just because I was aware of political issues that we collectively in the Cabinet have historically shied away from or stayed conservative on, that I somehow was immune or better than. However, I spoke with a dear friend recently.”

You feel the entirety of the kitchen look back at you even as you keep your gaze lasered in on the freshen shaven face of Calum. You point back to the TV. Even if it is true that you are who he is referring to, you are not the focus. There’s small bouts of laughter as they turn back to Calum.

“It came to my attention in that conversation that the budget for the staff that works for us, here, in the castle, gets reviewed every three to four years. Which, from a business perspective, is appears to be a perfectly balanced system. It’s just enough time for things to change and, theoretically, just enough time to respond to them without it cutting into the margins and profits substantially. The reality is that a schedule like this calls for sacrifice. Someone has to stitch buttons back on when they’ve fallen off shirts. Someone inevitably comes into work hungry because the money they do get goes towards their children, or nieces or other family members. Someone picks up a second job. Someone picks up extra shifts--even if it means they work 15 or so hours straight.

“In reality, even a system that seems perfectly balanced is creating a sacrifice. A system built on someone having an over means someone else has the under. In the very same place, we discuss, we meet, we theorize, there is someone else doing the sacrificing. In the very same place where I lay my head down each night, there is someone sacrificing. I polled the current landscape of the staff in the castle. Out of 165 staff members polled, 49 members reported having a second job. 73 reported that they have come into work without a meal prior to their shift. 86 of my staff live at home or with roommates and this still does not always save them money. Over 100 members of my staff polled reported that they have had meals prepared by the chefs at work or saving leftovers from events in order to make ends meet. I am not immune to the propaganda. I am not immune to the smoke and the mirrors. You are not immune to them either.

“In a poll conducted just three weeks ago,” Calum starts. The screen cross fades to bring up the graphical visual. “78% of the constituents who participated stated that they did not feel the Cabinet responds to major crises in a timely fashion. This based on a sample size of 5,923 participants, a small but mighty sampling. Those that did state that the Cabinet responded quick enough, noted that most of the help received only marginally impacted them. Upon reviewing the response to the medical pricing surge, five years ago in which we worked to help regulate some the pricing on medications, I found that the national insurance coverage received over 11,000 complaints on deductible changes as it impacted the cost of prescriptions. According to formal insurance regulations, 11,000 complaints is not quite significant enough to constitute an internal investigation. Instead, it took several grassroots advocates, with 42,000 signatures in tow, to bring the issue to our door.

“In the 18 weeks we debated and worked on solutions, there were 53 deaths directly connected to improper access and usage of prescriptions. Doctors reported that the people who passed did so because they were not regularly taking medication needed for health. I don’t know how to reconcile the number 53 after rattling off numbers in the thousands, and tens of the thousands. One might dare say that 53 could not be hefty. Yet, there are 35 of us in attendance. That is one and a half Cabinets dead. 53 direct deaths. 53 grieving families. 53 mothers who have lost children. 53 fathers who ask themselves if there was anything they could’ve done to save their child.

“You,” Calum emphasizes with a single digit to the members in front of him, “are not immune. I urge this Cabinet, as you vote, to think about the staff in your own homes. Do you know the last time they skipped a meal? Do you know the last time your staff did not fret at the emails and paper statements in their inboxes and mailboxes? Do you know the sacrifices being made in your very homes while you sit here and talk theory? What have you turned a blind eye to in order to maintain your over? Who is under? I urge this Cabinet, as you vote, to vote not just for yourselves but the people who need this relief the most. I urge this Cabinet, as you vote, to consider the 53 families who received the news of their loved ones dead because we waited. I urge this Cabinet to consider that it has already been five weeks since we started making substantial strides to get money back into the hands of those who need it. I urge this Cabinet, as you vote, to consider who’s family might get this relief too late, just in time for a debate about what pine box they should get, if we drag on longer.”

The kitchen erupts into cheers, the hoots and claps echo well above your head. You can hear Declan’s laughter, his shouts of “Someone had to finally tell those old crusties off in a way they understand!” but you are focused on Calum. The fire that stays lit in his eyes, the distinct lack of a closing gratitude, the hard line of his mouth. That is a man with two matches under him. That is a man ready to make waves--damn the boat if it tips over.

The screen flickers to the floor and you can see the specs of the Cabinet members in their seats. You imagine that the room is tense, that they may be swaying in their seats after such a direct and open flogging. They have to make smart moves now because the man fit to take over the helm will no longer be playing a game of handshakes and behind closed deals. There’s a sense of pride. You feel it in the base of your gut. You know Calum worried himself to death about his speech, about what to say to get through. And surely he delivered. You hope he feels the same way at the end of it too.

The members of the Cabinet--one by one-- cast their votes into the box. You watch them all. Count every single one of the 35 slips as they fall into the box. The part that you hate, the part that you know will stir your gut with anxiety is the count. As the names are off with their vote, your heart lurches. You wait for the name and the call for ‘nay’. 5 for, 6 against. Then 7 for and 6 against. 8 for, 6 against. 10 for, 9 against. 11 for, 12 against. 15 for, 12 against. 16 for, 13 against. 17 for, 13 against. 17 for, 14 against. 19 for, 16 against.

A tight vote, a race to pull through by a hair. The thing that you realize is some victories, even brutally won, are still victories. This is still a win for Calum. Even a few of the stark and staunch most moderates, swing in favor of economic assistance. Your feet are shuffling, your weight shifts and you know where Calum is vaguely. You know that it’s just a few wings over. You could get there in about ten minutes or so. Yet you stay, you watch on the screen as Calum and David embrace. The smiles they both wear. The cup of David’s hand on Calum’s cheek in pride is a sight you’re glad you get to witness.

The feed cuts a few minutes later with the count as the last display. The kitchen is slow to resume back to it’s normal pace. Everyone’s still drawn into the now dark TV. You wonder when you held so much anticipation that the bill wouldn’t get passed through. Where had all that pessimism been hiding? Its a shock to see the votes, 19 to 16 still burned into your retinas. “Hell of a speech,” you hear from a cluster at the kitchen table.

“I’d sure as hell would vote for him if I could,” someone else laughs in return.

“Alright, if you keep hanging around this stove, I’m going to put you to work,” Declan teases to you. It’s clear he’a ready to get back to work, even after such a rousing speech. The reality though is that the world keeps turning. Even after wins and even after losses, the earth still rotates on its tilted axis waiting for no one.

You slide away with a laugh and move a bit closer to the kitchen island. THere’s still a crowd around it but you’re hoping to be absorbed into that crowd, make light conversation until you can slip back away for a nap. “No need to tell me twice.”

You can feel the hover though and turn to find Janet in the space between you and Declan--like a mother torn between her children. You nod her over to you, scooting to a corner of the kitchen island. “If Declan burns the food, just give me a call,” you tease.

Janet’s laughter is small, but she nods, hand clasping yours. “I know you won’t be far.”

Her comment will raise suspicions and you notice the looks from a few other staff. “Oh, did someone melt your heart outside of the prince now finally?” Yvonne teases. “I’m hoping so.”

You know she means well. Yet Yvonne looks at you the same way Declan did--like they know but don’t want to say what’s going on. “Oh, for a moment, it sounded like you might care.”

Yvonne shrugs. “And if I did?” she huffs, but pats your shoulder as she passes. Perhaps, it’s less about telling them and more about accepting the fact that things have changed drastically. You’re not just the person who comes in when they need it. You’re not just a coworker all the time. Though it feels much too little too late for that.

“Tell me; are we losing you before or after Christmas?” It’s Val who asks. She’s seated right next to the corner that you’re tucked into of the crowd around the kitchen island.

“Before,” you return. “Mid September.”

She nods. “Do you think if I took your shift there’s a second prince in the family to fall in love with me?”

You snort at the question. “Worth the shot, I guess. They do say lightning can strike twice.”

“A rarity, but I could try,” Val returns. “We’ll miss you.”

“I’ll still be around. I won’t be going far.”

“Where’d you land?”

“Forest; downtown--couple blocks from the town center.”

She nods, “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard about it. Good food, allegedly. I’m sure you could make it better.”

You shake your head and wrap an arm around her shoulder. She’s the youngest of the group, recently joined for the mid-day shift mostly but takes whatever shifts she can get. You don’t know what her home life is like, but in her, there is a mirror. You see yourself--the person working to escape life. “I’ll just be a line cook and potential bartender to start out. Highly doubt I’d be in the near anyone high enough to influence the menu.”

“You’ll get there soon enough.”

“Maybe. But it’s neither here nor there really. If you really want my spot though, I’ll give you my recipe for french toast.”

“But not your biscuits? I see how it is.” The two of you share a teasing grin but Val nods before speaking, “Deal. You work tonight?”

“When am I not here working?” you return.

“When you’re upstairs getting smooches,” Cyprus interjects.

“Who’s getting smooches?”

The voice nearly startles you but you catch the cologne; it soothes the ache in your chest. He’s not directly pressed against you, but now that you’re aware you can feel him behind you. You release Val and turn to face him. The grin’s lifting your cheeks before you can stop yourself. “Congratulations,” you offer first. “Hell of a speech.”

Calum reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and produces a pack of matches. You’d jokingly bought a matchbook of them from an antique shop that you happened across in search of second hand canvases that you might be able to use and to find something to replace the desk lamp in your room; you’d come up on a bust for either one of those but did manage to find the matchbook. The matchbook had small individual packets in them. And now the white cardboard of the match pack is tucked between Calum’s fingers. “I had my good luck charm.”

You gingerly take the pack from his fingers, and flip it open. “If only now you had something to light with them.”

“I think it might defeat the purpose of them being a good luck charm.”

“Only one way to find out.” It’s not lost on you about the box also tucked into that inside pocket of Calum’s jacket. You press the match back into Calum’s chest, over the box of cigarettes. “But seriously, that was fucking incredible. Perhaps, not all politicians are bad.”

“Well,” Val teases from behind you. “I don’t know about all that.”

You snort and Calum’s laughter shakes him too as he takes hold of your hand still pressed into him. “I’d say I’m offended, but I’m far from it,” Calum states. “Can I steal you away for a second? It’s nothing bad and can wait if you’re busy.”

“I can spare a second.” You follow behind Calum as he leads the way out. The crowd lets out a few whistles and the urge to flip them all off wins out against the better odds. You raise the single middle digit into the air briefly and there’s a roar of laughter from the group.

Calum leads you down the hallway, like one would take to get to the front of the castle but ducks into a small offshoot of the hallway. Around another corner, a door reveals itself and it’s not long before the two of you are outside. It’s a side of the castle that none of the windows in the kitchen face, which is a plus. Here you press in a little closer to Calum, daring a grasps at his waist. The belt presses into your palm as your fingers catch around the loops.

“How do you feel about that speech?” you ask.

Calum’s exhale is heavy. “I-I don’t know how I really feel. Relieved. A little stoked. A lot of emotions right now I think that I can’t pick apart if I’m honest. I wanted to find you immediately, but it took a little while to do the rounds.”

You shake your head. “No it’s okay, Calum. You have to do those formalities. I get it. But I hope, once you’re able to dissect those emotions a bit more there’s pride in there too. You were phenomenal.”

“It wouldn’t be the same speech it was if you hadn’t asked those questions. If you had made an accusation, or kept quiet, I think I’d be looking at a very different outcome.”

“Well let’s be glad I didn’t do any of those things.”

“I am. I’m very glad.”

The gap between the two of you inched closer and closer together. And like magnets the final push happens together. You reach up towards Calun and he reaches for you. The kiss is soft, a gentle press of lips slotting together. As much as you want to give in, press your body into Calum's, you settle for the quick squeeze at his hip. A teasing hiss falls from his throat. “Tell me you’re staying through the day?”

You nod at Calum’s question. “I am.”

“Good, I want to properly show you my gratitude.”

The exhale of laughter is quick. “I haven’t forgotten about the diner either. You little masochist.”

“Tricks up your sleeves? Or are you just a sadist with nothing to back it up?”

A hum falls from your throat. “That’s a lot of lip coming from the guy that’s begging.”

“Well, not yet I’m not.” Something buzzes from Calum’s pocket--his phone you assume. He ignores it, coming in again for another kiss. It’s deeper than the first, but still chaste enough. “Tell me, how long did you know?”

“Know about what?”

“The smoking,” Calum answers.

“I had suspicions when I took us on the picnic. Was confirmed when I got in your car the other day by the smell”

“I’d say I’m trying to quit.” Calum offers it with a grimace. You don’t mind the habit much. You shrug at the statement. He’s probably on and off on the habit as the smell is not overpowering in the slightest. And there’s no reason to force him into something he wasn’t ready to give up yet anyway.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking you to be a liar.” There’s another buzz. “Someone’s trying real hard to get in contact with you,” you tease.

Calum huffs a little. “Yeah, apparently.”

His half step back to gather the phone from it’s pocket gives you enough time to look him over. The navy blue suit, as always, is tailored to perfection. It’s clear he means business, and you hate the way he’s lately been wearing the dress shirts with the top couple of buttons undone. You don’t actually hate it, thought more often than though the thought of tracing the valley of his chest with your tongue has come to mind. The thought doesn’t linger long, as you trail your gaze up to his face again.

“I’m proud of you,” you whisper to him.

Calum’s snap is fast--so fast you think he might drop his phone. But he looks up at you, eyes wide. “What?” he questions.

“I said I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, baby.” You swear for a second you see his chin wobble, but Calum grins in return, slipping his phone back into the pocket. “I’ve gotta head back, but I should be done before 5:30. Do you think you’ll still be up?”

“If I’m not up, you have permission to wake me.” It’s about 3 right now, you figure. Maybe a little before, but definitely not quite four. You don’t think you need that long of a nap, but you do know you’ll need sleep.

“No, no. If you’re still asleep, I’ll get you up after dinner then. No need to interrupt your sleep. Did it go well with Janet?”

“We both cried. But, she understands.” That’s about well as it could go, if you’re honest. “I didn’t realize I’d miss all of them so much.”

“You all are like a highly dysfunctional, yet functional family. I wish I could say you don’t have to give it up. But you don’t have to stop being friends with them. That’s not something I want for you, given how much I’m part of the reason so much of your life is being uprooted.”

Your worry though is that things will shift. When you go and if things with Calum get more serious, you worry that the relationship will have to change then. It’s a worry that you can’t afford to hold onto right now. You don’t know where things are going. You know you want to carry this torch with Calum for as long as it’ll burn. You want every second you can with him. But the future is evasive--the murky waters that don’t clear until your waist deep in them. You just need to wait until you’re waist deep in it.

“They’re nice.” You want to try and find a way to continue whatever relationship you’ve built with them.

Calum cups the back of your head, lips pressing into the skin of your forehead. “They’re your friends, baby. You’re allowed to call them that. I’ll see you tonight, okay? I’ll bring you a plate if you want.”

“Check the meat first. Declan’s cooking dinner.”

Calum’s laughter is soft against your skin. “I’ve yet to get sick from anyone’s cooking. But I’ll check it before taking the first full bite. If it’s all clear I’ll bring you a plate. Let me walk you back, okay?”

“Okay.”

The hallways are quiet, but you know the kitchen is always alive. Calum cracks open the door to the kitchen and lets you in first. Yvonne, Cyprus, and Declan are still bouncing around the kitchen. A few others are already gone, most likely only hanging around for the vote after their morning shifts. Calum doesn’t cross fully into the kitchen, leans into the door he’s got cracked open. His smile is soft.

“Play nice. I don’t want any calls from Ms. Janet,” Calum teases.

You shove at his shoulder, the heat flooding your cheeks. “I’ll have you know it’s only a problem if you ever get caught.”

“Well, then, I guess don’t get caught then.” He winks and starts to back away from the door.

Once the door closes, you exhale. You didn’t want him to go yet, but you know he has too. “Oh you’re not even going to get a kiss goodbye?” Val shouts from behind.

“Oh,” you groan. “You lot are going to be insufferable from now until eternity I take it.”

“You wouldn’t have us any other way,” Cyprus laughs. And, you know that you wouldn’t. Not in the slightest.

______________________________

Calum takes the door handle tight in his palm, easing his weight into it. The light under the door is still off and he’s not sure if it’s from your departure from his room this afternoon or if you’ve returned and gotten the nap in like you said you might. So he takes the steps into the room carefully. There’s a small shuffle from the sheets and Calum’s quick as he can to get the door closed. The light from the hallway fades as he sweeps the door closed.

I’m proud of you. The soft utterance has echoed in his mind the entire afternoon. It’s played like a loop--the soft look and ooze of pride on your face. It’s not that he thought he’d done terrible. He felt good about the speech. A couple people approached him and tld him how rousing it was. The close vote didn’t exactly help his vote of confidence either. Yet, Calum still felt an odd mixture of emotions--some of them a lingering anxiety that he now considers something he’ll be dealing with for quite some time. He’ll always be concerned about how what he says is received. He’ll always be worried that he’s not doing enough.

But you’d stilled most of that concern with such a simple phrase, I’m proud of you. He had done good. He’d won the vote like he wanted. It is still a victory nonetheless.

“No,” you groan as Calum settles onto the bed next to you. “No, you’re too handsome right now for me to resist you.” Your voice is thick with sleep.

“Just one kiss,” Calum barters.

You blindly reach for his face. “One.”

Calum captures your lips in a kiss, once, and nearly goes in for a second you, but you fall back into the pillows. He kisses your cheek instead and pushes up from the mattress. I’m proud of you, feels almost as good as the first time the two of you shared an ‘I love you’. So Calum lets the thought carry him to his bathroom where he strips from the day and showers. He doesn’t need your approval for everything, he knows. But it’s nice to hear it, to have that verbal affirmation to what he knows the two of you share.

Changed into an old T-shirt and flannel pants, Calum slips onto the bed next to you. He stays above the covers, but does press another kiss to your temple. This time you don’t rouse awake. He knows in another hour or so your alarm will ring if it’s set, so he settles against the pillows. Like clockwork his right hand falls to the top of your head, light scratches against your scalp as he picks up his phone in his left hand.

Calum checks through is texts first--a few from friends who also watched the voting today and congratulating him. One reminding him of his dental appointment next week and then one from Michael--outside of the group text. Don’t ask how I found this. Attached to the message is a link. Calum doesn’t like the look of things just from the preview and when he opens it, pictures from the date the other day load up first--one of Calum walking you of the restaurant. Your face is mostly hidden.

So Calum scrolls on, down until a hot pink headline catches his eye: Even as summer cools off, things with this pair are heating up.

His heart thunders in his chest as scrolls down. A picture of you kissing Calum’s hand is the first one after the headline. It’d be passable if not for the look on Calum’s face. He knows immediately without a doubt people will scrutinize the hell out of it. Though he should be embarrassed about his own pleasure being captured on film--not with his own consent involved of course--the thing he’s worried about is that this causes issues for you.

You just landed that job and hadn’t even started. The thing Calum doesn’t want are these photos to ruin your shot. They aren’t the most scandalous photos ever--far from it. But they are particularly revealing the more Calum scrolls, pictures of the teases and taunts. Calum tries to remind himself it is tame. There’s no nudity, no sex tape, or sexual photos that have gotten out. It just feels like a warning that nowhere in public is truly safe for you.

The first thing Calum wants to do is call Forest, see if he can get in contact with Turner and ensure that your position stays secure. And the second thing he thinks about is his promise. How you asked him to only be a knight in shining armor when you asked. Right now, Calum knows that he’ll need to tell you when you wake up. He only needs to talk to you and then everything else will be done together as a team--whatever you want. Calum just hopes nothing bad comes as a result of this. There’s no reason for this to get in the way of your new job. Your face isn’t that clear in some of these photos. It wouldn’t be hard to piece together who you might be, but it is a worry that even with your job as a line cook that things might get crazy fast.

The chime echoes around Calum and he spin from his desk chair to the bed. You push up from the covers to turn off the alarm. When your arms hit the mattress, you sit up. “Why are you way over there?”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Calum returns. He crosses the short distance to your open arms.

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you whisper into his shoulder.

“Oh, it can wait a minute. You just woke up.”

“Pictures of our date are surfacing online,” Calum mutters into your neck. “I’m worried it’s going to hurt your chances with Forest.”

“Show me, please?”

It’s hard to piece together your thoughts, not with the furrow of sleep still on your brows as you scroll through tabloid on Calum’s laptop. But you do release a snort after a moment and tip the device so Calum can see the screen. “I’m kissing and nibbling on your hand, baby. I thought it was the picture of you sucking my fingers or like ass out photos.”

“Okay, first, we’ve not been ass out in public so unless they’re deep faked that wouldn’t get out there. Second, there is a photo of me sucking the ice creams off your fingers if you scroll down far enough. Third, there’s going to be more people interested in trying to get the next most scandalous shot of us. The sharks can smell the blood in the water now.”

Calum watches over the top of the screen to the photo in question. It's clear as day with him licking the ice cream off your lingers, the spoon does just enough to block anything that could be construed as too graphic, but it's as close as Calum can get being caught red-handed without having the paint on his hand.

“Hmm, yeah, I can see your concern especially about people knowing that you're really into ice cream now," you snort.

Calum knows it's your attempt to diffuse the situation. The insecurity isn't lost on him, but you've always covered up that fear with a bit of a deprecated humor. It's a smoke and mirror tactic. Though perhaps now some levity isn't harmful. It is, on the face of it, not an appealing photo of Calum--the angle is terrible and if it there weren't high stakes he could find it himself to laugh. These photos are truly child's play to what has come out in the past about people of interest and celebrities, but it's you--you are cost in the crosshairs this time.

"But, I mean, in all seriousness," you continue on, "the first photos plus these don’t make it exactly hard to maybe piece together what I look like. However, if Forest wants to take back a job offer because of pictures of me with my boyfriend then maybe it’s not a good company. I mean, we’re in the business of service. As long as I can cook, then I don’t think my chances are hurt that much.”

You know more about what something like this can mean for your chances. Yet Calum’s not ready to let go of the voice in the back of his head. What if it does hurt your chances? What if after all this you don’t have any income anymore? Calum’s more than happy to help cover whatever expenses you have until you find a job or arrangement that suits your needs best. But you’re going to want to work and find something fast.

“But,” you start and then stop to clear your throat. “But thing I can do right now is I could try and call Turner and get ahead of this on their end. We can’t stop the folks who do this, but we can take precautions. Go to places a little further out of town. I’ll be a bit more careful about taking bites out of you if you promise to instead suck toes in private. We can figure something out.”

Calum gathers a throw pillow from the floor and whacks you in the shoulder with it. "I highly doubt this situation demands a joke about sucking on toes. And if there's something you want to tell me, please by all means do so. But yes, we could take more precautions."

Your laughter chokes you, a broken but delightful sound. Calum hands over his glass of water. He’d gotten it in the hour-long fret session he’d been down. Michael offered his help too, keeping an eye out for any more sites that post the photos and so his best to collect them for Calum. Calum could then go to Miranda with a clear list of who would be slapped with whatever legal red tape she could give them of course.

“Would you be okay if I went to Miranda and see what she can do? She’s got connections to places we dare not think about.”

You nod, swallowing down your sip. “Yeah, that’s okay. Just keep me posted on what she says, if that’s okay.”

“More than okay, baby.”

“I’ll call Turner tomorrow after I get home and I’ll let you know what happens there too.”

There’s a plan, as you and Calum settle down into the kitchen and Calum warms up the plate of the food Declan made, he reminds himself there is a plan. There is a plan and the two of you would work it together.

"So," Calum starts around the plate of cookies he put together himself to snack on while you eat. "We have a plan."

You nod around a bite of potatoes.

"We have a plan," he mutters to himself. It's real. Tangible. A plan. You'll call Turner. He'll go to Miranda. Whatever happens after that just has to come after that. For the most part, you should be okay. It might not be hard to piece together who you are, but it's not easy. There's still time.

There's still time.

"We'll be okay, love. We'll be okay," you offer, taking his hand.

Calum squeezes at the pres of your digits into his palm. "We will."

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