#he half asses tracking cals too

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Am I weird for making hcs about what kind of [my issue] all the characters in [my hyperifxation] would have?

Like ex: What kind of ed every tf2 merc would have?

Like not even in a “I’m going to give them all my problem exactly” kind of way- I just like to think about their characters and assign them a problem

[russilton]

"but some people can’t stand it." tbh fans have always been weird about Lewis and his ships with his teammates. Nobody shipped Valewis when Valteri is probably Lewis' closest friend on the grid. It all goes back to Nico and the fall of Brocedes tbh, so much of Lewis' career is tied to him and that particular rivalry. Lewis is also super closed off (again thank you Nico), George and Mick are probably the two people he actually interacts with in some capacity. It's difficult to ship him with anyone tbh, I quite like Britcedes btw but I can see why people may not feel too comfortable.

People being weird is the tagline to fandom, you could present them with a perfect ship and someone would still hate it. In a way I appreciate the freedom it gives me to do whatever the fuck I want.

I don’t ship valewis either bc again, Monoshipper, but if you want valewis, anon, I should recommend @milflewis - I love platonic and especially bromantic valewis with my entire soul, but if you want romantic, Niamh is the way to go. You can also see @princemick for mick and Lewis. It’s not my ship, but Kyle would drown just trying to swim to that boat

I think with Lewis ships it comes down to a perfect storm of Lewis being genuinely quite reserved and protective of his interactive circles bc he’s got trust issues you can see from space, the fallout of brocedes, and people just not liking George and Val. Sewis is without a doubt popular for a reason, I love Seb as Lewis’ friend, but seb is also undeniably more popular than George or Val will probably ever be, and that’s why sewis is much bigger.

And that’s someone Lewis really likes, If you need proof of how some people prefer character over interaction, look at Ch*wis. If Lewis so much as stands near Charles half my dash gets filtered for the next few days. Val and George don’t get that hype, Val only gets slightly more favourable treatment now he’s not Lewis’ teammate anymore, and I’ve literally seen folks get mad at George for breathing (on radio). That’s the nature of fandom, people like what they like and gravitate toward it.

For me, I mean Lewis has naked framed photos of vals ass and secret pics of George’s tits, he takes ice baths with George and travels to tracks with Val, he posts about them both fairly often, but that tends to get swept under the “well they’re teammates” umbrella. Some people find that less interesting, I’m personally frothing at the mouth and shredding paper because of it, but that’s me.

The scars of brocedes run deep. I hate it with a passion, it’s one of the few ships I genuinely cannot stand. For some people I’d assume that means shipping Lewis with a teammate again is out of the question, but to me I think that actually adds to the allure of them.

Val taught Lewis he could trust a teammate again, that he could be friends with them again, that it was safe to be vulnerable and it wouldn’t be used against him. George compounds that by showing Lewis that even if he’s competing with his teammate, they can still love each other. They can still work together, they can still share a family, they can still grow together. George is louder than Val, different, he’s got a spark Lewis sees in himself and it also scares him because he remembers what he went through. But George has been with them since 2016, as long as cal, he hangs on Lewis’ every word even now and smiles like sunshine when Lewis glances at him, and Lewis has grown too, he’s not who he was in 2016, and he’s not Nico.

I love writing about Lewis and Val and George BECAUSE they are the tree that grew from rotten fruit, as a concept the three of them are about growth and change and recovery from trauma. They’re about understanding what George and Val go through as the teammates of the greatest of all time, but also them having to understand the unique fire Lewis was forged in and the pressures he is under. They are my addiction and I love teammate stories bc it’s the classic trope of together against it all, and of found family within Mercedes

[doctor-loboto]

rambling headcanon thoughts that are ALMOST a fanfic, call it a fictoid and also can’t decide who the pov character is:

Crispin is really good at psychological manipulation. Not because he’s like some mastermind abuser but just because he grew up in unforgivingly harsh circumstances in the shitty school system of the Psychonauts universe’s equivalent of 1940s England. He’s tiny and his eyes aren’t good and he’s always just been kind of sickly and weird so he learned these skills to survive.

He didn’t MEAN to make Fred have a psychotic breakdown. He just… may have trash talked him a little aggressively for getting his ass kicked by someone who just came out of a prolonged catatonic episode. But he couldn’t have known that Fred had a huge inferiority complex from his overbearing parents who forced him to go to French camp all summer without doing anything about his panic disorder, among other sins. In Crispin’s opinion, it’s mostly the hospital’s fault for allowing a nurse to do one-on-one care with patients when he had a history of trauma.

Conversely, he’s also discovered that he knows exactly what to say to comfort Loboto when he’s triggered or having a meltdown. He knows to appeal to Caligosto’s ego as a scientist and his desire to be loved, which isn’t difficult because he’s been kind of obsessed with Loboto since they were in the hospital together. He was supposedly violent but usually acted like a sedated puppy except for the rare occasion that he had to be restrained. He was tall, and if Crispin got very close to his face he could just barely tell that he had deep scars and two different colored eyes, like a white cat. It made him look rather dashingly villainous (for the record, about a fifth of the androphilic staff thought he was handsome, three fifths thought he looked like an unsettling failed taxidermy project with too many teeth, and the other fifth thought it was gross to view patients through a sexual lens).

He gathered from their interactions that Loboto claimed to have been the only child in an incredibly abusive family who dug out his brains with an ice pick, that he had been in the system since he was eight years old and had been institutionalized more times than he could keep track of, that his parents forced him to have so many surgeries to correct his scoliosis and TMJ (he wasn’t sure what that meant and Caligosto’s explanation wasn’t terribly coherent), he got kicked out of dental school for his revolutionary ideas and then he started putting weapons in people’s teeth for crime syndicates, he had removed his own appendix and one of his toes while living in a trailer, he knew how to build military vehicles out of scrap metal. It all sounded like the ramblings of a schizophrenic, which wasn’t a deterrent. Crispin had become infatuated with less functional men; at least Cal didn’t have a debilitating drug addiction or a secret wife, as far as he could tell.

Then he talked to Fred during one of his lucid periods and, because Fred was highly medicated and not technically bound by medical confidentiality anymore, he learned it was all true. Or at the very least the ideas Loboto was trying to express were true. Apparently he had been a sort of celebrity in northern Oregon, a human cryptid who traveled between vacant storefronts and had a garage somewhere in the woods full of surgical equipment and half-deconstructed junk vehicles. He was known for posing as a licensed dentist and also for digging through landfills in rain boots and a stained floral sundress.

The two of them became as close as patients in a mental hospital are allowed to be, especially after Crispin displayed his ability to mortally psychologically wound any aggressive inmates with a tactically aimed insult. People, generally other men, would sometimes threaten or harass Loboto when he was too sedated to object. Maybe it was because he was visibly effeminate or just because they perceived the destructive force of his outbursts as a threat to their masculinity.

So obviously, Caligosto chose his favorite fellow patient to be his chief of staff when he became the new Head Doctor. He presented Crispin with a fresh extra-small floor nurse uniform from one of the only supply closets that hadn’t been burnt or flooded and put it on over his straitjacket, which he still needed to wear to discourage him from chewing his fingers (Loboto knew this was the best course of treatment because he was the Head Doctor and he had a lot of experience with compulsively ripping out pieces of his own flesh).

But! Crispin had other duties as the Chief Orderly besides watching the patients and guarding the elevator. They were implied. Loboto didn’t actually feel comfortable making them official, or mentioning them. It was just understood between them that Crispin would help him if he asked. Which was ideal, because Caligosto didn’t need help all the time, but he sometimes had bad days. He would usually have a dream he couldn’t really remember clearly and then as he woke up and went on with his life he would start sweating and trembling and feel unbearably sick and scared. It had been happening to him for his entire life, and he usually hid inside all day and maybe drank or took nitrous oxide and mostly just rocked back and forth a lot.

Now, however, he had a good hospital staff. Crispin slept on a mattress on the floor in what Caligosto called his bedroom, so he was usually already there when these incidents would take place. Otherwise he would ring an extremely grating alarm that he had salvaged from the administrator’s office. The volume felt appropriate for the intensity of his feelings.

Crispin was highly skilled at his job. He called Loboto “Doctor” and held his hand and let Cal lean against him even though it was awkward because he was such a large person, especially compared to Crispin. He reminded Loboto that he was safe and things were okay and he was the doctor now and was in control. It didn’t completely slow down his heartbeat or make his anxiety go away, but it made him feel a lot better, usually enough to eventually fall asleep from emotional exertion.

Even after getting “arrested” and readjusting to normal life as disabled adults (well, if one of the disabled adults is an extremely part-time technician for a government agency), Crispin still uses his abilities to comfort Loboto and encourage him to take care of himself. Cal is arguably less functional than him, and living together has made his issues with memory and executive functioning very obvious. But Crispin honestly doesn’t feel like the relationship is unbalanced; Cal needs a little extra help in daily life, but he’s incredibly protective of his Chief Orderly who has been promoted to Administrative Boyfriend and is always supportive. Thanks to Loboto, his finger tips look normal for the first time in decades. When he tells people about it he always says that the best doctor on the Pacific coast is in charge of his treatment and Loboto is always very flattered.

[seriouslyblacklikemysoul]

Ancient Dreams in a Modern Land - Bucky Barnes x Reader.

MASTERLIST

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

So, yes. There we go. I am sorry for the long wait. Life.

Part V. Rusted.

         Not knowing where you had gone, was killing him. He was breaking and he knew that he couldn’t postpone thinking about who were hiding behind this. He knew and it was slowly eating him alive. His fault. Bucky never saw himself as the hero you did, he was well aware of the innocents he has killed, he was more than aware that there was a lot of bad blood; he had made some enemies; very powerful ones. You knew his past and you decided to push past that, create a new future, where missions weren’t the plan. He had been naïve, too foolish to gamble this away, to leave his past to pure luck. He knew that it was too good to last. Yet, every time you entered a room, none of those thoughts made sense, because you were waltzing towards him, with a soft smile.                He was wide awake, not being able to catch a moment of sleep; sleep was a privilege for unbothered minds; his was a disaster. His ears were ringing with your screams, tormenting him. He was slowly letting go sanity. Everyone was doing the best they could, but with no lead or clues, they had nothing to grasp to begin with. He knew it; he already knew what had happened to you. His enemies had finally caught up with him; his past was now after you. If his gut feeling was correct, he didn’t even know how bad it was. He guessed; and his guesses were better and more accurate than most. After all, he had been through that himself.                    He was tracking down an old acquaintance of his; watching him stroll around with the power and the authority he had given him. It was not an easy thing to do… to witness the extent and the impact his actions had. When he had killed Cal Collins, he had given the perfect opportunity to Osman to take over. And he was not the easy guy Collins was; he went big.                    Pitch black, an hour before the first light of the dawn. Bucky was down by the docks, spying at Osman and his containers; containers full of guns, drugs and a couple versions of the super serum. Osman operated without trouble, having half of the city on his paycheck. A lot of people of high status were involved and no one wanted their name to be mentioned or associated with this kind of shipment.                    Bucky tried to reason with his own intrusive thoughts; for Osman to be seen here, he could not be the one behind the attack, could he? Then again, he was an ex-Hydra official, and he had both the means and the reason to go after you – to get to him. He wanted to gain his attention once more; to get even. Bucky, well, the Winter Soldier, had gone after Osman’s wife and it seemed fitting. But something told Bucky he was not the one behind this. Yet, he was still lingering and eavesdropping. If he was not the one doing this, he would most likely know the one responsible. Bucky was assured this had been Hydra’s doing. He took his time. He needed a lead. Anything to hold on to.

         Your eyes couldn’t adjust to the absolute darkness. You were somewhere cold, dark and very uncomfortable, judging by the rock that was hurting your thigh. You didn’t know where you had been taken or for how long you had been there. You only knew that your legs were almost numb and your head had been bleeding at some point; you could feel the burning sensation clearly.                     This was no random attack; they knew their way in and out, they knew who they wanted to take with them. They knew you. And you were betting your ass that you knew them too. You didn’t know the man on top, but you knew that it if you cut down one head, two more grew back in its place.                     “Illiterate bastards” you scoffed as you remembered the mythology behind Hydra. And they were no Hercules, that was certain. But you were not a Megara, either; you wouldn’t wait for any man to save you. Not if you could do it by yourself. There were a couple of problems with that plan. You had no idea where on earth you had been moved.                 Pain was the only reminder of your little adventure. You could sense the vibrations and you knew that somewhere along these walls, there must be an exit. You knew that a soldier or two would pick you up and drag you all the way to a lab, turning you into a rat. You had a vague idea of the things they wanted from you, aside obedience. You knew, deep down, you did. You just couldn’t think of them because your mind was only capable of worrying about him and his hell.

         He was constantly on your mind. Whether or not he was still doing the best he could to not let his other side take over; or if he was taking care of himself enough to be okay without you; or if he had opened up about his nightmares to anyone else; or if he had already sought out help. But you knew that the longer you were here, all the more agonizing it would be for him. You needed to get out before Hydra got any funny ideas; and before they bend your will.                   You heard voices, some spoke English perfectly, while others did sound Russian. You wanted to scream and smack their heads together but thought it stupid. Instead, you pulled yourself together and thought of a plan. Anything, really. Now that your eyes were adjusting to the dark cell, you could make out the outlines and the door frame that wasn’t sealed properly. It was just an inch, but it gave you more hope than the sun itself.                “приготовь ее” get her ready? Ready for what? Your stomach fell and twisted, in agony because all that hope was now gone. If they wanted you ready for something, that was not a trip to the Bahamas. You didn’t know but you could guess. You closed your eyes the moment you heard the door.             “Она все еще в отключке” one of them informed the other. Not very observant, if you were being honest; you weren’t passed out.                      “Hey, Princess” the other one said and a moment later a bucket full of ice water was thrown all over you, making you jump up in shock, but you managed to contain the scream. You wouldn’t give them that kind of satisfaction.          They grabbed you and dragged you; you weren’t fighting this. You wanted your strength and stamina for a possible way out. They weren’t kidding around. Their hands were buried in your skin, causing your muscles immense pain. The hand behind your neck, threatening to crack it, was pushing your head down, and your lungs didn’t have space for a breath.          You tried to notice the different corridors. They were all the same. It wasn’t going to be easy to get out. They pushed you in a room, using you to open the titanium doors, at the same time, throwing you like a puppet. You ended up on the floor, with a bloody nose and a painful ringing. You didn’t even make a sound. No, you wouldn’t give in.              “Well, well. It is an honor to finally meet you” a highly persuasive voice greeted you and made you look up. You didn’t know the man in front of you but you knew he was bigger trouble than a simple brute. He extended his hand in a way that showed he wanted to help you up but if you had learned anything from the war, this had to be it. Never trust a man who projects peace while maintaining the war. You got up by yourself and he smirked.                   “You are not what I expected. I see now why the Soldier found his serenity, even after his hideous past” he remarked and it was a punch in your stomach, listening to this hyaena talking about Bucky like that. But it did confirm something; they were after you to kill him.                The room was a big glass container with different torture devices, cells, and chairs wired to electricity. A table had been emptied. You guessed it was meant for you and panic began to take over.             “I am Johann Fennhoff, but please, call me Faustus” and with a smile, he placed a cloth on your nose. You passed out.

[allsassnoclass]

Voices Singing (Let’s Be Jolly)

Written for Ficmas Day 2 Pairing: Michael Clifford/Harry Styles Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Key Tags: Strangers to Lovers, Christmas Lights, Piano Player Michael Word Count: 4,987 Read on AO3

Summary:

Harry loves Christmas and singing in his community choir. Michael hates Christmas but is playing the piano for their holiday concert, anyway.

“Liam,” Harry says sweetly, batting his eyelashes a bit for good measure, “do you have a pencil I could borrow?”

Liam sighs, like Harry’s existence is a hardship, which is probably semi-true given how often he forgets his pencil and has to bother Liam for one.  He’s been part of this choir for a few years, and part of ones in high school long before then, yet he always forgets his pencil and half the time he forgets water, too.  It’s amazing that he’s made it this far in life.  At least, that’s what Liam said the last time he asked for a writing utensil.

“You know this is our last rehearsal with music, right?” Liam asks, even as he produces another pencil from his pocket and hands it over.  “You should’ve written everything down by now.  Next rehearsal is memorized, then dress, then the performance.”

“I still think it’s dumb that we’re expected to be memorized this year,” Niall chimes in.  “We’ve never had to be memorized before!”

“It’s the new director,” Harry says.  “He wants us to be more professional.”

“Well, he did save us from ruin this past season and lobbied for the parks and recs program to keep us in the budget, so I think the least we can do is memorize our music,” Liam says.

Harry hums.  Liam has a point: Ashton really did save them this past season, swooping in like a white knight to prevent their funding from getting cut and to keep the arts alive in their town.  Apparently he’s one of Calum’s friends (although Harry doubts friend is the most accurate word to use there) and loves a good cause, and although this is his first season directing he’s done it well so far.  That doesn’t mean that Harry is enthusiastic about the extra work of memorizing his music, even if he typically practices enough to naturally do so, anyway.

Liam doesn't have a chance to reiterate his point and try to drive home just how bad Niall and Harry's work ethic is, because at that moment Ashton himself strides into the rehearsal space, folder tucked under his arm and already undoing his scarf.

"Good evening, everyone!" he calls as conversations die down around the room.  "Hope you're all well.  We'll be getting started shortly, but first I'd like to introduce you to our pianist for this concert.  Obviously since we're not acapella like last concert I can't sit there playing the accompaniment.  No one wants that, but Michael has graciously agreed to be here for our next few rehearsals and play for us at the concert.  Michael?"

Ashton turns to the piano, finds it empty, and frowns.

"Uh, has anyone seen Michael?  Calum, do you know where he is?"

Every set of eyes in the room swivels towards the tenor.  Calum shrugs.

"He's here somewhere.  I lost track of him after we got out of the car."

Ashton sighs.  It's the same sigh he uses when the choir isn't getting a harmony that he's already played ten times, the kind that typically makes Harry dig his heels in and work harder.

It's comforting that someone else can make Ashton this exasperated, though.  If Michael is making Ashton sigh like that without even being in the room, Harry feels a bit better about the choir's general inability to sight read harmonies.

"Okay," Ashton says, running a hand through his hair.  "I'm going to start warmups.  Cal, can you call him and tell him to get his ass over here before I fire him?  Let him know I'm serious."

"He won't buy it," Calum says.  "He knows that he's the best accompanist you could get, especially this short notice."

"Just get him here, please?"

Ashton makes it almost the entire way through their usual warmups before someone new enters.  Harry assumes it's Michael based on the sheepish way he approaches the piano and the way Ashton pointedly doesn't look at him.  He has a beanie stuffed over blonde hair, dark pants, and a black sweatshirt, and he looks as young as Harry and Ashton, if not younger.  That doesn't mean that he can't be a great pianist, but there's not much time to learn the music, and Harry doesn't know what his practice schedule is going to be like if he's showing up to rehearsal late despite apparently being somewhere in the building.  Still, Harry likes the look of him.  He gives Ashton a wide smile that makes him deflate when he actually graces him with a look, and Harry swoons a bit.  It's a cute smile.

"Everyone, this is Michael Clifford, our accompanist," Ashton says, standing and letting Michael take the piano bench instead.  "He's going to be on time from now on."

"There were snacks," Michael protests weakly.

"Those are for the company holiday party using the auditorium, not for us."

"Oh,” he says, wrinkling his nose.  “I thought they were a bit Christmas-y."

Ashton sighs again, then turns back to the choir.

"Let's start with "O Holy Night," shall we?  From the beginning, I'll stop you when I need to.  Music is okay today, but we're memorized for the next rehearsal, so try to look away."

Ashton consults with Michael about tempo while everyone gets their music.  The piano player flips through the sheets once, nods at Ashton, and then Ashton counts them off.

Harry forgets to sing.

Michael is an amazing player.  He's obviously sight reading, completely focused on the sheet music except for the very occasional glance at Ashton's conducting, but he doesn't miss a note.  Harry has been around many accompanists, and they all get the job done, but not all of them could sight read a piece of music perfectly.  In fact, none of them could, not with an accompaniment like this.  Harry has looked at the intricate piano line many times in the past wondering what it would sound like, and Michael hits every grace note and chord, even when he has to roll them because his hands aren't large enough to reach all the notes at once.

The one thing missing is his expression.  Technically Harry is pretty sure the playing is perfect, but there's no feeling in it, and Michael's face is almost bored the entire time.  It’s common to focus more on technicalities than expression when sight reading, but Michael could easily put some feeling into his playing.

Ashton cuts everyone off halfway through the song to go over a harmony they still haven't quite locked in and remind everyone where they’re allowed to breathe.  Harry finally pulls his eyes away from the pianist and focuses on the music instead, but he finds his eyes constantly drifting back to Michael over the course of the rehearsal.

He even manages to hit everything correctly in their arrangement of "The Christmas Song," which has more accidentals than usual.  Harry is amazed.  He’s astounded.  He’s feeling a little warm.

There’s nothing as attractive as a musical man.  One who plays piano is even better, because he obviously knows how to use his hands.  Michael already was an attractive man when he first walked in, but then he smiled, and then he started playing.  Harry falls in love pretty quickly, but this might be a record.

Michael leaves the room as soon as rehearsal ends, standing from the piano and walking straight out the door the moment Ashton dismisses everyone, meaning that Harry doesn’t have a chance to talk to him even though he gathers his belongings in record time.  It’s disheartening, but he brushes his disappointment away.  He has a few rehearsals left, and he’ll be sure to talk to him next time.

“Hey,” Louis says, nudging him out of his thoughts.  “Ready to go?”

"Yeah," Harry says, already heading to the door.  Louis takes a moment to get his feet to move and catch up.

"Really?"  he asks.  "You don't want to bother Liam and Niall more?"

"No, let's go home."

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, fine.  I just have some stuff to do."

Louis frowns.

"Like what?"

"I think... I'm going to make cookies.  Everyone likes cookies, right?  Michael said he was late because there were snacks."

"Michael?  The accompanist?"  Louis stops in his tracks.  "Harry, do you have a crush?  Are you trying to woo the accompanist with baked goods?  You know that hasn't gone over very well in the past."

Now it's Harry's turn to frown.

"That's not my fault.  I make good cookies.  I used to work in a bakery."

"Yeah, sweeping the back and occasionally manning the till."

Harry's frown deepens.  Louis sighs and wraps an arm around his shoulders, continuing their walk out to the car.

"Come on, cheer up.  I know your cookies are great, but I don't want you to get your hopes up only to have your heart broken, especially when you don't even know if this guy is worth it."

"It's just cookies," Harry says.  "I'll save you some if you help me."

Louis considers, but Harry knows he's got him.  Harry is the only reason that they have consistent food in the apartment, because Harry is the one who likes cooking.  And baking.  And doing the laundry.  And most of the cleaning (except taking out the garbage).

Honestly, what is Louis going to do when Harry woos Michael and leaves to be his househusband?

"Okay," Louis says.  "But be sure he's worthy of your cookies before you give them to him."

"Louis, he played piano perfectly while sight-reading.  He even got all the accidentals in "The Christmas Song."  What more could I ask for?"

"Ugh, don't remind me about the fucking accidentals," Louis groans.  "You're lucky you're on baritone.  The tenors have a terrible harmony in that one."

Louis launches into a rant, one that Harry has memorized because he’s heard it so many times before.  Harry tunes him out and does a mental checklist of their ingredients to ensure he has everything he needs for Michael's cookies.

-/-

Michael won't stop talking to Calum.

Harry was happy to see him walk in a few minutes before the start of rehearsal, but he hasn't left Calum's side since, keeping up a consistent line of chatter that Harry has no hope of interrupting.  It's nice to see him energetic and passionate rather than sheepish or bored, but at this rate Harry's never going to get to talk to him because Calum is taking all of his attention.

Harry is pretty sure that Calum is dating Ashton.  He's had conversations with half the choir about it, and he's certain he caught a glimpse of them kissing before the last concert, although it was dark and he looked away quickly to give them some privacy.  Calum and Ashton certainly act like they're dating and trying to hide it, but what if Harry is wrong?  What if Harry doesn't stand a chance with Michael because Michael is already seeing someone?  Is Harry going to spend the next few weeks being jealous of Calum, of all people?

Ashton enters the room with much less fanfare than last time, setting down his folder and wandering over to Michael and Calum to speak to them.  Calum greets him with a sweet smile and Ashton puts a hand on his shoulder as he talks, letting his fingers brush Calum's cheek on the way down and lingering there long after Michael has rolled his eyes and gone to the piano.

Yeah, Harry is pretty sure that Calum and Ashton are dating, even if Michael carpools with Calum and enjoys talking his ear off.  Harry still has a chance, and if Michael does have someone else then Harry can’t be faulted for not knowing.

The rehearsal goes relatively smoothly, except Harry is even more distracted by Michael given that he doesn't appear to be actually looking at the music.   He has it in front of him so Ashton can tell him measure numbers when they stop and restart, but he rarely looks at it, instead watching Ashton's tempos, closing his eyes and stretching out his neck while he plays, or letting his eyes wander around the room.

He catches eyes with Harry at one point and quirks an eyebrow.  Harry quickly turns his attention back to Ashton and hopes he's not blushing too noticeably, but he still watches Michael more than the conductor.

He can’t believe he memorized the music after only one rehearsal.  This guy is amazing.

Michael doesn't run out of the room the moment that rehearsal ends this time, which means that Harry can take a moment to gather his things (including a tupperware container full of cookies) and his wits before following him out.

"Hey!" he calls, jogging a bit to catch up with him.  Michael glances over his shoulder, then eyes Harry when he falls into step beside him.

"Hey," he says warily.  "Harry, right?"

"Yeah," Harry beams.  He has no clue when Michael heard his name given the size of the choir, but he's very pleased that their very first introduction isn't going to be Harry hitting on him.  "How's it going?"

"Fine," Michael says, glancing at Harry again.  "What about you?"

"Good, good," Harry says.  "I love having an accompanist for the choir.  Ashton is fine when we're learning the notes, but he's not exactly a piano player, no offense to him.  It's nice to hear the actual piano line."

Michael snorts.

"Ashton's a shit piano player.  He's alright at guitar, though."

"Well, to thank you for saving us from his playing at the concert, I made you some cookies!  I hope you're not allergic to anything, but they're mostly sugar cookies with buttercream frosting, with a few gingerbread ones thrown in."

He holds out the tupperware.  Michael blinks at it before turning a disbelieving grin at Harry.

"You made me cookies?" he asks, lifting up the corner of the lid to look at them and take in the Christmas trees, stockings, reindeer, and snowflakes.  "Oh.  They're Christmas cookies."

"Is that a problem?" Harry asks.  "I thought it was appropriate, since you're accompanying our holiday concert, but you don't have to take them if you don't want to."

"No, it's fine!" Michael says, pulling the tupperware fully out of Harry's grip.  "These are my cookies now.  No take backs.  I just don't like Christmas very much, that's all."

"Why?" Harry asks, frowning.  Then he gasps.  "Wait, are you Jewish?  Sorry, I shouldn't have assumed--"

"No, no, I'm not Jewish.  I'm not much of anything, really.  I just used to work retail, and this was always the worst time of year," Michael says with a sigh.  He looks up, like he was going to roll his eyes but decided it was too much effort.  "Everyone is rushing around trying to find gifts and being rude about it, and everyone is more stressed than usual, and you're supposed to buy gifts for people that they'll just end up returning the next week anyway, and you hear the same four songs over and over and over, and most of the time they're not even good songs.  Believe me, if I could put a hit out on Mariah Carey, I would."

"But... what about the joy?" Harry frowns.  "The Christmas cheer?"

"The older I've gotten, the more I've realized that with Christmas, the bad outweighs the good.  When you can believe in Santa it's fine, but even when I was a kid I thought Santa was an asshole for giving some kids coal instead of presents.  Also, he only ever gave me socks.  What kid wants to get socks from Santa?"

"Why are you accompanying a holiday concert if you hate Christmas?" Harry asks.  Michael shrugs.

"Ashton asked me to.  Besides, I like playing, and at least you guys aren't doing "All I Want for Christmas Is You.""

Harry hums.  They did that one last year, and it didn't go very well.  As a choir, they're much more suited to classical pieces than pop songs.

"Do you do other concerts?" Harry asks.  "You're really good.  Like, really good.  I've been watching and you hardly need to look at the music, but you hit every note."

"You've been watching?" Michael asks, raising his eyebrows.

"You're nice to look at," Harry flirts, just to test the waters.  Michael smiles and side-eyes him.

"To answer your question, I don't play other concerts, usually," Michael says.  "Maybe I would if all of them had such wonderful baritones, but I only ever do it when one of my friends asks.  Piano has always come easy, so I wasn't willing to put in the work necessary to do it professionally, you know?  I don't want to have to hustle.  It's just something I do for fun."

Harry hums.  Sometimes he thinks about whether he should've tried to go into music, but he also thinks he wouldn't enjoy it as much if it was his job.  He likes the choir, he likes singing karaoke with his friends, and he likes teaching himself guitar badly from YouTube videos.  Having to do it all the time with the pressure of earning money might change that.

Besides, if Michael was famous, he probably wouldn't have landed in Harry's little corner of the world, playing piano for a community choir instead of at a famous opera house or equally grand venue.

"I get that," Harry says.  "I'm glad Ashton asked you to play for us."

Michael hums and considers Harry again.  "Yeah," he says eventually.  "Me too."

They've reached the front doors now, a small barrier from the cold outside.  Harry sticks his hands in his pockets and casts around for something to say, but comes up empty.  He has to step aside to let a few other choir members through, and when they pass Michael turns to him again.

"I'd love to tell you how the cookies taste," he says.  "I'm sure they'll be amazing, but if you give me your number you can get my enthusiastic first reaction."

Smooth.  Harry can respect it.  It's definitely not the worst excuse someone has tried on him to get his number, and it saves Harry the trouble of having to figure out how to ask Michael for his.  He hands over his phone easily, balancing the cookies for Michael while he types in his number then sends himself a quick text, and once he's confirmed that he now knows how to contact Harry he smiles again.

"I've got to get the car warm for Calum, otherwise he'll throw a fit once he and Ashton are done canoodling," Michael says.  "Expect a text from me soon, though."

"Have a nice night," Harry says.  "I'm looking forward to it."

-/-

Michael keeps his promise and texts Harry later that night about the cookies, including a lot of exclamation marks and happy emojis.  Louis reads it over his shoulder when he sees him smiling so widely at it and says that at least Michael has a good appreciation for Harry's gifts, but Harry is too busy replying to mind.

It turns out that texting Michael is extremely easy.  Conversation flows constantly between them, first about food, then about favorite movies, music, other hobbies, and work.  Michael is funny and uses emojis liberally, almost as much as Harry himself does, and Harry loves checking his phone to see a new message or question waiting for him.  Harry finds himself waiting on the edge of his seat for whatever Michael is about to say next, whether it's the answer to a question, a new random thought, or the flirty texts that have become a bit more pronounced each time one of them sends one.

For once in Harry's life, seduction-via-cookies seems to be working.  In fact, it's working better than he could've dared to hope, because the only thing that keeps Michael from being perfect is that he hates Harry's favorite holiday.  Even that isn't a huge deal, because Harry is confident that he can at least get Michael feeling neutral about it if they spend enough time together.  Sure, Michael has been burned by the retail experience, but there's a lot of magic still to be found in the Christmas season.  Harry thinks he’s at least shown him a little bit of that magic with the cookies, and he’s determined to show him more.

That’s how he finds himself in Michael’s car after their dress rehearsal, Calum left to catch a ride with Ashton, Louis heading home alone.  Harry is on a quest to show Michael a little bit of the true Christmas spirit, and Michael has been kind enough to indulge him.

(Michael actually is the one who suggested that Harry take him out and try to convince him that Christmas doesn’t suck.  Harry is going to have to start initiating something in this relationship, because so far Michael has a leg up on him.)

“So,” Michael asks, drumming his thumbs against the steering wheel.  They’re still in the parking lot of the church that they’ll be performing in, letting everyone else leave first.  Harry spent a long time inside the church looking at all the decorations.  It’s beautiful, even if it’s not fully decked out for Christmas yet.

“Where to?” Michael asks.  “Show me the meaning of Christmas, Harry!”

“Well, the true meaning of Christmas is in your heart,” Harry says.  Michael shoots him an unimpressed look, so Harry puts an address into his phone and lets the map direct them, both of them making small talk in between the automated voice commanding them where to turn.  When they finally arrive at the destination, Michael cautiously pulls into a parking spot and peers out the window.

“A light display?” Michael asks.  “I’ve seen Christmas lights before.”

“But you haven’t seen them with me,” Harry says.  “It’ll be different, trust me.  Come on!”

He manages to coax Michael out of the car and pays their entrance fee.  It’s a bit late in the night, meaning that the crowd has thinned slightly, but Michael still sticks close to him.  Harry gets the hint and takes his hand, making him smile.

There are millions of lights strung up in various shapes and formations along the path, creating tunnels for them to walk through or scenes to watch.  They linger for a long time at each display set to music, and Harry watches the multi-colored flashes dance across Michael’s face.

“They’re pretty, I guess,” Michael says eventually.

“I think they’re beautiful,” Harry replies.  “I like that they chase away the dark.  I hate how dark it gets in winter, but the lights feel like our way of fighting back, you know?  Even when things seem bad, we can still find ways to make them better and more bearable.”

“That’s nice,” Michael hums.  “I kind of like the dark.”

“Emo,” Harry teases, carrying a joke from their texting when Michael said he listens to My Chemical Romance.  Michael sticks out his tongue, then returns to watching the lights.  Harry can tell that he isn’t convinced yet, though, so he takes Michael a bit further to a hot cocoa hut where they can step inside and get a break from the cold.  They’re serving eggnog, cider, and other festive drinks as well, but hot cocoa is the best, and Harry orders two cups for them.  They find a table off to the side where they can sit and warm themselves a bit, the atmosphere calm and peaceful.  The hut itself is a rustic design, with lots of exposed wood and pine boughs decorating the tables, and Harry loves it.

“I try to come here every year for the cocoa,” Harry says.  “It’s so good.  I like a lot of festive drinks, actually.”

“You know you can drink them year-round, right?  You have that power,” Michael muses.  Harry sighs, although he does it with a smile.  He likes that Michael is still giving him a chance despite his stubbornness.  Harry would hate to start a relationship with someone who refused to challenge him or to compromise.

“It tastes better when it’s cold out.  I appreciate it more now.”

Michael takes a sip of his cocoa and hums in satisfaction.  Harry counts it as a win, especially when Michael’s shoe presses against his under the table.

“To me, Christmas is about making the most out of a bad situation,” Harry says.  “It’s cold.  It’s dark all the time.  Sidewalks are slippery and snow gets in your shoes.  Winter doesn’t have many redeeming qualities, but Christmas opposes all of that.  It says “I’m going to take horrible conditions and make something joyful out of it instead.  I’m going to put up lights to fight the dark, show my friends and family I love them with gifts, and encourage everyone to sing and be jolly.”  Even Christmas trees are about how life goes on despite hard times, and Santa gives kids something to look forward to and hope in when there’s not much else.  That’s why it’s my favorite holiday.”

Michael nods slowly, sipping his drink.  Harry watches him.

“I like how much you like it,” Michael says.  “And I can admit that there’s maybe a few redeeming qualities.”

Harry breaks into a grin.  Michael tries to hide his own grin in his cocoa, but Harry isn’t blind.  He can see it as clear as the lights outside.

They spend a bit more time in the hut, then continue on the path through more light displays until they get back to the front.  Harry pulls Michael aside before the last display, glancing up until they’re in position.

“How do you feel about mistletoe?” he asks.  Michael’s eyes light up, which means that Harry is contractually obliged to draw this out.  “It’s a Christmas thing, so I get if you don’t want to–”

“Shut up,” Michael laughs.  “I want to.  I’m willing to kiss on the first date.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m a Christmas traditionalist and mistletoe happens to be part of this display,” Harry says, glancing up.  Michael follows his gaze and spots the green plant hanging above them.  When he looks back down, Harry leans in, hands landing on his waist.  It’s cold and their lips are chapped, but Michael tastes like hot cocoa and kisses him back in kind.

Michael takes him on a detour to McDonalds before dropping him off at home, extending the night because neither of them particularly want to say goodbye.  He sings along to the radio as he drives, the station tuned to modern pop rather than Christmas songs.  He has a good voice.  It has a really interesting quality to it, one that Harry could see allowing him to sell out venues with an electric guitar and explosive stage presence.

“You know, the only thing that could make your piano playing better is some passion,” Harry says.  Michael glances at him, but doesn’t pause his passionate rendition of the latest Taylor Swift song.  “You’re amazing, but everyone can tell when you’re bored.  If you played with half the passion you’re singing with right now, you’d be incredible.  You’d steal the show.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing I’m not, then,” Michael says at a break after the chorus.  “It’s supposed to be about you guys.  I’m just there for support.”

Harry hums.

“Besides, I’m not exactly thrilled with the song choices.  Maybe if Ashton invites me back in the spring and you guys do some good pieces you’ll get the full brunt of my talent.”

Harry hums again.  Michael pulls into the drive-through and looks at him.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” Harry shrugs.  “I just think you have the opportunity to put on an amazing show and make people really happy by listening to you.  Even if you don’t like Christmas, there’s some merit in the music.  The piano melodies are really pretty.”

“If you say so,” Michael says.  “Maybe I’ll put a little passion in there, just for you.”

“Really?” Harry asks, heart jumping.

“Sure, why not,” Michael says, oblivious.  “Do you want fries?”

-/-

The night of the concert brings a few nervous jitters and a lot of excited ones.  Harry dresses in his best concert black with a green tie for an accent, and he meets the rest of the choir behind the sanctuary of the church with a wide smile and encouraging words for everyone.  Michael joins them shortly, and to Harry’s delight he beelines right to him rather than chatting with Calum like he had the past two rehearsals.

“Hey.  You clean up nice,” he says, giving Harry a once-over with a hand on his arm.

“Thanks, so do you.”

Michael put on a suit coat for the occasion.  Harry has always been a sucker for men in formal clothing, even if Michael’s style leans more towards oversized streetwear.

“Are you excited?” Michael asks.  “Ready to spread the Christmas spirit with your carols?”

He says it sarcastically, but Harry sees right through him.  He’s happy to be here.

“Of course,” he replies.  “Are you?”

Michael shrugs.

“Will you do it for me?”

Michael rolls his eyes.

“You can’t use that card too often or it’s going to lose its power,” he says.

“But does it have power now?” Harry asks cheekily.

“Maybe.  Guess you’ll have to wait until the concert to see.”

Michael kisses Harry’s cheek, then leaves to go over logistics with Ashton.  Harry continues his rounds, chatting with friends and giving comforting words to anyone experiencing stage fright, and before he knows it it’s time to line up for the concert.

Harry takes his place on the risers and lets his eyes sweep over the crowd.  He picks out a few friends who are there to support him, then meets Michael’s eyes during Ashton’s pre-concert speech.  Michael waggles his eyebrows and winks.  Harry tries not to laugh.

When Ashton counts them off, Michael takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and plays with a smile on his face.

[lilyharvord]

The Secret Correspondence of the Dancing War - Part 3

A/N: Part 3 of the accurate epilogue of Broken Throne because once again, Regina and I are bitter that Victoria did not give us the closure we want. This letter while burned to almost a crisp was saved by me and @elane-in-the-shadows.  Part I / Part II 

iii. Cal 

                                         December 10th 330

Maven,

It’s been a while since I wrote to you or visited you. I hope you don’t mind. Things have been busier these past few years. I honestly don’t remember the last time I got a full night’s rest. Even now, I’m writing to you at 3 in the morning because I can’t sleep.  Mare’s going to kill me too. She already has a hard time sleeping because of the baby. She doesn’t waste time blaming me for that. Funny enough, I don’t mind her teasing about it. The fact that it is even happening makes me feel like I could make electricity myself.

Right, I should probably catch you up on what’s happened. To be honest, a lot of it is fuzzy for me. Since my promotion two years ago, I’ve spent more time on the front lines dealing with the Lakelanders than I have in my lifetime. Your ex-wfie is more of a pain in the ass than I ever thought possible. Like you, she’s a brilliant strategist. I think… given time you two might have found kindred spirits within each other. And while this whole dance between the States and the Lakelands has been exhausting, the good news is that Iris hasn’t had the chance to throw me in any more bays. Mare probably wouldn’t think that joke is funny, but I’m sure you will.

Anyway, four months ago Mare wrote to me telling me to ask for a leave of absence. That she needed me to come back to Montfort because it was urgent. It took more convincing than I would have liked to get that leave. Sometimes I miss being a prince, for the sole reason that if I needed something I didn’t have to wait for people to sit around debating about it, it was just done. But that’s beside the point. When I got back to Montfort, Mare had a, let’s just call it a surprise for me because I can’t think of anything else to call it. A gift? It certainly didn’t feel like it at first. I think all the blood drained from my face when she told me. We argued about it. It’s honestly the first fight we’ve had in a long time, but she won. She always does, as you know. I retired my uniform and she retired hers and we bought a little apartment near her parents’ town house. She wants them close when the baby is born. I get that. I would want my family there too. I wish you could be here. I think you’d be surprised how strong she already is. The other day Mare made me feel how hard she was kicking and it was one of the strangest things I’ve ever experienced. How can something so small kick that hard? She’s going to be a force of nature; I know she will be. Mare’s her mother after all. I can’t even begin to tell you how strange it is to write that. To think that in a few weeks she’s going to be here. 

Mare agreed to let me name her, as long as she gets to name the next one. She had her fingers crossed for a boy. She wants to name any son we have after her brother. I think I’m going to name our daughter after my mother though. Coriane Barrow Calore sounds pretty doesn’t it? But I may just be biased. 

At first, I wanted to drop my name and just keep Mare’s, but she insisted we keep both. Our family line is as much a part of my daughter’s legacy as it is mine. Removing our name would be like trying to erase the past. We’re trying to correct it though. I’d say so far we’re doing a decent job. Notra is on track finally, and Evangeline has been hard at work as an ambassador with both the Lakelands and Prairie. We’re both desperately trying to fix the mistakes our ancestors made.

And I guess I’m writing to you tonight because of that. I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep because all I can think about it that family name. Our father’s name, and ours. Looking back on everything, I realize now what you went through, what you must have felt like. I can’t sleep because I’m terrified of repeating our father’s mistakes. He made so many. I didn’t realize it until Mare told me she was pregnant and I started thinking about my own childhood. I’m terrified that I’ll somehow show my daughter that she doesn’t matter to me, that there is something or someone who comes before her. What if she sees what I do and what I am, and wants to follow in my footsteps? What if she does that because she feels like she has to? I don’t want her to struggle like I did. I don’t want her to think she is duty bound to a fate because of me or because of Mare. You would know what to say. You always knew exactly what to say.

And I guess I also was hoping you could… endow some of your speech ability on me to write another letter to the Silver Session. You handled them all so well as king, (better than I ever could have hoped too) and I wish I had half of your political sense, just because it would make my life so much easier. You always had such politic ways of telling people to go screw themselves. I need a way to say that right now that doesn’t turn a bunch of cranky, old, irritating silvers into more of a political threat.

By my colors I miss you. It comes at me like a wave sometimes. I’ll just be walking or sitting and then it’s there and I feel like I can’t breathe. You left a hole that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to close. The other night, I realized your birthday was coming up. You would have been 28 this year. I realized that while Mare and I were walking back from dinner. When she asked me why I got so quiet, I told her the truth. She was quiet for a long time too, then she asked me if we would tell our children about you. I don’t know if you want me to. Or which person I should talk about. A part of me didn’t believe the last thing you told me. I know that the boy who used to stay up until ungodly hours playing chess with me was in there somewhere. I know that the brother who used to joke with me and play along with my terrible lies I told to get out of trouble was in there. I know the young man that was braver than I ever could be was in there somewhere. I wish I could have found him. I wish I could have saved you. Maven I have never regretted anything more than the fact that I turned a blind eye to your suffering or what your mother did to you. Maybe you’d be here with me today if I hadn’t. Maybe you would get to hold your niece. Or maybe, maybe she wouldn’t even be here. To be honest, I don’t know. I learned a long time ago that playing the what if game just hurts more.

I hope you are at peace. I hope you are resting and that you somehow do get these letters. I hope you know that even at the end, you were my brother, and I loved you. I still do. I’ll come visit you soon, maybe after Coriane is born. Although I’ll probably be even busier then. I suppose I’ll just have to write in the meantime.

As always, your brother, 

Cal

@elliemarchetti @farleydiana @scxrletguardsdawn @petergrantkavinsky @freaky-freiday @inopinion @mareshmallow @evangelineartemiasamos @evangeline-of-montfort @delilahlbard @king-maven-calore @whatsup-gorls @redqueenetwork

[begluketostay]

don’t wanna fall in love (c.h.)

summary: you don’t want to give him your heart but he already has it

author’s note: haven’t read the entire thing yet through and edited, so there may be some mistakes. just wanted to get this out there because i’m tired of staring at it :) also, ironically, i listened to the song wicked game by chris isaak on repeat while writing this but couldn’t name it that bc i named my last oneshot after wicked game by the weeknd oops

word count: 4038

You remember the night you met Cal.

He was all smiles and chubby cheeks and drunken happy dancing as you all celebrated the birthday of a friend.

You were used to meeting famous people - living in Los Angeles had made the glamour and shininess of celebrities wear off, and while you were starstruck your first couple years there, you were used to it now. Having friends in the music business gave you the in to meet so many people, and you often found they were just like everybody else, only they had a lot more money and the freedom to do whatever the fuck they wanted.

So having a half-drunken hookup with Calum wasn’t anything significant at the time. It was just like hooking up with anyone else.

Except that he actually called you like he said he would afterwards.

And then he started inviting you to more parties and kickbacks and hangouts.

And then you actually started getting kind of… attached.

It was foolish of you. While celebrities were like everyone else to you, they were different in one way: they were undateable. You’d sworn off ever getting into a relationship with a celebrity, especially any musicians, because you knew the paparazzi and the traveling and the pressure and the fans would be too much. It just wasn’t the lifestyle you wanted to commit yourself to forever.

That’s why you can’t stop feeling a twist in your stomach as Calum gets closer and closer to you, arms nearly touching as you’re all bunched up in the corner talking at another one of Ashton’s house parties. Luke says something dumb and everyone is laughing, but your head is somewhere else, fixating on the heat of Calum’s skin barely brushing yours and hoping that no one here can read minds or else you’re screwed.

Calum presses his elbow into your side, looking at you with his brows furrowed. “You good?” he mouths over the music, concern on his face. You’re normally pretty talkative, but you haven’t said a thing during this conversation.

You nod, taking a sip out of the beer in your hand and trying your hardest to focus on the discussion at hand as Luke and Sierra argue over who got the most drunk at Ashton’s last party.

“I’ll be right back,” you say before you sneak away to the kitchen, finishing off your beer and throwing it in the trash and opening the fridge to get a new one. You take a deep breath and try to collect yourself.

You know Calum is off limits to you, that it will only end in heartbreak for the both of you, and that you can’t let that happen. But it’s so hard to focus when he’s around you, and it’s almost like you’re starting to forget what would be so bad about getting your heart broken by him. You’d have the pleasure of having him for at least a little while.

A deep breath and another sip of beer has you feeling composed enough to go back and rejoin the circle of your friends, but they’ve dispersed now and you’re left trying to track down someone you know in the packed house.

A pair of arms wraps around you from behind, lifting you up in the air and swinging you around. Your squeals stop as soon as they put you down, and you already know that when you turn around you’re going to find a head of bleached blonde hair and full lips turned up in laughter.

“Cal!” you swat him, rolling your eyes. “You could’ve made me spill my beer,” you pout.

“Ah, but I didn’t,” he points out with a smirk on his face. “I’m talented at what I do.”

You smile unamused, shaking your head at him.

“You alright though? You looked a little out of it earlier,” he mentions.

“Yeah, just a bit tired. Long day at work,” you shrug, “but I didn’t wanna miss the party.”

He studies you, seeing the tired lines under your eyes and wishing that he could make them disappear. He knows how hard you work and how important your job is and thinks that it’s so badass that you do what you do. He thinks it’s badass that even though you have such a hard job, you can still outdrink the rest of them and light up the room when you walk in.

“Wouldn’t be a party without you,” he nods. “That’s why I noticed ya when we first met. You were the life of the party.”

You can see the truth in his eyes as he speaks and it makes you want to melt into him. He makes it so hard to resist him.

“Oh, shut up,” you groan, bumping your shoulder against his playfully.

After a while, people are starting to leave, slowly trickling out until it’s only those who are close friends left in the living room, sitting on the couches and so deep in conversation that they don’t even notice the room emptying out.

“I’m not ready to go home,” Calum sighs, looking around. “I get a little lonely after drinking so much wine. Not totally sure I should be going home and sitting in the dark,” he admits, eyes flickering to yours to try and gauge your reaction.

You kick the ground with the toe of your shoes, trying to decide if you should offer him to join you tonight, not sure if it would be a good idea. But when you look up and see those chocolate eyes, genuine hesitation and loneliness in them, you don’t care if it’s a bad idea anymore. You want to protect him from all things sad.

“You could come to mine for a bit?” you suggest, biting your lip. “We can watch a movie or something maybe,”  you shrug. His eyes light up with warmth at the offer. He nods.

“Alright.”

--------------------

You pop open a bottle of red wine as you and Calum settle on the couch, pouring each of you a glass to sip on as he searches for something to put on the tv. His arms flex just slightly each time he clicks on the remote and you can’t peel your eyes off of him. You look up and realize he’s turned towards you, asking your opinion on a show, and you know he’s caught you staring by the way the end of his sentence just kind of fades out. His eyes are latched onto you now.

The air feels like it’s thickening around you and you can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away from him. It was much easier when the two of you weren’t alone in the silence of your empty apartment.

“You’re something else tonight,” Calum bites his bottom lip and shakes his head. “God, you know exactly what you do to me.”

“What do I do to you?” you ask.

“Make it feel like all the air is sucked out of the room,” he admits. “Like I can’t breathe.”

You adjust yourself in your seat, looking down at the floor. You know where this is going to go, and you’re not sure you can handle it if it does.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Ever since I met you. God, you don’t even realize how you are,” he laughs. “You light up the room when you walk in. Can’t ever keep my eyes off you.”

He’s spent weeks thinking about your drunken hookup, wishing he had been softer and sweeter and savored your lips on his body. Wishing he’d gotten you out of the dress you’d been wearing and been able to see you and feel you all the way. There were so many things he’d have done differently now.

“You don’t care that I’m famous or that I have money or any of that shit. You still call my ass out and put me in my place and drive me crazy,” he chuckles. “I’ve been trying to make moves for weeks now and you keep pulling away from me and acting like we’re just friends, but I... I can’t be just friends with you.”

You bite your lip, not sure how to answer him. You know that what you want, more than anything in this moment, is him.

But it’s not that simple.

Your last heartbreak was so hard to get over. It took months and months of tears and distractions and drunken nights out at bars and fake smiles to get you to a point where you could even live your life normally again. And you already liked Calum more than it was healthy, way more than you’d ever liked any boy this early on.

You knew if you gave in, if you let him in, that he would have the total power to absolutely wreck you. He’d be able to crumple your heart in his fist and throw it away. It was terrifying.

And you knew how much he’d be on the road, especially having just released an album. As soon as he’d get back home, he’d have to be busy in the studio. Every time the two of you would go out, there would be pictures and camera flashes and crazy fans. You’d have to put your social media on private and remember how to calculate time zone differences and become best friends with facetime and heartache.

The soft, hesitant touch of Calum’s hands against your face bring you back to the present. The calluses on his palm are rough against your cheek and you fight off a shiver as your eyes go to his. There’s a softness in them, and you’ve never seen Calum look so… afraid.

“I really like you,” he murmurs. “I know it’s scary.”

You nod in agreement. It is scary.

He hasn’t dated anyone in a long time. It wasn’t because he hadn’t wanted to or he didn’t have the opportunity - there were plenty of decent girls that he’d crushed on over the years. But he didn’t want to put them through the pain of dating him. He knew that there were a lot of unfair things that came with a relationship with him. He felt guilty and ashamed asking someone to deal with all the baggage of loving someone always on the road.

You nod.

“I know it’s not fair of me to ask you for anything. I know I’ll be gone a lot and it’s not ideal. But I really like you.”

You sigh, closing your eyes as his fingers trace patterns on the skin behind your ears comfortingly. He’s so soft and safe and cozy, even when his shirt smells like beer and his heart is racing.

“I don’t wanna fall in love,” you whisper. Your eyes are still closed at your confession, and you feel so small and vulnerable. “I know you’ll be able to break my heart and I know I won’t recover if you do.”

He shifts and pulls you closer to him until your face is in his neck and your knees are curled up in his lap. No words are exchanged as the two of you sit in the quietness of your living room, breathing in each other’s air.

“I won’t break your heart,” he murmurs against the top of your head. His hand is moving up and down your back slowly, heating your entire body with every movement. “Wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I did.”

“No one ever means to break someone’s heart,” you say.

“I know,” he kisses the top of your head.

And then he kisses the top of your ear, and your cheek, and his hand lightly grips your chin and tilts you up to face him before he kisses you right on the lips.

He���s soft and sweet and the opposite of everything he was the last time he kissed you. There’s no rush now, and you’re both filled with red wine instead of vodka, soft and sleepy as your lips meet over and over again.

He pulls you into his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist as he lets his fingers trail up and tangle themselves in your hair. You let yourself relax into him, his tongue parting the seam of your lips and you open your mouth to him, letting him explore you. Instead of rough tongues battling for dominance like last time, it’s a timid exploration. He wants to memorize what every part of you feels like.

One of his hands lowers until it slides down into the back pocket of your jeans, cupping the curve of your backside and holding on tightly. You arch your back against him, and he moves his mouth from your lips to your neck, pulling you close until your chest is pressed flush against him and his teeth nip at your throat.

Ever so slowly, he plants kisses all the way down your throat, soft and light against your skin, until he reaches your collarbone, leaving little marks against you as he goes.

“Please,” he whispers against your skin, and you can feel every movement of his lips brush against your chest. “Tell me you want me.”

“Cal -” you start.

“No,” he whispers, cutting you off. “Don’t think about anything else. Think about right now. Do you want me?”

You grasp at the short hair on his head, pulling on it to raise his head to look at you. You nod, and that’s the only answer he needs. He reaches behind you and grabs the bottom of your top, pulling it over your head swiftly before he reattaches his mouth to your chest, suckling the skin exposed by the top of your bra as you hold him close. Warm fingers dig into the skin of your back, feeling around for the clasp of your bra and unhooking it. Slowly, gingerly, he slides the straps down your arms and drags the fabric off of you.

There’s a breeze across your chest and you feel even more exposed and vulnerable, but it feels right to open yourself up to him like this. He lips close around a nipple, tongue swirling it over and you throw your head back, mouth open as you hold back soft whimpers.

His hands are moving all over you, desperate to feel every inch of you before you change your mind. You reach down and yank his shirt off to you and press your bodies together to feel the warmth of the skin to skin contact, lips meeting once again as he reaches down to unbutton your jeans. Legs still wrapped around his waist, he stands and rushes to your bedroom, barely able to get the door open in his frenzy.

You’re laid down on the bed and he’s hovering over you, unzipping you and pulling the jeans carefully down, pressing soft kisses on the skin of your legs as it becomes exposed. Once the fabric is finally off, he makes his way back up, stopping to press his lips softly over the center of your underwear, just barely enough pressure for you to feel it, but it’s enough to send goosebumps across your body.

Lips meet again in a tangled frenzy, soft and slippery and yearning for each other, and you don’t even take the time to breathe between kisses anymore. It’s getting frantic and desperate and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep your hands off of him. Your nails scratch down his back as his mouth engulfs you and his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you as close as he can possibly get you.

“You want me?” he asks again, breathless and lust-filled. You nod again, but that’s not enough for him this time. “Say it,” he commands. “Say you want me.”

“I want you,” you breathe.

“How badly?” he continues.

Truthfully, you want him so badly it feels like you could burst. So you grab the back of his neck and try to pull him back to you, hips lifting upwards desperate for contact. He pulls away, unsatisfied.

“How badly?” he repeats, pushing your hips down against the mattress.

“So bad, Cal,” you sigh. “Please - just c’mere,” you practically beg, still trying to pull his face back to yours.

Content with that answer, he kisses you again, but his hand is snaking down and teasing you over your underwear with light, delicate touches. You moan out, and his pants get a little tighter just from hearing you.

His fingers dance over the skin of your inner thighs, leaving ghosts of traces where you want him most until you’re almost writhing beneath him.

“Please,” you whimper again, and it spurs him on enough to finally add some pressure, pushing down and rubbing on the little bundle of nerves right below the only fabric you’re wearing.

He yanks your underwear off impatiently now and lets his fingers explore the most secret part of you, feeling the wetness on your outer lips before spreading them and collecting more of the juice on his fingers. You’re moaning and he’s moaning and you’re both lost in the exploration of your body.

He reaches a hand up slowly and sucks on his fingers, tasting you for the first time. You watch as his lips pucker around his fingers and he takes them out, holding them up to your lips right after for you to do the same thing. It’s strangely arousing, tasting yourself and his mouth at the same time, and it feels so intimate.

When he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, he presses his forehead against yours and kisses the tip of your nose so lightly. “So pretty,” he murmurs, and the moment is so soft and tender and it feels like time has frozen and then suddenly his fingers are back against you and moving in fast circles until you’re left unable to breathe.

“Oh my god,” you gasp when he slowly plunges his fingers into you, moving around and stretching you out. He’s slow and steady, curling his fingers and testing different methods until you grab onto his arm, nails digging into the skin, and moan loudly, mouth thrown open and back arched, and he knows he’s found the right spot.

His arms are flexing deliciously, muscles and veins popping out, as he continually hits that spot inside you with his fingers, watching eagerly as you become more and more unhinged and desperate beneath him.

You’re still holding back, and he can tell. “C’mon,” he mumbles against you. “It’s okay, I’m right here. Let go,” he encourages you, and it’s what you need, because you’re becoming undone and gasping and groaning and writhing and he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life than this.

“Good girl,” he kisses your forehead and you slump against the mattress, skin growing sticky with sweat.

“Cal,” you whisper, reaching for him until he brings his lips back to yours. You wrap your arms around him and feel his skin beneath the palms of your hands, craving his touch. His pants are still on, but you’re determined to change that as you reach to undo them, attempting to pull them off his hips, but he stands up and gets them off himself. Much faster that way.

He’s rock hard from the show you’ve put on and desperate to get inside you. He pushes away your hands and positions himself right above you, lining himself up.

“I wanna do it right this time,” he says seriously, looking you in the eyes and swallowing. “Wanna go slow. ‘S that okay?”

You close your eyes, so ridiculously turned on by the fact that he wants to go slowly and carefully with you, heart fluttering at the effect this boy has on you. You nod and moan as you feel him against you, coating himself in your juices before slowly pushing in. You feel every inch of him as he lets his hips move forward, both of your mouths hanging open as you take it in.

“Feel so fucking good,” he groans lowly, stopping once his entire length is inside you and breathing. You’ve never felt this full before. He pauses there for a moment to allow you to adjust to all the stretching before he starts to move, pulling his hips back before rolling them forward again.

He reaches for your hands and pins them above your head, fingers intertwined as he continues his movements, rocking in and out of you at a steady rhythm.

This is the opposite of the last time he had been inside you. Before it was frantic and drunk and sloppy, but this time it was calm, careful.

You feel so safe with him, engulfed in his body as he shows you how much he wants you in the best way he knows how. Your foreheads press together and your arms wrap around his back, pulling his chest up against yours as you both lose yourselves in each other, panting and crying out as you reach your highs.

He rolls off of you, pulling you to the side to curl up next to him, not wanting to break the contact between you even though you’re both covered in sweat. When you look at him, you agree that it does feel like all of the air is sucked out of the room, just like he said.

You know it’s too late to keep your heart out of it now. It’s already too late. You know that you’ll break your own heart if you try to stop what’s already started now, so you have no choice to give in.

“Don’t break me,” you whisper against him.

“Never,” he smiles softly, kissing the top of your head and closing his eyes, happy with you in his arms.

------------------------------

You smile at your phone as Calum’s face pops on the screen, your nightly FaceTime waiting.

It’s been hard with him on tour, especially with your relationship being so new, but it’s been okay so far. You miss him at night, having gotten used to him staying over each night for the few weeks before he left, and he misses waking up next to you in the morning instead of in a new hotel bed, cold and alone.

The FaceTimes were holding both of you over for now until he flew you out for one of the shows in the next few weeks.

“Hey,” Calum’s bright smile filled your screen, camera way too close to his face. “There’s my girl,” he smiles softly, proud to be able to call you that.

“Of course,” you respond, pushing the hair out of your face as you look into the camera and examine yourself. Your eyes look happier. You can tell. “What are you up to?”

He raises the camera and shows the room he’s sitting in, plopped on a couch by himself as the boys are messing around in the background. “Just got to the venue for tonight, we’re just setting some things up,” he says. You can see Luke and Michael play fighting behind Calum and laugh.

“Seems like you guys are having fun,” you chuckle as Michael falls to the ground overdramatically.

Calum nods as he looks over at his friend, but gets up off the couch and moves out of the room, walking to what looks like an empty concrete hallway. “Yeah, it’s fun,” he says, “but I miss ya. Wish you were here to make it more fun.”

“Just a couple more weeks,” you sigh.

“Thanks for putting up with me traveling and the phone calls at weird hours and the sporadic texts,” he mumbles, still feeling guilty.

“Hey,” you coo. “Don’t apologize. It’s worth it.”

You know in your heart that it is worth it, that he’s worth it and your relationship is worth it. You’ve fully accepted that he has your heart and all the power to break it, but you trust that he won’t.

And Calum knows as he looks at the sparkle in your eye and feels his heart pang in his chest that he won’t ever break your heart.

He knows that if he breaks your heart, his would break as well. So for now, you’d just have to trust each other and finally let yourselves fall in love.

[calpalirwin]

Change Your Mind

Summary: Calum runs into an old flame

Word Count: 2.4k

And away, and away we go!

__

“C’mon!” Calum laughed, grabbing her hand and breaking out into a run, the night air cool on his face.

“Cal, wait!” she laughed along with him, breathless as he dragged her along. “My legs aren’t as long as yours!”

“Here!” he said, an idea coming to him. He stopped in his tracks, crouching slightly. “Hop on.”

She jumped on his back, wrapping her legs over his hips and her arms around his neck.

“Aw!” Michael’s girlfriend, Amanda, mock-pouted at the blonde, swatting at his arm. “Why can’t you carry me like that?”

Michael side-stepped away from his girlfriend. “I can either hold you, or the baby. Which is it?”

“Don’t you dare drop my baby, Clifford. That’s precious cargo.”

“Your baby? Last I checked it was our baby.”

“Cutest boy this world has ever seen!” Y/N called out from her spot on Calum’s back.

“Hey!” Calum protested, loosening his hold on her legs like he was gonna drop her.

“Calum!” she shrieked.

He laughed as he tightened his grip. “Better watch yourself.”

“You wouldn’t really drop me, would you?” Her voice was a whisper by his ear.

He tilted his head to the side to flash her a grin. “Never, baby. I’ll always catch you.”

“Mmm, you better,” she warned, kissing at his cheek.

“Fuck, this is amazing isn’t it?” Amanda asked as she laid down in the grassy field. “It’s like the whole world is spread out before us.”

“Today, high school graduates. Tomorrow… who knows! We’ll make it up as we go!” Michael said with a grin.

“Tomorrow, London,” Calum came up with his answer. “We’re gonna be rockstars, Mike.”

In that moment, staring up at the night sky, the four friends’ futures never looked brighter or more tightly intertwined.

~Ten Years Later~

“Mike? You get one of these too?” Calum asked, flashing an envelope with their high school crest on it.

“Yup,” Michael responded, not tearing his eyes away from the screen and the video game he was playing with his son, Lincoln. “Can’t believe it’s already been ten years.”

“I can,” came Amanda’s slight scoff. “We got the time stamp to prove it, Mikey.” She ruffled both her husband’s and son’s hair with either of her hands.

“You say ‘time stamp’ I say ‘son.’”

“You say ‘son’ I say ‘winner’!” the ten year old boy gloated, rising to his feet for a victory dance.

“What?!” Michael stared at the screen in disbelief, setting his controller aside. “How in the?!”

“In yo face!” Lincoln continued to boast.

“Oh, yeah?” Michael asked before charging to tickle his son’s sides while the boy broke out into a high-pitched giggle.

“Mikey, stop. The boy can’t breathe. Look, he’s turning pink,” Amanda scolded.

Michael let go, looking over at his wife innocently. “So, did you wanna go to this reunion?”

“Yeah. I’d love to see Y/N again. She hasn’t seen Link since he was a baby. Oh! And we can finally meet her daughter!”

“Babe!” Michael hissed, but the damage was done.

“Y/N has a daughter?” Calum asked, body snapping to attention.

“Yeah…” his friends admitted.

“Hmm… good for her. How old?”

“Uh…”

“How old is she?” Calum repeated, gritting his teeth, his brown eyes darkening.

“Cal…” Michael started, keeping his voice low. “She made us swear not to tell you.”

“HOW OLD IS SHE?!” Calum barked, grabbing Michael by the front of his shirt. “TELL ME!”

“9! She’s 9!” The woman told him, her voice shaking.

Calum released Michael, slumping back like he had the wind knocked out of him. “9?” he croaked, tears springing to his eyes. “Is she…?” He pointed at himself

Michael nodded. “Yeah, mate. Look, this wasn’t how you were supposed to find out...”

“How the fuck was I supposed to find out then?! You two lied to me for 9 fuckin’ years! She lied to me!”

“I know! But we didn’t want to! We begged her to tell you. But she had convinced herself it wasn’t worth bothering you about. That she’d figure out a way to tell you. Mate, you gotta believe me. We wouldn’t have hidden this from you if we had a choice.”

Calum hung his head in his hands. “I can’t believe this… I can’t believe this is happening… I think I’m gonna be sick…”

“D- do you want to see pictures?”

The man nodded, and Michael fiddled around on his phone. “I saved all the pictures into an album. Here.”

Calum took the phone in shaking fingers, slowly scrolling through someone’s lifetime. His daughter’s lifetime. “Fuck… she looks just like Y/N…”

“Funny. Y/N says she looks like you.”

“Yeah, I can see it a little in her face. Are my cheeks really that squishy?”

“Yes,” was the laughed response.

Calum sighed, passing the phone back. “So, when do we leave?”

~~~

Calum spotted her the second he walked in the hotel ballroom, nostalgia hitting him like a tidal wave. Every promise whispered on skin they had broken with goodbye flashed in his head like a movie as he made his way to her. He didn’t know if he was more angry, or just flat out crushed. “What’s her name?” he asked once he was in earshot.

“Wow. That’s gotta be a record for the Cliffords. Never were the type to keep a secret.”

“Don’t deflect the blame on them. What’s her name?”

“Ari.”

“Why?”

“Cuz she needed a name.”

Calum breathed slowly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he rephrased.

“It wasn’t your business.”

“Wasn’t my business?! She’s my daughter, Y/N!”

“Lower your fuckin’ voice!” she snarled, looking around the room before gripping his upper arm and pushing him outside like a scolded toddler.

“I want to meet her.”

Y/N scoffed. “Yeah. Fat chance of that happening.”

“Oh, so you're just gonna keep me from her for the second half of her life, too?”

“Half of her life? She’s 9, Calum.”

“That’s halfway to 18.”

“Not everyone leaves their family at 18 like you did Cal! Some people actually stay!”

“Excuse me?! That’s why?! You kept my daughter from me out of spite?! Because I had the guts to make something of myself?! In case you didn’t notice, Mike had the same story we did, and he got to do it with his kid!”

“You think you’re the only one who could be somebody?! I’ve busted my ass for the last decade to forget about all the promises we broke! And I did it all while raising the reminder of everything we were, and everything we were too scared we could be!”

“We were supposed to be somebodies together!”

“You left me!”

“I didn’t do it on purpose! I had to do what was best for me!”

“I did too!”

“I’m never gonna forgive you for this…”

“Good thing I never asked you to.”

“Oh, I can’t believe you! Who are you protecting? Her? Or you? I’m not the bad guy here. You’re the one who made a huge ass decision about our lives without talking to me about it.”

“Kinda like you did?”

“When did I ever do something without talking about it with you first?! I asked you to come with me to London. You didn’t want to. I said let’s try to make it work. You didn’t want that either.”

“We didn’t talk through shit, Cal. You talked. But you always had your mind made up before you ever opened your mouth. And you still do.”

“Then you should know that I’ll do whatever it takes to meet her.”

“Fine. She has a soccer game in the morning. I guess you could come to that.”

“She plays soccer?”

“Of course she plays soccer. She’s yours, ain’t she? Memorial Park. 9am. Don’t you dare be late.”

“I’ll be there. And hey, you look good by the way.”

“Ew,” she scoffed, but even in the dim lighting he saw her cheeks pinken. “You look… alright I guess. Your curls always did suit you better in my opinion.”

~~~

Even if Calum hadn’t seen the pictures of Ari, he would have been able to pick her out of a crowd with her wild, dark curls held out of her face in a ponytail as she ran about the field. Calum and Y/N sat in tense, but not uncomfortable silence next to each other in the stands before Calum finally spoke up at the start of the second half. “You know you robbed me of 9 years worth of mornings like this?”

“5, actually. She’s been playing since she was 4.”

“Was talking about mornings spent watching our daughter, but I’m glad you agree with me.”

“I didn’t ‘rob’ you out of spite, Calum. I know you already made up your mind that I did. And if that’s what you’re determined to believe, I don’t particularly care all that much. Like I said last night, it’s not like I’m asking you to forgive me.”

“If you think my mind’s made up, then you shouldn’t see an issue with telling me why. Humor me.”

“It’s because we didn’t need you. And I don’t say that to hurt you.”

He scoffed. “Could’ve fooled me. Were you ever going to tell me?”

“I thought about it a lot. But the longer time went on, the harder it became. I mean, I didn’t find out I was pregnant until you were already gone. I was 18 and alone. Did I make mistakes along the way? Yeah, probably. But I did what I thought was best. And calling you up in tears so you could give up your dream of being a rockstar to rescue us wasn’t on that list. I didn’t want you to resent me more than you already did.”

“I couldn’t resent you if I tried. And trust me… I tried. You should’ve told me.”

She shrugged. “Yeah, maybe. But we didn’t need you, Cal. And you didn’t need us. And all three of us turned into the people we were supposed to be.”

“Agree to disagree. You may not have needed me, but maybe I needed you guys. And maybe the person I was supposed to be was supposed to be a dad to our daughter. And I may not be able to get these last nine years back, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get the next nine. And all the years after that.”

She shook her head, eyes rolling behind her sunglasses. “It’s not that simple, Cal. You can’t undo the damage we dealt with some inspiring words.”

“And who’s fault is that? Look, I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy. But I want to be in her life. You gotta trust me here.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Cal. It’s not like you ran away. I mean, you did. But I had my chance to go with you. And I had my chance to try and make it work. And I haven’t asked you to forgive me because I don’t deserve to be forgiven. I had our two best friends lie for me because I was too scared to confront you myself. And I lied to myself by saying I was doing it for your sake. So you could live your dream. I saw how hard it was for Amanda and Michael in the beginning. I wanted better for us. And I’m willing to admit that maybe I went about it the wrong way. But playing these maybe/maybe not scenarios isn’t going to change the past.”

“I’m not looking to change the past, Y/N. I just want to be in her future. Don’t you think I have that right?”

“Yes. And that breaks my heart, Cal.”

“How does th-?” he asked in confusion, before the realization hit. “Oh… Because you made up your mind that I just want her. That I’ll never be over what you did to even contemplate wanting you too. Guess I’ll just have to change your mind.”

She blinked, not believing she heard him correctly. “Y- you want me too?”

“How could I want my daughter, and not the woman who gave her to me? Yes, I want you too.”

“Cal…” she warned tearfully. “If you’re lying, I’ll never forgive you.”

“And if I’m telling the truth?”

“I just might have to kiss you.”

“Pucker up, sweetheart. Been waiting 10 years for this kiss, so you can bet it’ll be a long one.”

“Who are you, and why are you trying to kiss my mom?” a small voice demanded.

Y/N snickered into her hand while Calum took in the girl with her hands on her hips and a fiery look in her eyes. “Ari, sweetheart, this is my old friend, Calum.”

Ari looked Calum up and down skeptically, her hands coming off her hips so she could cross her arms over her chest. “That answers the first part of my question…”

“Ari!” Y/N gasped in shock.

“What? I’m not wrong. Now, why are you trying to kiss my mom, Calum?” She cocked her head to the side waiting for an answer.

“Because that’s what adults do when they love each other,” Calum answered, taking the path of least resistance.

“No… when adults love each other they have se-”

Y/N’s eyes went wide as her hand flashed out to cover Ari’s mouth, pulling the girl towards her. “That’s enough out of you. Would you behave? Please?”

The girl huffed, rolling her eyes. “Fmm!” was the muffled response. She huffed again when her mouth was uncovered, hands brushing down the front of her jersey with unnecessary sass. “So, you love my mom?”

“Yes. Very much so.”

“Good. Because she loves you, too.”

“Oh, does she?” Calum asked with a smirk. “And how do you feel about me?”

“Mmmm… you’re alright I guess. As long as you don’t try to kiss my mom in front of me again.”

“Ari?” Y/N asked softly.

“What?! That was nice!”

“Get your stuff. I’ll meet you at the car.”

“Ew! You are gonna kiss him!” the girl squealed with a shudder, before running off to get her things.

“So, where were we?” Calum asked, rising to feet and closing the distance between him and Y/N.

“Right about here,” she breathed, stretching up on her toes to greet his lips.

“Ari! Who’s that kissing your mom?!” one of Ari’s teammates asked her as they giggled into their hands.

Both Y/N and Calum could hear the eye roll in their daughter’s voice as she answered with a sigh, “Oh, that’s just my dad.”

__

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[tirednotflirting]

and we'd both stay out until the morning light

realizing i never posted this to tumblr. oops. ~vaguely~ inspired by 1973 by james blunt, an absolutely bitchin song i must say. and this piece was for miss helen aka @calumcest‘s bday approx one week and change ago. i went off a lil about my love and appreciation for her and our friendship in the ao3 a/n but the gist of it all is that helen is so so full of love and light and beautiful beautiful words and i’m so stupid thankful that this mess of a world brought us together. helen, if u see this, i love you to absolute pieces and i hope u are well x

you can find this here on ao3 if you wanna read there

Michael doesn’t consider himself to be great at much. He’s young, and making mistakes and having to try again is still his standard. He kind of likes that, though. He likes that his practicality in most things is seen as maturity and not a necessary default setting. He likes how his mom is proud when he learns how to cook a new vegetable or how to get a stain out of something. But he’s also comforted by the idea that it’s not irresponsible (or too much so, at least) when he throws caution to the wind and goes on some wild adventure with his friends or on his own. That it’s okay if he doesn’t know the word for something or has to google how to fill out a form because he’s still learning. Michael likes observing, learning about how he should be moving about the world.

That evening, something in the air feels electric. What exactly it is, Michael isn’t really sure, but it has him buzzing with anticipation for something. There’s a humming in the air around his apartment weaving around him like a ribbon but it’s moving too fast for him to latch onto. But for some reason, he doesn’t find it unsettling. He’s finishing up the dishes from dinner when the soft music playing from the speaker in his kitchen is interrupted with his ringtone.

He wipes his wet hands off before reaching into his back pocket. The screen shows a familiar picture, one always guaranteed to bring a smile to his face. He swipes his thumb across the glass and hits the speaker button. “Hi, Calum.”

“Come out with me tonight.”

His smile widens as he sets the phone on the island behind him so he can return to his drying rack. “Are we celebrating something?”

“Just being young and alive and in this gorgeous place and in love.” He can hear a dreamy tone to Calum’s words, evidence that he’s already begun a solo pregame.

“All about the dramatics tonight, are we?”

Calum huffs in a mock frustration. “We can’t let this place eat us alive, Mikey. Come out and dance with me.”

Michael sighs with a smile still pulling at his lips. He can practically hear the twinkle in Calum’s eyes that he tends to get when batting his eyes at Michael as he begs him to live a little. He thinks of the lunch he’s meant to attend with his advisor the following afternoon, of the novel and glass of wine sitting on his coffee table that he had set out for his quiet Saturday night in. But then he hears a quiet please, babe? across the line and rolls his eyes affectionately while placing the measuring cups back into their drawer. 

Maybe he’s meant to go on an adventure tonight. To observe, to see something new.

“I’ll be at yours in half an hour.”

*

Michael has never really liked clubs. He’s always found the environment to be one that bounces his brain between a place of numbness and overstimulation like his mind is a ping-pong ball. The duality of cocktails filled to the brim with liquor but also sugar only heightens the feeling. He prefers bright lights and sounds in a more controlled environment, like his computer screen or a movie theatre.

But Michael really likes Calum. And Calum likes clubs. So it’s fairly often that he finds himself with some brightly-colored drink in one hand and Calum grasping his other as he gets dragged through one of the night clubs near Calum’s new place.

The electric feeling in the air shifts with Michael’s change in setting. As Calum pulls him across the dance floor toward the bar for another drink, he senses it again, but in a different tone than he had felt in his apartment. Now it’s the beams of light passing between each of the bright, flashing bulbs high above their heads. It’s the energy swerving between the chattering, glittery people at the bar and the bass pumping below his feet. It’s Calum’s breathy laugh in his ear and the touch of his lips against Michael’s neck as he asks him if he wants something new to hold in his free hand.

Calum jumps up onto a stool at the bar as they wait for their next round and he pulls Michael to stand between his legs, his arms thrown lazily around his neck as he babbles through some story about some band that came into the studio that day. Michael loves watching Calum tell a story, his expressions adding their own layer of humor to the tale as Michael catches the rolling or widening of his eyes between flashes of colored light. Soon enough a couple more glasses are placed in front of them and Calum is reaching into his pocket for a few bills to pass back to the bartender before sliding down to the floor and pulling Michael back into the crowd.

Neither of them can dance to save their lives but that never stops Calum. He bounces around as Michael laughs and copies the movement. The liquid in their cups threatens to slosh to the floor or onto their shirts with each incredibly ungraceful swing of their hips.

“How is it,” Calum says between pants into Michael’s ear while wrapping an arm around his waist to pull him close, “that we’re out nearly every weekend and we still look like dads trying to dance every time we get out here?”

Michael shakes his head, the liquor in his cup starting to take its effects as he giggles against Calum’s cheek. “We’re musicians. One day when we make it big we’ll be too busy playing our instruments on stage to dance around. It would be a waste of time to learn to move any different than this.”

Calum’s smile shines bright through a laugh as he spins them around following Michael’s comment. “God, what are we going to do when our friends start getting married? We’ll be a disaster.” He pauses to take a sip of the concoction he’s ordered most recently. “Luke and Ashton are probably gonna threaten to kick us out if we move from our seats at their reception some day.”

“That’s how we’ll convince Ashton’s cheap ass to get the open bar. We’re far more agreeable when drunk.”

“Cheers to that.” Calum mockingly raises his cup and knocks it against Michael’s. 

The song changes then, the volume of the crowd rising with the song as the familiarity hits everyone’s ears and minds. Calum’s face bursts into a grin and his arms tighten around Michael’s neck to pull him closer to his chest. “Mm, love this song.” Calum pauses to sing along to the chorus. “Think I love you also.”

Michael blinks his eyes open, not having realized that they were closed. He watches light bounce around them and a drunken blush paint across Calum’s cheeks and nose. He’s had too much to drink to think too hard about it but really he’s never not questioning how he got so lucky. He lets his lips press against Calum’s nose, the rosiness in his own cheeks surely spreading when he catches Calum’s giggle through the music. “Love you too, Cal.”

They dance and sing for what feels like both hours and seconds. The mix of light and sound and those damn cocktails Calum keeps buying make Michael feel light like the confetti that starts flying around the room at some point in the night. He lost track of the number of nights they’ve had like this a long time ago, the center of glittering, happy chaos being a place Calum loves to frequent. He’d follow Calum anywhere, including to a mindless and seemingly pointless celebration like tonight. Michael knows he’ll go anywhere so long as he gets to keep watching the way Calum’s eyes and smile sparkle when even the faintest light hits his face. 

He’s watching it then, practically being blinded by it all, he thinks, when Calum catches Michael’s hand and pulls him back in for another dance.

*

They end up at the beach.

Their phones died ages ago but as the sun just barely begins to peek out from the ocean horizon, Michael figures it’s around 6am. They’re both still giggling and blushing at each other like mad as they strip off their socks and shoes and stumble toward the ocean. Michael isn’t even sure what he’s drunk off of anymore but whether it's Calum or the cocktails, he doesn’t really seem to care. 

Calum gasps at the temperature of the water as they let the little waves crash against their ankles, and he shuffles closer to Michael. He leans into Michael’s shoulder, lips pressing gently against his neck as Michael wraps an arm around his waist. 

The morning sunlight is just barely beginning to ripple over the dark water as they stand in silence, their breaths just barely audible over the waves. Normally seeing the ocean without the sun high up in the sky scares the hell out of Michael; hell, the ocean in general usually frightens him. It’s so unknown, and Michael doesn’t like being so close to something so vast and mysterious. It’s why he can’t think about space too hard most of the time either. He feels safe, though, and secure, standing there with Calum. He’s always wondering if it’s too early to think that way about the boy standing pressed against his side.

Eventually Calum lifts his head and grabs Michael’s hand, weaving their fingers together as he walks them back from the water just a bit before planting himself in the sand. “We’re watching the sunrise from here,” Calum explains to Michael’s confused eyes. Michael nods his understanding and drops down beside him.

“This city scares the hell out of me sometimes,” Calum says with a sigh, his fingers still dancing with Michael’s. “Like it always feels like I’m doing too much and not enough all at the same time. And then I get so stuck on figuring that out that I do nothing. There’s so many creatives here that the air feels like it’s filled with thoughts and ideas and dreams all the time. It’s so damn loud, you know?”

Michael nods, though the way Calum speaks he can’t really tell if he’s actually speaking to him or not. He considers asking but then Calum starts up speaking again, his crinkling eyes still facing out toward the water. 

“But then I come here and it’s like the tide kind of pulls all of that away. This is the only place where LA gets quiet, I think. It’s why I like to come out here.” 

Michael sticks his legs out in front of him and digs his bare feet into the sand as he ponders how to respond to Calum. “I get what you mean,” he starts as he drops his free hand against the cool sand and draws swirls with his finger. “I think this is the first time I haven’t been surrounded by people in a while.”

Calum’s head drops to Michael’s shoulder again and turns away from the water as he nestles his face into his neck. “Mali suggested coming out here after I’d had a bad day at the studio and you and the guys were all busy or something. Said it was her favorite place to gather up her own thoughts when she was trying out living here.”

As he drops Calum’s hand to let his hand reach up to tangle with the dark curls at the back of his neck, Michael lets the importance of this place, of Calum bringing him here settle over them. There are very few things that Calum keeps to himself, this spot apparently having been one until that morning. “Thank you for sharing this place with me. It’s a beautiful spot.”

He feels Calum shake his head just a little, his arm moving to wrap around Michael’s waist as his fingers play with the hem of his shirt. “Of course. I wanna share everything with you.”

The electric buzz Michael has felt around him the whole night settles with him and Calum out on the beach. Now it skips across the gentle waves that grow bluer with each passing minute as the sun rises. It blinks with the light from the street lamps back at the road as they go back and forth on whether or not it is time for them to say their daily goodbye as dawn turns to morning. Its final act, Michael senses, is the shock he gets as Calum straightens up and gently lifts his hand to the back of Michael's neck, causing him to turn as brown eyes meet green for just the briefest moment before their eyes flutter shut while their lips meet. 

*

“And that’s when I knew that he was my soulmate, ya know?” Michael says, his smile widening as he watches Calum’s eyes sparkle, tears threatening to fall from his dark lashes. “Because we should have been falling over ourselves with exhaustion at that point but I had never felt so awake in my life. I never wanted to sleep again because I never wanted to stop looking at him.”

A single tear does fall, racing down Calum’s cheek, and Michael lifts his hand from Calum’s grasp to gently wipe it away. “Anyway,” he laughs with a sniffle, his eyes pulling from Calum’s to face the room filled with their family and friends. “Thank you all for putting up with my nostalgia and thank you for coming to help us celebrate today. Enjoy the reception.”

The music picks up once people finish their brief clapping and Michael sits down again while he watches people around the room begin to rise and walk in the direction of the cakes and the bar. His eyes follow Luke and Ashton as they wander in the direction of Calum’s parents and sister, presumably to say hello again. Ashton’s eyes briefly meet his own and Michael laughs quietly as he watches Ashton’s left eye drop into a wink. They share the look for only a moment because then Luke is dragging him along and a hand dropping to Michael’s thigh pulls him back.

“I really liked that night,” Calum mumbles against Michael’s neck, his lips pressing just below his ear. “Liked hearing you tell the story of it even more.” 

Michael can’t help his laughter as a smile pulls at his cheeks. “Listen, there are very few stories of nights out that I can tell in front of our parents. Had to go digging through my journals to really settle on one.”

“You were journaling about me already back in the day? That’s so sweet.”

“Back in the day?” Michael questions as he sits up to meet his husband’s (the thought of the word alone bringing butterflies swarming into his stomach) eyes. “That was like four years ago, Cal. We’re too young for anything to be ‘back in the day’ yet.”

Calum’s face softens at his words, his hand lifting from Michael’s lap to cup his cheek, his thumb running across his cheekbone. “I can’t wait to grow old with you.”

He lets out a sigh while Michael blushes at him in response to the declaration. Calum leans forward to brush their lips together before rising, his empty glass in hand in need of a refill. Michael watches him wander through the crowd, shaking hands and exchanging smiles and kind words with every guest he passes while approaching the bar. None of it feels real yet, Michael thinks. Though it’s been less than two hours since they said I do so he figures he’s allowed a little longer to just be in awe of the fact that he’s got someone to spend the rest of forever traipsing through life with and that that someone is Calum.

And Michael still doesn’t consider himself to be great at much. He’s still young and can’t hold his liquor and can only really cook maybe three vegetables. But Michael is great at loving Calum and being loved by Calum. And maybe, for now, that’s enough. Michael finds himself thinking on that as he takes another sip from his own glass and gazes out to where Calum stands speaking to a friend and their partner. His cheeks warm as the three of them turn to look at him, a fond look resting against Calum’s face as their eyes meet. The ring on his left hand glitters in the light as he lifts it to gesture for Michael to join him.

Yeah, this is definitely enough.

*

[yooleestruck]

in which lee rambles about how great writers are

I don’t really know what this is. I don’t know if now is the right time to do this, or a really bad time, or if it makes any sense, but I want to talk about it! I feel like a broken record saying ‘the writing matters most, the writing matters most’ but maybe I need to show what I mean by that? So, here is an attempt. 

I’m sorry not all of these are the same length and not everyone is here, because every time I see that someone is a writer I do try to follow but I don’t always know/remember! Also I am weird about this sort of thing and don’t want to tag people in a monster-long post, so I’m just going to link. I also don’t want to make this a producers vs writers thing, it’s not, it’s just, when I say I notice writer-stuff, an explanation of what, specifically, I mean. 

Writers have a style fingerprint. I’m sure someone with an actual creative writing or English background could describe it all academic-ly, but my ex-chemist ass is just going to call it a fingerprint. 

My first game in Lovestruck was Starship Promise - I love Firefly, I’m a bisexual disaster scientist by education, it fit. But I had been REALLY put off by GIL when it first came out (this was back when they released stories in parts? And the heroine, which I will get to) and though I’d glanced at AFK, I mistrusted it after GIL and Medusa, who was who I was interested in, wasn’t out yet. So I resisted a LONG time.  I finally picked up LS and SP and played it explicitly because a friend said, you need to give this another chance, for a list of specific reasons. 

And when Atlas’s route came out, I read it a stupid number of times. I must have re-read his season 1 & 2 at least eight times apiece (he is still my most read route, despite the fact I have not read his last season because I want to leave the story open-ended)  so when I read Neil Dresner’s route, I recognized the fingerprint. Not only that, when I was reading Jett and the episodes with the paint scene (YOU KNOW THE SCENE) came out, my breath caught with how lovely it was, a particular in-between moment and touch, and even though it wasn’t a phrase I had seen, the style of it, had me re-reading (because it was gorgeous) again and again from the log for like five minutes and I thought, “I bet Melissa wrote this” AND SHE DID. 

Physical touch! (& in-betweens)

Melissa-grey has a particular way of writing about physical touch in very emotional moments that is very real and grounded and ironically the effect is just magical. It creates these so skillful “in between” moments, those little things that aren’t dialogue and aren’t metaphor but SHOW you that this closed off person is cracking for their little ray of sunshine. They are SO subtle and so beautiful, like, the heroine noticing the scent of a pillow, or a softening of an aborted hand movement.  She sets up and executes these moments of physical touch as a conduit for emotional touch with characters who aren’t ready to admit he latter and it’s DELICIOUS. Those little in-betweens are what I live for in story - and it includes all the supporting cast moments, who swell up to make the world feel lived in, and balanced (I loathe love stories where no one else exists! That’s a recipe for disaster, people need networks) I noticed when she stopped writing, and because I missed it, I went and bought the entire Midnight Girl series, as well as Rated (I hope that is flattering and not creepy!) and that style of writing is so unique, that without KNOWING, I picked it up in four separate routes (noticed in Sev’s s1, too!) 

Pacing (& friggen heartache)

Another fingerprint! Ripping your heart out! Arthoure has had me in tears, MULTIPLE TIMES and I get very grouchy about it every time because I am the least sentimental and romantic person that I know (I once MOVED STATES to avoid an ‘I love you’ conversation. I once said ‘yikes’ in response to an ‘I love you’ and I once broke up with someone because I thought he was going to propose. I’m a bitch) but I think it’s because of pacing! I know that producers play a role in that, but that actually makes it more impressive, because making each bit of story feel like it fits precisely the amount of space it needs when you don’t really get a say in how much space that is has got to take a MASSIVE amount of effort. Every little hint, every emotional beat, every character tell, they drop at a consistent build so the emotional payoff is just brutal (in a good, cathartic way?) every time a route makes me cry I wait and see and YEAH ITS ALWAYS ARTHOURE. The sweep and sentiment of Remy’s season 2 is unparalleled. Across Time is gutwrenching, and I actually stopped reading Renzei at one point because I was so emotional over it I had to like, LEGIT TAKE A BREAK to recover. Pacing and heartache. I have to stop and wonder - is it because the routes themselves are so gut-punching? OR is it because she knows how to wring every last emotional drop out of whatever story framework is handed to her? Because, Ezekiel’s villain costume is a bit silly (there I said it, it is) I get the cobra helmet shape in theory but in practice, ooof, but POINT BEING despite being skeptical I’d be able to take his story seriously as a result, I was hiccuping from crying so much (and I am gosh darn adult, in my thirties, with three degrees and a high-stress job at pretty major company. I DON’T CRY EASY)

 Dialogue (& heroines!)

Xekstrin is the gosh damn master of dialogue. Clever, witty banter that doesn’t go where you expect it to, meandering but natural topic changes that are delightful to follow and feel real, and--special shoutout for this, okay--the navigation of viscerally important topics like consent, kink, self-worth, power in relationships, self-sacrifice, and apologies in a way that is not stilted or forced at all (listen, I know Viv & Lyris are the most recent and they are amazing but I remember this first hit me when I was reading Astraeus, and I spent half the route with my jaw on the floor going, oh shit,  oh shit. The communication! The navigation of the complexity of emotion going on, chef’s kiss! Casual isn’t the right word, but, natural, maybe?). I don’t actually take that many screenshots of the app--it’s usually single lines that get me--but when I do, they are almost always conversations from one of her routes, because they’re so damn good, and often so unexpected, and yet always make such perfect sense for the characters involved. Dialogue is SO HARD OKAY. Actually try and transcribe a conversation sometime, it’s nuts how people talk vs how most people write people talking. Xekstrin also writes some of my absolute favorite MCs, and going back to fingerprints, I was reading Lyris s1 and right there in the first tavern scene, as we were following along with the heroine’s thoughts I went, ah, yes, I know who you belong to and I am SO EXCITED. Being able to give the heroine unique thoughts and quirks, to make her genuinely relatable, without overriding the necessary template of the genre dictates, is a skill all of its own. But I love her MCs! There is a beautiful balance of compassion, competence, and dash of bratty, wild, fun mischief. I can actually cheer for them. I can actually get behind them. I WANT the love interest to flop at their feet for who they are, not just because the story says so. And that comes from how the heroine’s thoughts are written, from her phrasing in conversations, how she sees situations, not just a producer saying ‘she is a strong lead who is self conscious about her ears and she’s nervous in the council meeting’ or whatever. I AM REALLY STRUGGLING to articulate this if you can’t tell from how long I have been blathering. Maybe this - the heroine is the same across every route, presumably, yes? Everyone has the same base. I NEVER question, when xekstrin is writing, why the love interest falls in love with her. Side note - I had hard written off GIL after a bad experience with the standalone app. I only read Aurora BECAUSE I learned she wrote it, and I would have SO MISSED OUT otherwise.

A complete aside in which Lee grumbles about heroines and not writers!

(Complete side vent: Often, the heroine is, if not a blank slate, a sort of collection of assigned traits, and she often remains so unless the story demands she become otherwise. Which is fine! I don’t personally, but I know a lot of folks self-insert, and so erring towards that makes sense. Almost all the otome I’ve played were originally written for a Japanese audience. When I played original Voltage games, starting back in 2014, I always had to remind myself - different culture, different culture, different culture, and it was not possible for me to relate to most of the heroines. I still enjoyed the stories, but I rarely cheered for the heroine’s romance, especially in some of the slice of life stories. I understood her, but I rarely wanted her to get with the love interest, I wanted her success to come in other ways! Another game company, Cybird, tried to ‘Americanize’ their heroine to IMO disastrous effect - it was such a stereotype, and made no sense since they didn’t also Americanize the context, so she come across as, frankly, ridiculous. And frankly, Voltage’s GIL heroine REEKED OF THAT. When they first posted her on social media I was legitimately annoyed about it, like could you lean into this more? I think not. So when I talk about being able to relate to and cheer for the heroine, it’s a big deal, because my blatant mistrust of Voltage and their ability to craft a heroine I could tolerate was a BIG factor in how long it took me to give Lovestruck a try. I was willing to tolerate it in translated stories, I was so skeptical of -en only ones.) 

Metaphors (& balance)

literacouture writes beautiful metaphors for connection between humans! I’m really bad at keeping track of who writes what, but I purposefully kept an eye out on tumblr after reading Cal’s route, because there were some lines that were pure poetry, and I wanted to keep an eye out for more. It is HARD to spin metaphors prettily without delving into trite, painful, purple prose cringe territory, and it’s navigated beautifully in Cal’s route. There’s a balance between those spin-out moments and things that are tangible and anchoring and make it feel authentic and unique to the two characters involved, instead of just ‘I am trying to make this sound romantic and this is a romantic phrase so here it is’. That balance is really necessary. You NEED the mundane alongside the metaphor or it doesn’t feel authentic. Also. Trying really hard to write this without throwing any authors or producers under the bus, but...listen. I love Sin with Me. But the world logic (or LACK THEREOF) drives me up a wall. I don’t read Cal because of his character traits or sprite or (sigh) his story. I read him because literacouture writes a beautiful romance.

 So anyway...

There are more! When I am less tired and don’t have meetings, I will try and write them up (Please know there are so many routes I love, and so many things I do recognize across chapters! I don’t even HAVE words for what theivorytowercrumbles accomplished with Helena’s story not to mention how much I adore Cyprin,  SummerLightning’s handling of Onyx’s past relationship was so deftly done when it could have so quickly become ‘milk abuse for plot’ and joidecombat gave Sev a fresh, mischievous energy and navigated the dream/reality line with SUCH skill, and so on and so on.)

I’ve written a lot of reviews. And I try to give nods where I feel they’re due - sometimes, it really is obvious that the whole team’s work came together to makes something great, the world, the plot, the arc, the art, the words, and the music all fit into place in a  well-crafted tour de force. And sometimes one piece or another is lacking, and I’ll admit I’ve left some...less than kind reviews to that end (I try and soften it, because I know there are humans on the other side of everything, but I’ve been harsh more than once with my opinions).  I’ve read routes with plots that made me want to tear my hair out because I DO value consistency and logic to a degree, even if I’m going to accept at face value that, say, space travel is a thing or demons turn to sand when stabbed. 

In the end, these are romance stories. So I will let a lot slide when it comes to plot. What sells a story are the words - not the outline.

And if Voltage doesn’t believe that - just remember that Hamlet existed long, long before Shakespeare wrote it. His was the version that lasted, because the people liked it best. The plot, the world, the characters, they all existed a hundred times over. Even just look at fan translations of manga. Why do people keep translating, even if someone else has? Because the words someone else picked don’t do the story justice. 

I don’t know. I’m talking in circles because I don’t know my own thesis! 

Maybe it’s just - the worlds these stories in are nice. But when I say I’m a fan of something, the premise is like. 10%. The rest is the writing. 

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter thirty-nine: a hole in the wall

The winter term started for Sam and Marla both, but the former was fixated on her travels with Aurora upstate on the weekends for all the sit ins with Testament and their recording sessions. The latter meanwhile had her hands firmly in the thick of her junior year, such that Sam saw her one time in the duration of that first week, and she looked to be in a hurry as she headed off to her new class. Her iridescent orange hair always glimmered whenever she strode onward on the other side of the corridor.

But Belinda was kind enough to stand in with her, especially since they spent their art classes together, and she had befriended Eric and Greg in particular. She usually had to head on out to Poughkeepsie around Friday afternoons for the glass work, and she proved herself to be quite the friend to Sam in the meantime.

“I had my doubts about you, Bel,” she confessed to her at one point as they drove out to Ithaca on that first Friday. “You seemed a little rough around the edges when I first met you.”

“That's just my sense of humor, though—I've always tried to be a clown of sorts. Marla herself can tell you that, too. Some people just don't get it or seem to realize that some girls like to be kinda out there at times. Marla was one of the few people who understood that.”

“By the way, have you talked to her at all?” Sam asked her with a glimpse over at her.

“Who, Marla?”

“Yeah. I feel like I haven't seen her in a million years.”

“Mar may have switched majors. I haven't seen her on the roster for any of your art classes lately. Well, Charlie's gonna be out here, too, with—what's their new name again?”

“Testament.”

“Testament, that was it. Anthrax are gonna be out here with them, too. We'll have to talk to him when we get a chance.”

“Good idea.” As the words left Sam's lips, she thought about Joey being in the next room from them. She hoped that he would at the very least keep his distance from them, but she also hoped that she could have a moment with him. If there was one thing she couldn't stop think about, it was the fact that he had woken up in a new year with a bad hangover. She was supposed to keep him away from that.

The snow had continuously fallen over upstate New York and in its wake it left behind a thick pearly blanket, as pure white as the full moon itself when it poked its head out from behind the clouds at night. The clouds meanwhile had spread over the afternoon sun and Sam and Belinda found themselves surrounded by a sheer wonderland: the trees drooped a bit from the heavy weight of the fresh snow so they resembled to the drawings one would find in an animation book. Indeed, Sam got to thinking about expanding her art more into the more natural side of things: they were often out in the wilderness, and she could see herself and Belinda going out there even more for most of that quarter. She may as well take her pencils, graphite and colored, and go forth into a trail she had not yet found, and with Anthrax and Testament on either side of her in the mean time.

She peered down at her waist for a moment: she had lost a little weight over the Christmas break but she knew those new gentle curves were there to stay. She couldn't help but think of Joey and that little encounter they had had in his apartment a couple of months before. Even though he wanted to stop those habits, she could see it in his eyes. He wanted more from her, but she couldn't bring herself to it with him.

“So what do you reckon we could cover upon on these more advanced drawing classes?” she asked Belinda when they spotted the signs for Ithaca in time.

“No idea—it's kind of new to me, too, so it's anyone's guess. I'm thinking more technique and expanding more on your styles.”

“Good, 'cause—” Sam stopped as she searched for the right words for herself. “—I'm kind of itching to do more with my art. I feel like I have to expand on it.”

“Well, you got your style—that smooth, weirdly delicate, and real stark style that you can see from clear across the room—”

“I have the technique down—sort of,” she confessed with a shrug of her shoulders. “It'll be covered for this term. By the way, I still owe you forty bucks.”

“Again, take your time. Did you bring your art stuff with you?”

“Well, yeah—you and I are both art students, we might as well bring our stuff with us.”

Soon they rolled into Ithaca, and the sight of the big glassy black waters of Finger Lakes penetrated the blanket of white snow all around them. At one point, Aurora had described the studio of choice as “a hole in the wall”, given it stood off to the side in the heart of those tall trees.

When she opened the door for Sam and Belinda, she had put a handmade sign on the front panel for them to see.

“Welcome to the hole in the wall,” she read aloud.

“It's 'Over the Wall', Aurora,” Eric called from the back of the room. “We've got a song called 'Over the Wall'.”

“It still makes sense,” Sam pointed out as she and Belinda made their way inside. Off to the left side was a small row of chairs: she recognized the slim black haired woman in the one closest to them, even with a heavy puffy jacket in lieu of her drum sticks.

“Hey, Zelda!” Sam greeted her. “What brings you here?”

“I wanted to know what was all the hubbub over here,” she confessed as she adjusted the hood on her jacket, and then she reached down to smooth out the wrinkles in her dark flannel pants. “I literally just got here, too.” Louie stepped into the room right then with his gloves already on his hands. He halted right in his tracks and watched her with his eyebrows raised up.

“Hi,” Zelda greeted him in a soft voice.

“Hi—how are you?” Louie asked her, also in a soft voice.

“I'm doing well—about to fly out to California to talk to Zetro about something. What's all this here?”

“New album, finally. Think we might make some videos for ourselves, too.”

“Cool, cool.”

“How're your girls doing?”

“We just got back from a leg of a tour with Metallica.”

“Awesome!” Louie strode over to her and gave her a high five.

“Yeah—yeah! It was unreal, Lou. And it couldn't have come at a better time for us, either. I thought we were done and then Aurora swooped in with a second chance and she saved our asses.”

Aurora then returned to the room with the clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. The five of them congregated right before them like a small group of school boys.

“Okay, so final line up for Testament, originally Legacy is Chuck Billy on vocals—”

“Aqui.” Chuck himself shook his dark hair about, one side of which was spread right across his face and made him appear much more Indian than Sam had known, and a bit more than Joey, a half Iroquois man. She wondered which tribe he was a part of as Aurora kept at it with the roll call.

“—Eric Peterson and Alex Skolnick on guitars—”

“Right here,” Eric replied, to which Alex made a pretty little wave with two fingers.

“—Greg Christian on bass—”

“Hi!” Greg himself almost stumbled forward at the sound of his own name.

“—and Louie Clemente, not Mike Ronchette, on drums.”

“Yes'm.” Louie put his hands behind his back, and Zelda set one elbow up on the back of her chair.

“I dunno why they kept telling me it was Mike, but I kept saying, 'no, it's Louie. It's Louie Louie!'” That brought a laugh out of all of them. “Anyways, I'm Aurora Young, here with my assistant Samantha Shelley, who's also a fan club member, along with Belinda Grimes and Zelda Carmichael, the latter of whom is with Rhode Island hardcore band Cherry Suicides. Sam and I are with the label—the producer himself should be coming here literally any minute now.”

“And the two of us have been sworn to secrecy,” Zelda added.

“And Zelda and Bel have been sworn to secrecy to not tell anyone about this new album whatsoever. Friends of the band are always sworn to secrecy. Alright, gentlemen! Get in your positions in the room here and we'll get started.”

Before they could head inside of the sound proof room, Sam tapped on Chuck's shoulder.

“I keep meaning to ask you this, too—what Native American tribe are you?”

“I'm Pomo. Buncha basket weavers all along the coast in Nor Cal. The other side of me is Mexican.”

“Hence the 'Sammich' reference,” she followed along with a nod of her head.

“Right, exactly! Native American like Joey.”

“He's Iroquois, right?”

“That's actually close to being right,” he clarified. “Iroquois is the nation—I think he's either Onondaga or Cayuga, actually.”

“Oh, I see. So even he doesn't really know.”

“I think so,” Chuck confessed with a light toss of his fine dark hair. “But, still. You've got two Native American singers walking on either side of you, dear li'l Sammich.”

That brought a light chuckle out of her and then Eric called him into the sound proof room. Sam watched him go inside there with the four of them, and all she could think about right then was Joey himself. They were going to be another room there in the hole in the wall and she hoped that he would stay with them in there.

Aurora guided her, Belinda, and Zelda to the vast sound board, which was right underneath a wide pane of glass. Louie took his seat behind his drum kit and Greg sat right next to him with a big black bass guitar cradled on his lap: his dark hair spread down on one side of his face as he plucked those big heavy strings for a little bit. Alex and Eric took their seats on stools right behind him, and Chuck stood before a microphone on the far right side there. A bare, wide open room that needed to be separated off from itself so they could clearly record themselves without bleeding of any sort.

“Oh, man, I'm getting so many flashbacks to Stormtroopers right now,” Sam told Belinda. “Except they did that in like a kitchen. Charlie was crammed back into a corner and Scott and Danny were right in front of him, and Billy just kinda sat there with the microphone in hand, and they recorded off an old disc player.”

“Hey, Aurora, you want us to jam for a bit?” Chuck asked her through the microphone.

“Yeah, go ahead!”

“See how we play off of each other in here—”

Louie tapped his drum sticks together three times and he came down on his snare. He led the way for Greg, Eric, and Alex, the latter of whom had put on a pair of matte black headphones and they pushed down his bangs a bit more so they hid his eyes from view. Even with the door closed, the wall of sound could not be contained in there.

“Jesus,” Zelda muttered as she tucked her hands into her coat pockets. “And I thought Metallica were really powerful.”

Chuck held onto his headphones and bowed his head a bit. He awaited his cue. And then his voice seared through the sound proof wall, such that it caught all four girls off guard.

“Oh my god,” Belinda blurted out. He pinched his eyes shut as he shrieked out the vocals: Sam thought Zetro had powerful vocals, but Chuck's were more melodic, but not nearly as melodic as Joey's voice. The perfect balance between the two mediums.

Meanwhile, Louie kept things tight behind his kit, even though his dark hair flew about like the arms of an octopus and his drums sounded like a blacksmith hammer.

Alex moved around a little bit with that white guitar nestled up close to his little body. He couldn't move much because of that big set of headphones and the amps close to him, but Sam could sense that he wanted to move around.

“So much metal that that room simply can't contain it!” Sam joked, but both she and Belinda jumped back again when all five of them yelled out “OVER THE WALL!” at one point. Chuck brought one hand to the side of his head and he still kept his eyes pinched shut. One man had enough power in his voice to bleed through those walls around him. Right over the wall.

“Jesus—Christ,” Zelda stammered.

“Some day, they'll have to show you guys the raw tape tracks for Bonded by Blood—Exodus' album with Zetro,” Aurora told them, completely unfazed by what was going on before her.

“OVER THE WALL!”

Louie and Greg had such a loud bark when they yelled out together. But there was Alex, still with his head bowed down over his guitar. All five of them worked together and yet they were so separate to one another.

The whole entire time, Sam thought about Metallica and she knew they were supposed to leave for their final stint of their tour soon, if they hadn't already. She thought about Jason and if he was doing alright on those brand new dates and in front of all of those large crowds. She had no idea if they had gone off to Europe yet, and if they did, she wondered how Lars was taking it. Those three men needed each other and they needed to play off of each other much like the five of them before her right there.

Alex soon stood to his feet with the white guitar pressed up against his slender little body. That jet black hair shone under the soft ceiling light of the sound proof room: Sam couldn't but see a faint sheen on the right side of his bangs that seemed extra light in comparison to the rest of his hair.

He nodded his head about so some of his hair fanned out from the back. Eric paid no attention to him in the mean time: he followed Greg and Louie's lead.

But Alex stepped forward for his solo, and Chuck backed off to let the boy in.

Louder and much more clear than the first time she had heard him live. His fingers crawled about the fret board like the legs of a spider. If Sam didn't know better, she swore he was summoning a small group of king cobras from the shadows behind him. He did it so effortlessly, as if the guitar was just another part of his body.

“Wow,” Belinda breathed out, and it took a few seconds for Sam to realize that she had been holding her breath the whole entire time. She let out a long low whistle, and she kept her gaze fixated on him.

“Just incredible,” Zelda remarked from right behind her.

“He makes it look so easy!” Aurora added with glee.

“I know, right?” Zelda chuckled, but Sam was silent, and she was silent long enough to overlook the clinkers he had made. Indeed, when he let go of the frets and shook his hand about as if he had been burned, she still kept her gaze fixed onto him.

“You okay, Alex?” Chuck called out to him over Eric, Greg, and Louie, all three of whom were still pulling along.

“Yeah—little too much mustard on that hot dog, though,” he assured him as he shook his hand about again. Chuck laughed and then he proceeded to sing again.

Sam rubbed her eyes and she turned to Belinda, whose face had lit up at the sight before her.

“He's amazing!” she declared.

“He's in a league of his own,” Sam told her.

Indeed, they were there in the hole in the wall all day long: their producer, who was also named Alex, had showed up in time so they could record the first tracks of the new album. It was much longer and far more tenuous than Sam had originally imagined: Louie had to go up first with the drum tracks and given the room was too warm, they had to shut off the heater and open all the doors so all of the warm air escaped. The four girls congregated in the front of the room, nestled down in their coats, right next to Eric and Greg, both of whom had comic books in hand.

“I gonna assume you guys got those from Charlie,” Sam quipped; she remembered what she and Marla had said in that it was another art form.

“Nah, but we're all nerds, though,” Eric assured her as he plunked open the book and lay it over his lap.

“We're going to Alcatraz, anyways,” Greg pointed out.

“...why?” Sam raised her eyebrows at that, and she tried to stifle back a bit of laughter from that.

“Film a video. Probably for that first song you girls heard, 'Over the Wall'. Not sure yet.”

Louie's kick drum pounded away in the room before them and it was all Sam could hear from behind the wall: she swore he would blow a hole through it at one point with that kick drum alone. He was tight and strong like a machine and yet he made such a big wall of chaos. How one guy could make so much racket was beyond her. But there in that front room, they were like a bunch of kids hanging out together, with Eric and Greg and their comic books, and Zelda and Belinda seated next to them with glances over their shoulders; even though they had brought their art supplies with them, Sam still kept her eye on Belinda and her reading a comic book. She could assume it was for inspiration.

Meanwhile, Sam shivered under her jacket and she wondered where Alex had run off to in there.

“We're getting another new band in here soon,” Aurora announced to them. “Guns 'N Roses—they're from California, too!”

“Think I've heard of them,” Eric recalled. “Mainly the Los Angeles area, but I do remember seeing 'em in this dingy little place on the strip called Whisky A Go-Go. Real cool hard rock that's not quite like the big teased up hair that's absolutely everywhere right now, especially out that way. We oughta see them soon, if and when they go on tour themselves.”

Sam rubbed her upper arms to better keep the warmth inside of her, but it was useless. No warmth to felt anywhere.

“I'm gonna take a walk, you guys,” she declared at one point.

“I think Chuck and Alex did, too,” Eric told her as he turned the page of his book.

“I was wondering where those two dudes ran off to,” Belinda quipped, and then she set a hand on his shoulder. “No, wait, I wasn't done with that yet—”

Sam lifted the lapels of her coat and tugged the hood over her head, even though the snow had long stopped. She kept her hands by the lapels as she made her way to the street. A tap on her shoulder, and she turned to the side.

“Joey!”

“Hey, you!” he greeted her with a smile on his face. “Had a feeling that was you.”

“What're you doing here? Besides, the obvious. You guys are recording.”

“Oh, y'know—I was just thinkin' 'bout you. And I was also hopin' that you'd be out here with us, too.”

“Yeah, I'm actually out here with Belinda, and Aurora, and Zelda, too. All five of us girls are out here except Marla.”

“Yeah, I guess Marla's kinda swamped at the moment,” he admitted with a shrug. “You want to grab some coffee?”

“Oh, yes, please. I'm trying to keep myself warm.”

“Can't get warm, can ya?” he asked her, still with that grin on his face and that twinkle in his eye. She almost corrected him, but then she stopped herself.

“No, I can't. Get warm and get together with someone else.”

“Come with me,” he coaxed her, and they doubled back down the street to that one place that Stormtroopers had played on their tour almost two years ago. He shuddered inside of his coat as well, but she rounded to his side so they walked next to each other. She wondered where Chuck and Alex had gone off to there in Ithaca: it wasn't that large of a town, and thus they couldn't have gotten very far from there. She peered down at his waist, still slim and delicate despite the fair of amount of drinking she had witnessed from him. For all she knew, he only drank when they were together and not when he was alone. Maybe he did, but he never smelled of alcohol when she and him came together.

“So how bad was your hangover?” she asked him as they reached the crosswalk.

“On New Year's Day?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty bad. I couldn't hardly keep my eyes open at one point. But you know, it's one of those things that you ride out and flush out as best as you can, and just heal from that point onward.” She flashed back to when Alex had a bit of acid in the back of their van. She knew that was exactly what he did when he returned home.

“Well, Joseph—I have to hand it to you for taking it in stride,” she told him as they strode across the black pavement. “Just promise me that'll be the last time you'll do it, because I'm starting to worry about you a little bit.”

“I know you do, Sam. It's mainly why I want to stop.”

And it was right then that her thoughts couldn't hardly keep up with her mouth. All the fears she had developed out of Cliff's wake now made their way over to Joey. “Well, I worry about you drinking too much before a show one night and your voice is royally fucked. Or I worry about the worst thing ever.”

“It killing me, I assume,” he said, nonchalant.

“Having it kill you, right. I lost my boyfriend while on tour—I don't want to lose any of my best friends in Anthrax while they're out on tour, whether it's you, or Frankie, or Charlie, or Scott, or Danny.”

He sighed through his nose and he set his hand on her upper back. The very touch of his hand brought the tears right into her eyes once again. She had no other way of expressing it to him than with her hand by her mouth to keep them back.

“C'mon—I'll start this off with a cup of coffee,” he said to her in a soft voice, and he guided her inside that warm room. Chuck and Alex were nowhere to be seen, much to both her relief and her disappointment. They took a seat there at the far end of the counter and he asked for two cups of coffee. Sam tried to lean back and take her hood off at the same time, but she leaned into the wall behind her. Such a cozy corner of the room: she gazed across the floor to the opposite side, where Charlie had set up his drums for Stormtroopers in the two summers before, and she realized that a slight noise barrier formed right there in that little nook. Whoever sat there for that show as well as the ones for the Plasmatics and Motorhead must not have heard much that night.

Within time, they received their big white mugs of rich fresh coffee, and Joey was eager to pick up his and bring it close to him.

“We're in a—a hole in the wall,” he sputtered.

“Just so long as you're not drinking,” she pointed out.

“I won't. I can't drink much anyway—after that morning of New Year's, and I woke up hungover, I thought, 'there's no way I can do that again.' So—” He raised that white mug up to her. “—here I am.”

He took a big swig of the coffee, such that it relaxed her. He closed his eyes, probably to better relish in that beany flavor.

“There it is,” he said in a low voice.

“Happy New Year, Joey,” she told him as she raised her mug to him.

“Happy New Year, Sam I am.”

“By the way, what Indian tribe are you exactly? I know you've said Iroquois before but I recently learned that it's such a wide range of tribes that it's hard to pin down.” She gingerly chose her words for him.

“Oh, I have no idea, to be honest. All I know is my mom's heritage comes from the Iroquois Nation here in upstate New York. Hence why my nickname is usually 'Injun Joe.' It's obvious I'm Native American—just what specifically is another question entirely.”

“'Injun Joe'... remember when we were at the hockey rink and you made a joke about wearing a headdress for a show in the future?”

“Still plan on it,” he said without hesitation.

“Yes!” She clinched her fist and then she reached her mug over to him for an official toast between them.

“To a new era, Sam,” he declared. “A new era of Anthrax and the world of thrash metal, and a new era of you and me.”

[cakesunflower]

Catharsis [Local Musician!Calum] One Shot

Catharsis—The purging or release of emotional tensions, especially through kinds of art or music.

A/N: this is 19.3k of local musician!Calum and i hope you guys enjoy it! i loved writing this, bc it’s, in my opinion, softer than most of what i’ve written. also, the lovely moodboard is by my even lovelier friend @softforcal!!! happy reading, babies

There was a local artist in Annette’s favorite cafe, a musician, who’d captured her attention from the first strum of his guitar and the captivating voice he sang with the second she heard him. Blue’s was known for its dedication to giving the local talent a platform, paying them to sing for customers if they had what it took. And this guy, this brown haired, tattooed singer who alternated between performing covers and originals, had captured the hearts of all of the regulars—Annette included. It was because of him that she’d sometimes be late to work or classes if he happened to be playing, completely enraptured by his performance and his smooth rasp sounding over the dull chatter of customers. Not that anyone really talked over the sound of him—Calum Hood was just too captivating to ignore.

Annette was never sure what exactly it was that had her stopping in her tracks every time she heard him sing—if it was the deep lilt of his voice that managed to carry every note he meant to hit, or if it was the lyrics he sang when he introduced a song he wrote himself. Songs about love, loss, healing, and everything in between that hit a little too close to home every time. Honestly—Annette began giving more thought to what Calum must have gone through to be able to write such deeply personal songs that seemed to resonate with everyone than she did to the coursework she should have been focusing on.  

Maybe she was being creepy. Maybe she should’ve stopped lingering in the back of the cafe after she got her order of either a strawberry iced tea or just coffee to lean against the wall and watch Calum strum a guitar and sing—her personal favorites were original songs he’d written like Never Be, Everything I Didn’t Say, The Girl Who Cried Wolf, and Moving Along and his covers of Stay by Post Malone and Blink-182’s I Miss You—and just moseyed on along to go to class or her shift at the store instead of looking like some stalker. But Annette couldn’t help it—she was a fan. Granted, she was no expert in the music industry, but Annette liked what she listened to, and there was no doubt in her mind that Calum was insanely talented. She knew everyone who came to Blue’s who was lucky enough to witness him perform, and the management that loved the patrons he was drawing in, would think the same thing.

There were often moments where she wished she grew the confidence in saying something to him—just a mere compliment of how good he was or something. It wasn’t like he was a world known musician, maybe a kind comment from a stranger would’ve made him smile, at the very least. But there was something about Calum that made him appear like the rockstar that he was probably meant to be. With his unruly dark curls, domineering height, tattooed skin, and sharp eyes that took in every face in the crowd, not to mention the overwhelming artistry that seemed to just ooze out of his pores, Calum Hood was a stature Annette wasn’t entirely sure she was prepared to approach. Sure, she’d seen people compliment him after he got off the stage with his guitar being gripped by ring clad fingers, had gotten glimpses of almost reserved smiles she felt were too quiet for someone who owned such loud talent, but she knew she wasn’t ready to actually face him herself.

So she listened and admired from afar, even though she desperately yearned to do so much more.

“You look like you got an hour’s worth of sleep last night.” Annette huffed as she shot Luke a look, settling down in her seat once he took his backpack off and dropped it on the floor so she could sit. Apparently a few days into the semester and some students thought it was okay to steal her unofficial-official seat.

Annette leaned back against the chair once she had her laptop in front of her and had taken off her favorite red framed and lensed sunglasses and Beats, letting out a drawn out sigh that carried the weight of her exhaustion. “Because I think I did,” she responded tiredly, the silvery tone she normally spoke in coming out as a heavy drawl. “Work didn’t let out until ten and I had a paper due at midnight and then Poe got sick and—” Annette cut herself off with a complaining groan, though she kept the sound quiet as people filtered into the classroom, sinking into her chair. “I’m ready to drop dead, honestly.”

“At least it’s the weekend, right?” Luke responded with an encouraging raise of his eyebrows, knowing Annette only worked the weekdays as he tapped his fingers against the sleek top of the desk. When she crossed her arms over her chest, closing her eyes and nodding, Luke offered a smile. “Couple of my friends are throwing a party in the East Village tonight. Bring whoever you want, yeah? It’ll be fun.”

Opening her eyes, Annette looked at her blue eyed friend, smiling at his offer as she modestly replied, “I wouldn’t wanna intrude—”

Luke snorted out a laugh, shooting her a look as their professor entered the room. “You’re not intruding if I’m inviting you. It’ll be great—there’s a karaoke machine.”

At that, the tattooed girl sputtered with her eyebrows shooting up as she instantly shook her head. “I don’t sing.”

He rolled his eyes, lifting his hands to gather up his blonde curls and pull them back into a bun, the too hot temperature in the classroom making even his barely shoulder length hair impossible to not tie back. “Then you can watch the rest of us act like idiots.” Raising his eyebrows he asked, “You in?”

Annette thought about it for a moment; she had planned to curl up in bed with Poe at her side and her laptop on so she could get some writing done, having barely any time for it with work and classes already kicking her ass. But, honestly, she wasn’t entirely inspired or motivated to actually sit and bust out a few words; maybe a party and being around people would help with that. She was always looking for new inspiration to hit, so maybe this would be good. She’d been in a bit of a rut lately, always ending up staring at a blank page or not knowing how to continue with what she already had. It was starting to get frustrating; stepping away sounded like the way to go.

So she smiled at Luke and nodded, “I’m in,” before sending a quick text to her roommate-slash-cousin Colin to recruit him for tonight. If anyone was willing to accompany her to a party, it was him.

When Annette reached for her plastic cup of strawberry iced tea, sipping the drink through the straw, Luke’s eyes dropped to the cup before humming, “I love Blue’s. They’ve got some great talent.”

She grinned, eyes dropping to the cup that said the restaurant’s name in script and the color of its namesake, as she played with the clear straw. Calum’s face flashed through her mind, the sound of his voice singing through her ears as she responded in absent thought, “I know.”

As the class settled, Luke propped his elbow on his desk and leaned his cheek against his palm, quirking his eyebrow as he asked, “You’ve got a favorite?”

Annette bit the inside of her lower lip as their professor pulled up the PowerPoint for today’s lecture. Oh, she definitely did have a favorite.

*****

“Hey, come inside for a sec.” Luke’s voice pulled Annette from her conversation with his friend Ashton, his friend Michael’s girlfriend Crystal, and Colin. The four of them were on the balcony of Ashton’s apartment, a few other people lingering about as the music playing from inside flowed outside to where they stood. Annette had only gotten to the party about twenty minutes ago, and had already met most of Luke’s friends, including his girlfriend Sierra, and so far she was enjoying herself as a refreshing September breeze tickled her skin. And she was enjoying the tequila, too. She looked at Luke, who was in the doorway of the balcony with a drink in his hand. His eyes met Annette’s as he added, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Annette responded slowly, unsurely, as she excused herself from the little group she was among. She walked towards Luke, who stepped back into the apartment to let her inside as she held her half empty glass of a margarita, raising an eyebrow at her tall friend. “Who’re we meeting?”

“A good friend of mine,” Luke smiled as they maneuvered their way through the living room, heading towards the kitchen. There were many people around, not as suffocating as a bustling house party that Annette was used to as everyone enjoyed each other’s company, danced to the music that was playing, though not entirely resembling a rambunctious frat house. Annette liked this better. Shooting her a dazzling, dimpled grin, Luke added reassuringly, “You’ll love him.”

Her curious expression never washed away as she nodded along, letting him lead her towards the kitchen. They stepped up towards the center island, which was decorated with a nice spread of cups and bottles of various kinds of alcohols and mixers, and stopped in front of a guy with his back turned towards them as he fixed himself a drink. His broad leather jacket covered back hindered Annette from seeing what he was making, glancing at Luke who smiled.

“This is Calum—Cal, this is my friend, Annette,” the blonde introduced, gesturing between the two people, and upon hearing his name, the man in front of them turned around, but it was long before Annette saw his face that she realized who he was. Right when Luke had said his name, realization clicked in Annette’s mind as she recognized the back of the guy’s head of short curls, now that he had been named.

Brown eyes met Annette’s bluish-brown and suddenly she found her heart in her throat because she’d never been this close to him before. Never had she been given the opportunity to look at his dark eyes, always standing at the other side of the cafe to merely listen and watch him play. But it was no surprise that the brown of his eyes, so dark that they almost melted into the pupil, was just as bewitching as the sound of his voice as she felt her throat dry when she looked into them. Annette had known Calum was tall as he towered in front of her, though his height was not entirely as domineering as Luke’s—she doubted anyone’s was—yet still she felt small in his presence.

Whoever invented the phrase tall, dark and handsome probably pictured Calum in mind.

His lips quirked up, a polite smile lifting his cheeks as he gazed at her. Annette could feel her body flush even though he wasn’t even doing anything. “Nice to meet you,” Calum spoke, his familiar voice just as smooth without a microphone amplifying the hint of a rasp in which he spoke with. He’d been lifting his cup as he spoke, taking a sip once he was finished and Annette noticed how his eyebrows furrowed subtly as he continued to look at her. Lowering his cup, lips glistening from his drink, Calum thoughtfully remarked, “I think I’ve seen you ’round before.”

Oh, her heart had found residency in her throat. He recognized her, and no matter how vague his recollection may be, the mere acknowledgment that she was a familiar face to him was exciting. Annette wasn’t entirely sure if it was because she was pathetically enamored with a guy who wasn’t even a celebrity, though he felt like one to her, or if it was because of how ridiculously attractive he was. Maybe because he was just so talented and actually being able to speak to him was ridiculous to her. Maybe it was all of it.

“Uh, at Blue’s, maybe?” Annette offered, pretending as though she had no idea where he could’ve possibly seen her before, knowing full well that’s exactly where. The way Calum blinked in realization was too adorable.

“Annette’s seen a bunch of your performances, dude,” Luke chimed in, a knowing tone lilting the smile in his voice and it wasn’t until Annette glanced at him, saw the glint in his blue eyes, did it click in her mind what he was doing. She couldn’t even help the way her eyes narrowed at him, though Luke was smart enough to keep his gaze purposefully locked on Calum.

Still, the need for damage control was prominent, and as Annette forced herself to drag her glare away from Luke and wipe it off by the time her eyes met Calum’s, she managed to say, “Just a few.” Nobody had to know she was downplaying the fact that she watched as many of his performances as she could. Coming off as a stalker wasn’t the kind of first impression Annette wanted to give off—not that she even knew there’d be an impression to give off in the first place. Damn it, Luke. Was he trying to embarrass her? Free hand nervously sliding into the back pocket of her shorts, Annette found herself adding truthfully, “You’re really good.”

Calum nodded, the smallest of smiles upturning his pressed together lips, and Annette couldn’t help but feeling as though he was forcing himself to do so. Like he appreciated the compliment, but it also didn’t mean much to him. “Appreciate it,” he responded, because he had to, because it was etiquette, and Annette felt something uncomfortable stir in the pit of her stomach. Uncomfortable, embarrassed, and, frankly, affronted. Though she wasn’t too sure she had the right to feel that last one. Calum’s eyes shifted over her head, looking at something behind her as he raised unexpressed eyebrows and his cup as well, using a finger to point at something as he added quickly, “Excuse me, there’s—I’m being called over.”

He walked around her and while Annette knew that it was probably nothing personal against her—they didn’t know each other for it to be—she still felt her skin flush with an embarrassed and mildly offended heat of being brushed off like that. Her lips pressed together, staring at the spot Calum had stood in, wondering if she was even allowed to feel this way because Calum was only someone she enjoyed listening to at Blue’s. He didn’t owe her a conversation or anything. Yet the offense of his less than polite behavior, no matter how brief the interaction, still had her stomach twisting uncomfortably. And then it would cycle into her reprimanding herself for being so sensitive.

Fuck. Why couldn’t she just figure out and agree on what she was feeling?

“Shit—Sorry about him.” Luke’s apology pulled Annette out of her thoughts, and she looked up at the friend she’d only recently made to see Luke frowning over in whatever direction Calum had walked off in. He looked down at her blue eyes meeting her slightly darker ones, the disappointment clear in his irises as he let out a breath. “He’s normally not like that, I swear. I don’t know what’s up with him.”

Annette gave a dismissive shake of her head, offering Luke what she hoped came off as a reassuring smile. Because she had a feeling Luke knew exactly what was going on with his friend, but he didn’t owe her an explanation. Just like Calum didn’t owe her a conversation; maybe Annette was just being overly sensitive for no reason. “Never meet your heroes, huh?” she said jokingly, and she half meant it. Calum wasn’t her hero—that just sounded ridiculous and overdramatic. He was just some guy who played at her local cafe, that’s all. Still, this wasn’t how she’d imagined their first meeting to go—not that she really thought she’d actually get the chance to talk to him.  

Luke let out an airy chuckle, and Annette could tell he felt just as miffed and even slightly embarrassed about that brief interaction as she did. But it was whatever. Not a big deal. “Come on, let me get you a refill,” Luke said after glancing at her nearly finished drink, and she grasped onto that change of topic with both hands and stepped towards the countertop full of drinks.

As he made Annette her drink of choice of a Malibu, she noted the purse of his lips and a small smile quirked at her lips. “It’s not a big deal, Luke,” she told him truthfully. Sure, Calum basically walking away wasn’t what she’d thought would happen, but what could you do? Annette wasn’t one to hold grudges or hold onto any negative emotions for too long. Life was too short to be bothered by something for too long.

Luke glanced at her from where he stood on the other side of the counter, a whole head and a half taller than the girl next to him making her own drink, and shot Annette a small smile. “So much for first impressions, huh?”

*****

“Oh, there’s Annette.” Calum glanced up from his laptop from where he was doing his composition homework, gaze landing on Luke sitting across from him at their table in Blue’s. But his blonde friend was looking off to his right and Calum followed his gaze, eyes landing on the mention girl.

She stood on line to order, her red Beats deafening her to the world around her as she kept herself busy on her phone. For a moment, Calum found himself wondering how he’d never seen her around before; she was gorgeous, with thick blonde hair that curled at the bottom, a couple of tattoos inking the skin of her left arm, and a smile he’d gotten to see the other night at Ashton’s party before he’d abruptly left the conversation. Something Luke had reprimanded him on after the fact.

Calum watched her as she took a step forward on the line, adjusting her headphones before returning her attention to her phone. He looked away as well, brown eyes meeting Luke’s blue ones, blinking at the expectant expression on his friend’s face. “I think you should apologize to her.”

Eyebrows scrunching upwards, Calum scoffed as he leaned back in his seat and asked, “What for?”

Luke shot him a pointed look, aware that he didn’t have to answer that question because Calum knew the answer. His interaction with Annette had been quite brief all because Calum hadn’t really wanted to engage in a conversation. It hadn’t been anything personal against her; Calum had just wanted to stick to those he knew, be around his friends who already knew him well enough to know if he acted cold, it wasn’t their fault. It was just the mood he was in. That day hadn’t been the best, and after Luke introduced him to Annette, Calum had spent the rest of the party escaped up onto the roof, with the only thing keeping him company being his cigarettes.

“Listen, man,” Luke spoke up before Calum could say anything, letting out a sigh and crossing his arms on the table. He looked at him with an almost hopeful expression. “I wouldn’t care if it was anyone else, but Annette’s my friend, alright? And when she told me you were her, like, favorite musician here I thought it’d be cool if you two met. So when you brushed her off it just—it didn’t leave a good impression, you know?”

Pursing his lips, Calum took a breath at Luke’s words. The knowledge of him being someone Annette genuinely enjoyed listening to actually did make him feel like a bit of an asshole for the way he’d just walked away from her. Though, to be fair, if he’d stuck around then their interaction may have gone worse.

Just wrong timing, Calum figured. He always appreciated when people at Blue’s, or anyone really, told him they enjoyed listening to him perform. It gave him the push to continue on doing so, to come to Blue’s whenever he could and get up on the small stage and sing his songs and covers for the patrons. Calum figured he’d probably still do it if he wasn’t getting paid; the money was just a bonus on top of the positive feedback he received.

Yeah. He was kind of a jerk for brushing off someone who’d done nothing except for compliment him.

With Luke’s gaze burning into him, Calum let out a heavy breath of, “For fuck’s sake,” before pushing back his chair and standing up. He ignored the happy smile on Luke’s face as he made his way around the spread out tables, figuring the sooner he apologized to Annette, the sooner Luke would get off his back.

He got to where Annette was standing just as it was her turn to order, and Calum worked quickly as he pulled out his wallet and just as the cashier, Rick, told Annette the total, Calum announced his presence by offering his card and saying, “It’s on me.”

Annette blinked at him, startled, too surprised to object at the sudden offer as Rick, obviously knowing who Calum was, took the card and completed the transaction. Once Calum’s card was returned, he put it back in his wallet and shoved the leather accessory back in the pocket of his pants, gaze finally sliding over to Annette who was staring at him in bewilderment.

Her lips, pink and glossy, parted. “You—” she began, only to cut herself off as she glanced over her shoulder and stepped to the side, Calum following suit, to let the next customer place their order. Calum followed Annette to stand at the end of the counter where her order would be placed, watching as she took her headphones off and let them hang around her neck as she looked up at him. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Calum shrugged, hands shoved into the pockets of his bomber jacket as he told her, “Consider it a peace offering. I hadn’t given the best of impressions at the party.”

He watched as Annette rolled her lips into her mouth, tapping her nails against the back of her phone as she considered his words. Her gaze, then, went around Calum’s friend to look at something behind him, and he noted the subtle quirk at one corner of her mouth as she lifted her chain. “Is the peace offering your idea or Luke’s?”

The musician pursed his lips, knowing she was valid in asking that question. What was more was that she didn’t make it sound rude, just genuine curiosity as her gaze met Calum’s once more, the questioning clear in the way she raised an eyebrow. Pressing his lips together, Calum let out a quick breath through his nose before answering her truthfully, “It was Luke’s idea that I come over. The drink really is on me.” Realizing he hadn’t actually done what Luke had asked for him, Calum added, “But I am sorry for acting the way I did.”

To his surprise, Annette twisted her lips to the side before giving a shrug. “You don’t have to apologize, honestly, though I appreciate it. It’s not a big deal—definitely not something to feel bad about.”

For a moment, Calum kept his gaze on her, eyes twitching ever so slightly to narrow as he considered Annette, trying to see if she genuinely meant her words or was just saying them to be nice. He wasn’t going to lie—he kind of agreed with her. It wasn’t a big deal, and while he was sorry for dismissing her the way he had and while he could’ve been nicer, it was too short of an interaction for him to feel an immense amount of guilt for. Sure, their first meeting was only cut short because of Calum himself, but wasn’t he allowed bad days? He’d only come to the party because his best friend was throwing it, and it made Calum feel less like a loser to have the reason of wanting to have fun so he could drink, and he really hadn’t been in the mood to meet new people and entertain them. What was so wrong about that?

Unlike Luke, Annette’s answer seemed to be absolutely nothing.

Maybe he got lucky with such a forgiving person.

Before Calum could say anything, Rick had called out Annette’s name and she received her iced coffee, turning to look at Calum with an appreciative smile as she held up the clear cup. “Thanks for the caffeine.” Her smile was sweet and still Calum felt something uncomfortable twist his stomach as she added, “I’ve got class. I’ll uh,” Annette paused, eyes darting before she looked at him once more, “see you around.”

She gave a nod before stepping away, fixing her headphones with one hand as she turned around and walked to the door, ignoring the way Calum’s gaze burned into her back. The frown involuntarily pulled his eyebrows together once she left, feeling a bit unsatisfied over an interaction he hadn’t really wanted to partake in the first place. He hadn’t really wanted to apologize, but there had been a part of Calum that felt a bit badly about their initial meeting, so he listened to Luke and now. . . It kind of felt as though Annette didn’t really care enough.

The tables seemed to have turned and it was unsettling.

*****

“This is a cute idea,” Annette hummed as she entered Blue’s after Sierra, Colin and Luke right behind them. She’d never come to the cafe during the nighttime, eyes taking in the place that looked transformed, unfamiliar than to what it looked like during the day. There were blue string lights lining the edges where the walls and ceiling met, providing the only light in the cafe save for the white spotlights on the stage. It was more crowded than normal, a pleasant buzz of chatter in the air as well as the occasional whir of the blender behind the counter as the employees made the drinks on order.

Apparently Blue’s, along with paying local artists to perform at their cafe during the day, had a showcase kind of thing every other month—which Annette had been oblivious to until Luke brought it up a few days back. Blue’s had all the artists they paid come together for one night every other month and perform for the patrons and would get paid extra, and sometimes there would be people who worked at record labels and scouts always looking for new talent in attendance, which Annette thought was pretty cool and a good opportunity for exposure.

“I’m surprised you haven’t come to one of these before,” Luke said to her as they walked in, him standing taller than everyone else as his eyes darted around in hopes to find the friends they were here to meet.

Annette huffed, a bit miffed at her own ignorance of this kind of event. She loved watching all of the musicians Blue’s employed, so being able to watch them all in one night sounded so great and she’d been missing out on it. Next to her, Colin snickered. “You’d think being a groupie for all the performers you’d know about this.”

That invited a round of laughter from Luke and Sierra, and Annette made a protesting sound before elbowing her cousin’s side, though it didn’t erase the all too amused smirk from his face. People around them moved, either talking to others or trying to find a table, and Sierra suddenly spoke up, “There they are.”

She started moving, the rest of them following after her as she led them to a table where they spotted Calum, Ashton, Michael and their girlfriends. They’d joined two tables together, enough to fit all nine of them, and greetings were thrown about as the four of them reached the others. Annette settled down on the chair next to Ashton after he gave her a friendly side-hug as Luke spoke up, “You ready, man?”

Annette’s gaze drifted to Calum, who sat on one end of the table, furthest from her as he offered a nod. He looked at ease, comfortable in a black and white Elvis shirt with the neckline lined by his chain necklace, hands resting on his lap beneath the table. Unsurprisingly, he looked good, Annette instantly noticed; she’d offered him a brief greeting when they’d arrived—nothing against him, truthfully, but because she figured that’s what he’d want.

When he apologized to her the other day, Annette knew it was Luke’s doing—a fact she’d flicked him off for the next time they had class together. To be fair, Calum had looked a bit miffed for his off-mood when they’d met, and the more Annette had thought about it after, the more she realized she had no reason to actually be embarrassed or anything. People were allowed bad days, they were allowed to turn down conversations if they weren’t feeling up for it, especially if it was with a stranger. It hadn’t been the most pleasant of first meetings, but it wasn’t something Annette couldn’t get over. She’d learned, over the years, what things were worth lamenting over and what were small enough to let go. Her first meeting with Calum had been the latter.

Still, him coming up to her to apologize to her had been kind of unexpected. But then she figured out Luke had been the one to push Calum to do it, and while Calum hadn’t delivered a half hearted apology, Annette could tell he wasn’t a hundred percent keen on doing it. And, in some way, him being forced to talk to her a second time was more embarrassing than the first time. She kind of hated her ability to read people so clearly up close. If the action had an off switch, Annette would keep it taped.

So, naturally, when she joined the group—after Luke’s inspired begging for her to come along—she’d greeted Calum with a quick and friendly smile before settling on the stool. No more forced interactions this time around.

“Yeah,” Calum responded to Luke’s question, leaning forward enough to prop his elbows up on the low table, linking his ring clad fingers in front of him, the metal of his chain bracelet hitting the wooden table as he rested his hands down. With a shrug and a small, brief smile he added, “’S not a big deal.”

It was a modest response, Annette noticed, which only reminded her of how comfortable Calum probably was on a stage, even a small one at some cafe chain in New York. She’d certainly witnessed his ease when she caught a performance, but to actually be within his company right before he went on stage was a side she never thought she’d be privy to, and was taking in intently. In the presence of his friends, Annette could see the relaxation of Calum’s broad shoulders, dark eyes almost gentle as he listened to his friends chatter around him. He didn’t look on edge like he had the night of the party, eyes darting and fingers around his cup tight; right now, it was easy to pick up on the air of calmness that surrounded Calum like a bubble.

“Are you performing anything new?” Michael questioned, sitting directly opposite of Annette.

Letting out a breath, Calum subtly raised an eyebrow as he responded, “I’d have to have something new written to perform it.” With a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, Calum added, “Think I’m gonna go with San Francisco.”

Before she could help it, Annette chimed in, “That’s a good one.”

She pressed her lips together after the comment slipped, though it was an honest one. Annette had heard Calum perform that song a while back, thought the lyrics and guitar and his voice were lovely when he played it, and the prospect of listening to it again was exciting. Except she hadn’t really meant to make herself known, her words drawing Calum’s attention towards her as his brown eyes met her bluish ones, like he hadn’t expected her to say anything, either. Annette fiddled with her thumbs under the table, forcing her closed mouth to lift into the smallest of smiles at Calum as a way of appeasing his intense stare.

But Calum offered a small smile, a real one, as he responded with a simple, “Thanks.”

Soon enough, the small exhibition started, and Blue’s fell silent as the first performer of the night got up on stage. A couple of them were familiar faces for Annette, having seen them during the occasions where she came by and Calum wasn’t playing, but there were also a few she hadn’t ever seen before. Everyone was pretty good, had their own style and genre of music that they worked into the welcoming environment of Blue’s, and Annette found herself swaying gently to every person’s song or ballad.

And then it was Calum’s turn to go up, being introduced warmly and familiarly by the manager as a household name, and their table’s cheers were the loudest as he picked up his guitar and headed towards the stage, returning Luke’s fist bump as he made his way up. Annette shifted in her seat, as if physically preparing herself to listen to Calum perform a song she’s heard before. She felt as though her eagerness and excitement was radiating off of her, the sensation familiar as it was what she experienced whenever she came to pick up some coffee before work or class and Calum was at Blue’s, right up on the stage like he was right now.

The entirety of Blue’s was dark, save for the blue lights for the ambiance, and the bright lights on Calum as he settled on the stool in front of the microphone, his sleek guitar on his lap. Annette’s eyes were glued on him, much like everyone else’s, but unlike the rest of them, she was taking in every detail her eyes would allow her to. She observed the way his tongue poked out to swipe his bottom lip, rolling it into his mouth as he made sure the microphone was leveled. The bright lights shone against his skin, glinting against the chains he wore, and Calum needed a second to adjust his eyes to the beams and Annette wondered if he could see the faces waiting for him as his gaze swept over in front of him.

With his left hand holding the neck of the guitar on his lap, Calum offered a close mouthed, humbled smile. “Evenin’, everyone,” he started, his voice amplified by the microphone as the deep and gentle rasp of his voice resounded. “I’m Calum and, uh, tonight I’m gonna play an original called San Francisco.” Annette watched his right hand move into the pocket of his pants, pulling out a guitar pick as he offered another quick smile. “Hope you like it.”

Calum started playing the chords to the song and Annette took in a quiet breath as the familiar tune reached her ears. Then Calum leaned towards the microphone, lips parting as he began singing lyrics that he’d written, and Annette wondered if she was the only one feeling goosebumps rise on her skin at the sound of his smooth, rich voice resounding around the cafe. Unlike the other times Annette has watched Calum perform at Blue’s, it was utterly silent as everyone’s attention was on him as opposed to when he played during regular business hours and there was a quiet buzz of chatter.

Now, though, everyone was listening to him, their focus solely on him as his ring clad fingers effortlessly played the guitar, and Annette was completely entranced as she watched him, lips parting absently as she listened. The emotion Calum sang with made his performance all the more enchanting, and not for the first time did Annette wonder what experience Calum went through to write a song like this—something she wondered every time she heard him perform an original song.

Annette was creative in her own right, could make up stories and characters and create a whole world out of them, but writing a song wasn’t something she could be able to do. And she was always left in awe when she listened to the songs Calum chose to share, many of them about love and then losing that love, and it often ached Annette’s heart when she listened to them. The pain he delicately and beautifully described in his songs was almost familiar to Annette, having faced loss in her life before, and she often found herself wishing Calum hadn’t had to deal with something like that. Which was ridiculous, because she didn’t know him, and life wasn’t that simple. That didn’t stop Annette from wishing it was.

Next to her, she could feel Ashton lightly drumming along to Calum’s song with his hands slapping against his thighs under the table, head subtly bopping to the music. Although she didn’t want to take her eyes off of Calum, Annette still glanced around, took in the way everyone in the room was hooked on Calum and his music, and she felt a smile tug at her lips. She didn’t know him, but she was proud.

*****

“What are you drinking?”

Annette looked up at Calum once she heard him, patiently waiting to get the bartender’s attention, and he watched the way she blinked at him once before raising her eyebrows gently. Then, with a small smile, she asked, “Are you apologizing for something?”

Pressing the tip of his tongue to the back of his bottom teeth, Calum let out an airy chuckle, knowing she was referring to when he bought her that iced coffee as a way of making up for his behavior at the party. “No,” Calum told her truthfully, left elbow resting against the bar top as he faced the shorter blonde girl. “Just, uh, tryin’ to be nice, I guess.”

Calum had no reason not to be nice to Annette, and since she was basically Luke’s new best friend, Calum knew he couldn’t be an asshole to her without reason. She’d never given him a reason to act the way he did, and she really was a nice girl from what he could tell. Calum had seen her during his performance earlier tonight, had seen the way her eyes seemed to be glued to her in unabashed awe, and it only made him further understand that she genuinely did enjoy his music.

Just because he was miserable more than half the time, didn’t give him the right to treat others like that.

He saw her smile widen just a bit at her words, eyes flickering to the row of bottles behind the bar before telling Calum, “Rum and Coke.”

Flagging the bartender down, Calum relayed her order and added in his own. They were at a bar a couple of blocks away from Blue’s, the group of them shifting over after the performances were over around ten at night. The weekend permitted them to go out, though Calum didn’t plan on staying too late.

“So be honest.” He dragged Annette’s attention once more, and Calum could just barely see the hint of dark blue that lined the outer of her otherwise brown irises. In that moment, he absently decided she had the most interesting eyes he’d ever seen. “Did you think I was an asshole when we first met?”

“I—what?” The startled laugh that Annette released upon hearing Calum’s question wasn’t entirely expected, her eyebrows shooting up as she leaned back a bit. But he kept looking at her, raising his own eyebrows to let her know that he was, frankly, asking a genuine question, because he wouldn’t be surprised if she did. When Annette realized how serious he was, the smile on her face faltered a bit as she shook her head. “No, I didn’t. That’s just—that would be an extreme reaction, Calum. I’m not that sensitive.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, finger absently prodding at the bartop, nail scraping against a crack on it. “But I did, like, make you feel bad, didn’t I? To some extent?”

Annette looked at him, and Calum tried to remain neutral and unaffected by the subtle narrowing of her eyes as she took him apart with her gaze. She was trying to figure him out and Calum couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed because she was doing it so. . . Kindly. Her gaze was gentle, welcoming, like she didn’t want to alarm him or put him off as she tried to figure him out. Calum wondered what kind of magical fucking powers Annette possessed to keep him feeling comfortable even as her mind picked him apart. Maybe it was the glittering of her eyes, or the soft way she looked at him. Because even with her thick blonde hair and long lashes and tattoos, she still reminded Calum of soft.

“Are you trying to make yourself feel guilty about it again?” Annette asked, and this time Calum did feel himself freeze at her words. Had it really been that easy for her to figure him out? Or was she just generally that good at reading people? She gazed up at him, earnest and true. “Because I told you, Calum, it wasn’t a big deal. It happened and it’s over. Honestly—it’s not a big deal.” With an easy, light laugh, Annette added, “Don’t make it seem like you, like, bitched me out or something. It’s all good.”

She was terribly easy going, Calum realized, as the bartender handed them their drinks. Not the type to hold a grudge, it seemed.

Honestly, Calum wasn’t entirely sure why he was bringing it up again, wasn’t sure where the lingering guilt was coming from—or if guilt was too strong of a word. Maybe he just still felt bad? Especially after he saw how much Annette seemed to enjoy his single song performance at Blue’s. Through the bright spotlights at the cafe, Calum had been able to make out the faces of his friends once his eyes had adjusted, and while their encouraging smiles had been expected and welcome, Calum had also took in the way Annette had been watching him.

It unexpectedly warmed him. He knew it wasn’t the heat from the lights.

So, yeah. He suddenly found himself wanting to start a clean slate. Even if he started off thinking he didn’t care.

It was something about her eyes. Calum was certain of it.

“Come on,” Annette cut through his thoughts, lifting up her glass with an easy going smile lifting her pink lips. “To friends of friends.”

At that, Calum let out a quiet chuckle, quirking an eyebrow as the bar buzzed around them. The music was loud and people were chattering all over, but Calum’s eyes were on Annette’s smiling ones. “Think we can cut the middle man out here,” he told her with a small smile of his own. Annette raised her eyebrows, soft smile ever present, as Calum raised his glass as well, clinking it with hers as he corrected, “To being friends.”

*****

When Annette received her drink and turned around to head towards the door, she stopped when her eyes landed on the familiar face sitting at a table near the windows. It wasn’t hard because Calum was already looking at her, laptop in front of him but gaze on her as he raised his hand in a single wave, and Annette felt a smile tug at her lips.

She made her way over to him, because now she could, now they were friends. Ever since the event here at Blue’s and their conversation at the bar after, a friendship had been established between the two of them, discarding their first meeting all together in hopes of moving forward. He leaned forward in his chair as she approached him, arms folded and a small smile tilted his lips once she got to him.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Annette greeted with a teasing grin, standing beside the round table.

Calum chuckled quietly, lifting his hand and tilting his head to let his fingers mess up his slightly unruly curls. “You headed to class?” he questioned, looking up at her with dark brown eyes that reminded Annette too much of chocolate.

“No,” she responded with a shake of her head. “I just finished a shift, actually, and I needed my after-work caffeine.”

He quirked an eyebrow as he asked, “So you’ve got nowhere to be?” Her smile returned at the knowing tone of his voice, felt something pathetically flutter in the pit of her stomach as she hummed out a no with a shake of her head and he gestured to the empty seat across from him. As she settled down, Calum’s eyes took in her drink visible through the transparent cup, and he raised his eyebrows before letting out an amused scoff. “That’s the. . . Froofiest drink I’ve ever seen.”

Annette let out a protesting, mock-insulted laugh as she defended, “Hey, don’t make fun of my drink.” She took a sip through the straw, watching Calum watch her with scrunched eyebrows raised and a bemused expression on his face. “It’s a passion iced tea. With blackberries.”

Calum, still, was not still not impressed. “It’s purple,” he deadpanned.

With a scoff, Annette said with a small pout, “Don’t make fun of my froo-froo drink.” Jutting her chin at his cup, she narrowed her eyes challengingly and mocked, “What about you? Black coffee is boring.”

Calum wasn’t offended or apologetic. “It’s normal. No froo-froo.”

Annette’s smile returned, unable to keep the teasing lilt in her voice. “Everyone needs a little froo-froo in their life.” She couldn’t hope to keep a serious expression on her face, the laughter bubbling past. Annette’s chest tightened happily when she managed to get a laugh out of him in response. A breathy, raspy sound that was short yet did show his amusement with the conversation. She wondered what he sounded like when he laughed with everything in him.

Their conversation moved on as Calum asked her about work, the noise of the cafe melting into the background, breaking every so often when the barista at the counter called out a customer’s name whenever their drink was ready. Annette had realized that talking to Calum, once she adjusted her nerves, was pretty easy. He was easy to talk to, once he decided he wanted to actually hold a conversation, and Annette felt pretty good about the fact that he actually wanted to talk to her.

That was probably pathetic, she knew, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

She liked talking to him, liked listening to the sound of his voice when he wasn’t singing, just as smooth and rich as he engaged with her. Calum talked leisurely, like he was in no rush, and he listened just like that, too. As if he had all of the time in the world to listen to whatever Annette was saying, and it was a complete change from when they met that first night. And it only proved to her that she’d caught him on a bad day, that the Calum from that party wasn’t how he actually treated people, but the one sitting across from her was a more honest and true version of him.

The way he stared at her as they talked was something Annette knew would take some time getting used to. His dark eyes stayed on her lighter ones, as if he was taking in every detail while also listening, and Annette often found herself with a dry throat, in need of clearing it to keep herself grounded. It was dangerously easy getting lost because of Calum’s stare. She wondered how many others had fallen victim to it.

“The Great British Baking Show? Really?” Annette asked incredulously, eyebrows raised as a disbelieving grin spread at her lips. She was gaping at Calum, who huffed with arms crossed over his chest as he frowned at her, though no true defiance was present.

“Why’s that so hard to believe?” he returned, obviously not getting why his admittance to one of his guilty pleasures was so shocking.

Annette laughed, good humored and melodious as she gave a shake of her head. “I just can’t picture you watching something like that. It’s just—there’s no image in my head,” she said with a laugh, her words only causing Calum to roll his eyes.

“Come over one day and then you’ll be able to—”

“Liana!”

Calum instantly cut himself off as the barista’s voice cut through his words, prompting Annette to raise her eyebrows in slight startlement at the unexpected stop. She watched him, eyebrows lowering slowly into a frown as his dark eyed gaze remained behind her in the direction of the counter, all previous lightheartedness completely vanishing from his expression. Brown eyes wide, there was a hint of alarm swimming in them as Calum pressed his lips together, the muscle in his jaw jumping, clearly looking like a man who didn’t like what he was seeing. There was a rigidness in his features, tight and uncomfortable with drawn together eyes lifted and worry reluctantly seeping into his eyes as well.

His lips parted, still looking behind Annette as he quietly breathed out, “Fuck’s sake.”

Calum’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he clenched his jaw once more and Annette grew more concerned over his suddenly irate demeanor, looking like he wasn’t sure if he was exasperated or just wanted to disappear from sight altogether. Hesitantly, Annette asked, “Are you okay?” Slowly, she turned around to see what he was staring so intensely at. “What’re you looking at?”

It wasn’t that busy during this time in the late evening at Blue’s, so Annette’s gaze went directly towards one of the few women she saw standing in the general direction Calum had been staring at. She was pretty, with dark brown hair just a little past her shoulders and legs that looked spectacular in the jeans she was wearing. The woman stood talking to a guy by the counter and Annette guessed he was waiting for his order or something, and with a curious quirk of her brow, she kept her questioning gaze on them as she asked Calum, “Do you know her?”

“Yeah,” came Calum’s response, slow and gruff, his change of tone as surprising as his fallen expression. “You can say that.”

As if hearing Calum’s voice from where she stood, Annette caught the way the woman’s head turned and gaze looked right past her—and right at the man Annette was sharing a table with. Even from where she sat, Annette saw the recognition flash across the other girl’s face, eyes narrowing ever so slightly before they widened in realization.

And then Annette watched her touch the arm of the guy she was with as she said something to him, before she began making her way over, and Annette’s eyebrows raised as she turned back in her seat to face Calum and matter-of-factly said, “Yeah, ’cause she definitely knows you.”

Her gaze finally landed on Calum, who looked like he wanted to be anywhere but at Blue’s in that moment. Annette could tell he was struggling to school his expression, the tightness born out of frustration and something else fighting to make itself known on his face, and she couldn’t help but frown at him. Clearly whoever the woman making their way over to him was, was not someone Calum wanted to deal with as his hands wrapped around the edge of his laptop screen, and Annette was briefly worried he was going to snap it in half just as the woman stepped up to the table.

“Calum, hi.” She spoke in a friendly tone, though without even knowing her, Annette could pick up the subtle hesitance lying underneath. Glancing up at her, she saw the girl—Annette guessed her name was Liana, given that was the name that had Calum getting all closed up—nervously grab the strap of her back with her free hand, the other holding her drink. Her honey colored eyes swept over to Annette, a small smile present. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt.” She looked back at Calum once Annette offered a no worries type of smile. Was it bad to say she was curious as to what was going on? Looking back at Calum, Liana said, “I just saw you and I, uh, wanted to come say hi.” She bit her lower lip hesitantly. “How are you?”

Liana seemed to genuinely want to know, and Annette’s eyebrows lowered ever so slightly as she watched the two of them. Calum had leaned back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest, and Annette had a feeling it was his way of defending himself from whatever weight this conversation was about to bring. Annette felt as though she was intruding, but getting up now would be too obvious and awkward.

“We’re not friends, Liana.” If Annette had thought Calum was cold towards her during their first meeting, it made that interaction look impeccable in terms of Calum’s demeanor now. She eyed him, silent in concern, at the edge that had bit into his tone and the way his eyes were suddenly void of all emotion. It was unnerving how good he was at that; like Calum had just flipped a switch and was able to hide everything he was feeling that had the chance of showing itself on his face. It was all gone, replaced by uninterested blankness with the creeping edge of dismissal and irritation. Those were the only emotions he allowed to convey, and Annette forced herself to remain a quiet presence. His gaze was sharp as he looked at the standing woman. “Wasn’t our last conversation meant to be our last?”

Annette pursed her lips, her gaze suddenly dropping to the table in front of her, like if she didn’t look at the two people, it’d be like she wasn’t listening in on the way Calum was completely shutting Liana down. She fiddled with her fingers in her lap, feeling the tension suddenly increase tenfold following Calum’s words. Annette understood that she had definitely caught Calum on a bad day the night of the party, because Liana was definitely not someone Calum wanted to be around at all. Annette felt bad for her; she hadn’t felt too great after Calum had walked away, she could only imagine how Liana was feeling.

There was a history there, that much was obvious, and Annette justifiably wondered what could’ve happened that had Calum talking to her like that.

Annette could see Liana shifting uncomfortably from her peripheral. “Come on, Calum,” she tried again, this time a nervous laugh escaping her. “It’s been—”

“Five months,” he cut in. Annette glanced up at him in enough time to see him say, “’S not long enough.”

She took a quiet breath when she noted the stare Calum was wearing: sharp, unforgiving, unapologetic. Annette wondered how Liana was still standing in the face of it, figuring that if she was on the receiving end of it, she would definitely turn and run away just because of the utter heat his glare was radiating. Holy shit—what had Liana done that warranted her such a hostile reaction from him?

Annette managed to look up, her gaze going to Liana, who had a defeated expression on her face that made the seated blonde feel sorry for her. Liana’s throat worked, her cheeks flushing an embarrassed pink, and Annette wondered why the woman didn’t snap back at Calum for speaking to her like that. Annette probably wasn’t one to say something like that, given how Calum had walked away from her the first time, but to be fair, their interaction wasn’t anywhere near as intense as this one. It was brief, quick, like ripping off a bandaid. This was almost too painful to watch.

Just as Annette thought that, she saw a shift in Liana in the way she tightened her jaw, blinking back the hurt Calum’s words enticed as she lifted her chin. With a calm tone that allowed for her own edge to creep in, Liana said to him, “If you remember the last time we spoke, then you remember what I said to you.” Her eyes gave him a once over, the corner of her lips quirking into the smallest of sneers, like she was disappointed but unsurprised with what she was looking at. “But I guess you didn’t listen. As usual.”

Annette saw the instant reaction Liana’s words invited on Calum’s face, the way his dark eyes narrowed instinctively, like he couldn’t believe what she’d just said. His jaw tightened. Like he was fighting to keep himself from reacting but couldn’t. Liana’s words, the meaning lost on Annette, clearly struck a harsh cord with Calum as his shoulders straightened, lips thinning as he fought the words threatening to escape.

But before Calum could say anything—Annette was sure she wouldn’t want to hear it—someone stepped up next to Liana and said, “Ready to go, babe?”

All eyes shifted to the newcomer, the guy Annette had seen with Liana earlier, as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. He seemed oblivious to the tension as he smiled at Liana, gaze sweeping over Annette and Calum as a second thought. He offered both of them friendly smiles, one Annette returned automatically before her gaze flickered to Calum instinctively, because she felt as though she needed to keep an eye on him.

And she was right to, because otherwise she would’ve missed the tightness of his jaw and the way his throat worked as he eyed the guy, or, more accurately, eyed the way his arm was around Liana. She watched Calum take in the sight of the couple, her eyebrows twitching together in a curious and concerned frown as she tried to figure out what Calum was feeling in that moment. To say he was bothered would be putting it lightly; he almost looked uncomfortable, defeated. . . Not surprised as he let out an airy scoff, nodding to himself as he leaned back.

His gaze dropped to his laptop screen, pulling one corner of his lip into his mouth, looking completely finished with this conversation and Annette frowned at him. What the hell was going on?  

“Yeah,” she heard Liana say, her voice growing tight with agitation. “Bye, Calum. Sorry to interrupt.”

They left, their footsteps growing faint the further they moved away, melding into the low hum of the cafe as they exited, leaving behind an awkward silence Annette wasn’t sure how to ease. She took a look at Calum hesitantly, pulling her lower lip into her mouth as she caught sight of him staring out the window to his right. The lights of the city reflected against the glass and his dark eyes, but the outside world melted into the late evening night as Annette watched the clench of his jaw and hardened eyes.

She had no idea who Liana was, but it wasn’t hard to connect the dots that there was some kind of intense history between her and Calum, and whatever Liana meant by her words had hit Calum more than he wanted them to. Annette parted her lips, hesitant, before pressing them together again. She found the courage quickly to gently ask, “Are you okay?”

Calum was silent for a moment. Then it was like something snapped in his head, motions quick and jerking as he shut his laptop, grunting out, “I need a drink.” His gaze dropped to the half finished cup in front of him, frown deepening. “Somethin’ stronger than coffee.”

Annette’s eyes widened slightly, eyebrows raised as she watched him shove his laptop in his backpack before shouldering it as he stood up. Her eyes followed his movements and Calum paused when he noticed her still sitting, watching him. He raised an eyebrow, impatient as he questioned, “You comin’?”

“Uh.” She gaped at him, not entirely expecting the invite, not when he seemed so agitated. His grip on the strap of his bag was tight, and Annette figured he’d want to be alone since he seemed so upset. But if he was about drink in a pissed off mood, Annette would rather keep an eye on him. “Yeah, sure,” she quickly confirmed, feeling as if she took too long to answer, Calum may change her mind.

He waited as she stood up and pulled her jacket back on, grabbing her bag as she followed him out of the cafe. It was chilly, unsurprisingly, as they stepped onto the sidewalk and began making their way down, but Annette was quick to realize they weren’t walking in the direction of the bar they’d been at a week ago.

She eyed Calum as he walked along next to her, just a subtle pace ahead due to his longer legs, his dark eyes staring straight ahead as they went. Annette hesitated on opening her mouth but after they walked a few blocks in nothing but silence save for the buzz of the city around them, she slowly asked, “We’re not going to Mack’s?”

Calum licked his teeth. “If I go to a bar I’m gonna blow all my money. Better to raid my own supply,” he answered steadily, eyes shifting to glance down at her. “You cool with that?”

Annette raised her eyebrows as a way of agreeing. “Yeah, ’course.”

So she stayed quiet as she followed Calum through the city, finally reaching the apartment complex after they walked a few blocks, took a subway ride, and then walked another two blocks. The entire time, Calum had remained silent and Annette kept her arms crossed as every step closer they got to his place, the more she wondered if it was a good idea to go with him—if he even still wanted her to come along. He was clearly not in a good mood and Annette wasn’t sure if he still wanted her company, but she stayed silent. After all, Annette was still kind of wanted to keep an eye on him if he was about to drink.

Her body felt tense with nerves as they stood in the elevator, side by side in complete silence, until they stopped in front of a door that Calum unlocked and opened. He stepped in behind her, flicking on a switch to light up the living room, and Annette took in the dark grey couch facing a TV, windows not quite floor to ceiling but large enough to provide optimal natural light if the blinds weren’t drawn. It was an open plan kitchen and hallway leading towards the bedroom, probably, and Annette admired the apartment. It was simple, with hints of personal touches like concert posters and a shelf full of books and records in the corner, along with a bunch of plants placed strategically.

The sound of keys clattering startled Annette, head turning to see Calum’s hand retract from a small table behind the couch where he’d dropped his keys. She felt awkward, no doubt, given that this was her first time at Calum’s place, as Calum shrugged off his leather jacket and dropped it to the couch before making his way towards the kitchen.

He cast her a look as he went. “Whiskey?”

She followed him with her eyes before pulling out of the brief trance and shrugging off her own jacket. She followed him. Annette wasn’t entirely sure if she’d regret this, but she didn’t quite care in the moment. “Sure.”

The apartment was silent save for the clinking of the Jim Beam bottle and glasses Calum pulled out, placing them on the counter. It was a full bottle, untouched, and Annette felt an uneasy twist of her stomach at the thought of Calum potentially wanting to finish it all tonight. Had his conversation with Liana really affected him so much?

Annette kept her gaze on him, noting his features completely void of any expression as he uncapped the bottle and poured some in each glass. He lifted one of them, dark eyes finally meeting Annette’s light ones as he held the glass out to her expectantly. She took it, offering a small smile as she found herself asking, “What’re we toasting to?”

Calum paused, lips parting to roll his lower one in, tongue swiping over it as his gaze averted thoughtfully, free hand braced on the counter. Then a wry smile curled at his lips, head tilting as his eyes met Annette’s, the sarcasm in both his gaze and voice as he declared, “To being emotionally unavailable.”

That was not at all what she was expecting. Annette looked at him, eyebrows raised in bewilderment as Calum flashed her a derisive smile while clinking their glasses and taking a sip of his drink. But Annette kept staring, wondering why the hell Calum would say something like that—and the way he said it, too. Like he was mocking someone else’s words, ready to spit on them and shove them back in the face of whoever had uttered them.

And she watched as Calum downed the contents of his glass, throat working as he swallowed and sucking in a breath through his teeth as he eyed the now empty glass. “Right, come on,” Calum spoke up, looking at Annette as he grabbed for the bottle with his free hand and walked around the counter. He jutted his chin. “Let’s plant that image of me watching The Great British Baking Show in your head.”

“Uh—” Annette sounded, trying to wrap her head around what was happening. She frowned briefly. “Okay,” she finished slowly as she turned and followed him.

They settled on the couch as calum turned on the TV, and Annette sipped at her whiskey as Calum switched to Netflix. The sweet mixed with smokey taste tickled her throat as Calum played the first episode of one of the seasons.

Annette tried not to think of how. . . Strange this was. She hadn’t exactly planned on watching some baking show while drinking whiskey in Calum’s apartment, and yet here she was, wondering how the hell she ended up here. It didn’t help that Calum’s words were swimming around in her head, drowning out the sound of the TV as she wondered why he toasted to being emotionally unavailable.

They were silent, much like they had been since they left Blue’s, the only sounds emitting from their surroundings as the hum of the city was replaced by the TV. Annette watched Calum from the corner of her eye, sipping her drink and feeling it run smoothly down her throat once she grew used to the taste. He watched the show, slouched on the couch as he sipped from his own glass and kept his gaze glued on the TV, curls brushing across his forehead that Annette itched to push away.

She had so many questions.

But for now, she finished her drink, licking her lips and taking a breath before holding her empty glass out to Calum. He looked at her and then at the glass, lips quirking with a small grin she hadn’t seen since Liana had showed up, a sight that almost jump started her heart, and poured her some more whiskey.

*****

Annette wasn’t really drunk, but saying she was a hundred percent sober would be a lie. She felt slightly lighter than before, laying on the couch with her head resting on the armrest and knees bent so her legs didn’t go over Calum’s lap. He was still in the same position as they had started, slouched on his head of the couch, only this time he was hugging the now empty bottle of whiskey.

“Oh, shit!” he exclaimed, startling Annette as she lifted her head to look at him. Calum was pointing to the TV, eyes wide and lips curling into a wide grin as he waved his hand in such a comical way that Annette couldn’t keep in her amused laugh. “Her biscuit tower fell! She’s fucked!”

Her gaze returned to the TV where a contestant’s tower of biscuits did, in fact, fall over as she scrambled to race against the clock to correct the mistake, and Annette couldn’t keep her laughter in because of Calum’s overreaction, too drunk to keep himself quiet as he guffawed. She watched him, feeling the giggles come a lot easier now that there was some alcohol in her, admiring the flush of his cheeks due to the entire bottle he’d finished after she only had about three glasses.  

Annette wasn’t entirely sure how long she’d been at Calum’s apartment, laying on his couch and watching British people make baked goods as he let out drunken comments and laughs every now and again. When Annette had told him she couldn’t find an image in her head of him watching this show, she’d been right; but now, all she could see was Calum dropping comments of dough not proven for long enough or cakes that looked like a toddler iced them. And it was hilariously unexpected, bringing a lightness to her chest every time he said something. Clearly he spent some time watching the show, and it only kind of made Annette’s heart beat for him a little faster.

When she checked her phone, she sucked in a breath to see that it was almost one in the morning, and if she hoped to wake up for her nine o’clock shift tomorrow, she needed to head home now. So Annette sighed as she blinked slowly, a mixture of slight tipsiness and sleepiness as she pushed herself into a sitting position, running her fingers through her blonde hair to push it back.

“I should head home,” she said, her voice soft against the TV as she shifted to get her feet to touch the ground. Her sneakers were next to the couch as she bent to grab them and shove her feet inside.

“Already?” Calum shifted next to her, sitting up and Annette looked at him, feeling her heart jump at the frown lowering his eyebrows and pout on his full lips to go with the whine he’d spoken with.

Letting out a gentle laugh, Annette responded, “I’ve been here for four hours, Calum. It’s time for bed.”

“Well,” he dragged out the word as he looked around for the remote before finding it and pausing the show, shoulders slumped as he asked her sadly, “why don’t you sleep here? It’s late and—”

“I’ve got work early tomorrow,” Annette told him, her voice kind and heart warm at his offer. God, she’d stay here any other day. But neither of them were completely sober, and work the next day really was killing the mood. The way Calum was pouting at her, drunken and adorable, wasn’t at all helping her in any way, working against her to make her want to stay. But she couldn’t. She’d stayed to make sure he was alright, and while he was drunk, he seemed to be okay. Maybe she’d tell Luke to check on him tomorrow. “I’ll take an Uber. I don’t live far from here anyway.”

Annette stood up, blinking once as she made sure she had her footing, the lightheadedness present from the whiskey. Shrugging on her jacket, she pulled her hair from under the collar and looked down at Calum to see him staring up at her. His dark eyes were glazed over, cheeks and nose flushed cutely, and the sudden urge to kiss him that overcame Annette threatened to rob her of her breath. She needed to get out of here.

“Text me when you get home?” Calum questioned as he stood, and he had less balance than Annette, unsurprisingly, as he let out a quiet whoa with raised eyebrows as he dropped the empty bottle on the couch and grabbed the back of it to keep himself upright.

Annette let out a laugh as she began making her way towards the door, Calum right behind her once he got his footing. “Will you be awake when I do?” she questioned teasingly after opening the door, stepping into the hall, and turning around to face him with a raised eyebrow.

Calum let out a scoff of a laugh—was it a scoff? He almost blew a raspberry—as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the doorframe—whether it was just an absent action or because he couldn’t keep himself upright, Annette wasn’t sure. Being a bit tipsy was inhibiting her ability to read people. Still, she admired how fucking good he looked in his simple black full sleeved shirt, the fabric of it straining against his biceps since his arms were crossed, and across his chest.

“For you?” Calum questioned as a response to hers, raising his eyebrows as a lazy, boyish grin lifted at his lips. It was a smile that easily had Annette’s heart jumping to her throat, though it didn’t compare to the way a glint danced across his dark eyes when he finished with a factual, “Of course.”

Her cheeks flushed, warmer than the whiskey ever made her as she ducked her head, fighting off a smile, and Calum grinned at her reaction. He tilted his head, leaning it against the doorframe as he watched her, his gaze burning into her wonderfully. When Annette looked back at him, at the relaxed features he was finally expressing and the easy, yet drunken, smile on his lips, she suddenly felt the question that had been nagging her fall at the tip of her tongue.

She wanted to keep it in, to not ruin the moment, but Annette crossed her own arms across her chest and gently asked, “What was that about being emotionally unavailable, Calum?”

There had been no lead up or preemptive move before she voiced that question, but Annette had been keeping it in since the moment Calum had made that toast. Her curiosity itched at her, and with the bit of whiskey running through her veins, it gave Annette enough of an excuse to finally utter it.

She watched as Calum registered her question before his eyes closed, lips lifting into a smile as he let out another scoff while ducking his head. He looked at her once he straightened, curls once again falling over his forehead, and Annette was surprised there was no trace of the dry, humorless smile that had been on his face when he made that toast.

Instead, Calum returned to leaning his head against the doorframe, looking down at her shorter figure with a reminiscent smile on his face. Maybe it was the alcohol in his system that allowed Calum to so easily confess, “Liana and I dated for a while and, uh, broke up five months ago because, according to her, I was too emotionally unavailable to be in a relationship with her. So she found someone who was.”

He ended with a single shrug and a roll of his eyes, but Annette frowned as she saw past that mask. She had figured there was some kind of romantic past between the two of them, but to see Calum still hurt about it had her biting the inside of her cheek, empathizing with him. She imagined being told that you weren’t emotionally attached to your significant other by them couldn’t have been easy, and Annette’s chest tightened for him. And as she watched Calum drop his gaze to the doorframe where his nail was scratched at it, arms still crossed, Annette knew Calum probably felt dumb for being upset about it. But she wanted to tell him he was right to. Him being upset was justified, in her opinion. She didn’t like seeing him like this.

“For what it’s worth,” Annette spoke up, her voice quiet and soft, eyes on him even though he was avoiding her gaze. The tall, broad man in front of her looked small as he tried to hide behind an invisible wall, like he was ashamed of having feelings. Ashamed of being the opposite of the very thing he’d been accused of. So she spoke gently, honestly, in the silence of the late hour. “I think if you’re capable of writing those beautiful songs and singing them with the kind of passion you do, then there’s no way you’re emotionally unavailable.”

The pure honesty in her words had Calum lifting his head, brown eyes finally meeting her bluish-brown ones as he ceased picking at the door frame, and Annette kept the kind smile on her lips as she noted the whirlwind of emotions that flashed across his pretty eyes. She saw them under the glaze of the alcohol as he gazed at her, the sleepiness from the alcohol disappearing for a moment to be replaced with an appreciation for her and her words.

Her statement was followed by a silence that settled upon them like a blanket, and Annette could feel the way the two of them were drawing close to one another under the shelter of it. Their movements were gradual, eyes locked and hearts thundering the closer they got.

Somewhere in the back of her head, Annette could hear a voice telling her to stop; to pull back and turn and leave, but she was quick to shush it. This may be a bad idea, but she didn’t care all too much in this moment. She wanted to ignore her head and listen to her heart, wanted to let her body draw near Calum’s as every second went back, hoping the whiskey in her veins didn’t cause her to lose her balance.

As soon as Annette’s gaze dropped from Calum’s, his dark eyes only alluring her more, and flickered to his lips, there was no going back. Because suddenly she was feeling Calum’s hands cradling her jaw, thumbs on her cheeks as he tilted her head up enough to capture her lips with his in a surprisingly tender kiss. Annette’s eyes slipped shut instantly, her hands gently grasping his wrists as she slowly moved her lips with Calum’s, the sensation of his savoringly sucking on her lower lip sparking a fire in her fueled blood that she voiced through a satisfied hum.

It was a slow kiss, getting to know the feel of one another’s lips as the faint taste of whiskey danced on their tongues and Calum’s touch burned wonderfully at Annette’s skin. She callouses of his thumbs were nothing compared to the warmth his touch provided, or the electricity shocking Anette to her very core as Calum kissed her tenderly.

They pulled away moments later, not because they wanted to but because they had to, air becoming a necessary evil. The kiss ended but their lips dragged against one another’s, noses fitting together and foreheads pressed as Annette kept her eyes closed. All she could hear was the pounding of her heart, feel Calum against her, and inhale the delicious scent of his woodsy, summery cologne and something else that was just him and maybe even more inviting. Annette had no idea what the hell just happened, but she was glad it did.

She couldn’t stay though, no matter how much she wanted to. She needed to go home and maybe think of what she’d just done on the drive back, and maybe hope that the tingling sensation of her lips never went away as she found herself squeezing Calum’s slender wrists under her grasp. “Um.” Annette let out a short, breathless laugh, lips curled into a flustered grin and squeezing her closed eyes before opening them. Her gaze immediately went to Calum’s lips, the ones she’d just kissed, the urge to do so again rushing back powerfully. Annette took a breath as Calum brushed his nose against hers, humming quietly in response, as she finally found the reluctant words, “I should go.”

Against her, Calum brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. His voice was low with an enticing rasp as he responded, “Sounds like a terrible idea.”

Annette let out another breathless giggle as her hands dropping from his wrists and lowered to where his arms were bent at his elbows. Somehow, she found it in herself to pull away, head tilting back ever so slightly to look at him, stomach twisting happily to see his brown eyes already looking at her. She couldn’t be entirely sure if he was looking at her so adoring because he truly meant it or because he was drunk, but Annette didn’t want to ruin the moment by thinking about it. God, she needed to go.

“I’ll, uh, text you when I get home?” Annette responded, her words coming out as a question as she peered up at him, unsure if the offer still stood.

“Please.” He sounded far too earnest for someone who was drunk, and it didn’t make falling for him any harder.

Annette reluctantly pulled away from him, hands dropping from him as he did the same, gazing licking as she offered him a smile. Calum returned it, boyish and lazy, as he crossed his arms over his chest like he didn’t know what to do with them now that his hands weren’t on her.

He watched her go, and Annette could feel his gaze burning into her back as she approached the elevator at the end of the short hall. It opened up right away, and when she stepped in and turned around, her heart jumped at the sight of Calum, leaning out of his doorway to keep his eyes on her. She saw him grin, raising his hand in a two finger salute as the doors slid closed, and Annette desperately wanted to pry them open and go back to Calum.

Trying to figure out if that was just a drunken kiss or if it meant something would only dampen her mood. So Annette put it of her mind, and only focused on the way her lips still tingled and burned from Calum’s own. The smile remained on her face her entire journey home, practically permanently glued when she texted Calum she reached safely, as promised, and he returned it with a semi coherent Good. Night, doll.

*****

“Your two favorite people are right here. What do you keep looking at your phone for, Hemmings?”

Calum’s tease received an absent smile from Luke, though it faltered quickly as a worried expression crossed over his face and he placed his phone on the table. “Just checking in on Annette,” he sighed, leaning back and propping his elbow on the armrest of his chair, running his hand down his face.

Upon noticing Luke’s expression, and hearing his words, the smile on Calum’s face lessened as his eyebrows drew together, gaze flickering over to Sierra. His confusion grew when he saw the understanding expression on her face, and Calum sat up as he looked at Luke sitting diagonal of him. “Is she okay?” he asked, wondering what could prompt Luke to want to check in on her.

Luke’s blue eyes met Calum’s brown, the hesitation that crossed over his face only making Calum anxious as he frowned impatiently. “It’s just—it’s a tough day for her,” Luke answered, hand running through his blonde curls, a nervous habit of his. When he took in the look Calum was giving him, wanting an explanation, Luke held back the ill-timed yet absent chuckle that almost threatened to escape him. Calum’s interest in Annette was obvious, was endearing, which was why Luke found himself admitting, “It’s the anniversary of her parents’ death.”

The expression on Calum’s face went from blank to disbelieving in under a second, Luke’s words registering a bit too painfully in his head. Painfully because it was unexpected and because once Calum understood the heavy weight behind them, he felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach for Annette. For a split, desperate second Calum was hoping Luke was delivering the punch line of a sick joke, but the somber expression on his face—and on Sierra’s—told Calum his best friend’s words were that of a sad, horrible truth.  

He stared at Luke, incredulous and bewildered, eyebrows drawn together in a frown over widened eyes as he tried to make sense of what he’d just been told. The busy hum of the restaurant the three of them were in dissipated as a flurry of thoughts whirled in Calum’s head, driven by disbelief and even a hint of panic. Annette’s parents were dead and Calum had no idea.

Not that he had any business in knowing, because as much as this newfound information shocked him and even had his heart dropping, what astounded Calum even more was Annette herself. This girl who was kind of shy but had the prettiest, infectious smile had suffered a loss Calum couldn’t ever imagine going through. Of course he didn’t expect her to walk around advertising the painful fact, but knowing Annette carried something as heavy as that with her and didn’t let it show made his throat tighten.

Calum cared for her, more than he thought he would when they first met, his feelings for her growing unexpectedly and out of left field. Annette drew him in after Calum got his head out of his ass and started hanging out with her, getting to know her and her taste for weird colored drinks. She was quiet but chatted when she was comfortable, much like Calum, and the more he hung out with her, the more he realized how easy and effortless it was with Annette.

So effortless that Calum had no idea he was falling for her until the alcohol in his system pushed him far enough to kiss her. The fact that she reciprocated was thrilling.

At a loss for words, Calum licked his lips, throat dry as he asked Luke with his gaze dropping to the blonde’s phone, “Did she reply?”

The corner of Luke’s lips lifted as he disgruntledly clicked his tongue. “Yeah, she said she just got back from Jersey and was home now. Says she’s fine but, y’know, I’m worried.”

“Ten years,” Sierra murmured and Calum’s eyes drifted to her. Her dark eyed gaze was on the table absently, a sympathetic furrow in her eyebrows for the woman they were all talking about. Sierra pressed her lips together and gave a dejected shake of her head, finally looking at the two men as she let out a sigh. “That’s a big one.”

Calum barely knew Annette for ten weeks, yet he felt the powerful urge to be able to ease the ten years worth of pain she was probably going through.

Which is why after his late lunch with Luke and Sierra, he found himself standing in front of the dark green door of Annette’s apartment, lips rolled into his mouth as he debated on knocking. He’d texted her after he left the restaurant, his two messages of Are you home? and Luke told me being responded with Yeah, come over?

Now he was there, willing himself to knock. The last time Calum had seen Annette was two days after they’d kissed, and that was also two days ago. They were busy with work and school, and although they hadn’t seen each other, that didn’t mean they didn’t speak. It was as if nothing between them had changed when they texted, but there was an undertone present that reminded them of that moment at Calum’s door—as if they could forget.

Calum certainly couldn’t. He swore he could still feel the softness of Annette’s lips against his, taste the combination of whiskey and her watermelon flavored chapstick that he yearned for again. Kissing Annette had been an impulsive, drunken decision but it was not one he regretted. If anything, the alcohol pushed him to do something Calum had subconsciously been wanting to do for a while. Seeing Liana led him to wanting a drink, which turned into drinking a whole bottle of whiskey, which eventually led to him kissing Annette.

Seeing his ex hadn’t been the highlight of his day, but saying the day ended on a better note would be an understatement.

Standing in front of Annette’s door, though, Calum knew he didn’t want anything from her right now. He just wanted to be there for her. She may not have asked him to, and he feared he was imposing, but he cared about her in a way that tightened his throat at the thought of her hurting. Calum just wanted to offer any kind of help she may need. He wanted to try.

The door opened after his knuckles rapped against it twice, and Calum was greeted by the sight of Annette, his heart jumping into his throat. Her thick blonde hair was down in its loose waves, looking adoringly comfortable in an oversized sweater ready to swallow her with its sleeves too long and leggings underneath. Calum gazed at her, taking in intricate eyes and the long lashes framing them, as well as how her entire face had a flush to it. She’d been crying.

“Hey,” she greeted, and Calum felt the air rush out of his lungs as her lips quirked into a small smile. He didn’t want her to smile if she didn’t feel like it. Didn’t want her to smile at his expense. But he squashed that last thought when Annette’s eyes showed some relief, and she let go of the door knob when Calum took a step forward and lifted her arms. “I’m glad you’re here.”

He got the message instantly, pulling her in for the hug she was looking for with his arms around her shoulders, feeling Annette’s wrap around his torso. Her fruity scent enveloped him invitingly and Calum pressed his cheek to the top of her head, feeling her own press against his chest and her hands on his back. They held each other close, soaking in the other’s warmth, and Calum’s eyes slipped shut as he physically felt Annette let out a breath, the tension in her body seeming to release with it as she melted into him, the heaviness of her day, her life, weighing against her.

Annette’s voice was small, muffled against the material of his sweatshirt as she said, “I’m probably not the best company right now.”

Calum let out a gentle scoff, arms still around her securely, as he assured, “I’ll be here anyway.”

They eventually ended up on the carpeted floor of her living room, settled on the floor cushions with each of them nursing a cup of tea. Colin wasn’t home, the two of them having the apartment to themselves, the windows closed to keep the heat in as well as the noise of the city outside. It was quiet in the apartment, the only sound coming from the consistent ticking of the clock on the wall near the TV and the occasional clinks of Calum’s rings hitting the ceramic mug every time he adjusted his grip.

“I didn’t think I’d cry a lot today.” Annette’s voice was gentle, not quite shattering the silence but pushing through it. Calum glanced at her, sitting right next to him with their backs against the couch, but her head was slightly bowed and gaze was on her mug of tea. He saw the way the corner of her lips tilted, the smile humorless and not at all fitting her. “But ten years. . . It’s big, isn’t it? Feels like a lifetime.”

Calum stayed quiet, because she needed this. She wanted to talk and he wanted to listen.

“The first couple of years were awful, y’know?” she continued after drawing a breath, lips twisting to the side. “I was the angriest teen you’d meet.” Annette let out a short laugh at that, casting a glance at Calum, noting the attentive way he was listening, never looking away. She looked ahead, his gaze weighing on her comfortingly. “I was pissed that it was my parents who got killed in a car accident and that I had to live with my aunt and uncle and everything was screwed up. Twelve year old me was pissed and over the past few years, I decided I didn’t ever wanna feel like that again. Life was too damn short to stay feeling that way.”

Annette paused as she inhaled deeply, the tendons in her neck tensing as she blinked a few times, and Calum knew her to be fighting back tears. His eyebrows drew together as he watched her keep herself together, wanting to tell her it was okay if she couldn’t. Instead he rested his mug in the space between his thighs and reached his left hand over, grasping onto Annette’s right as he laced their fingers together. She looked down at the newfound source of warmth, a smile quirking at her lips.

“They missed out on so much,” she continued after swallowing with a quick frown. “Track meets, high school graduation, first love, first heartbreak, getting into college. All the things I took their presence in for granted and it hurt every time I went through those things and they weren’t there to support me but it got easier over time. But—” Her throat was tight, voice straining to fight through the emotions closing her up, and Calum felt the subtle burn in his eyes. He wasn’t an emotional guy other than on paper, but watching Annette reminisce the loss of her parents sent a shocking stab of pain throughout his body he hadn’t expected. It hurt seeing her hurt. She squeezed his hand, and he was quick to return the gesture. “Realizing it’s been an entire decade since they’ve passed is kind of. . . It’s unreal. And I hate that it just. . . Isn’t unreal.”

In that moment, Calum felt as though he understood Annette just a little bit better. Understood why she was always smiling and why she didn’t look like the kind of person who got pissed off easily—why she forgave him so quickly instead of being turned off by his behavior at first. She’d spent too long being angry and upset—rightfully so—that she minimized those kind of emotions in other circumstances where she knew she’d be better off just letting it go. The world was trying enough to give someone plenty of reasons to be angry; why hold onto shit that didn’t matter in the long run?

“Holding onto anger like that is exhausting,” Annette spoke up, an airy laugh escaping her as she did so, turning her head to look at him with that same smile she always wore, though this time a hint of sadness curved at her lips, accompanying the tired look in her bluish-brown eyes. Her long eyelashes seemed damp with tears. She offered a single shouldered shrug. “And holding grudges over the smaller shit doesn’t help anyone. When you allow yourself to move on from the little things, it kind of gives you room to make your way through the pain that feels like it’s always holding you back.” The something crossed across her glassy eyes, something akin to sheepishness that Calum caught before Annette quickly dropped her gaze back down to the mug. Quietly, she added in a mumble, “I probably sound stupid.”

“Nope.” Calum shook his head, instantly killing that train of thought before it could go off the rails. With his free hand, he moved aside his mug so he could shift his body to face him. He made sure Annette’s mug was out of the way as well as he grabbed onto her other hand, getting her to look at him. Calum’s expression was serious, but kind as he admired the softness of her skin touching his. “Saying you sound stupid is not giving yourself any credit for how strong you are. I can’t imagine going through a loss like that at the age you did.” He noted the way her lower lip trembled at her words, though she offered a grateful smile, and Calum squeezed her hands. “Your parents would be proud of you for pushing through, Annie.”

Something flashed across her eyes just then, something nostalgic and sad as her eyebrows lifted ever so slightly and a small smile curled at her lips. She looked down at their joined hands and let out a breathless puff of laughter. “No one’s called me that since my parents passed. They were the only ones who called me Annie.”

The guilt twisted at Calum’s gut as he tried to pull back, lips parting as he took a breath. “Oh—I’m sorry, I—”

“No, no,” Annette was quick to soothe, looking up at him with a smile lighter than the ones from before, this one not carrying the pain of her parents’ memory. It was a real Annette smile, the kind that rendered him breathless. She averted her gaze briefly before shyly murmuring, “I like when you say it.”

Her words had Calum smiling in return, seeing a glimpse of the shy and adoring girl he’d come to know, but this wasn’t about Annette making him smile. It was meant to be the other way around. So he tried in the best way he knew how.

“You know what else I know that you like?” Calum asked, raising an eyebrow as a smile quirked at the corner of his lips. Annette sniffled, tears gone and cheeks flushed, as she raised her eyebrows in question. His smile was gentle, kind, voice a soothing murmur as he let go of one of her hands to push some locks of blonde hair behind her ear. The back of Calum’s finger grazed along her cheek as he tilted his head down at her, soft gaze on her as he said, “I know you like it when I sing.”

Annette seemed to understand exactly where Calum was going with this, forehead smoothing out as the grateful smile on her lips returned, chest sinking as she let out a quiet laugh that Calum wanted to hear more of. He easily mirrored her smile, glad to see some of that light return in her eyes, as he briefly cupped her cheek before whispering, “Come on.” His words were followed by Calum shifting them, arms wrapping around Annette and pulling her into his chest, back against him. His arm was loosely across her collarbones and Annette held his arm in her hands and settled against him, feeling the line of his jaw against her temple as his other arm settled across her waist. His warmth against her had an instant reaction from Annette, relaxing her, and Calum brushed his lips against her temple before asking, “Any requests?”

Annette hummed, happy and comfortable, as her fingers tapped against his arm. “Are we talking originals?”

He chuckled, the deep sound vibrating against Annette. Calum couldn’t help but think how comfortable he was here, with Annette in his arms, her body providing more warmth than the tea. He was engulfed in her just like she was embraced by him and Calum was realizing, without pause, there was no other place he’d rather be. “We’re talkin’ anything you want, sweetheart.”

She was silent for a moment before saying, “That one song you had. . . It was really pretty. Uh. . . Waste The Night.”

Calum grinned, lips brushing against her temple once more. “Got it,” he said,taking a breath before he began singing the familiar sound. For the first time, Annette heard Calum just as him; just his voice, with no instruments nor the accentuating of a microphone. And it made this day a little bit easier.

*****

There was a regular customer at Blue’s who, upon sight, brought a grin onto Calum’s face without even trying. Whether it was when he was seated at a table and heard the jingle of the bell and saw her walk in, or when he was on stage and her face stood out in the small crowd—Calum’s eyes found hers and the smile she brought out was one he couldn’t ever hope to stop. It felt different. It felt good.

It was noticeable, the change in him, how the smile came more easily to his face when Annette was around. To the point where the employees at Blue’s noticed and made comments about it and instead of rolling his eyes. . . It only widened Calum’s smile more. And it felt real. He felt like himself before Liana and the heartbreak. He felt happy and good and it all had to do with Annette making him the happiest he could be for the past three months.

Stepping off the small stage at Blue’s, Calum took a minute to put his guitar back in its case before picking it up and walking over to the pretty girl sitting at one of the back tables, a smile on her face as he approached her. “Hey,” he greeted her with a grin, resting his guitar on the floor and leaning it against the table. Calum ducked to press a quick kiss to Annette’s lips, pulling away and standing straight as he raised an eyebrow at her. “I didn’t know you were coming today.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Annette hummed, shooting him a teasing smile as she leaned back in her seat. “Because no one volunteers to work on New Years Eve.”

Calum scoffed with a roll of his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. “This doesn’t even count as work,” he pointed out, earning a light laugh from her. His gaze then dropped to the table and Calum smiled as he gestured to the cup. “And look, you even got your froo-froo drink!”

“Stop,” Annette pouted at him before breaking out into a grin as Calum shook his head with his own, the smile bringing out those adorable crinkles she loved. “Are you ready to go? We still have to get ready for Ashton’s party.”

“Yeah, let me go to the bathroom real quick,” Calum said and Annette nodded as he turned and went, disappearing towards the back of the cafe to where the bathrooms were.

She waited for him while busying herself on her phone, thought it was short lived when a voice spoke up, “I didn’t think he was capable of still smiling like that.”

Annette looked up, gaze landing on the woman standing by the table, her eyebrows drawing together as she tried to place the vaguely familiar face. It clicked suddenly as the crease in Annette’s forehead smoothed, realizing the woman who had spoken was Liana, Calum’s ex who’d told him, once upon a time, he was emotionally unavailable.

He’s told her about Liana, about how she’d found comfort and solace with some other guy when she was still with Calum. She reasoned that it was because she was lonely, because Calum wasn’t as invested in her and their relationship as she was, and maybe Calum should’ve tried harder, but it also didn’t give her a reason to run into the arms of someone else.

Annette had been angry on Calum’s behalf. But being with him now. . . Liana couldn’t have been more wrong about him.

Keeping her tone kind, as it always was, Annette responded, “He’s always been capable.” She reached for her drink. “It probably just took the right person to bring it out,” Annette added lightly, taking a sip of her iced tea through the straw.

Glancing up, Annette took in the way Liana raised her eyebrows at Annette’s sweetly delivered snide comment. She felt her heart jump a bit, not entirely one to make remarks like such directed at someone, but Annette wasn’t going to let Calum’s ex talk rudely about him to his back—to his girlfriend. Especially when Annette knew how much Liana hurt him, and while Calum got some great songs out of that heartbreak, it was something she uselessly wished she could’ve protected him from.

Annette wasn’t one to hold onto anger, but she was definitely capable of telling someone to fuck off—albeit, more kindly.

Trying to recover, Liana let out a forced chuckle. “It was just a joke.”

Annette pursed her lips, the sweet taste of her drink lingering on her tongue as she clicked it. “Oh, but it wasn’t.” She was surprised at herself for not feeling intimidated by the woman standing in heels over her seated figure, easily looking up at Liana with a cool expression. Surprised and proud of herself. “You don’t mess with someone and play it off as a joke. Especially if you see them better off afterwards.” One corner of her lip quirking up into an empty smile, Annette offered a single shrug as she added, “They’re happier despite what you did, not because of it.”

Liana looked disgruntled at Annette’s words, lips parting and eyebrows drawing together as she tried to find the right words to respond with. Annette doubted she had them. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Maybe not,” Annette agreed with a nod, her eyes on Liana’s. “But Calum’s told me enough.” Annette’s eyes glanced towards the back of the cafe, hoping Calum didn’t come out just yet. “And from what he’s said to me, I know it’d be better if he didn’t see you.”

She kept her gaze steady with Liana’s, not letting the other woman intimidate her. Annette couldn’t entirely believe the way she’d spoken, but when it came to Calum, Annette couldn’t seem to shut up. Defending him came naturally, easily, and she didn’t regret a single word that left her during that conversation. And she let Liana know that with the cool, unwavering look she was giving her.

Of course, Liana didn’t seem to appreciate it. She lifted her shoulders, as if giving herself a backbone, probably feeling good about having to literally look down at Annette, not that that made Annette feel small. In this moment, she wasn’t. With a sneer, Liana said, “Hope his feelings don’t crap out on him again. He can be dysfunctional that way.”

Annette clenched her jaw at that, quite literally having to bite her tongue from snapping back at the brunette who was now walking away. But Annette was quick to calm herself down as she released a breath through her nose. The playlist Calum made for her for Christmas, all consisting of new songs he’d written, all about her, and recorder for her to listen to, would easily prove Liana wrong. But that was for Annette to enjoy.

She hadn’t realized she’d been smiling until Calum was in front of her, tugging at the hem of his leather jacket as he raised an eyebrow at her. “What’re you smiling at, weirdo?”

With a laugh and a roll of her eyes, she shook her head and stood up. “Nothing. Just excited about this party,” she dismissed, feeling a calmness settle over her as Calum grabbed his guitar case and allowed his free arm to rest over her shoulders.

Hours later, Annette stood by the large windows of Ashton’s living room, her eyes taking in the city before them past the reflection of the inside of the apartment where the lights were on and people were mingling. The entire city was partying—it was damn near hell getting from her apartment to Ashton’s since everyone was headed to Times Square—but Annette appreciated being in the warmth and comfort of the apartment than the bitter cold of New York. She also enjoyed watching the vague flurries of snow falling from the sky, high above the skyscrapers around them.

As she swallowed her sip of whatever fruity, alcoholic mixed drink Luke had concocted, Annette felt a pair of arms wrap around her waist and a somewhat scruffy chin deliciously scraping against the skin of her neck. “You good, Annie?” Calum’s deep, quiet voice questioned, keeping her back against his chest as his voice ran smoothly—she’d rather hear that than the music currently playing.

Annette leaned her head back, the smile quirking up her lips at him and the use of the nickname as she placed her left hand on top of both of his, right hand holding the cup. “Mhm,” she hummed, tilting her head slightly to press her lips in a quick kiss to his cheek. She loved kissing his cheeks. “How much longer until midnight?”

Calum hummed thoughtfully as he unwound one arm from around her, digging into his pocket to pull out his phone and bring it around so Annette could see the screen that read 11:58. Annette let out an excited, almost childlike gasp. “It’s almost time!”

Chuckling, Calum pressed his own lips to her jaw, widening Annette’s grin as she felt his scruff scratch against her some more, adding to the sensation of his soft lips. “Why do you think I came to find you?” She let out a light giggle, turning in his arms to face him, though Calum’s arms remained around her. Looking down at her, Calum tilted his head and asked, “So did you decide on your New Years’ resolution?”

“I did,” Annette grinned, the excited glint returning in her eyes as she practically bounced on her heel clad fleet, Calum’s grip on her keeping her in place as he let out a small whoa, eyeing her cup warily, though the smile remained present. Annette already knew of Calum’s resolution, since he’d told her yesterday, which was to secure a proper job at the label he currently had an internship at. Annette knew he could do it. He raised his eyebrows expectantly and she pressed a hand to his chest. “I think this is the year when I’m finally gonna pull out one of the thousands of ideas in my journal and write that damn book.” She poked him, shooting him a knowing, pointed look. “I’ve finally got some inspiration.” 

Calum’s questioning raised eyebrows turned to surprised, excited ones that mirrored the brightness of Annette’s grin, her last comment sending his heart into a frenzy like she always did. The thrill she felt over her resolution brought a grin to Calum’s face, knowing that this was something she’s been wanting to do for a while, and planting the idea was the first step. “Seriously?” Calum grinned, widening so his crinkles appeared and he let out a delighted laugh. “Annie, that’s exciting, love.” He gave her a squeeze, eliciting a giggle. “I’m proud of you.”

“Proud of me?” Annette repeated with a laugh, tilting her head as she gazed at him, eyes glinting. “I haven’t even started. It’s just a resolution for now.”

“It’s the first step,” he told her firmly, giving her a look that spoke of how much he believed in his words and, more importantly, in her. His grin returned. “I can’t wait to read your first draft.”

Annette scoffed. “No way. You’ll get the final one,” she told him. Calum’s pout and whatever he was about to say next was cut off when everyone started counting down from ten, the announcement of the countdown even beginning something that they both missed. She shot Calum a wink, something that only made him grin as she started, “Ten. . . Nine. . .”

Calum shot her a wry grin, though the amusement lit up his dark eyes as he joined in with a teasing roll of his eyes, his hands pressed to her lower back as everyone’s voices echoed throughout the apartment. The two of them remained by the windows, glancing around to see everyone watching the TV that was playing the ball drop happening live, but Annette had seen it all the time—had even gone to it once with Colin and a few friends, a time she didn’t like remembering because of the chaos—and she would much rather be looking at her stupidly gorgeous, talented boyfriend.

He gazed down at Annette, the boyish, easy grin on his face finding home whenever she was around. It wasn’t at all difficult for Calum to admit to himself how he felt around Annette; she had him wrapped around her finger, and often had him questioning how he even fucking functioned before her. Being with her felt as natural as breathing, and every time Annette walked into the room, it was like coming up for air. All he had to do now was let her know and, unsurprisingly, he wasn’t scared.

Five. Annette’s free hand reached up, brushing away a curl from Calum’s forehead, the smile on her face ever present.

Four. He adored the blue that was just on the outer edges of her otherwise light brown irises—Calum could never tire of looking at them, framed with long lashes, dancing with a glint he hoped to find the meaning behind.

Three. After she basically ate her lipstick off, Annette made sure to put on Calum’s favorite flavor of her chapstick—watermelon.

Two. His heart was thundering in his chest, the excitement of the moment getting to him. But Calum knew it mostly had to do with the woman in his arms. It was always because of her.

One. There was so much swimming in his eyes, Annette could tell. So much that was rendering her breathless.

“Happy New Year!”

Their grinning lips met as cheers surrounded them, the entire apartment—and city—bursting into celebration as Annette leaned into Calum and the feel of his soft lips against hers. His arms left her waist so his hands could gently cup her cheeks, keeping her close as they commemorated the new year together, both secretly hoping this was just the first of many. It had only been three months, but they were ready for more.

Calum pulled away slowly, forehead still against hers, deaf and uncaring to the party going on around them as the warm of her cheeks tingled at his skin. He opened his eyes, smiling when he noted Annette was already watching him through hooded ones of her own, and the sight of her eyes and dazed smile made it all the more easy for the words to honestly spill out. “I love you.”

It was there. It was out for her to do with as she pleased. Calum’s heart was thundering in his chest but it was for Annette to have, and he felt his stomach twist in mild nervousness as he waited for her response. She didn’t even have to say it back, Calum realized, as she stared at him with those pretty eyes taken over with shock and disbelief. As long as she knew how he felt about her, Calum was fine. Because he hadn’t been good at this in the past, hadn’t been vocal about his feelings enough. And he would be damned if he let the same mistakes get in the way of his relationship with Annette.

Slowly, a smile lifted her lips and Calum watched her, just an inch or so of space between them, hands still on her cheeks as a gentle laugh escaped her. She felt warm under his touch as she mused, “Starting the year off with a bang, huh?” Her words had Calum letting out a breathless laugh, the nervous tinge to it not lost on either of them, and Annette’s expression softened. She leaned forward, capturing his lips in another gentle, slow kiss that Calum savored, the tension in his stomach easing. He felt himself come undone when Annette whispered back, “I love you too, rockstar.”

She loved him too. He’d always been able to breathe easily around Annette. Now he felt like he was fucking flying.

Her use of the nickname accompanying the very words he wanted to hear her say had Calum letting out a relieved laugh, pulling his lower lip into his grinning mouth as he stared at Annette. She called him that as if he wasn’t just some local performer at some cafe in New York, but Calum would be lying if he said he didn’t love it. She made him feel important, and she made him want to be someone who was worthy of how she felt about him.

Annette loved him and he loved her. They’d become each other’s inspirations, unwittingly and unapologetically—and Calum was ready to prove he was worthy of that title for her just like she already was for him for as long as she’d allow him to.

--

tags: @irwinkitten @glitterprincelu @sweetcherrymike @meetashthere @valentinelrh @softforcal @astroashtonio @hereforlukescruff @c-sainthood @novacanecalum @captain-what-is-going-on @angelbbycal @singt0mecalum @hopelessxcynic @lfwallscouldtalk @bodhi-black @findingliam-o @softlrh @calntynes @calumsmermaid @erikamarie41 @quintodosuniversos @longlastingdaydream @babylon-corgis @lukehemmingsunflower @spideyseavey @imfuckin10plybud @livibii123 @pastelpapermoons @malumharmonies @conquerwhatliesahead92 @rotten-kandy @metangi @neigcthood @ohhmuke @old-zeppelin-shirt @5sos-and-hessa @trustmeimawhalebiologist @vxlentinecal @pettybassists @vaporshawn @lu-my-golden-boi @buggy-blogs @visualm3nte @isabella-mae13 @dontjinx-it @lifeakaharry @neonweeknds @antisocialbandmate @ixcantxdecidexwhosxmyxfave @calpalbby @grreatgooglymoogly @sunnysideblog @cocktail-calum @miahelizaaabeth @madelynerin @dramallamawithsparkles @hzi0 @aulxna @mermaiden004 @theagenderwhocriedwolf @kaytiebug14 @hoodskillerqueen @bitchinbabylon @empathycth @xhaileyreneex @inlovehoodx @calistheloml @aestheticrelated @bloodlinecal @sublimehood @madbomb @raabiac @britnicole11 @outofmylimitcal @fluffsshawn @calumculture @sexgodashton

[holylulusworld]

Devil’s Bargain - Part 11 - Fix you or break you even more

Summary: Getting the job as Jared Padalecki’s assistant was a dream coming true until you woke up in a living nightmare. He’s angry, selfish and possessive. The worst of all - his anger is focused on you. Quitting your job was your only way out - only it wasn’t the end of your nightmare...

Pairing: Jared Padalecki x Reader, OFC’s Mark, Brad & Caleb (reader’s brothers), Jensen Ackles 

Warnings: angst, language, injured reader, comforting, mentions of miscarriage/sexual assault/physical abuse (not Jared and nothing graphic), protective brothers, violence, blood, mentions of mental health problems (I am not a therapist so bear with me)

PLEASE BE AWARE THIS IS A FANFIC. For the sake of the fic he’s single and an asshole. I still love him, but this fic came to my mind months ago...

Devil’s Bargain Masterlist

The moment Jared is outside of the hospital he feels Mark’s fist collide with his face. Pain shoots through his skull be he doesn’t fight back.

“Fight back, asshole. Are you such a coward? Only able to hurt vulnerable women but you don’t stand a chance against a man. Raise your fists, Padalecki.” Mark growls as Caleb and Brad circle Jared.

“I deserve everything you throw at me. You are right, Y/N is right. I…I am a monster and I hurt her beyond repair. She said…” Sniffling Jared feels Mark’s fist hit his chin, causing him to stumble backward only for Caleb to push him back toward Mark.

“I was in the army, bastard. I know how to kill a man with my hands for sure.” Mark lies. Truth is he was a doctor helping injured soldiers during his military time, but Jared doesn’t need to know. “I will rip you apart.”

“Y/N… She said that I hurt her that much she’s as broke as …” Another punch hits Jared and he spits blood to the ground. “After Scott…” Now Caleb sees red and balls his hands into fists to hit Jared’s back.

“You will never use her name again. Stay away from my sister, lunatic!” Caleb lunges forward, tries to hit Jared but Jensen calls his name and he stops in his tracks.

Blood is dripping down Jared’s face, but he doesn’t care about the blood or pain. All he has on his mind are your words.

“Y/N asked me to stop you, guys. Your sister doesn’t want you to get arrested. I know you are mad, and I understand you want to hurt Jared some more, but you better stop now.” Jensen tries to interfere but Caleb lands one last punch to Jared’s eye.

“Now I am done, Ackles. Make sure that piece of shit stays away from our sister or I can’t guarantee he will survive.” Brad warns before he stops his brother.

“Enough, Cal, enough Mark. We are going to clean your fists and go back to Y/N’s room and never even mentioned this man.”

“How do you feel, baby sis? Are you ready to leave this shitty hospital and go home?” While Mark picks you up to carefully help you into the wheelchair Brad and Caleb grab your bags. 

“Jensen couldn’t be here, but he and Danny will visit you as soon as he’s able to get a day off. I made sure we got all your belongings from your apartment and checked on your car.” Explaining your car got totaled Brad tries to distract you from asking questions about Jared’s whereabouts.

“He’s gone, Y/N. After we had a serious conversation Jared left and didn’t come back. I warned the security and the nurses. They promised to make sure he says away from your room, or rather the hospital.”

“Be honest, Caleb. You threatened the hospital to sue them if they let Jared Padalecki enter the hospital ever again.” Mark laughs as you fist your shirt, not wanting to hear anything about your former boss.

“I just wanted to make sure this is over…” Caleb hands your phone, but you toss it into the bag, not wanting to check on any message or call now. “Let’s get out of here, baby sis.”

Mark is pushing the wheelchair, looking around to find any trace of Jared. While you simply nod as Brad tells you about your prepared room and your shut-down website.

“Thanks for shutting it down. I don’t feel like helping anyone right now. Maybe I’ll never be able to do so again. I will take Brad’s advice and open a practice again.” Defeated you wipe a few tears away. “I failed, boys. My feelings made me blind to see the truth.”

“The truth, Y/N?” Mark stops the wheelchair, kneeling next to you to take your hand in his. “Truth is Jared is a selfish bastard.”

“Truth is, Mark.” Taking a deep breath, you squeeze his hand. “Jared would’ve needed professional help.”

While your brother tries to protest you place one finger onto his lips to silence Mark.

“There’s fear manifested deep inside of him and I brought it out without thinking about consequences. Jared got hurt, just like me. The person he loved and trusted the most betrayed, even blackmailed him.”

“Y/N, he’s still an ass…” Caleb finds his voice faster than Mark and kneels on the other side of your wheelchair. “He had no right to do what he did, baby sis.”

“I know you are right, all of you but Jared is like a wounded wild animal. Instead of stitching the wound up and let it heal he place a band-aid onto an infected wound and let it suppurate without changing the band-aid.”

“Do not defend that man! He’s a monster, not worth your compassion or anything.” Brad steps in, shaking his head furiously.

“Brad, you are all experts for the physical treatment of a patient, I am the one knowing how to help on an emotional and psychological base. What he did…” Trailing off you need to swallow the lump in your throat.

“That night, Jared escalated as I pushed him too far. I allowed him to get close to me, Brad. I crossed the line between being professional and involving feelings. What Jared did is awful but a good therapist wouldn’t have pushed him; a good therapist would’ve offered a ‘regular’ therapy.”

“You are smart and helped over fifty people with your unorthodox methods, Y/N. You let him get close, you feel in love…? Fuck it!” Caleb exclaims as he looks at his brother. “No man has the right to hurt you like that only as he’s damaged goods.”

“Caleb is right, baby sis. You got hurt, no beyond hurt by a man and still, you gave Jared a chance to win your heart. He is too blind to see you are a wonderful person. His loss, not yours…”

Watching your brother help you get out of the wheelchair Jared hides in his car. With shaking fingers, he holds a shirt you forgot in his hands.

Over the last days, he searched your apartment, his house, and his trailer to find anything you left.

“I need to give it back…” Jared whispers as you let Mark pick you up to place you into the backseat. “I need to…”

Six weeks later…

Standing in front of your childhood home Jared twists your shirt in his hands. He knows he will cross another line but the last weeks made him see he can’t imagine a life without you.

“Are you fucking kidding me!” Mark is the first one storming out of the house to grab Jared's shirt, fisting it roughly to glare at the tall actor. “I told you to stay away. Do you want me to call the cops and let them arrest you?”

“I came to her to bring the shirt back. Can I not talk to her for five minutes? I have to tell her I am sorry and that…” Glaring at Jared Caleb and Brad join his brother, ready to give him another taste of their fists.

“What does he want here, Mark?”

“I…I am doing therapy again. Over the last weeks, I told my new therapist everything I did, and he suggested to apologize again without holding anything back.” Sniffling Jared gets a piece of paper out, but Mark won’t have it.

Grabbing the letter Mark crumples the paper, dropping it to the ground. “I will tell you one last time to stay away from Y/N. You did enough. She doubts her whole concept for therapy thanks to you sick bastard.”

“I know that I have problems. Months ago, I refused to admit my fears, my uncertainty and that I am not able to trust people. Please tell Y/N she made me see I am a …” Sniffling Jared looks at the piece of paper on the ground.

“She’s brilliant and no one is a better therapist. I wouldn’t be here, doing therapy without her.”

“Great for you, asshole. Y/N has a traumatic past too. Unlike you, she gave people a chance without using her past to judge you right away.” Brad spats. “Do you have the slightest idea what Scott did to her…huh?”

“No.” Choking the words out Jared feels a cold river run down his spine. “I know he attacked and abused her…”

“That’s not all.” This time Caleb steps closer, looking at Jared with angry eyes. “For two years he hurt her. Y/N tried to hide the bruises, cuts and all. She’s a good person, a great therapist and tried to help Scott, even tho he hurt her.”

“One day, he pushed her too far and Y/N waited for him to leave for work. My sister, she called me, and I picked her up, drove her to the hospital.”

Wiping a single tear away Brad gets an ultrasound picture out to show it Jared. “That day, she told him about the baby and still, he slapped her face, even punched her nose.”

“That’s…” Gasping Jared nods as Mark glares at him, asking for silence till your brothers are done. “Awful…”

“Yes, it is, Padalecki.” Mark spats as Brad composes himself.

“Y/N told me about the baby and my brothers, and I helped her find an apartment. A few weeks passed and we all believed Scott is gone for good.” Placing the ultrasound picture back into his wallet Brad sniffles silently.

“Brad and I were out of town at that time. We weren’t around and…” Caleb’s voice cracks and Mark must take the lead as so often.

“She was alone at home, had a day off. Someone knocked at her door and she believed it’s me as we wanted to have lunch. I was late and…” Mark’s hands start shaking and he let go of Jared’s shirt. “I came half an hour too late and I will hate myself for it for the rest of my life.” 

“Mark, that wasn’t your fault back then. If not that day, he would’ve tried any other day. No one could’ve known Scott would go after Y/N or do such a thing.” Caleb tries to calm his brother, soothe him but Mark feels guilty and this will never change.

“I opened the door and heard someone whimper. When I entered the bedroom, I found Y/N on the floor. Her face was swollen, her wrists black and blue. She was lying on the floor, naked and there was so much blood running down her legs.” Mark’s voice trembles as he meets Jared’s eyes.

“God…I am so sorry…” 

“I don’t care if you are sorry or not, Jared. That man entered her apartment, or rather forced entrance and hit my sister. She begged him to go, to not hurt his baby but Scott had other things planned. That monster violated my sister to remind her he’s the only man allowed to touch her but he didn’t stop there. He hit her hard enough to cause a miscarriage.”

“Still, she tried to help me only for her to get hurt once again. I know this means nothing to you or your sister, but I see now that I have problems.” Jared picks the piece of paper up, glancing at the door as you slowly walk out of the house.

“Boys, give me two minutes.” Voice self-confident you look at your brothers and they reluctantly walk into the house, glaring at Jared before closing the door.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. What I did is unforgivable, I know that, but I wanted to tell you that I am doing therapy now and that you made me see I need to stop hurting people to feel better. Please believe me that I am terribly sorry for hurting you.” Placing the piece of paper into your hand Jared sniffles silently. “Can we not…”

“No, Jared. You are in the middle of a therapy and we both know you are no good for me, and I am no good for you. I know you believe coming here to tell me how you feel will help me…but it doesn’t.” Stuffing the piece of paper into your pocket you look up at Jared.

“Please, at least tell me I can see you again, even if it’s only one day…” Jared’s eyes fill with tears as you give him a cracked smile.

“You hurt me, Jared. Not with your words and the things you did while you believed I am your assistant. I am used to my patients to treat me like that but…”

Blinking a few tears away you clear your throat. “You made me believe you like me, and I let you touch me. You were the first man after what Scott did…”

“OH…Y/N.” Jared tries to cup your cheek, but you take a step back, shaking your head. “Sorry…I shouldn’t have…”

“Yeah, Jared. You shouldn’t have done this to me. I hate you, and I love you and that makes me hate you even more. You can’t come here and believe the world is spinning again only as you are sorry. I want you to leave now…please…”

“I love you too and I promise to become a better man, to be myself again one day.” Jared squeezes your shirt tightly, looking at you one last time. “Can I call you one day?”

“Wiping a few tears away you give Jared a cracked smile. “Maybe one day I do not hate you anymore but not yet, Jared…”

“Not yet…” Jared whispers as you walk toward the house, not looking back. “Maybe one day I can fix you instead of breaking you even more...”

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx​, @screechingartisancashbailiff​, @fallen-wolf22​, @sister-winchesters99​, @mogaruke​, @the-is13​, @helloitsmeamie203​, @sandlee44​ @strayrosesbloom​, @notyourtypicalrose​, @thewinchesterco​, @marvelfansworld​, @hobby27​, @gh0stgurl​, @flamencodiva​, @jay-and-dean​, @voltage-my2dlove, @spnhollis​, @chonisberonica​, @wittysunflower​, @supernaturalenchanted​, @shikshinkwon​, @yolobloggers​, @hhiggs, @laxe-from-outer-space​, @ilovefanfic86​, @linki-locks11​, @eggingamazinglove​, @trumpettay​, @fandom-imagines1​, @thenamelesschibi​, @waywardbaby​, @straycuties9​, @drakelover78​, @stuckys-whore​, @zxph-yr​, @i-love-superhero​, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt​, @deepmuffinspymaker​, @katpatrova17​, @heyitscam99​, @fandom-princess-forevermore​, @neii3n​, @exo-nova​, @cocklesbelli​, @echoesofpassion​, @lauravic​, @shatteredabby​, @deanmonandnegansbitch​, @sea040561​, @lemondropirwin​, @lonewolf471​, @wronglanemendes​, @juniorhuntersam​, @helpmeluci​, @goodgodimaweirdperson​, @shadowkat-83​, @alltimesamantha​, @officialmarvelwhore​, @meganywinchester​, @miraclesoflove​, @lu-sullivan​, @maniacproffesor​, @hollymac79​, @kayla-2000​, @gracefultrenchcoat494​, @babygirls-fav​, @spnwoman​, @amiquette​, @alexoloughlinlover32​ @geekofmanyforms​, @jessica-marsh09​, @spnficgirl​, @shut-themoonscone​, @thequeenreaders​, @countrygal17a​, @atomicfandombomb​, @kteelou​, @soryuwifeyxx​, @kricketc28​, @defenderrosetyler​, @shortwinchester​, @maybesomedaygayyyy​, @tmiships4life​, @sabascio​, @that-place-called-middle-earth​​, @the-broken-angel-13​​, @bunnybaby89​​, @pandabiiissh​​, @maddiedott​​, @lilulo-12​​, @theoneandonlymelol​​, @mblaqgi​​, @clawsandshotguns​​ @justsomedreaming​​, @cassiopeia-barrow​​, @its-the-timey-wimey-winchesters​​, @mscarter213​​, @jo-like-josette​​, @mep6811​​, @prettydeaneyes​, @rvgrsbrns​, @deanwanddamons​, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel​

Sam/Jared Forever Tags

@moosekateer13​​​, @thevelvetseries​​, @train-wrecc​

Devils Bargain

@bitchwhytho​, @babygirls-fav​, @the-soulofdevil​, @albinotigerpython​​, @squirrelnotsam​​, @i-am-a-mes​​, @aubageddon91​​, @jessiejunebug​, @thebooksoverthemovies​​, @rebeq88-samw​ 

[calumbringbackthewatermelonshirt]

My Responsibility (c.h.)

an: so after a gentle push to write again, I went through my incomplete works and finished one off. I like it a lot. Also, don’t flame me for improper “bodyguard procedure” or whatever

 BODY GUARD!CAL AU

People always said life was the hardest thing anyone could ever do, and while Teddie supposed it was quite true, life was a hell of a lot easier when you were royalty. After a day filled with shopping, spa treatments, and mani-pedis, she was actually pretty tired when she arrived back at the palace. So, when her father’s adviser told her that her father would like to see her in his office, she sighed deeply and dumped her bags into the nearest worker’s arms. Her day was about to get a lot less relaxing. She had known this would be coming when she slipped out of the house in her Audi this morning but had done it nonetheless. That didn’t stop her from dragging her feet all the way to the office, though. Her father had his back to Teddie as she stepped into the room, but she knew the look on his face would be disappointed.  She was proved right as the King turned around, buttoning his suit up.

“Darling.” Teddie’s father sighed, easing himself down into his high backed leather chair. He shuffled some papers around on his desk for a minute before speaking again. “You’ve turned into quite the headache.”

“Whatever do you mean, father?” Teddie played dumb, knowing full and well what he meant. But when bodyguards were as dumb as hers, it was almost too easy. And way too fun.

“Theodora Arabella, my love, we both know exactly what I am speaking of.” Teddie flopped into a chair, exhaling loudly. She hated her name, but her father, ever the king, couldn’t even remove the stick from his ass for two seconds. Ridiculous.

“I’m sorry father. But you know how I feel about this subject. Is it really necessary to have a fifteen personal security detail?” Theodora massaged her temples, also getting a headache. At this point, it wasn’t even worth it to her to leave the palace.

“I understand, darling. Which is why I’ve talked it over with Mr. Clyde, and we’ve agreed to narrow the fifteen down to four.” The King watched his daughter’s face positively light up. As his daughter and the sole heiress to the kingdom, he was nervous with the decision. But Clyde had assured him that these four men were the best of the best.

“Now then. Should you try to escape from under their watch, even once, it will go back to the fifteen person detail. Are we clear?” The King took his glasses off and gave his daughter a meaningful stare. He loved his daughter more than his kingdom, which was saying quite a bit for the king. Still, there was much to take into consideration with this decision. The kingdom was on the edge of war, and while it did have some powerful allies, a royal assassination would be costly to the kingdom.

“Crystal, Father.” Teddie was already bouncing up and down on her heels, a bundle of energy ready to explode. This was more than she could have ever hoped for, more than she had ever dreamt of. Teddie figured she would never even get down to ten bodyguards, much less four. She quickly ran around the large oak desk and threw her arms around her father before he could react. Maybe Teddie wasn’t the huggy-huggy type of person, but she felt an exception was due just this once.

Teddie turned and hurried out of her father’s office, her head down and phone already in her hands. She could not wait to call Victoria and tell her all about this. She was sure that Victoria would combust, much like Teddie felt she had. Teddie took two steps down the hallway and immediately ran into something. It was broad and hard and… warm? Teddie didn’t care at the moment, instead scrambling to get her phone, which she had dropped when she had hit the ground.

“Fucking HELL!” Teddie was seething, utterly pissed off. Her phone had cracked. Her brand new phone was cracked. She looked up ready to destroy whatever she had run into, ready to tear it to shreds with her bare hands. Instead, she found herself looking into a pair of eyes so dark they seemed to be looking at her soul.

“Princess Theodora. My apologies.” The man grabbed her arm to steady her, but Teddie ripped it away from him. Who the hell did this idiot think he was?

“Your apologies are damn right. What department do you work for? Tell me who was dumb enough to hire such a clumsy oaf.” Teddie was a good half a foot shorter than the man, but that wasn't near enough to intimidate her. Neither was his jawline so sharp that it could cut her, nor his rich dark curls that were a little too long in the most endearing way possible. Nope, not intimidating.

“Security. Allow me to introduce myself.” The man seemed to be trying to hide the smirk that was growing on his plump lips. Teddie’s eye started twitching with realization. She groaned internally, praying she was wrong. “Calum Hood. The new head of your security detail.”

Teddie said nothing. Instead, she brushed past Hood and hurried as quickly as she could in her stilettos to her chambers. Once there, she slammed the door shut. Buried her face in a pillow. And screamed.

Teddie awoke the next morning to a fantastic headache and a horrible recollection of yesterday’s event. All Teddie really wanted to do was go die in a hole somewhere. However, she had made plans to go to lunch with Victoria and her father was constantly spouting some shit about ‘a princess was nothing if not punctual,’ so she dragged herself from her den of cashmere blankets and down pillows and started to prepare herself to face the day. And Calum Hood. She honestly couldn’t say which she dreaded more.

___

“I’m telling you, it was awful!” Teddie was talking animatedly with her hand, clearly distressed. She hadn’t fully recovered from her little incident yesterday, and she wasn’t sure she ever was going to be able to. All she really wanted to do was get out on the water and go surfing for a little bit. It had been a while since she had been on her board, but at this point, the longer she went without rushing into the breaking waves, the more strain she put on her mental health. Surfing had always been a way for her to relax and unwind, which was greatly needed due to the stress of being a princess. September was starting to creep up on her, and while her country was generally pretty warm year round, the ocean could be cold and unforgiving. Teddie was planning to spend as much time as possible in the ocean while she still could.

“No, yeah I get it.” Teddie watched as Victoria took a patronizing sip of her coffee. “But, also I don’t.”

Teddie just sighed and looked back out the window. Okay, maybe she was exaggerating how dire the situation was, but only by a little. It was already bad enough that she had run into him and then proceeded to act like an unchecked bitch princess, but did Calum really have to go and be that hot?

“Anywho, have you decided what you’re wearing to your ball in a few weeks?” Teddie wiggled her eyebrows at Victoria. Victoria was turning twenty-one in a few weeks, so of course she was going all out on a ball for herself. Teddie was excited for her best friend, having known her since they were both children, immune to the atrocities this world offered. Teddie wasn’t ever one to dwell on the past, but recently she had found herself thinking about those times more and more often. She and Victoria were easily entertained as children, often playing dress-up with their mothers’ pearls or hide and go seek in their favorite sections of the castle. Teddie never realized it until she was older, but she smiled at all the parallels her childhood ran compared to that of a normal childhood. Maybe they couldn’t ever return to the simplicity that their childhood was made up of, but Teddie was still grateful to be able to grow up next to such a genuine person next to a world of people merely trying to befriend her for their own self gain.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Victoria bobbled her head at Teddie and made a smart-ass face. Teddie cocked an eyebrow and gave Victoria a look that said it all. “If you keep making that face, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Teddie gasped daintily, throwing them both into a round of giggles. Neither Teddie nor Victoria had ever cared about all the princess bullshit like smile lines and matching their earrings to their shoes, but they both had a good time laughing about all the false stereotypes. “You know, it’s going to be pretty embarrassing when the belle of the ball shows up matching her best friend.”

This time, it was Victoria’s turn to gasp. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, but I would.” Teddie skipped ahead on the sidewalk where they were strolling and turned back to face Victoria tauntingly. Victoria tipped her head back and let out a laugh, pleasing Teddie. “Hey, I’m going surfing later. Care to join?”

“Can’t. My dad is dragging me to some meeting or charity event or something. I can never keep track of all that shit.”

Teddie grunted in agreeance, forgoing words. Victoria's comment, although offhanded and a complaint, had sent Teddie down a rabbit hole of thought. In a few short years, her father was planning to retire, which in turn would place the crown and the future of the kingdom in her own hands. Sure, she would have advisors and dukes and generals to guide her, but she was still in charge. She would be making all of those decisions herself. Teddie could hear Victoria chattering on in the background, but Teddie was only half listening. Soon enough Teddie herself would be leading the meetings and charity events they had always despised. The thought alone was enough to make Teddie run away and never come back. She was sipping her coffee thoughtfully when she felt a rough hand set fire to the nerves on her back. She already knew who it was even without turning.

“We probably need to be heading out, your highness.”  Calum’s breath was warm as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, gently brushing the few blonde strands of her hair out of the way. Then he stopped walking, so Teddie led Victoria just out of earshot to say her goodbyes. It took them only moments, seeing as they had more plans to hang out over the span of the next few weeks leading up to Victoria’s party. Teddie took a deep breath, taking a moment to steady herself before advancing towards Calum. As soon as she reached him, he fell into step right next to her, a broad hand spanning across her upper back. She shivered slightly under his touch, her body unaware of how to react to his touch, or any man’s touch for that matter. She had gone on a few dates of course, and she was by no means innocent, but Teddie was a bit unexperienced in the romantic aspect of life. Her parents had set her up on a couple dates with ‘potential suitors,’ as they called them, but, in Teddie’s unbiased opinion, they had all been uptight, selfish pricks. AKA, not her type. Teddie was indifferent to all of the dates, letting her parents waste their time with the pointless endeavors. She just told her parents that they just didn’t have a leadership quality or they didn’t have the right mindset to rule, when in fact, the quality they lacked was basic human compassion and respect. Teddie wrapped herself up in her thoughts, letting her eyes glaze over and her expression go blank. She had nothing to say to anybody in the car, and she didn't think that they were particularly interested in starting up a conversion with her, either. Which happened to be why Teddie jumped a little when Calum spoke up in that gruff baritone voice of his.

“Can I help you?” Calum looked utterly unhappy. Teddie wasn’t sure why, seeing as his only job was babysitting a grown woman. After thinking about it for a few seconds, she realized that she had never seen him without his dark eyebrows knit together and the small scowl on his face. She pursed her lips, figuring that maybe it was just his face. Teddie couldn’t blame him for this, seeing as she also fell victim to resting bitch face syndrome.

“What?” Teddie cocked her head at Calum. She lowered her eyebrows in confusion, not exactly up for just having a chat with the man sitting across from her. Yeah, he could help her. Help her by doing his job and staying out of her way.

“You were staring at me.” Calum was blunt. Teddie was somewhat grateful, seeing as he didn’t mince his words or use too many of them, but she was still a little taken aback by them. Even if she had been staring at him, which she denied, she didn’t see why he had to get his panites in a wad about it. A few of her last fifteen bodyguards had been quite the chatterboxes and she had despised the majority of her time with them, preferring the silence to any sort of conversation.

“I was not. I was merely thinking.” Calum looked like he was about to say more, but Teddie just turned and directed her gaze out the window, effectively cutting him off. She wasn’t ready to bare her soul to her bodyguard just yet, nor did she feel like arguing with him, either. Instead she tried to steer her thought towards simpler topics, like what she would wear to Victoria’s gala, and which shoes would match which dress. All she really wanted to do was get into her wet suit and breakout her board. Which is exactly what she did as soon as the car pulled into the driveway at the castle. She was out of the car and up the first couple steps leading up to the large oak double doors before the car had even come to a complete stop. She began stripping before even shutting the door to her room all the way, anxious to work out her stressors of the day by dipping into the water and breaking the waves. The rhythmic lapping of the waves crashing against each other had a subtle calming effect on Teddie, helping her rationalize even the toughest of decisions.

As soon as she splashed into the warm salty water and felt the tickle of seaweed on her skin, Teddie took a moment to inhale deeply, smelling the ocean scent mix with the aroma floating off of the wild jasmine that grew along the shoreline. Things were both much more simple and extraordinarily more complicated than they seemed.  Still she chose to focus on her board technique rather than her actual issues.

While she was by no means a professional, Teddie had gotten rather good at surfing over the years, mainly due to the sheer amount of time she spent relaxing on her board. For the majority of her time spent in the water, Teddie was barely even surfing. She was content for the large portion of her time to just relax on her board, watching the sun dip into the horizon. Teddie was out on the ocean for the rest of the day, but still painfully aware of her bodyguard brigade standing stiff as rails out on the beach. Teddie sighed to herself, extremely uncontent.

Calum Hood.

He was the biggest issue weighing on her mind at the moment, but she was actually quite happy with that resolution. Teddie figured if the biggest problems she was having were over a guy, then she was probably in a pretty good place in life. Still, that didn’t prevent her from staying on the water until the waves lapping against her skin crept closer to freezing and the sun dipped into the horizon. Teddie sighed, knowing she’d have to squeeze any surfing she wanted to accomplish into her already packed schedule over the upcoming weeks. With a little less than a month to her party, Victoria was kind of starting to panic, fretting about every little detail. Teddie was usually one of the only people who was able to reach her friend during those episodes, soothing her and trying to get her to breathe.

Teddie smirked a little as she thought of her somewhat panicky friend. Sure, Victoria was a lot sometimes, but the pair had been through a lot with each other, including going off to college together in the states. Those short four years had been some of the best of her life, and while they had passed a bit too quickly for the girls’ taste, Teddie knew that they would visit the small coastal town in Carolina where they had attended college as often as they could. It was then Teddie knew the perfect present for Victoria’s birthday.

___

“No.” Calum stood leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and his signature scowl plastered across his face. This was dumb. No, come to think of it, everything was dumb. Cal was seriously considering quitting his job at the palace right here and now.

“I wasn’t asking.” Teddie didn’t bother to look up at Cal from where she was sitting on the plush couch situated against the far wall of her apartment. Bedroom, Cal meant, although they were practically one and the same. Teddie kept typing away on her MacBook, the clicking of the keys soothing in Cal’s ears.

“That may be, your highness, but as the head of your security team, I reserve the right to tell you no. The right to tell you that going on an ice cream run at three-thirty in the morning is too great a risk.” Cal could hear the sarcasm dripping off his words, but he really couldn’t help it. The princess may have been attractive, but she clearly didn’t have much going on up top.

“Look, it’ll take two seconds. In and out.” Teddie shut her laptop matter of factly and stood up. She stretched for a minute, placing her hands all the way above her head and leaning back a little. Calum was careful to look nonchalant as he averted his gaze, acting impervious to the strip of skin she revealed as she stretched. Cal knew he couldn’t cave. He shouldn’t cave. He. Would. Not. Cave.

It was less a minute later that Calum found himself scrambling down the hallways of the castle, chasing the princess. She was giggling as she ran, enjoying the sounds of his footsteps behind her and taunting him as they both ran. She was a hell of a lot faster than he had anticipated, and despite him being the head of her security team, Calum was starting to suspect that she could probably lap him if she wanted. He couldn’t help the smirk that tugged on the corners of his lips, so he rolled them into his mouth. The smile was still evident in the lines around his eyes, though. At one point, Teddie turned around and ran backwards throwing out taunts and breathtaking smiles like candy at one of her parades. Once again, Calum knew he was going down a rabbit hole that he should have avoided, but he couldn’t help thinking that she was really living up to all the Disney princess stereotypes of being beautiful and kind and sweet.

Teddie knew she was dipping her feet into dangerous waters. Running along the hallways with Calum, teasing him, reveling in childish glee. She really hadn’t expected him to cave at all, much less at the speed that he did. He wasn’t the only one with a weak resolve, though. She had scolded herself thoroughly the first time she realized she was interested in him, and now here she was, teasing him as they skipped down the hallways of the castle alone together. Still, she was getting her ice cream, and that was what was important. She turned as she reached the parking area, and jangled the keys in her hand at Calum. Her way of telling him that she would be driving and not slowly, either.

As he watched the princess clamber into the car from the open window, rather than just opening the door, Cal knew he should probably call for an escort. Or even just tell someone where they were going. Yet, as he reached for his phone, he realized that he just plain didn’t want to. Calum wanted to share the moment with Theodora and wanted her to share it with him only. He was no longer ashamed to admit that he was jealous, instead turning the jealousy into a fierce passion to protect the princess.

“Princess Theodora, if I may-” Calum was about to ask her about her plans for the gala coming up, whether she had selected the people who would accompany her or not, when she cut him off. Her words were sharp, much like her driving as she took another reckless corner.

“You can’t. Call me Teddie.” Teddie was straight faced as she spoke, a clear indicator of how serious she was. Teddie had always hated her name, despised it in fact. Although, she did give kudos to her parents. ‘Theodora Arabella’ did have a very regal ring to it.

“Alright, Teddie it is then.” Calum relaxed in his seat a little, tasting the name on his tongue. It was delicate yet intimidating much like Teddie herself. Cal got a little lost in her name in his mouth, failing to realize she hadn’t put on her seatbelt. Teddie just reached over and turned to music up, the bass pounding in Calum’s ears. Cal finally noticed that she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt when Teddie threw both of her hands in the air and jammed out to the music reverberating throughout the car, leaving Cal to reach over and grab the steering wheel to keep them on the road.

“For fuck’s sake woman, put your damn seat belt on.” Cal had never felt more stressed in his entire life. This princess would be the death of him.

___

“I cannot believe this.” Ashton ran his hand through his hair, making it stick up in all sorts of angles. He loved his best friend, but sometimes he just didn’t understand the man. Who lets their princess go out for ice cream at two in the morning? With only one security detail? And lets her drive, muchless at breakneck speeds without a seatbelt?

“It happened. Let it go.” Calum was over this conversation. More so, he was over Ashton continually reminding him of his somewhat shameful actions. He didn’t regret them, though. No matter what happened, he wouldn’t change a single thing about that night. Listening to her ramble, watching her hair whip in the wind as she rolled the top down, seeing her grinning from ear to ear with her ice cream. Calum was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them.

“Whatever. The princess turned in her detail request form.” Ash was already in the doorway of the room as he spoke, turning his head halfway around to speak to Calum once more. “Looks like you’re going solo with her.”

Calum breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe it was childish for him to get jealous over such a simple thing, much less jealous this quickly, but he was still relieved nonetheless. Right as Cal finished lacing up his boot, his phone buzzed with a notification. He glanced down at it without paying much attention before snatching it up hurriedly. It was just a simple text, but it was enough to get his adrenaline flowing and his body moving on autopilot.

Calum’s mind was racing as fast as his legs, pumping his arms trying to get any ounce of speed he could. Curse this damn castle, it’s hallways practically a never ending labyrinth. The security rooms were almost on the other side of the castle, and, more than that, her quarters were at the very end of the wing that they resided inside. As soon as Teddie’s door entered Cal’s line of sight, he was hit with a final burst of motivation and adrenaline.

Calum practically busted down the door, entering the room with a bang. He whipped his head around wildly, desperately searching for Teddie. When he couldn't find her in the main room, his heart dropped and his instincts kicked in, alerting Ash that something was wrong. He ran into her bathroom, still searching wildly. With every second he couldn’t find her more and more panic set in. How had she escaped? Had she escaped? What if she was taken?

Cal was about to shut down the entire castle when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Cal whipped around, smacking the arm off his shoulder as he did so, only to look directly into the forest-hued eyes he so desperately loved. Teddie glanced at him questioningly, the look on her face saying what’s-your-issue?

Cal, however, refused to say anything. Instead he placed his hands on her bathroom sink and took a deep breath, his knuckles going a bit white from gripping the porcelain so tightly. Cal squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to refrain from strangling the princess. After deciding that his feelings weren’t worth assassination, Cal called off the security threat and turned to face the princess.

“What were you thinking?” Cal barely gritted the words out without screaming at her. Usually he felt like he kept a pretty good handle on his emotions, but when it came to the princess, Cal found that pretty much all the rules went straight out the window.

“What? I just asked you to come here?” Teddie acted completely innocent, instead wondering why Calum was all worked up and sweaty. She stood there while he glared at her, not even flinching, although she did find it quite hilarious when his nostril flared out in anger. Teddie rolled her lips into her mouth in an effort to keep from smiling. She was one hundred percent positive that if they had been in a cartoon, Calum would have had steam billowing out of his ears.

“You texted me, and I quote, ‘please come here as fast as you can im so so scared please’!” Calum was surprised to find that his voice was still steady; he sure as hell wasn’t. Calum had been a part of the princess’ security team for all of a month and yet, he knew he was practically whipped for her already. When had he lost his spine?

“And I am!” Teddie had sent that text in all seriousness. She was actually in a bit of a crisis, and while it didn’t quite make sense, she knew the only opinion she wanted on the matter was Calum’s. Teddie looked deeply into his eyes and grabbed his sinewy arm, dragging him into her closet. Once there, Teddie stopped in front of the two dresses she had selected out of her extensive wardrobe. “Which one?”

“What?” Cal was dumbfounded. He was honestly in a state of true disbelief. He knew, he knew that Teddie had not seriously called him all the way down here in a panic only to have her say that she needed help choosing a dress.

“Which one? C’mon I can’t decide!” Teddie stamped her foot impatiently and crossed her arms. She was not exactly patient when it came to this sort of thing. Politics, yes. Fashion, no. Her two gowns were both brand new, designer of course, but she loved both of them too much just to choose. Plus, she looked sexy as hell in both, so no matter which she chose, the dress would do her right. She stared at the dresses, not noticing that Calum was about to burst a blood vessel. She ran her hand over the dark material of the first dress, finding the silk cool against her skin.

“I don’t know?” Cal rubbed his hand over his face. The princess was really trying his patience. “Listen, I’m sure you’ll look beautiful in whichever you choose, okay?”

And then Cal froze. What had he done? Well, actually he knew what he did; he just didn’t know how Teddie would react. Cal wanted to evaporate into thin air then and there. He was a bodyguard, and here he was falling for the princess, flirting with her. Had he lost his damn mind? Cal just chose to keep his hand glued to his face, feigning annoyance. After a moment of silence from Teddie, Cal worked up the nerves to glance over at her, only to find her lost in her own little word, smiling as she ran her hand over the pink silky material. Cal mentally breathed a sigh of relief, more than thankful that Teddie had apparently not heard him. He muttered a quiet excuse to leave and slipped out of the room, trying to save himself from any further embarrassment.

Beautiful. Calum had called her beautiful. Okay, maybe he had inadvertently called her beautiful, but the sentiment was still there. Teddie had noticed Cal glancing over at her to see if she’d react (the man wasn’t as subtle as he thought), but she had contained her glee to a small smile that still managed to reach her eyes. Maybe her dad would be unhappy with her decision to only take Cal to Victoria’s ball, but she knew it was the right one to make. She’d deal with her consequences later, after what she was planning to be one of the best nights of her life.

__

Teddie didn’t know how, but she had fallen for Calum. Actually, more like willingly threw herself down a flight of stairs for Calum, but that was beside the point. As she watched him dust the freshly spilled flour off his black turtleneck that clung to his muscular chest, Teddie reminded herself to go hug her father again for setting her up with this blessing.

“Remind me again why you’re making these yourself instead of having one of your many available chefs make them?” Calum sighed, giving up on getting all of the flour off of his sweater. It was completely unprofessional to walk around looking like he had partially bleached his shirt, but that was a hazard of the job he supposed.

“Because the entire point of making homemade chocolate chip cookies is to make them yourself, dork.” Teddie squinted her eyes at the man, the look on her face saying how completely obvious that should have been. She continued to scoop the dough out and form it into little balls, continually pushing up the sleeves of the chunky forest-hued sweater she was wearing, before sliding the tray into the oven. She, too, had flour dusting her sweater and a touch on her chin, but unlike calum, she didn’t care. To Teddie, spilling flour or whatever was just part of the experience.

“I see.” Calum said nothing else, instead just standing there stoically. There were a few issues with him being with Teddie while she was making said cookies, the first of which being that he was supposed to be at home today and he knew that if any of the boys caught him here, they would know everything. His second issue was also that he was supposed to be going on a date tonight, but instead, was once again here with Teddie. However, the third issue, and quite possibly the biggest one, was that watching Teddie, dumb flour-spattered Teddie, make these dumb cookies and lecture him about the experience was making him fall even further in love with her. It was also making him admit that he was in love with her in the first place.

Teddie had issues. Not only was she unable to surf as often because of the weather getting colder, but the true problem with that was now she had no way to blow off steam, anxiety. Sexual needs. Teddie hadn’t been surfing in a few days which meant that she was bound to do something stupid anytime now. Such as reaching up and brushing some of the flour off of Calum’s jawline. As soon as her thumb grazed Cal’s skin, she knew that things could only go downhill from there, or uphill depending on how she looked at it. Teddie’s hand lingered on Calum’s face, not wanting to lose the feeling of the warmth of his skin on hers. They stood there for a moment before Calum took a small step towards her, closing the gap between them.

As soon as Teddie felt Calum’s breath hit her face, she knew that she wanted this. Wanted him.

“Would you be okay if I kissed you right now?” Teddie wasn’t sure how Calum felt, only how she felt. It was a tad difficult to decipher his feelings, since Teddie was pretty sure Cal was the definition of tall, dark, and handsome with a splash of stoic thrown in. Still, Teddie had never been timid, and she figured that the worst could happen was that she was rejected. Who needed constant love and approval, anyways?

“Are you sure that you want this?” Cal wanted her. Cal wanted her more than anything. But Cal also knew that Teddie would ascend to the throne, and for that, she would need a king to rule beside her. Calum didn’t want for them to tangle their feelings into a knot that would be impossible to separate without cutting it.

Teddie decided to respond by pressing her lips to Calum’s, cupping his neck with one hand and his cheek with the other. Calum wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her closer until they were pressed against each other. The kiss was passionate and hungry, but neither of them was particularly interested in taking it any further at this point. Together, the two of them got lost in each other, exploring each other’s tastes and scents. Teddie was insanely excited to find that she was almost the perfect height for Cal, neither of them having to crane their necks in order for their lips to meet. They were lost in their own little world for an indefinite amount of time, but as soon as Cal found his lips trailing closer to her neck, they both heard a loud alarm go off.

“My cookies!” Teddie gasped and detangled herself from Calum, rushing over to extract the treats from the oven before they burned. Maybe Teddie wasn’t great at following the rules, but she always followed recipes to a T.

Cal chuckled at her panic and leaned himself against one of the counters, watching her carefully examine every cookie. “So are we gonna talk about it?”

Teddie threw him a sideways glance, the majority of her attention still focused on her treats. “Yeah, alright. I’m not interested in just hooking up, so if that’s all you have to offer, then I think I’ll be better off alone.”

Calum raised his eyebrows, sort of taken off guard at her tone and words. Although, he couldn’t say he was completely surprised. Teddie was never one to sugarcoat her feelings or words. “No.”

“No, what, asshole?” Teddie wasn’t about to play games with Calum. Her feelings were not the place for him to show just how stoic and broody he was.

“No, it’s not just a hookup. I want this. If you’ll let me have it, of course.”

“So you’re a sub, hmm?” Teddie couldn’t help it. Calum, for once in his life, looked soft and vulnerable and Teddie knew damn well this would be her first and only opportunity to see that side of him. And make fun of it. From the look on Calum’s face, she would never get to see him ask for permission again, but it was well worth it.

“Baby girl, you have no clue.” Calum walked over to where Teddie was standing, lifted her onto the counter and marked her right then and there. Where no one could see it, of course.

___

After the life he had led, Cal was absolutely positive that the whole karma theory was bullshit. There was no way in hell that he deserved anyone even a fourth as beautiful as Teddie. Or a tenth as wonderful. She was firey and passionate, as she demonstrated time and time again, and everything Calum wished he could have been. So when he saw Teddie ascend the steps into the ballroom, Calum almost fainted. Internally, of course. He had a reputation as a tall and stoic badass to uphold. Still, people couldn’t see his heart stop. She was radiant, far and away the most beautiful woman in the gala. Probably the world, but Cal figured he was a tad biased. Her creamy skin was glowing against the deep turquoise silk of her dress. So it was no wonder he couldn’t keep her eyes off of her for the rest of the night. Luckily enough, that was his job.

___

After a week of late night hookups and hickeys, Teddie was exhausted in the best way possible. Maybe she had said that she wasn’t just a hookup when she and Calum had first gotten together, but he made it so damn hard to resist giving in. To be able to say no. Which was why she was in her own little word at Victoria’s gala the next night. Instead of partying all night and drinking until she couldn’t feel like Teddie had planned, she was instead daydreaming about Calum and barely sipping her champagne. Victoria caught on quickly, but Teddie wasn't surprised about that either. She wasn’t exactly being discreet about it.

“Alright, spill.” Victoria crossed her arms and demanded to know what Teddie was so lost about.

“Spill what?” Teddie knew what. However, she figured she might as well try to feign ignorance. They certainly didn’t have time to unpack everything that had transpired over the last few weeks.

“‘Spill what?’” Victoria mocked Teddie, tired of the games. She was desperate to know what had put such a spell on her best friend. “C’mon. It’s my birthday. You have to tell me.”

Teddie smiled without realising it, the mere thought of Cal making her feel warm in more places than one. After a bit more coaxing, she told Victoria everything that happened over the past few days. Teddie felt her smile grow the more the spoke about Calum, Victoria’s expression matching her own. Despite being cripplingly alone herself, Victoria was happy that Teddie had found someone that made her so happy. And Victoria told her as much, ensuring that Teddie knew how happy she was for her. Victoria brought Teddie in for a tight hug, in that moment not giving one shit about wrinkling her dress, or messing up her hair, or anything else that she had fretted about for all those weeks. Teddie and Victoria stood there silent and happy, just looking into each other's eyes in a minute of happiness and friendship. For that moment, everything was perfect.

Then Teddie watched Victoria’s eyes go wide as a loud bang filled the room. It was like a blast to Teddie’s ears, making everything go silent. Then everything started ringing and Teddie felt a warm liquid splatter her face and arms. Teddie couldn’t do anything as she watched Victoria’s body go limp and sink to the floor, unable to even breathe. Teddie knew what was happening, fully aware of everything going on around her, but she still couldn’t do anything about it. The ringing was still there, but it had subsided enough for Teddie to hear someone screaming. She wanted to tell whoever it was to stop, but then Teddie realized that she was the one who was screaming. Yet, she still couldn’t stop. The liquid was still on her body, dripping down into her eyes. Teddie knew she should have run, taken cover, anything. But once again, she was still frozen in place.

Suddenly, Teddie felt a presence collide with her body, pinning her to the ground. Gunshots continued to fill the room, still muffled in Teddie’s ears.

“Teddie. Teddie. Focus, Teddie. C’mon, doll. Focus on me for a sec.” Teddie was still in a daze as a gruff australian voice called out to her. Still, the entire situation felt unreal to her, like she wasn’t in her own body. She tried, though. Teddie gave her all into focusing on the man she loved. As she felt Cal’s hands support her head and turn it towards his own, Teddie was able to meet Cal’s eyes. “We need to go. I need you to run, okay?”

When Teddie nodded, Calum wasted no time getting them off the floor and sprinting towards the door. Even though Teddie had only requested Calum for the night, he had still made the executive decision to bring along the rest of her detail. Ash and Luke flanked them as Michael provided cover fire in the direction the bullets had been flying from. They were so close, almost to the door, when Calum felt a wave of fire rippling throughout his body. Still, he kept running. Or he tried to, at least. His brain was telling his legs to move, keeping going, but his body refused to obey. Instead he collapsed, waving on the others even as Ash tried to turn back for him. Calum, however, understood the responsibility of the job. He also knew that his own life was so unimportant compared to Teddie’s. Especially to him. She was his number one priority not because she was the princess, but because she was his princess. As Cal watched the love of his life and two of his best friends recede through the doors safely, he took a deep breath, finally relieved.

___

Teddie hadn’t moved in hours. At least, she thought it had been hours. Maybe it had been minutes, maybe it had been days. Teddie had no clue, but she also didn’t have the energy to care. Two of the people she cared about most in the world had been shot, and while Teddie had escaped unscathed, her emotions and ability to function had absolutely been torn to shreds. Still, her closest assistants had been a godsend, helping her through the motions she needed to get through in order to feel even a touch human. Still, even though she had showered and managed to change into different clothes, Teddie could feel the ghost of Victoria’s blood haunting her skin. She didn’t want to feel, didn’t want to think. All she wanted was peace and quiet and to be able to forget everything.

Eventually, Teddie took to wondering the halls, done with being coddled and constantly surrounded by people trying to ‘help’ her. After a few minutes of aimless wandering, Teddie found her feet carrying her towards the med bay of the castle. She wasn’t sure why, but Teddie knew that she needed to see it. To see the aftermath of everything that had happened.

Teddie stepped into mini hospital and the doctor recognized her as the princess immediately, giving her a sympathetic smile before retreating into their office and leaving Teddie to her own devices. Teddie was surprised to find the majority of the medical bay unchanged from the last time she had been in there years ago. Still, because the section was relatively small, she found who she was looking for almost instantly. They still weren’t awake from the anesthesia from the surgery, so Teddie just took a seat on the chair next to them, gathering their hand into her own. It was mere moments before Teddie saw a pair of dark eyes crack open and meet her own, and as soon as they did, Teddie felt fat tears of mourning ripple down her face.

“I know.” Calum hated himself. He hated himself for all the pain she had to go through, for not being there for her, for not being more careful. As he watched the tears roll down her face, Cal was so painfully aware that there was nothing he could do for her. To ease her pain. Despite the bandages and tube and wires, Cal made room for her next to him in his bed. She tucked herself into his side, her tough demeanor evaporated.

As soon as Teddie laid her head onto Cal’s shoulder, she was gone. Just like Victoria.

[triptychexe]

TRIVIUM - PART 3 - DEBUT MINI ALBUM [2016]

TRIVIUM is the third and final unit to debut from Triptych’s first generation with their debut mini album PART 3. With a significantly more hip-hop and rap-focused sound in comparison to the two previous Triptych units, TRIVIUM brings a new layer of talent and meaning to the super group. Covering hard-to-swallow topics like gender roles and societal double standards, TRIVIUM hits hard and makes waves.

△ TRACK BY TRACK. 

1] BERLIN 

The decision to make BERLIN their debut song was a power move. Not only does the song have a very distinct and recognizable sound that drags listeners in, but it sets the vibe for TRIVIUM’s energy.

All three members had a hand in writing this song.

The line distribution can be found here

2] SAVAGES

In this hiphop-influenced track, TRIVIUM has a back and forth debate between rappers Van and Cal over if human nature is inherently good or evil, giving examples of highs and lows in society.

Doubled with a strong chorus, thought-provoking versus, and irony twisted into more than a half the lines, this song can be seen as an ironic commentary on what people see as ‘right’ and ‘wrong’.

Written by all three members.

3] WHO I AM

Trivium talks about their past and how it had shaped them into who they are today. This song is like the last goodbye to their old selves, ready to let go of the past and move on.

This track also acknowledges that admitting ignorance isn’t something that you should be ashamed of, as you can only change as long as you’re willing. 

Written by all three members

 4] BACK OFF

 Ura, the only woman in this subunit, took it upon herself to write a feminist anthem for their album. It’s basically a response to all the times Ura has had a man be patronizing towards her. Van and Cal act on the track as supporters, but the song is mostly Ura focused. 

The first song on the album where you actually hear Ura rap and get to see her lyricism play out. One of Ura’s lines mentioned snapping kneecaps. Everyone’s afraid of her now. 

Written by Ura

5] BITE

This song is all about wanting someone that’s not good for you, but you keep coming back. 

The non-gender specific pronouns in the song show that this song can be about any type of relationship, regardless of gender or if it is a romantic or platonic relationship. 

Written by Van and Cal

6] MEN/WOMEN

All about gender roles and how they’ve hurt them as they’ve grown up. Since they are the first co-ed unit from Triptych, they took it upon themselves to address double standards/gender roles.

This one caused a bit of a discussion, especially since it directly calls out the double standards in the kpop industry.

Written by all members. 

△ THIS ERA.

So... Trivium easily got the most attention out of Gen 1.

Mostly because they’re a co-ed duo that covers topics that aren’t discussed super openly.

But also because they’re really good rappers. Like, all of them. And their stage presence is really intense. 

Ura doesn’t rap as much as she would have liked to this era, as they needed her on vocals to break up the tracks a little since neither Van or Cal can sing very well.

Trivium were given the title ‘un-idols’ - which is both a term of endearment as well as a critique, depending on who uses it - because of their unwillingness to play up the role of a significant other at fan signs as well as their general aura.

Idols are supposed to be like... ‘perfect’ at all times, and Trivium just doesn’t do that? Like they wear the worst outfits to the airport, fansites have pictures of them waiting in line for street food (and then chowing down on said street food), and the way they talk to fans is so casual? 

This attitude turned off some fans, but it brought in a whole new wave of support, especially from international fans who felt like Trivium were relatable. 

The most popular member this comeback was easily Ura. Not only was she the only girl, so she visually stood out, but she was the one that often went viral for fan-zoning fans who asked her to be romantic with them.

She also received the most criticisms, but she really didn’t care. She wasn’t going to make herself uncomfortable for the sake of others. 

Cal got a good amount of attention too because of his accent and his looks. Cal has a very slight British accent when he says certain Korean words and people just... lost it over that.

Van kinda sunk to the background this era, but he doesn’t really mind. He just wanted the kids to have fun and have their time to shine. :) 

As far as numbers go, Trivium breaks records for Triptych by gaining 10 million music video views in the first 24 hours as well as having BERLIN chart on Melon upon release. 

△ ERA FASHION. 

I promise this is the last era that Triptych wears color-coded outfits. I promise. The company was trying to see how the color-coded concept would work and gen 1 was the guinea pigs. 

When Artychs saw how lacking Trivium’s debut outfits were.... they almost rioted at HBH. They already were accusing HBH of picking favorites and not giving Trivium equal treatment. 

But the truth is... Trivium picked their debut stage outfits. Yes, they’re bland, but Trivium wanted their debut to feel like friends were finally meeting up for the first time, hence the casual clothes.

The button up shirt fits tho.... that made a few bitches go feral. That was an exquisite serve. 

The award show fits were nice too! Ura stunned bitches pulling up with her short blazer dress and fishnets. Van had really cool dress pants with designs on them and Cal wore a color that wasn’t black! It was monumental!

As far as hair goes, Ura had short black hair with wispy bangs. 

Van had black hair and almost always wore a wide headband on his hairline.

Cal’s hair was usually just styled into tousled brown curls and called a day. 

△ FANDOM BEHAVIORS.

I’ve explained triptych stan culture before (basically the fandom is kinda divided? like some fans only support certain subunits, others support all of them, etc.) but I think Trivium was what really made that divide clear. 

Trivum just sounds different than S.O.T and Tromme, there was gonna be people who didn’t vibe with their style. But that’s kinda the point of Triptych, to like.. get different sounds involved in their discography.

And some gross fans didn’t like that Trivium made it clear that they don’t want to be sexualized by fans, so they just decided to ignore them and focus on S.O.T and Tromme, who hasn’t spoken out about being sexualized by strangers online. 

People also started calling Van a ‘smol bean uwu’ (hello 2016) and started like... infantalizing him?? even though he’s a grown ass man??? does he LOOK like dan OR phil to any of you???????? 

Fans also started calling Cal a fuckboy and played him up as this big meme just because he’s goofy. I will never forgive y’all for that.

Pick Mes hated Ura because if anyone’s ‘one of the boys’, it’s Ura and they were jealous. But she literally has to be one of the boys. It’s apart of her job. 

But the artychs that do stan Trivium are probably some of the chillest people ever. They are literally just vibing. Trivium stans are dubbed as the ‘stoners’ of the fandom as a joke.

And OT9 stans overpower solo stans by a LONG SHOT, so don’t worry! Trivium received more love than hate from artychs. There were just a few bad eggs that ruined shit. 

[the-jennnster]

Inspired by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor‘s Writing Prompt #1537 and day two of my personal Camp NaNo challenge to get back into writing by writing from a dialogue prompt every day

“You’re a fool to think this plan could actually work.”

“I’m a fool either way. Are you with me, or not?”

She scowled, rolling her eyes. “Fine,” she said at last, “but if we die, I’m suing your ass for all it’s worth.”

“Wouldn’t be much, considering the whole ‘shame to my family’ thing,” I told her with a smirk, patting her shoulder and stepping forward to the table. “We need you in the van on coms and cams—no offense, but you’re not exactly the fastest—”

“Neither is Brainy,” she retorted, “But I also just escaped from a high security prison, so if I got caught, our asses are cooked.”

Kyle’s brow furrowed in the background. “I don’t think that’s the—”

“You got me, I just wanted to keep your pretty face out of the front page.” I flashed Dani a smile and she sneered at me, Ethan stepping between us, just like always.

“We need to get here,” he interrupted, pointing to a small room on a sublevel so low I didn’t even know they made basements that deep. “It’s the data vault, where they keep the code information. It’s thirty floors below ground, behind seven fingerprint-locked doors, with at least twenty guards between each door.”

“Wow, it’s almost like they don’t want people getting access to their private information or something,” Maia muttered, picking at a scar on her arm. Dani’s lip quirked in a brief acknowledgement of agreement, and crossed her arms.

“Getting into the vault isn’t the hard part—” she began.

“Really?” I scoffed. “Have you ever gotten through that level of security?” She levelled me an unamused gaze.

“It’s getting the information out. Those databases are the most high-security servers in the world, with so many layers of firewalls and encryptions that it’s like reading Ancient Greek upside down.”

“Let me guess, your specialty?” Maia quipped from the couch, shock of red curls hanging over the arm.

“Mine, actually,” Kyle admitted. “I’ve gotten in before, and that was when I didn’t have an extra ten years of practice.”

Maia’s ever-present scowl returned on the couch while Dani smiled almost proudly. “Which means that we need to get you in.”

He jolted. “Me? I can hack remotely, I don’t—I did it from Nicson before, I can do it from the van—”

“You’ll have a more direct connection in the vault, not to mention bypassing some of the palace’s firewalls to prevent exterior hacking. You’re good, but they’ve upped their security,” she smirked, definitely proudly. “Thanks to my little stunt.”

“That got you thrown in jail,” I added under my breath, earning a sharp flick on the arm.

“Because of you, you little ‘I’m an independent thinker and I don’t do what you say’,” she snapped.

“In my defense, you had anarchist written all over you,” I said with a shrug.

“Still do,” she growled. “But I’m giving up on my dreams of destroying the entire system in exchange for a release information on government corruption.” She forced a smile. “Happy?”

“Very,” I said, though the idea of this all being real, of us succeeding on this insane endeavor, made me uneasy. After this, there would be no hiding. There would be no more Ghost, hell, I wouldn’t even be Cecily Williams anymore. I would be a science experiment, my parents’ personal freak of nature. I… I wouldn’t even be a person, and the whole world would know.

But they would also know that the emperor was building soldiers. That he had been for nearly twenty years, and that he’d had innocent people killed for it. That he’d been collecting data on every citizen in this country, all in the name of protection, to turn them into weapons.

We would be showing people the truth, and not just the people here. The global leadership wouldn’t stand for this blatant act of militarism, even from America. They’d unseat the emperor, dismantle the whole codes system, stop the experiments in their tracks.

At least… We hoped so.

“We can sneak in during the masquerade,” Ethan suggested, placing four invitations on the table. “Cee and Kyle together, and me and Maia.”

“Why do we have to go in together?” Maia whined, head bobbing. “At this point, the whole world knows I’m a lesbian, we don’t have to do this fake dating shit.”

“Because,” Ethan said with an all-too-sincere smile. “We’re going to be the distraction.”

She sat upright, smiling devilishly. “Oh, do tell, highness.”

“The party’s for Emmalyn,” he explained, “to celebrate her and Cal’s engagement—” Dani and I both gagged at the same time. “But it’s also a test for us. We’re still in the public eye given the whole ‘human-monster fusion’ thing, and they want to make sure we can function in society without going all wolf-brain on them.”

Maia frowned. “Can we though?”

Ethan hesitated and, for a brief moment, I saw the fear in his eyes. I knew what this plan entailed—the two of them voluntarily letting their monsters out to play in the middle of a high society party, full of unsuspecting party goers. The plan was to cause just enough chaos to get people screaming and running, and then slip away to help us make our way down to the vault, but… There was always the chance that they would lose control and not be able to turn back. That… that this could be the last time they were Ethan and Maia for a long time.

“We’ll see,” he offered with a weak smile.

“Once security on the main floor rushes to neutralize the threat—” Dani gestures to the two of them, then turns to Kyle and I. “You two need to get here, fast.” She points to a doorway on the map on the table in front of us, hidden away under some stairs. “It’s an entrance to the palace subbasements that technically no one is supposed to know about, but considering that Ethan and Maia are in there practically every other day, it’s… Well, suffice to say, that’s going to be the easiest part of your night. From there, you need to get to the lift at the end of this hall,” she reframed the map with a quick swipe of her fingers, focusing on that first subbasement that appeared to be a maze of offices, the aforementioned elevator hidden around far too many corners for my own good. “Once you’re in there, implant this in the operations box, and I’ll have a direct route to bypass the security systems that restrict access.” She holds up a chip that may as well be a grain of rice for how small it is. “Put it somewhere you won’t break it, eh, slugger?” she tells me as she gently places it in my palm. I immediately turn to Kyle, handing it to him.

“Yeah, okay,” he says, fidgeting with his watch to place it inside.

“I’ll handle everything between the lift and the vault room, but you,” she levels her dark brown eyes at Kyle, “have to get inside there and get the data out.”

“Yeah, I—I can do that.” He nods nervously, picking at his fingernails. “What about getting out?”

Dani half-laughs, half-sighs. “Brainy, by the time we’re done here, getting out will be the least of our problems.”

The five of us exchanged looks. She was right. No matter which way the night went, it wouldn’t matter how we got out of the data vault—what mattered was what happened after. If we succeeded, we’d be walking out into a new world where mutates were given the respect they deserved and the empire as we knew it dissolved. If we failed… Well, we wouldn’t have much say in the matter if we failed. We’d be enemies of the state, moreso than we were already, and our heads would be on the chopping block within minutes. Goodbye, imperial pardons, brand new apartments, and a future of hope. Hello, a cinderblock cell and a sentence to meet the newest firing squad.

We were the empire’s heroes. We were the empire’s most hated.

We were kids.

And we were going to save the world.