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carryonafi · 2 months

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where did the party go.

ashton irwin x reader; ANGST

a/n: heyyy lovers!! 2 posts in a row (almost) whaaat!! i’ve been working recently because i just went through my entire google docs and sorted everything out 😭 this is something i’ve been working on for quite some time now and requires a little bit of backstory. there will be another part to this series, and possibly a third? let me know if you want to hear about some of the key moments in the 2013–2016 period! so without further ado, this is part one of “where did the party go.”! 🤍

content warnings: sexual innuendos, heavy drinking, smoking, mentions of declining mental health

words: 2.4k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

background: Your relationship with Ashton has been public ever since the beginning, starting in 2013 and continuing to flow and experience the life of 5 Seconds of Summer all the way until the band went on a break at the end of 2016. During those years, you took on the struggles that Ashton and the rest of the band faced which left them all having you as a permanent resident in their life. However, your relationship becomes rocky when Ashton refuses to communicate until the very moment he can’t take it anymore. His impulsive decision leads to you moving out, yet still being in his life because of the others and their friendship with you.

— POV: Ashton —

I could see nothing beyond her. Of course she would be here… of course. Heart stuck in my throat, I turned my attention away from her as soon as she started to look in my direction. We had ended. Months ago, yet I still couldn’t pull myself out of the mindset that she was still mine. I was still waking up next to her every morning, head on the fluffy pillow she claimed when we first moved in and hovering over the shadow of her figure in our bed. Yes, it was still our bed. It would always be. Everywhere I went she followed me whether it be the scent of the hair mist which stuck to the bathroom tile, the fluffy blankets she had chosen for the house, a few products left behind like she was coming back… she wouldn’t.

The music was bass heavy, rattling the table which in turn shook the floor and bounced off of the walls, reverberating in the guest’s ears. In the house I was suffocated, wanting and feeling like a beggar when I so much as looked her way.

“It’ll be like the iHeart Radio night all over again!” Michael made the comment, the rest of the group lightheartedly laughing despite the known tension. I left the circle almost immediately after that, not being able to bear hearing her sickeningly sweet giggle as she clung to any one of my friends besides me. I secretly wished the same, just over a year ago we were sharing smiles at each other and trying each other’s drinks, unable to separate as we made our way to the escort and back to the hotel in a blur.

The back porch brought an odd comfort to me, it was a change of pace from all of the lights inside. Calm, soft, warm yellow lanterns and fairy lights above proudly grown ferns. Although I did feel like an asshole for exiting at a time when people were talking to me, I just couldn’t handle the voices that weren’t her’s. I couldn’t handle her’s either. The vast green soothed me and the euphoria of a deep breath from a joint hit quickly, the blue smoke wandered together, then parted once hitting a certain point in the air. When it couldn’t carry the oxygen anymore. Familiar… Maybe. Maybe that’s why there were now tears obstructing my vision.

A sudden rush of consciousness and self pity struck my senses, cutting deep and forcing me to stand up off of the porch and make my way back inside the house within seconds. Hours felt like seconds and once enclosed, nothing was real. Not the people, not the music, not the house which was once our’s and now holding me alone, not the slow drift of which my rationality began to slip.

“Come on, Ash…”

She was real, though. Touching me, feeling for the stairs with her high heels, whispering words that I couldn’t understand— I went weak. I let her hold my weight, and her soft touch was replaced with a mattress. Clouds. Heaven. She was down with me, pitifully listening to me stutter apologies through tears and a lack of sobriety, begging her to let me hold her one last time before she found better. I mumbled with full confidence that I loved her. I loved nothing more than my weakness.

“I… I can’t.” She uttered those words which was the only blur I remembered hearing, it had to be the worst of it. Not her reassurance or her hushing my pathetic tears, I had to remember what she had pledged herself to. She wasn’t coming back.

Her dress was in my arms during the hours until I woke up, like she had vanished with all that was left being her clothing and a sweater missing from my closet. Everything came creeping in pieces, coming back with each step I took down the party soaked stairs. One led me to her hands, the next led me to her voice, breathing my name and encouragement to help me, then my knees led me to the hardwood of the living space. It was impossible to exist without thinking of her, from the moment I’d wake up it would be torture right away. I wasn’t lying next to her figure. I wasn’t waking up and rolling over to the side, her small, warm frame snuggling up to mine making soft hums and mews in her sleep. The smell of her hair, the freckles lightly dusting her cheeks and nose. All for me, just for me. Her morning voice, mumbling my name into my neck and chest as she desperately tried to get closer to my comfort. My arms enveloped her until she disappeared, then I remembered she wasn’t here again. She couldn’t.

When I walked around the house I imagined her happily skipping alongside me, dragging me over to the couch just to cuddle and burrow in the soft blankets for the rest of the day until one of us had to eventually finish a task.

No more fleeting kisses, no more shoulder rubs, no more long nails tracing my shoulder blades while my fingertips gave the same treatment to the dimples on her back and the dips in her hip bones. No more of her cheek pressed to my chest, arms wrapped around me in a tight embrace because she just didn’t want to let go. No more of the stubbornness which kept me smiling at how ridiculous she could be.

When I got home I would expect a long hug, she always stood on her tiptoes to hug me so her lips could meet my cheek.. or my own. Always warm, everything she possessed was warm. Her giggles, her lips, her voice, everything. Without her everything was just cold. I never rested comfortably because it was so, so damn cold.

I could feel her. Right there. The rise and fall of her chest, hips flush to mine as her soft, pink pout glossy with need stared up at me as a way to beg for attention. Her doe eyes, big and wanton silently telling me how much she needed my love, for my hands to trace her skin and plush valleys. For her small ones to grab mine tightly, tangle in my hair, whisper against my lips about how I needed a haircut before I shut down the sense of coordination for her thoughts with my hips meeting her thighs.

The days lulled by slowly without her there, I thought back to the night she left every single day. My words were not the right choice, she was willing to be there. She was willing to help me, but I didn’t think that something already broken could depend on something else the way I did to her. I had nightmares about the sounds of her heart wrenching, yet gentle sobs as I told her my thoughts. The promise ring still sat on my bedside table on her side just waiting for the day that I could really pull myself together and face her. My only weakness. My only reason, which could have been mine from the beginning if I was smarter. If I had worked harder.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Looking dapper, aren’t you?” Michael had noticed that I’ve been emptily staring into a mirror for what felt like forever. The abrupt sound of his voice pulled me from my thoughts as I blinked, looking at his reflection behind me.

“Oh, totally. Just can’t get enough of myself.” I replied in a sarcastic tone of voice, rolling my eyes as I smoothed a hand down the front of my suit. Award shows were fun, for the most part. A lot less stressful if we didn’t have a performance, we didn’t have to worry about becoming presentable once again. What can I say? We put our all into anything we play.

Michael grinned in a silent laugh at my reply, scrolling through his phone while Calum did the same and Luke was idle in front of the other mirror. He’d started wearing a lot of eye makeup, not that it was a bad thing. He was getting incredibly good at it, just to think a few years ago he barely felt comfortable putting on some chapstick in public. “Listened to Y/N’s new single yet? Pretty dope.” Michael hummed, nudging Calum’s shoulder to show him something on his phone which was presumably the cover or something… because he nodded in approval and made a comment that I didn’t hear. The sound of her name made me shiver, I took a deep breath and pulled myself away from the mirror to sit across from the others. Their conversation made no sense to me as I was still quite caught up in my own mind, my world of thoughts surrounding me about what this song could sound like. Would I ever listen to it? No, to save myself, probably not.

The one thing missing from this was her by my side again, squeezing my hand and holding on through the swamp of cameras and flashing lights. I could always remember her being the only thing I felt, in all of the chaos. I hadn’t even registered that we had made it out to the car and were sitting in the back already, I snapped back into reality again.

“You good, dude? You’ve been sorta spacey today.” Calum did the same as Michael did to him earlier and nudged my side, I defensively nodded and silently dismissed his worries. If I talked about it, I feared that it would all come out at once without being able to put a filter on my thoughts. Soon enough, we were back in that atmosphere again. Hopping out of the car and putting on an attitude towards the cameras but a different comfort for the fans who just wanted to see us up close, another car rolled in behind us after our driver had gone but I didn’t look. I started hearing her name again, hushed in comparison to all of the other desperate shouts and calls for attention. Fuck, wasn’t I lucky? I just had to keep moving, smiling, waving, making jokes and avoiding the mention of the girl haunting me.

This night was slow. So fucking slow, I just wanted to sit through this and get out of the venue as quick as possible. I wanted to go back to our bed, hold her knitted crop top up to my face and breathe in her scent which was long gone by now. However, we had to mingle. We just had to walk around and talk to people, I couldn’t leave by myself… it was worth a shot to try to enjoy the last few hours of the event. So far, I had been holding myself together pretty well and Luke stuck by my side to make sure I wasn’t left alone in my head. I knew he would do this for me, he wouldn’t hesitate to help me when I needed it. Even if I never vocalized it.

– POV: Reader –

There it was, the movie moment. The prolonged eye contact before an invisible pull drew the two closer to each other until they finally met in the middle, though that didn’t happen. You saw him from afar, shuffling alongside Luke and unable to hold eye contact. His hair was tame, but you knew it at its best. Thick, messy curls, damp from a shower, hanging over his lustful eyes at your favorite times, pushed back into one of your clips so they weren’t disrupting his focus. You knew the best of him, and you needed to see that again. It wasn’t you that ended things, but the chase after he realized his mistake hadn’t stopped until 6 months after you two ended. Bad idea, maybe? Your heels clicked along the tile, drowned out by the natural sounds of people laughing and congratulating, drinks flowing, claps on the back. You was drawn to him the minute Luke had pressed a hand to his shoulder and left his side.

“Hi.” One word that spoke a thousand all at once, Ashton turned with a look of… fear in his eyes. It didn’t go away when your eyes met, but his expression definitely softened.

“Hey, stranger.” He breathed, the soft ring of honey around his iris and between the forest green majority shrinking as his pupils dilated out of love. That was it, from the moment he spoke you knew that the pieces were already mended. There was healing. You bit your lip to hold in your smile, but you just couldn’t. It was contagious, Ashton shared a hesitant smile back with relief. ‘Are you upset with me? Have you forgiven me for making one of the biggest mistakes of my life?’ He wanted to ask, but better yet, your eyes told him more than enough. “I loved the song.” Ashton lied, he hadn’t listened to it.

“Oh, yeah?” You stared up at him, from the trouble he seemed to be having with eye contact earlier, he sure wasn't having any now.

“Yeah, you really deserve that nomination.” He mused, pupils darting up and down from the tip of your toes all the way up to your done-up, hairspray and product doused hair.

“I appreciate that.” You gave a warm smile, hands knitting together neatly in front of yourself. It wasn’t until you made eye contact again that you realized you were wearing his favorite color, his favorite cut– a nice baby blue tight around your hips and fanning out around your frame. Time was cut short, the award ceremony was starting in less than 10 minutes now.

Ashton cleared his throat, checking his watch. “We should… probably get to our seats.” He said softly, still lingering like he didn’t want to leave you behind.

You simply nodded in agreement, bidding him an awkward goodbye before stepping away and letting that invisible string loosen its hold.

The interaction left you slightly lost, even more lost than the moment you actually ended your relationship. It felt like walking away from an opportunity, the real embodiment of stepping away from a chapter in your life. Were you at peace? Maybe, but it was unfinished. You couldn’t sit through this award show, with performance after another the wait was getting more and more unbearable to handle

You needed to speak with Ashton, burn the bridge or rebuild it.

Where did the party go?

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

Part 2

#5 seconds of summer #5sos fanfic #ashton irwin #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #5sos series #5sos smut #5sos x reader #ashton irwin x reader #5sos angst

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suchalonelysunflower · 2 months

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Villain

Sinners and Saints - Chapter 2

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

Summary: Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf? After seemingly accept to help her, Ashton would not make it easy for the reader to find his good graces.

Warnings: Violence, swearing, blood, guns, threats, kidnapping, murder, mentions of abuse, injury. Some grammar mistakes (English is not my first language I’m sorry)

Word count: 5.9k

Author’s Note: I’m keeping it, and if you don’t like AU’s don’t read them 🤷🏼‍♀️ Thank you all for the support with the first chapter, it means a lot 🩷 And remember to reblog, comment and like the post if you enjoyed it ❤️ Hope you like it and happy reading 🌻✨🦋

Series Masterlist

“Careful, angel” You could hear the smile in his voice dripping with condescending sarcasm “We don’t want you to get hurt”

Still, you kicked and fought and bit and yelled “fire” hoping anyone could hear and come and help, but the music was too loud and you were at least ninety percent sure the walls were soundproof. You could not see anything besides the darkness of the velvet inside of the - you guessed - bag over your head. Your heels dug into the ground as the minions Ashton probably hired from the slums tried to drag you away.

“Get the fuck away from me!”

“Motherfuck-!” One of them yelled after you sunk your teeth deep into his hand. You smiled at the faintest taste of blood that lingered on your tongue. If you were going down, at least they’d know you fought back.

Ashton rolled his eyes with a sigh “You know,” He said “You used to be fun”

“Fun?!” You yelled turning your head toward where you thought he was, still dragging your feet as two pairs of arms dragged you “I would show you fun, you sick son of a-”

“Ah-ah better be careful with your next words, angel” Ashton tutted. You felt his breath next to your ear, goosebumps jumping up on your skin as he leaned down and whispered “We both know you like it”

At that point, you were hoping you had a bag over your head so that he would miss the way your cheeks flamed up at his proximity. But if you had to guess, he probably wore a devilish smirk right now, and oh, how you wanted the satisfaction to erase it completely.

“GODFUCK-” You smiled as you heard Ashton’s groan in pain after you kneeled him near his crotch.

“Oops”

Soon, your wrists were grabbed by one of his hands, pulling you closer to him. You could feel his heartbeat next to yours as he took off the covering of your face.

Hazel, angry eyes were staring right at yours, you didn’t dare look away. You couldn’t. His gaze scanned your face, lingering a second too long on your lips before his stare found yours again, looking back with something hidden in them, something that made your breath get caught up in your lungs the second you noticed the soft caressing of his thumb against the skin of your wrist. It was a challenge, it had to be. You knew Ashton’s tricks too well to fall for them so easily. But having him so close made you realize exactly why it seemed so thoughtless to give it all away.

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” He asked, words like velvet coming out of his mouth.

“I don’t know,” You answered, staring back at him with anger “Why do you have to be such an asshole?”

Ashton chuckled, “Ouch, and I thought we were getting along”

Suddenly, you felt someone yank you from his grasp and carry you over their shoulders to the exit. You kicked and screamed, but all was fruitless as you were thrown inside a car where they tied up your wrists and ankles, and covered your face with another blindfold.

“Believe me, angel. I had no intentions of tying you up this soon” Ashton’s voice came floating as you felt the seat next to you dip under his weight. You scoffed in annoyance.

“Bite me, Irwin”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, love” He said “And try and keep quiet, alright? Don’t make me gag you… Unless you want to”

The car started moving, and just like that, you were completely at his mercy.

During the whole car ride, you were completely silent and still. You didn’t even give him the satisfaction of breathing hard, and you knew you were driving him crazy. Well, if the consistent sound of tapping his fingers on his knee told you anything, that is. You had to repress a smile at that.

Ashton liked the chase and fight. You noticed it the second you saw that glint in his eyes. One does not get the name Lucifer by playing fair and liking it.

“Turn over here,” He told the driver “Take the next exit and then straight home”

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he didn’t want you to know where he lived or how to get there, it was all part of the protocol your father used with all of his associates as well. How many times have the driver picked you up from school and a random man was sitting at the back with a bag over his head and his hands bound with tape if anything?

But you’ve already sold your life to the devil. You promised everything he requested to save Luke from whatever hellhole he was caught up with. You trusted him despite yourself because no one else would’ve helped you due to the nature of your last name. Ashton knew this. He knew that you weren’t going to betray him, you couldn’t even if you wanted to while your brother was nowhere to be found. So what was all this circus? Was it just to humiliate you further?

“Someone’s awfully quiet over there” He taunted. You said nothing “Aww, cat’s got your tongue, angel?”

You kicked what you hoped was his seat and heard him laugh quietly. Your cheeks burn red as you bite your tongue from ever answering him. There will be nothing left to say until he starts helping you with the search.

Sometime later, the car came to a halt. You heard how Ashton’s men got out of the vehicle, feeling how it got lighter once they did. You were still sitting in place, not moving unless moved to become more of an inconvenience for anyone because they knew that if they tried to touch you, some of the bruises you left on them might become worse.

That’s until you felt a familiar grasp on your arm.

You tried to hit him once again, but Ashton was pulling you from a distance of a few steps ahead of you. He took you up some stairs and you heard a big door closing behind you. Suddenly, the light came through.

“Now, listen,” Ashton said as your eyes adjusted to the light and the new environment “I don’t want any funny business here, you got it?”

Your head was reeling too hard to even speak. Your eyes started to look around, familiarizing yourself with this new threat. The two of you were standing in a grand entrance lobby, the main staircase not too far behind in the room. There were guards on each door, some even waiting with firearms in their hands, ready to draw. The marble floors decorated the room with elegance, nothing you wouldn’t expect from someone in this line of business.

But what really impressed you was the size of this mansion. Of course, you had your fair share of them, coming from a big, important family, it was nothing new. But knowing that Ashton lived there alone… it sure felt lonely.

Yet, you barely had time to ponder on that as Ashton grabbed you by the arm again and dragged you up the stairs.

“You are never to leave this room, understood?”

“What?”

He opened up a door, practically throwing you inside and making you lose your footage.

“This door stays unlocked for me at all times” He sternly ordered “Don’t get in my way, don’t bother me, and don’t come looking for me. If you do, somebody better be dead or I’ll make sure they will be”

Ashton slammed the door after that, leaving you completely alone.

Immediately, you ran to the door, but when you opened it you found two guards standing with their broad backs facing you, both of them with guns.

You groaned and slammed the door shut. Falling to your knees as you desperately and angrily wiped away the tears that could not stop falling. You cursed Ashton’s name over and over again, hitting the ground until your knuckles were scraped and started to bleed a little bit. By then, almost all of your anger was contained and you were left feeling numb once again.

You stood up and cradled your hands with each other, looking around the green sage-painted room. The door of the bathroom was opened, so you went in to clean up the dirt and blood from your hands and fingertips. You noticed it had a bathtub; and towels; and the cabinet was filled with ibuprofen, bandages, and a first aid kit.

You looked back into the room and also noticed how the sheets were new, and the blankets over them were placed perfectly aligned with the pillows. You rummaged through the closet and found different outfits mostly consisting of sweatpants, hoodies, workout clothes, and a set of pajamas. The realization that Ashton got someone to get the room ready for you while you were driving to his house caught you by surprise.

Still, a cage was still a cage no matter how fancy it seemed.

The next thing you did was try to get to the windows, but as you suspected they were nailed shut and made with bulletproof glass.

“Smart,” You thought “You win this round, Irwin”

Suddenly, the antics of the day caught up with you as you let yourself fall into the sheets and the bed. You didn’t know how or when, but when you woke up, you were tucked underneath the blankets.

The next morning Ashton woke up with a major headache. His mouth was dry and his hair was sticking out in various directions. He got out of bed with a groan and with the everyday motivation coming from the smell of coffee coming from the kitchen.

But his thoughts are quickly scrambled by loud knocks at the door.

“Fuck… What?!” He shouted, rubbing his eyes, still trying to wake up.

“Sir?” One of his bodyguards talked through the other side of the door “I- uh. I’m afraid something’s happened… eh, with the guest. She- she’s not in her room, sir”

“WHAT?!

Immediately, Ashton was out of bed and putting on his sweatpants, grabbing the gun that slept next to him on his bedside table. He opened the door and put the front sight up against the guard’s neck and under his chin, making the man gulp when he saw the anger in his boss’ eyes.

“Say that again” He demanded.

“Th-the- the maid went to give her br-br-breakfast but the girl was not-”

Ashton rolled his eyes and murmured a “Fucking idiot,” before he went up to check up on the room across the hall.

Empty.

“Shit,” He cursed, punching the door frame and turning toward his crew “I want eyes on every fucking room in this house. The pool. The garden. The fucking sheds! Not a single rock left untouched! That’s Y/N Hemmings we’re talking about!”

“And if we find her?”

“When you find her you bring her to me. I’ll deal with her”

The men scurried quickly, leaving Ashton shirtless and alone in the hall. He cursed out loud and headed toward his office to check the cameras. Surely, if his idiot guards could not handle you, you still mustn't've gone too far-

Ashton backtracked a little bit, turning toward the door of the office and opening it completely. You almost laughed at his face when he saw you sitting there in front of his computer. But you quickly decided to ignore it and just go back to work. He has you trapped, but that does not mean you owe him any interactions.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He asked.

You noticed how his chest was rising and falling with anger he tried to keep at bay. The scars that adorned his skin seemed to come alive at that. His eyes were trained on you, waiting for an explanation.

“Starting the investigation” You shrugged.

“How did you-?”

“Please, I still remember your mum’s birthday. You’re the type of man who would use that as his password. I didn’t need to try that hard”

Ashton saw red at your comment. He slammed the gun to the desk and grabbed you by the arm, surely leaving bruises as he dragged you out.

You started to fight, punching him wherever you could. But he suddenly stopped and grabbed your other wrist with his hand, twisting it a little bit, just enough to make you complain and to stop your attempts to hurt him.

In his eyes, you could see the reason why people say he’s the angel of death. There was nothing but anger and hatred as he looked at you. It scared you for a moment, but it wasn’t going to make you run away.

“You said you would help me” You spat at him.

“I never said I would make it my priority”

“You motherfuck-” You cursed him out, trying to escape his grasp but it was useless. Yesterday he might’ve been playing a little bit, but now he was showing you his real strength.

Ashton shoved you back into your room, not even looking as he said “Change of plans, since you want to be a brat, you’ll be treated as one”

Then, he slammed the door and you heard the lock being put on.

You ran up to it, banging on it and fiddling with the knob to no avail. You cursed out his name and yelled at him, demanding to be let out.

“WE HAD A DEAL!” You’d shout until your voice gave out, but it all fell on deaf ears.

What have you gotten into?

Hours later, while you’re trying your best to pick the lock of the windows, the door opens.

“That’s not going to work, you know?” A kind voice said, “Believe me, I’ve tried”

You turned around to find the blond girl from the bar. She was smiling at you, leaning against the door frame. But the way she smiled… It seemed too familiar. Then, it hit you.

“Lauren,” You breathed her name, she laughed.

“About time you remember me!” Lauren said, walking into the room and sitting over the bed, patting the spot next to her “I almost thought you forgot about me”

“It’s not that,” You said, complying and sitting beside her “It’s just- wow, you were so little the last time we saw each other. And now…”

“I know, right? The glow-up did me good” She joked “And so it did to you. When you gave me your name yesterday, I must admit it took me a while. But when I noticed how my brother started to act…”

You rolled your eyes at her comment about Ashton “So being her prisoner is special treatment?”

“Having him agree to help you is special treatment. You know how he is”

But that was the thing, you didn’t. You’ve known of him, of his reputation, of his deeds. But Ashton Irwin was a complete stranger to you. Whoever that person at the end of the hall was, he was far away from the boy you used to know.

“Are you-?” You cleared your throat, not knowing how to ask the question.

“In the family business?” Lauren finished for you “No, I’m only working at the bar and as Ashton's assistant for a few months. Took a sabbatical from uni. Harry is also going there but he’s more applied to his studies” She laughed “Ashton never wanted us involved, even made us change our last name for a while so we don’t get connected to him or all of this.”

“I’m glad,” You smiled. “I would’ve done the same thing if I had younger siblings. My brother’s did try it with me, though. But, you know” You looked at her, and something flashed in her eyes “You look a lot like her”

“I know,” Lauren smiled at you, putting her hand over yours “And, I haven’t said it yet, but I truly am sorry about your brothers. It’s a shitty situation”

“Tell me about it,”

“But I know if anyone is going to find Luke, it’s Ashton” She assured you “And, don’t tell him this? But I did have a little girl crush on Luke way back when. So I really do hope you’ll find him”

You laughed at that, promising to keep quiet “Be honest with me, Lauren. Am I doing the right thing by trusting Ashton?”

She sighed “If I’m being honest, I would tell you that you already know never to trust anyone in this line of work. But as someone who knows Ash, and knows everything he’s been through and done… He’s a good guy, Y/N. Or at least better than the rest”

You nodded, understanding what she meant. Yet, your heart was still doubting. Still worried you made the wrong choice by coming to him.

“Oh, and before I forget,” Lauren said, getting up and handing you an old cellphone, “Ash told me to give you this”

“What for?”

“Communication, emergencies. You name it. It only has his number on it, but I snuck mine before he could notice” She gave you a wink “Talk to you later, okay?”

“Hey, Lauren?” You called for her before she left “Thank you. Thank you for everything”

The girl smiled and closed the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts and that old phone in your hands. So you decided to test it.

Me: Couldn’t you have found one phone from this generation?

Ashton: They can easily be tracked. You know that.

Ashton: So, sorry if you wanted games installed.

Me: Are you going to let me out so I can continue with the investigation?

Ashton: Are you going to be a good girl for me and do as I tell you to?

The redness of your cheeks went up to your ears. Groaning as you read that message.

Me: Fuck you, Irwin.

Ashton: Still with that attitude, angel? Too bad, I was going to ask you what you wanted for dinner. Guess the chef will skip that request, then.

Me: I will be caught dead before having dinner with you.

Ashton: Good. We can finally benefit each other, then.

You threw the phone against the wall, denting it a little bit with no damage done to the phone. This was going to be a long day.

It was 2 AM when the sound of the door banging against the wall woke you up.

“Get up,” Ashton’s voice rang through your head as you sat up “We’re leaving”

“What?”

He was standing in the middle of the room dressed in an all-black suit, his hair was pushed back, leaving just a wild stand of honey-colored curls to fall upon his forehead. To anyone else, it would seem he was headed to a party, but you knew that could not be the case. He scoffed, already annoyed.

“Are you deaf?” He asked, cocking his gun without even meeting your eyes “I said get up, we’re leaving. Now”

“I’m not going anywhere with you”

Finally, he looked up at you, refusing to accept the challenge that you presented to him.

“I don’t think you understand, angel-”

“Don’t call me-”

But before you could finish your sentence, he took two long strides to your bed and put the gun right up your forehead, fingertips on the trigger.

“When I say you jump, you ask how high. If I tell you to move, you move. This isn’t daddy’s little playground where you can make the rules, princess. I’m in charge here. You work for me. You belong to me. Understood?”

You said nothing, staring directly at him with all the hatred you felt for him at that moment. His hazel eyes mirrored yours, feeling nothing but disgust under his gaze. Yet, you knew he was serious.

“I don’t like to repeat myself, angel. But for you I’ll make an exception” He said gravely “Understood?”

“Yes,” You said through gritted teeth.

Ashton put away his gun, snapping his fingers. Never taking his eyes off you as a maid brought a change of clothes into the room. It was a long-sleeved, black cotton shirt; a pair of black cargo pants; a multipurpose belt; and a can of pepper spray.

“What’s this?” You asked, picking up the tiny can.

“You’re going to blend in with my security team”

“Then shouldn’t I be carrying a gun as well?”

Ashton laughed, “Nice try, angel”

“Irwin, I’m serious! How am I supposed to protect myself with just this?!”

“Then I guess we’ll figure it out,” He said, sparing one last look at you. “I expect you to be downstairs in five minutes”

“What if-”

“Try me. Just once and you’ll see what I’m capable of”

He left the room, leaving you alone huffing and rolling your eyes at the image of him that once was there. But, having no other option, you did as you told.

Downstairs, a couple more guards were standing with Ashton at the door. You noticed a black Range Rover ready to go just outside. One of the guards came toward you, a bag in his hand. You stopped him.

“Is that really necessary?” Ashton raised his brow, and you rolled your eyes “It’s the middle of the night, Irwin. It’s not like I would see much anyway”

The guard looked back at his boss, shrugging. Ashton looked back at you, eyes hard as steel. He didn’t say a word, just turned around and started walking to the car. For a moment, you smiled to yourself for that small victory.

You sat in the back in the middle of two guards, Ashton went up the passenger seat. You frowned. It was not normal for someone that important in this line of work to be in such plain sight. But then again, the glass and the whole car were bulletproof, and the windows were tinted black. And, to top it all off, everyone knew not to fuck up with Lucifer himself if they weren’t ready to face the consequences firsthand. After all, only a fool would try to kill death.

“One of the alarms went off at the club,” Ashton said before you could ask him “Someone tried to break into the offices, killing one of mine.”

That answers the way he was dressed, although you guessed that no matter the occasion, he would dress the part. Still, it didn’t seem like a big deal to wake all of you up in the middle of the night. You’ve walked the hidden halls of the club before, you knew they were well-guarded and with the right security system installed. Ashton surely had the right people to take care of all that. Unless…

“Lauren?” You asked, letting the worry slip in your words.

Ashton barely moved his head, you assumed that hearing the name of his sister come from you must’ve surprised him a bit.

“She’s fine,” He said, dryly “I don’t- She doesn’t work there unless I’m with her”

You nodded. Smart choice from him. Yet, that doesn’t explain why you had to come at this time. But when asked about it, Ashton just gave you the silent treatment until you got there.

Once you were parked, Ashton went out of the car almost immediately, leaving you and his men to follow him.

“Call Clifford,” He ordered to the group of men standing at the door “I don’t care if you have to drag him out of his bed, remind him of the favors he owes me” He turned to another guard “You. I want the list of names of the people that came in yesterday and tonight. I want a background check on their families as well. As for you…”

“Sir, everything was accounted for. Nothing was stolen. Our team is looking for hidden mics and cameras as we speak”

“I don’t fucking care if they took anything or not” He spat “I want to know, how the fuck did they manage to get in the first place?!”

“Sir-”

“No, you listen here” Ashton threatened, just inches away from that man’s face “I’m going in there, and you better pray to your pitiful god that we don’t find anything. If I do, if I even hear about someone who did, you bet your little sorry ass that there will be hell to pay. Starting with you. Don’t make me the villain just because you don’t know how to do your job. Don’t play with me because you will find me, and that will be the last thing you do”

You stood there, shivering. If that was because of the chilly wind or Ashton’s words, you didn’t know, nor were you particularly excited to find out either. Seeing him angry was nothing new to you by now, but it was entirely different seeing his anger aimed at someone else.

Ashton dismissed his men, turning back on his heel and walking up to you. The two men that were by your side rapidly scurried away, leaving you on your own with the devil.

“Anything you want to tell me, angel?” He asked, eyes set on yours.

“What?” You scoffed “You think I had anything to do with this?”

“All I know is that you randomly appeared at my door less than 36 hours ago with some sob, pathetic story, asking for help. And now people have tried to break in”

You couldn’t help but let out a breathy, insincere laugh. Yet, Ashton remained as serious as ever.

“You’re kidding,” You stated “I’ve broken all ties with my family. You know this. Why else would I ask for your help?”

“Because all Hemmings lie, angel,” Ashton said, taking a step closer to you “That’s all they do. And don’t think for a second I believe every word that comes out of your mouth just because you come here with sad eyes, demanding help. I’ve taken a risk by even considering helping you-”

“Then why did you? Why did you say you were going to do it?”

You asked out of genuine curiosity. If helping you was “such a huge risk” for Ashton, then why did he even accept it in the first place? Still, he gave you nothing with his silence.

His eyes were dark, familiar to the boy you once knew, but at the same time so far away from the memory you once held. It was impossible to get a read on him, to know what he was thinking at any given time. He was just standing there, merely a whisper away from you, yet so distant. He was a man with no conscience, no soul, and no mercy.

“I didn’t lie to you,” You told him after a while “I just want to find my brother”

Ashton contemplated you for a moment “And if I refuse to offer any help?”

“Then I will find someone who will” You lied, knowing that no one but him would be able to help you. But hoping Ashton would believe it enough not to question it “You tell me to go and I’ll leave, right? So I’ll be out of your hair if you’re so scared that I might do something”

Your intention was never to walk away, but you knew exactly what buttons to push to get a reaction out of him. And, sure enough, you didn’t walk even one step before his hand grabbed you by the wrist and turned your body around, chest colliding with his, face to face.

He held your wrist at the level of his eye, watching intently over you, trying to decide whether or not to believe you.

“You’re getting on my last nerve, angel,” He said, quietly but with a hint of a threat lacing his words.

Your eyes shifted due to his proximity, going from that hazel color of his eyes to the pinkness of his lips. You caught yourself at the last second, focusing on the chain that hung from his neck over his chest. But the smirk he gave you let you know that he caught you staring.

“Like anything you see, angel?”

You rolled your eyes “You’re impossible, Irwin”

“Maybe,” He said, a smile present in his voice as he lowered his head and whispered in your ear “But as you said, I’m your only hope”

“I didn’t-”

“SIR!” A man yelled behind you. Both turned toward him “We found something-!”

Suddenly, all you could hear was the sound of a gunshot followed by the thud the guard’s body made when it hit the floor.

Ashton turned around quickly, pushing you behind him as he tried to grab his gun from his pocket. It all happened so quickly, that you didn’t even notice the second shot being fired until Ashton groaned and grabbed the side of his arm.

You acted quickly, grabbing Ashton’s gun from his pocket as you started to fire it in the direction where you assumed the shooter was. You pulled Ashton from the back of his collar, awkwardly maneuvering him to safety while you kept shooting until you hit the back of a building. You pushed Ashton against the wall, watching briefly as he sunk to the ground while you tried to focus.

Most of your body was hidden behind that brick wall, but your periphery gave you enough balance to locate the threat. You watched a shadow run from the roof of the club to the alleyway beside it. The guns from both your parts kept shooting bullets in your direction, neither of them hitting the target.

The shadow then jumped on the hood of a car onto the passenger seat. The sound of the tires burning against the floor hurt your ears, and the headlights lit up as they sped away. And, just like that, they were gone.

Your ears kept ringing while you tried to stabilize your breathing. The beating of your heart was going ten thousand miles per hour as the reality of what just happened sunk in. But, what the hell happened?

“What happened?” You whispered to no one in particular “We were just-”

The dryness of your throat forced you to keep quiet. The truth was, you never experienced cross-fire before. You knew how to shoot a gun because your brothers taught you against your mother’s wishes. You knew the basic steps you needed to follow in case there was a shooting. Yet, this was the first time you shot someone - or against someone - and the fact that you couldn’t tell if the shaking of your hands came from fear or adrenaline disturbed you a little.

“Angel,”

You blinked, seemingly being pulled back to earth with his voice.

Ashton was sitting next to you, panting as his hand covered the side of his upper arm. He looked up at you, but the hatred you once saw in his eyes was now replaced by some sort of mischievous gleam. He was grinning at you.

“Well done,” Was all he said before a hiss escaped his lips.

“Oh my god, Ash” You kneeled by his side “I’m sorry, I-”

“It’s fine,” He said, trying to move “I’m fine, the bullet didn’t even - fuck. It didn’t even hit, barely grazed me-”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing the buttons of his jacket and opening them to slide it off.

“Take a guy out for a drink first” He joked as you started to open up his shirt “Although, I can’t say that I mind-”

“For fuck’s sake, Ash. I’m trying to see where the bullet hit you!”

From your position, you couldn’t just shrug off his sleeve. So you grabbed his shoulder and pulled him from the wall, accidentally letting go too early and leaving his head to bounce off the wall by the effect.

“I told you, I’m fi-fiaaagh- The fuck is wrong with you?!”

“Sorry,” You cringed, trying to locate his wound “I can’t see it properly…”

Ashton then swiftly pulled you from your hips into his lap, sitting you properly before he raised his arm and bent it with his hand behind his head.

“Better?” He asked, breathing in deeply from the pain.

You stared at him, perplexed by his actions. But then you shook your head and located the wound, trying your hardest to ignore that you were sitting in Ashton Iriwin’s lap.

His other hand danced over the side of your knee, never touching it, but barely grazing it with his fingertips. His eyes were set on every move you made, never leaving your face. When you noticed it, he smiled at the slight blush that covered your cheeks.

“So,” You said, calmly “Are you going to give me a proper gun now, Irwin?”

“I’ll consider it”

“What? I basically saved your life!”

“You have a poor technique” He shrugged “I can give you some proper points later”

“Proper points?”

Ashton then grabbed his gun from beside you, took out the bullets, and pointed it at you.

“You see this?” He said, “This is how you grabbed the gun, one misfire and you’d be out a finger, angel. You’re lucky my guns are well-calibrated. But we’ll go over that later”

“Sure,” You said, giving him a small laugh in disbelief “Well, you’re lucky that bullet barely left a cut. We- You should go disinfect it before it catches anything”

“I’ll survive then,” Ashton said, lowering his arm and letting it rest on your bent ankle. caressing the skin.

“For now, Irwin”

“Ash,” He said.

“Huh?”

“Earlier you called me “Ash” It’s the first time that I’ve heard it”

“Well, I thought you were dying, so…”

You gave him a small smile that he returned, his fingers still touching your skin as his eyes never left yours.

“We should-” You stammered “We should head back, see if anyone else is injured?”

“So that you could call Peter, “Pete” if he got himself a boo-boo?” You groaned as you rolled your eyes and got off his lap, starting to walk toward the club “I was joking!”

Soon, you and Ashton and a couple of guys from his security team were scuttering the roof from where the shadow started to shoot. There was nothing there that could lead them to anything or anyone. It was completely deserted.

“And you’re sure you’ve watched someone run-”

“Yes!” You repeated for the thousandth time, giving them a walkthrough “I saw them appear over here, and then run toward the alleyway. They jumped and got into a car, someone was already waiting there”

Ashton hummed, “We’re going to review the footage, and see if we can trace the license plate or the type of car they were using. That would narrow the list”

“A lot of enemies, Iriwn?”

Ashton shook his head “I don’t think I have anything to do with this, angel”

“What do you mean?”

He walked over to you where the shadow allegedly started shooting. He turned you around and pointed to the two guards that were marking where the two of you had stood before the shooting.

“Tell me when you see it,” He whispered to you.

You scoffed. There was nothing left to see. The man who was supposed to be Ashton is with his back exposed to the shooter while the one representing you was barely in sight. They could’ve easily-

And then it hit you.

They could’ve easily shot Ashton in the back of his neck. But they didn’t.

Ashton was not their target.

You were.

#5 seconds of summer #5sos #suchalonelysunflower #ashton irwin #5 seconds of summer fanfiction #calum hood #luke hemmings #michael clifford #sinners and saints #don’t blame me for what you made me do #Ashton Irwin fanfic #ashton iriwn 5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer ashton #ashton 5sos #5sos fanfic #5 seconds of summer fic #ashton Irwin series

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danswank · 10 months

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#please enjoy this series of luke being beautiful while chugging a beer #5sos #luke hemmings #5 seconds of summer #the 5sos show #my photos

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shawolsos · 4 months

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CharlieBabe are so unbelievably Self-Titled by 5SOS coded

#including the b-sides #except for heartbreak girl and just saying those are reserved for way #hello everyone i have returned with 5sos AND pit babe brainrot #charliebabe #babecharlie #pit babe the series #5 seconds of summer #5sos #cerys rambles

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 1 month

Text

Sweet Dreams--Part 12

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

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

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And your press?”

“Times--Politics division.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good.”

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

Another text comes through just as Calum starts to type.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sounds good to me, Luke replies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Twenty-nine, thirty.

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

Forty.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind of downs are we talking?”

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

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

“Will do, Dad. Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, hush.”

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

“See you inside.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it? Something on your mind?”

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

“Just a feeling,” you return.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You seemed pretty confident about cooking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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let-the-bands-take-c0ntrol · 1 year

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Adore You (Part 4)

A/N: I don't even know if people still look at this blog, but someone messaged on AO3 asking me to finish this series, so I decided why not!

Ashton IrwinXFemale Reader

Part 3

Warnings: talks of alcohol use, embarrassing moments, food, fluff

A groan of pain left your lips at the bright light coming through the curtains. Your head was pounding and your mouth felt dry as the Sahara Desert. You peeled your eyes open only to squint once again at the bright light. You turned away from the window and found yourself facing a nightstand with a picture of Ashton and some people you didn’t recognize. “Oh fuck,” you moaned out, placing the pillow over your head. You had almost forgotten you had called Ashton drunk last night. Worst of all he saw you puking your guts out and you asked to go home with him. “Take a deep breath,” you whispered to yourself, breathing in deeply through your nose and slowly out your mouth.

You timidly pulled the pillow off your face and sat up straight in the bed. You were still wearing the same clothes from last night. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but must’ve done so in the car. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the bits and pieces of Ashton that you could gather. Your attention landed on the picture again, taking in the people surrounding him. They all had a similar shade of hair as him, bright smiles painted on their faces. You concluded it was his family after a few minutes and a smile embraced your own face at their happiness. After placing the picture back into its spot, you slipped out the bed. You sucked in another deep breath and decided to finally leave the room and face the embarrassment.

Ashton wasn’t anywhere inside the one bedroom apartment. A computer desk in one corner being disheveled and a waste paper basket overflowing with crumpled up paper. There was a pillow and blanket on the couch, letting you know Ashton had slept on there last night. Your fingers traced along the back of the couch as you made your way towards the desk, eyes locked on the pictures clipped around the space. Ashton didn’t just take pictures for the school journal. The ones in front of you now showcasing various places and people. The way he took pictures captured the true essence of the subject. It was an art and he was damn talented. You continued to look through his stuff, trying to find out more about Ashton. It was the sound of the door opening that made you turn towards the entrance and see Ashton coming in. “You’re up!” he grinned, closing the door with his foot.

“Uh yeah,” you muttered, hands going behind your back in embarrassment at being caught practically snooping. “I was just looking at the pictures,” you finally admitted, watching as he sat a bag down on the kitchen counter.

“Those are from my trip back home,” he said, walking over to you to grab one of the polaroids. He smiled at the picture and then handed it over to you. “That one is my sister for her birthday. She wanted me to take some professional looking shots,” he told you. Your fingers grazed over the picture and you laughed at the clearly non-professional pose of cake being smashed into her face.

“She’s pretty,” you commented, handing back the picture. He nodded at your words, setting it back in its spot. “Do you travel a lot?” you questioned, eyeing a section that showed landscapes.

“Only when I can. Harder to do now that I’m in school,” he commented, heading back towards the counter. There were a couple of the same location, but with a timestamp to show the progression of the light change. It was then you realized you had no idea the time of day. Did you sleep through the morning? Was it late afternoon? You had absolutely no clue.

“I thought you might be hungry when you got up, so I went out to get lunch,” Ashton said, answering the questions running through your head.

“Thanks,” you muttered, suddenly shy in front of him now. You hadn’t contacted Ashton in two days and when you finally did, it was because of a drunk call. He didn’t seem to mind, digging into the bag to take out containers of food. Yet for some reason you felt guilty. “For everything,” you added on, finally walking towards him.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to make sure you were safe,” Ashton reassured. You shook your head at his words and his eyebrows furrowed at the action.

“No, I just-” you began, swallowing hard. “I was going to call you today and say yes to your date proposal-I’ll admit I blanked when you had asked me the question because no guy has ever been that up front with me.” You began to pick at your nails an action of you being nervous which Ashton had picked up on.

“I’m sorry I drunk dialed you and that you had to see me like that.” He had been sitting at the counter, elbow resting against the counter and chin in the palm of his hand. A chuckle left his lips at your words. “Don’t laugh at me!” you exclaimed, only making him laugh even more.

“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you,” he began, “It’s just-you’re cute when you’re flustered.” Your mouth clamped shut and your eyes widened in shock. Ashton tossed the bag into the trash bin and slid over one of the boxes to you. “Eat,” he said, digging into his own food. You stared at him dumbfounded for a second, then climbed into the barstool next to him. The two of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity as you began to eat at the food he had gotten you. After some time you chanced a glance in his direction. He had already been watching you with a phantom of a smile on his face. Ashton had been trying to figure out what to say to you since your apology. He didn’t mind that you drunk dialed him. Didn’t mind that he was the one to come and get you. Ashton was in fact quite pleased that you even asked to stay with him last night. It showed how much you trusted him and it made him feel relieved.

“Usually a few dates have to go by before I reach this stage with someone,” he finally spoke. His heart warmed at the smile that came to your face. “But, I seem to have a soft spot for you.” You giggled at his words and relaxed in your spot.

“Well, we’ll have to fix that then,” you replied, earning a nod in return. The rest of the afternoon was spent with you and Ashton making plans for a proper date. One that wasn’t on campus or as a result of a drunk frat party night. After the food had been finished, Ashton offered to drive you back home. The next time you would see him would be for the date and you had to admit you were excited for it.

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nimrats · 2 years

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STAR OF THE NIGHT ━━ 00. people watching

calum doesn’t know why he’s at a fashion show, of all places.

sometimes, although he’s considered a famous guitarist due to the band, he forgets the first part. famous, i.e. being invited to fancy parties, award shows, places he would never have found himself if it weren’t for his status. yet here he is, glass of fancy champagne in his hand as he stands with ashton who he’s letting do most of the talking to another musician at the after party. calum knows who he is, heard a few of his songs throughout the years, but he’s not focused enough on anything to care about what he’s saying. luckily, ashton is used to him letting him carry the conversation when meeting new people.

his focus is on practically everyone else in the room, mind on autopilot as he people watches. he saw a girl, one of the models from the show not even an hour before, making out with some celebrity he knows he’s seen on a billboard before. another girl is clearly not interested in the conversation she’s having with someone he doesn’t recognise, but the smile on her face stays put until she can eventually break away from the conversation. he doesn’t know what he’s looking for, just letting his eyes flitter around the room as he casually sips at his drink.

then his eyes land on her.

he recognises her immediately, she’s changed out of the last outfit she wore on the runway, most of the models had. but if you had asked him, he wouldn’t be able to recount what exactly she was wearing. for him, the appeal was her alone. her dark hair had been straightened as it fell past her shoulders, white dress swaying against her thighs as she walked impressively well in the high heel stilettos she wore. she smiles at people as she greets them with her red coated lips and incredibly straight teeth, one of the waiters immediately passing her a drink. he doesn’t know her name, but he knows she’s the star of the night. whether it was just to him, or the rest of the audience too.

to her, the after parties are the worst parts of her job. she can stand on a runway with ease, has learnt to feel comfortable under prying eyes staring at every superficial part of her body. one thing elsie finn had not mastered, was interaction. she knew she had to uphold appearances, pretend to be interested in whatever some fashion designer had to say so that they’d consider her in the future for a job. her livelihood was something she was proudly good at, even though some would say it wasn’t hard to do in the first place. but she would always feel out of place in a conversation with someone that doesn’t really know her, which is why she had gone to find her getaway place she often resorted to.

last thing she expected was to find someone else on the, what she thought, was an undiscovered balcony getaway on the third floor of the mansion they were in. she had found solace leaning against the railing at previous parties she had wanted to get away from, having been there many times before for similar events. but she had never been accompanied by anyone before. and she definitely wouldn’t have expected the stranger on the balcony to become such an important figure in her life as time went on, but life was funny at pairing people together in that way.

◂◂ㅤㅤBACK TO MLIST ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ CHAPTER ONEㅤ ㅤ ▸▸

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ghost-of-you · 2 years

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Calum Hood and that moment in music videos where i want to sit down and cry over how beautiful he is. (10/?)

#5sos #5sosedit #my edit #calum hood #ch #calmvs #im having to extend the definition of music video here #cuz calm and 5sos5 has infinite singles #anyway #love this series sokasokasokas #5 seconds of summer

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sonknuxadow · 2 years

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recently ive been on a spree of watching random lps series on youtube and today i decided to watch sophiegtv's old csi lps series and its been such a trip. anyway look at this image

#i love old littlest pet shop videos so much #there is just something so special about 10+ year old 240p youtube videos of 13 year olds waving toys in front of a camera #acting out the most dramatic thing youve ever watched #with the worst audio quality youve ever heard in your life and random copyrighted songs playing every 5 seconds #more recent lps videos are good too but theyre just. too polished the vibe is totally different #ANYWAY why does nobody talk about sophiegtv's other series. its always lps popular this and lps popular that #what about csi lps. what about lps summer camp. huh. what about them #i was so obsessed with that summer camp series when i was younger #i would watch it over and over and act out my own versions of it with my lps #btw did you guys know that lps popular ISNT cancelled the next episode is in development its juzt taking forever.#that knowledge haunts me like one day im gonna open youtube and theres gonna be a new episode of lps popular out of nowhere

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kindahoping4forever · 5 months

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Ash on IG Story

#three minutes of actual chaos and I've never been more in love #5sos #5 seconds of summer #ashton #ashton irwin #ai ig #Instagram #video #kh4f post #it is literally 2 weeks into the year and this is where we're at #i actually can't do this #i am not the same person i was in 2020/2021 #i do not have the capacity to feel these feelings and i cannot handle the stress #anyways this is peak content #literally cannot pick a fav moment #legit cackling giggling kicking my feet the entire time 10/10 #best picture contender actually #this should win best limited series at the emmys tomorrow

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doveabovetheworld · 3 months

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A concept:

You and Ashton met through work when you started a new job as 5 Seconds Of Summer’s official photographer/social media coordinator, but when you wake up next to him after a party, your whole life takes a turn.

#new fic #series even?#5sos #5 Seconds Of Summer #ashton irwin #calum hood #luke hemmings #micheal clifford #ashton 5sos #calum 5sos #luke 5sos #micheal 5sos

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suchalonelysunflower · 2 years

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Looks Red, Tastes Blue (a.i)

Pairing: Vampire! Ashton Irwin x Fem! Reader

Summary: Winds change, and people can’t be trusted. An origin story and a new beginning. Based on Looks Red, Tastes Blue by Mayday Parade.

Warnings: Angst. Blood. Violence. Characters deaths. Mentions of wounds. Mentions of bible and god. Murders. Torture. Suicide. Some grammatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Word count: 7.2k

Author’s note: Spooky season! This might become a series, but focus on the *might* Please don’t forget to reblog, like and comment! SUPPORT YOUR AUTHORS ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋✨🌻

My masterlist // taglist in bio!

1815

The dark clouds roared with thunder, the rain will be here soon. This type of weather was not unusual, especially during this time of year when the sun goes to sleep and forgets to wake up for at least another three months. The waves crashed down on the coast, he could see them all perfectly from where he was standing. The dark, sharp rocks at the end of the cliff where his mansion stood showed no mercy as the agitated waves came looking for shelter from the storm.

Inside, the mansion was cold. The dark wooden floors and brick walls let the humidity find its home within the darkness. Not a sound could be heard except for the distant crackling of the firewood in the chimney, illuminating the drawing room and the solitary figure that stood there.

Baron Ashton Irwin, at the young age of 28 was already growing a couple of gray hairs due to the stress. His hands were clasped at his back; his suit, immaculate; and his long hair fell perfectly against his shoulders. He was the image of elegance and chivalry. Yet, his mind was the one giving him trouble.

Now, he stood in front of the window, carefully watching the clouds crash against each other and counting the seconds from the lightning to the thunder. He was never fond of storms, hating them since he was a child, still hiding behind his mother’s embrace. But now the expectancy of rain was his only comfort. Maybe that will calm them down.

“One… two… three… four…” Then a vigorous crash came down and filled his ears.

He breathed in deeply, his fingers finding comfort on the soft threads of his suit. He was looking up, for looking down might reveal his greatest fears. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. None of this was supposed to ever happen.

When he thought about moving to the country house that belonged to his family for generations, he never expected this type of welcome. He never expected for rumors to spread around like wildfire; hearing people talking about how he got his title and his fortune, as if his father was not a renowned royal all his life, and his father before him and - But that didn’t matter. No, not at least for the townsfolk who saw him as a threat.

Ashton has heard everything already. How he murdered his family to make a pact with the devil, selling his soul in exchange for power; or, how he bathed in the blood of virgins to keep his youth; or how he was the seed of Satan himself, trying to gain dominion by enchanting the innocent and then devour their blood and heart. And, of course, none of that was true.

He blamed it on the newfound obsession with purity and witchcraft. How men wanted to present themselves as the voice of God among men, condemning all the different souls that longed for more than bible tales and blind obedience to something they could not see nor hear. They prided themselves on their following, blind and ignorant, as they sentenced and killed everything in their way in the name of a higher power. Believing their own sins might be forgiven… but they know they never will.

His back stiffened when a warm, soft touch rounded his waist. But he immediately relaxed when he felt her cheek pressed against his back.

“It’s late,” She whispered, standing on her tiptoes to kiss the back of his neck. Ashton couldn’t help but smile as his hands rested over hers.

“I know,” He said with a sigh “But I can’t find it in myself to rest, not now at least”

“You’re worried they’ll come?”

Ashton could feel the hidden fear in her words, hugging him tightly and making the bump in her belly remind him what was at stake.

“Rumors only grow, my love, but are futile most of the time. This, however, feels different. For some reason, the wind won’t let me sleep, and the storm is as restless as myself. A bad omen is creeping up my back and I can’t shake it off”

“What can I do to help?”

With a soft smile, Ashton turned around to face his wife. It took him a few seconds to breathe her in, as she took a step back to give him space.

Her soft face and kind eyes brought nothing but comfort to the man with a heavy heart. Her hair fell perfectly on her face, reminding him how much he liked it that way instead of the updos the ladies now wore. Her white nightgown made it seem like she was floating, ethereal as it fitted her tummy perfectly, proudly showing they were expecting soon.

It was almost magical how the simple sight of her made all of his worries disappear. It has been like that since they met; when they were young, foolish, and free to do whatever they dreamt of. He fell for her the moment he saw her, and bowed in front of the angels to always protect her and do her right.

Now he can only hope he’ll be able to keep that promise, no matter the cost.

Ashton took a step forward, cradling his wife’s belly with a warm, soft touch.

“You are doing more than enough, my love,” He said, smiling when he felt their baby kick “You and this little манчкин are all I need”

He leaned over to kiss her forehead, a smile playing on her lips.

“I can still see that you’re worried”

Ashton sighed, knowing he couldn’t escape his wife’s knowing eyes.

“It’s this town,” He finally admitted “They don’t like us. They don’t like me” His eyes drifted back to the window “Coming here was a mistake, I just know it. But it’s too late now, or I’m afraid it might be”

Maybe things would’ve been different if he accepted the invitation of going to the church the first Sunday they settled. Maybe it would’ve been different if he let the women of the town visit his wife, but the first months of the pregnancy were hard for her as she lay in bed almost all day, crying in pain for him not to leave her side. Maybe it would’ve been different if his attitude toward the town’s rumors was more assertive instead of playing it off as something that would wear off any day now.

Now the weight of his heart burned with guilt. His fingers barely brushed the back of her head as she hugged him, letting her heart beat along with his as her soft breathing got mixed with the fire cracking in the chimney.

For a second he got lost in the fire, letting the red invade the hazel of his eyes as he held her close in his arms.

“We should move,” He said, not meeting her eyes “Let’s leave this place, and start over”

“You can’t start over when you already lived your life,” She said, mumbling the words against his chest. Her words were accompanied by a yawn - the pregnancy always made her sleepy, so it made Ashton giggle softly as he kissed her head “Besides, where would we even go? Your father left you this house, Ash. We have no business anywhere else”

“We can make the world our business if we want to, my love” He pulled away and cupped her face “It’s just- I got a bad feeling about this place. We can always come back to the city, find a place near the fields… Maybe find another coast so our children can know the sea”

She smiled, softly “You know I would follow you till the end of the world, Ashton. And if this is what you want, then I’ll go with you. I trust you” She grabbed one of his hands and placed her on her belly “We trust you”

Ashton couldn’t help but let out a breathy laugh as he looked at her in the eyes. Never once did he see a starry night as the one that set upon her gaze, knowing he could look at her galaxy forever and never get tired of it. So he couldn’t help but lean down and capture her lips with his.

And he kissed her. He kissed her with all of his might because he could not believe how lucky he was to be so in love with a woman like that. Or better yet, how a woman like that could love him despite everything that’s been going on.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” He confessed against her lips, pressing his forehead against hers

She kissed him again “You’re a good man. You don’t claim to be perfect, nor to be the one that judges others. You’re a good man, Ashton, with a good heart capable of loving and healing. I-... I couldn’t fall for anyone but you”

He leaned over to kiss her again, to claim her lips as his own when the sound of thunder reverberated through the mansion again. But the sound brought more than the lightning.

“Do you hear that?” Ashton whispered, feeling how his hands turned cold even under her touch.

Then, the faint sound of footsteps and chatter filled the air. Iron crashing against one another mimicking the clouds crashing above. And Ashton knew what it meant.

With confident steps he walked over to the window to confirm his suspicions: They were here.

“Ash…” He heard her call, and he knew he had to act quickly.

Ashton turned to her, acting as calmly as he could, no matter how terrified he actually was. He cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I’ll handle them,” He said, he hoped.

“Ashton-”

“We’ve got nothing to hide, my love” He assured her and himself “I will be alright”

The sounds came closer “I don’t like this, Ash. Let me go with you”

Ashton shook his head “The last thing I want is for you to get sick in this weather. Go to the baby’s room, and hide for a while. They are just confused and scared, I’ll talk to them and come get you once they’re gone”

“But-”

“It’s okay,” He kissed her once again, just in time to hear banging at the door “I love you,”

She sighed, “I love you, too” She started to walk away from the room before she turned back “I’ll wait for you, okay?”

“I’ll find you, don’t worry”

With one last reassuring smile, he watched her walk away. Yet that smile faded the moment she was out of sight and the storm grew louder. Ashton took a deep breath and armed himself with courage before making his way to the entrance, passing through various halls with paintings and portraits on the wall till he reached the main staircase. He took one last look at their latest family portrait that hung there: Him standing proud as his hand rested upon his wife’s shoulder while she sat in a white dress, one hand on her belly and excitement in her eyes for what was to come.

Ashton could not wait to replace that portrait with a new one of them becoming three. He could not wait to see their child sitting between them, hoping they would look like their mother. But for that dream to happen, he had to solve some things first. And that included the loud pounding at his door.

The first person he saw was Reverend Lockwood, a man in his fifties with a big nose that hung over his face and a belly so full it should be shameful, who wore one of those awful white wigs that were supposed to make him above everyone else. He was - according to himself - the highest authority in town. He managed the church and was a self-named mayor since no one seemed to correct him or contradict him. Everyone in town seemed to follow his every command as if his words were sent from the highest power and he was the holiest man alive - although his two marriages and lord knows how many bastard children would likely say otherwise.

When Ashton first moved in with his wife, he was welcomed by Reverend Lockwood, but after Ashton rejected his invitation, it seemed like Lockwood’s new hobby was to hunt him down. And Ashton would bet his entire inheritance that he was the one spreading the rumors about him and his family just because he was not about to fall on his knees and adore this phony as all the other brainless townsfolk did.

Behind the Reverend, a mob stood proudly. All the men and a few of the women of the town looked at him in fear and anger. They were holding torches and chains, shovels and knives, ropes and bags. From the start, Ashton knew this was not a friendly visit, but for the first time, he allowed himself to see the seriousness of the situation.

Still, as politely as he could, he stood his ground and took a step forward. He was not about to welcome them into his house, let alone to let them think he was going to surrender, even if he had nothing to hide in the first place.

“Reverend Lockwood,” He said solemnly, acknowledging him with a nod and not even looking at the mob “What do I owe the pleasure?”

“A pleasure indeed, sir” Lockwood smirked “But I’m afraid it’ll be more for us than for yourself”

“I see you brought your crowd” Ashton dismissed his comment, finally addressing the others “It’s a shame you didn’t warn me in advance, Reverend, I would’ve prepared you some supper before whatever show you promised”

“Cut the act, Irwin” Lockwood spat “Despite what you might believe or make others believe, we know what you really are”

Ashton blinked twice at him, frowning as he crossed his arms over his chest and asked “And that is?”

“A monster!” Yelled one person in the crowd

“Murderer!” Yelled another

“Blasphemous!”

Reverend Lockwood stood there with a smile, Ashton just sighed.

“You are all gravely mistaken!” Ashton talked over the crowd, loud enough for everyone to hear but with no hint of anger in his voice “I am nothing but a man trying to live a happy life with his family. What sins have I committed that makes me different from any of you?” The whispers of the crowd were filled with hatred “Has your Lord taught you nothing with his words? Has the blinded faith you have over a man of flesh and bone prevented you from seeing beyond what you consider fair? Or did the poison of false words already do its job?”

“How dare-“

“No, Reverend, how dare you! Coming into my house to accuse me of such lies, burdening my family and all of these people who you claim to protect. I’ve done nothing but love my life as I seem fair, minding my own business. Something you, Reverend, could very much take as an example”

The way in which Lockwood’s jaw clenched at Ashton’s words gave him some sense of triumph. He knew there was nothing to fear, no crimes were committed nor moral laws were broken. He was a good man, not the monster they claim to know.

Still, it seemed that the trial wasn’t about to be over so soon.

“You deny the charges?” Lockwood asked, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“I deny them,” Ashton answered confidently, looking defiantly at the man in front of him.

“Then,” He asked, a taunting smirk starting at the corner of his lips “What about your wife?”

There was a change in the wind. Strong tides whistled around the silence and tension. The breaking of waves did nothing but simulate Ashton’s own shattering as the question sunk into the pit of his stomach.

His face turned as white as snow, swearing his heart started to beat slower. A fear, a horrifying feeling settled in his guts, in his chest. Rage.

“What about my wife?” Asked Ashton, voice commanding and grave. Never once taking his eyes from the puritan.

“You might deny your sins, Irwin. But you can’t deny hers”

“What sins?!” He shouted, feeling as if his body was nothing but a burning fire, ready to fight “She’s done nothing-!”

“I saw Mrs. Irwin dancing with the devil!” A voice cried from the crowd.

Ashton looked over Lockwood’s shoulders. Opening his mouth to speak but the shouting continued.

“I saw Mrs. Irwin crying tears of blood!”

“Mrs. Irwin made my house burn down, a deal with darkness! I saw it! She’s the devil’s wife!”

“Devil! Devil! Devil!”

The cries of the people were unstoppable, getting louder as they pound inside Ashton’s head. The feeling of drowning in mid-air caught him by surprise as his legs shook when he faced the crowd, looking frantically at them, begging them.

“N-no!” Ashton cried, shaking his head, but his voice died amid all the lies “No! You’re mistaken!”

How did it happen? His wife- his wife who has never left the manor. His wife whose smile could conquer the world and make the bravest man yield before her. His wife who’s the kindest, most beautiful soul he has ever met… Accused of witchcraft.

“Lockwood!” He cried, taking a step closer to the man until they were face to face, knowing how much that man was enjoying seeing him so desperate “You know those are all lies! You’ve known her! She would never-“

“I know what I know, sir” Lockwood answered gravely, but the tint of mockery in his eyes still shone through “And I know that I am a man of god. And if you were to say the same, you would let us make Justice in his name”

“I won’t let you do this!” Ashton told him, jaw tense and eyes filled with hate. The reverend scoffed.

“God doesn’t ask permission”

Ashton looked at him with disgust before grabbing the lapels of Lockwood’s shirt and bringing him closer “You are no god”

The reverend only smiled with sufficiency before he signaled the men of the mob. One, two, three… there were more than twenty by the time they came to the door. Ashton recognized them before three of them attempted to grab him.

He fought against them, throwing punches and kicks to slow them down. But every time he delivered a blow, three more would follow. They grabbed him by the jacket, by the shirt, and by the hair. They knocked down his knees and allowed him to fall to the ground before securing his hands behind his back.

Ashton watched with his face on the ground as ten men broke down the door to his home. Desperate tears escaped his eyes as the screams ripped through his throat.

“NO!” He would cry, trying to get away, but one of the men had his knee upon the small of his back, making it impossible for him to move “NO! LEAVE THEM ALONE!”

It was excruciating to listen to such heartbreaking screams. He called her name, bleeding through every word of warning, hoping she would listen and stay hidden.

“She’s with child! Leave her alone!” He’d beg to anyone who would listen, purposely ignoring the shattering sound coming from inside his home “Take me instead! Take me! Do what you want with me but leave them be!”

The man who was holding him down grabbed Ashton by the hair, pulling it until he was kneeling with his face directed at the reverend.

“There’s nothing you can do, Irwin,” Said Lockwood, looking expectantly at the manor “Just let the Justice make its path”

“This-” Ashton spat, “This is not justice!”

“Maybe not,” He admitted, “But it’s God’s will”

“Ashton!”

His wide eyes followed the sound, tears flooding his view as a wrenching scream passed his lips.

On top of the manor, in the window by the sea where he was standing mere minutes ago, he could see a white nightgown floating with the stormy breeze. There, his wife was standing at the edge, face red and puffy as the tears marked her cheeks. The wind caused her baby bump to be revealed against the soft fabric, an angelic sight for someone who was deemed to be anything but.

She yelled his name again, looking at him through the crowd. But she seemed tense, almost afraid to even look down. That’s when Ashton noticed the cut on her arm and the crimson blood dripping from her fingertips. Behind her, one of the men that invaded their home was holding her by the hair, tauntingly pulling and pushing just enough so she would believe she’d lose her balance and fall to the breaking of the waves against the rocks.

Ashton called her name, cried out for her, but to no avail. She would not hear him.

“NO!” Ashton trashed and turned, but more men came to hold him in place “Let her go! Take me! TAKE ME! LET HER GO! SHE’S HURT, SOMEONE HELP HER! LET HER GO!”

But the mayhem did not stop. The chants from the crowd grew louder when they noticed her upon the window. The storm gathered its strongest winds as the clouds clashed against one another. But all Ashton could hear besides his own screams was white noise.

He wanted nothing more than to be there with her. To cradle her face and wipe out those tears; kiss her as he promised her time and time again that they’ll get out of there as soon as they can. That their family will be safe.

Oh, how he wished he could go back in time. Wished he’d never left in the first place. Then they would not be trapped inside this nightmare, unable to wake up. He failed them, he failed her. “I’ll handle them,” He said, foolishly thinking he could protect her and their child. Now, as his heart threatens to come out of his body, there’s nothing he can do but beg to deaf ears and empty stares.

“Ashton!” She cried again, but the air in her lungs got stolen as a hand wrapped around her neck.

Her parted lips were all Ashton could focus on, the way in which she gasped for air and her hands found their way to sink her nails into her attacker’s arm, covering him with blood as well.

“NO!” He’d yelled, over and over again to no avail.

The whisper of his name crossed her lips when her eyes finally found him. He called out her name, bleeding through his throat and pain; his eyes never leaving her as he begged her for forgiveness. She looked at him with red, tearful eyes filled with something that could only be described as love. He knew what that look meant. He could not look away. Those were the eyes of the woman he loved, the look that only he would recognize among a thousand. He would not spare a moment away from them.

Even if that moment was taken away from them so abruptly.

Ashton watched the exact moment in which her eyes widened for the last time before they shut close. The last gasp that got trapped between her chest. A lonely tear ran down her cheek. And the amount of blood that sweeps from the horizontal cut across her throat, cleaning her from all of the sins she’s never committed.

Silence. That’s all it was.

Silence as her feet lost all support and slipped through the edge, making it seem as if she was the one taking the leap willingly. He wanted to run, foolishly thinking he could catch her before she hit the ground, hoping he could save her from the current nightmare of an endless void below. Yet, his feet were unable to leave the ground, feeling how his hope was falling with her, lost forever.

But all he could do was watch in slow motion as the white figure soared through the stormy winds one last time. Perfectly framed face covered by her hair, eyes closed and pink, parted lips, flying freely before the sea claimed her as his. Like an angel whose wings got stolen way too soon.

Silence. But not for long.

Legend has it that no cry was ever as broken as his. That the seas mourned with him and stood still for a moment, allowing him to try and take his own heart out of his chest, for that would hurt less than listening to the tragedy that tinted the night.

Thunder and lightning accompanied his lament, harmonizing with the sound of loss and heartbreak no man should ever feel. Like Orpheus who cried for Euridyce and won the sympathy of the gods; this cry would’ve broken their hearts.

Ashton fell forwards, curled in pain as the sobs got lost on the ground and were replaced by the naked anger of a man who just lost everything.

He looked up to see the reverend standing in front of him, the ghost of a smile forming on his lips, thinking he already won. Next thing he knew, everything went black.

The first thing he noticed was that he could not move his legs or arms. Something heavy was hanging from his ankles and he felt his body being carried over. Even when he opened his eyes he noticed the darkness, and when he tried to scream there was only a muffle coming through his ears. He could only guess by the pain in the back of his head, that he was being taken somewhere to die; he was blindfolded and gagged as if he would try to escape the fate he so longly awaited.

All Ashton could think was “Why am I not dead, yet?” He should be dead, it was obvious that the reverend would not let go of him so easily. But the thought that crossed through his mind almost instantly was that he wanted to be dead. He had nothing else to live for anymore.

There was an abrupt halt to every movement. Ashton could hear the sound of footsteps coming closer before he felt two sets of arms grabbing him by the shoulders and pushing him to the ground. His knees scrapped the rocky surface, cutting through his skin. But he made no sound, no effort to be noticed.

The cold wind made him shiver, and aware that he was wearing just a thin shirt and raggy pants. The piece of fabric that gagged him cut through the corners of his mouth, making him savor the metallic taste of drying blood. He moved his hands, just enough to notice the burning of the ropes against his skin, and for his feet, he could only guess the same, though it felt heavier. He stayed on his knees for what felt like forever before his head was yanked back with a few strands of his hair, and suddenly he could see the clear skies again.

How long did he stay unconscious? He did not know, but it was enough for the storm to pass and show the full moon’s light. Ashton thought that it couldn’t possibly be enough. It’d never be enough.

Suddenly, the image of Reverend Lockwood appears before him. He was still wearing his wig and formal clothing. The same smug expression was drawn on his face. He needn’t say anything, he knew Ashton already guessed what was happening. Still, the young baron never took his eyes off of him, not once.

The wind grew stronger as the moon took the highest place of the night sky, witnessing as a young man didn’t fight as he was made to walk to the edge of a cliff, the sound of waves crashing below made him think of home.

“I thought it would be fitting,” The reverend said. Ashton didn’t answer.

Instead, Ashton looked at him, and everyone else present in their eyes, memorizing their faces and remembering the names of each and every single one of the people responsible for the death of his soul.

He stood straight, like a King. Never bowed or broke in front of his enemies. No one, not even Lockwood dared say a thing. The winds were changing once again, the minutes till midnight were counted and gone. And Ashton, in the silence of his heart, promised them that they will regret it. Every single one of them will regret it.

And with that, he took a step back. Feeling as the wind hit his back before he closed his eyes. The moon was the last thing he saw before everything turned black once more.

The water was cold as he sank.

The force of the hit made the knot on the gag lose, making the fabric float away as the water snuck inside his lungs. He kept on sinking.

The ties on his hands gave out as well as the ones on his feet. There was no resistance, only poor techniques.

The moonlight made the waters clear. Shinning above him. His hair framed his face as it floated gracefully. It was peaceful. Beautiful. Free

Twas the moon that saw his heart stop. The redness of the blood did not flow or pump. It was cold as the water surrounding him, as the beating slowed down with every moment of calmness that came with the ending of things. Until there was nothing but silence.

But when the blood turns as blue as ice, heart frozen. The cells in his bloodstream started to move backward, turning blue as the sea, craving for something to feed. Feeling like he could not breathe.

Eyes wide open in the middle of the sea.

No one talked about it out loud, but whispers only grow.

They knew what was coming for them. They were expecting it.

People tried to flee before, but he always found them.

It was always a mystery, they said, no one knew how those bodies were always found with such marks across their bodies, drained completely of any blood they might have left. Nobody had the same wounds; some would end up with broken backs; others with their heads turn the other side; people rumor about a man whose throat was cut in half, but there was no trail of blood, just an empty, open wound.

They all had the same marks upon their necks, though. Two small holes under their left ear were theorized to be left after continuous torture, a mark of the devil, perhaps. And not only that, but they all had another thing in common: They were all found in the morning with the most horrifying looks on their faces. Almost as if they’ve seen a ghost from the past that came back to haunt them.

The devil acted quietly and at night. One victim every forenight, no matter the gender. Only a few could be considered safe beside the children. But there was no denying that anyone could be next.

Some say that they saw the devil lurk in the darkness, with blue marks upon his veins on the inside of his arms and eyes glowing hazel in the dark. Others say that they saw him by the sea, sitting alone by the rocks under the abandoned manor. A few claim that they fought him and won, but no one believes them.

Reverend Lockwood always dismiss such rumors, smiling as he tried to reassure the people that nothing was wrong and that it was probably some children’s tale. But everyone in town knew how he locked all the doors and all the windows of his home before the night came.

Lockwood knew what was coming for him, he just didn’t know when. That’s until he learned about John Proctor’s death. There were no other men in town. The devil left him for last.

He was wise enough to send his family away before the night came. He locked all the doors and threw all the keys. He opened up his bible and held the crucifix on his chest, praying for salvation in a candlelight dimmed room.

The night was dark and quiet. The widows and orphans stopped crying about their losses a long time ago, the ones who dared to stay in the haunted town, at least. There were not many left, after all, but there were enough to remember what happened for years and years to come.

Silent prayers were the only sound that could be heard that fateful night. But meaningless words as the ones the reverend recited were of not much help, for a quarter past ten, the wind began to change.

“Our father, who art in-” The sound of a stomp made his skin crawl “H-h-heaven! Hallowed be th-thy name-” Goosebumps aroused at the flickering on the candle “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on Earth as-”

“There is no Heaven for people like you, Lockwood”

The voice echoed through the walls. The few patches of hair the reverend still had on his head perked up in fear as the crucifix slid from his fingers and fell to the ground.

“No, n-no, please!” He begged, looking frantically around the dark room.

“You knew I was coming,” The voice continued, making the old reverend’s heart go faster and faster “You should feel honored, actually, to be deemed this important”

“I- I don’t understand!” Lockwood cried “It can’t be! I forbid it! In the name of God”

The voice laughed, suddenly sounding closer.

“Oh, Lockwood, you can’t forbid anything here. After all, god does not ask for permission”

The light of the candle died in a second, suffocated by the sudden lack of oxygen in the room. Then, in the corner, standing very still with a smile plastered on his face, stood the devil himself.

Lockwood, frightened at the image, fell from his chair and into the ground, opening his mouth to speak but without any noise coming out as he dragged himself to the opposite corner of the room.

The same man that he’s seen jump out of the cliff not so long ago was standing in front of him. Clothes as dark as night; his long hair perfectly combed and styled; a silver necklace with two simple bands hanging from his chest; hazel eyes shining like a predator who’s just caught its prey… So beautifully twisted it was impossible to put into words. He hadn’t changed a thing except for his smile, so charming; so frightening; so cruel and deadly.

It was not a normal smile, no, it was the smile of the devil.

“No…”

In an instant, Ashton was standing in front of the frightened man, grabbing him by the lapels of his shirt and picking him up from the ground with a newfound strength he rather enjoyed.

“I am god,” Ashton smiled “And this is my justice”

When they found Reverend Lockwood’s body the next day, it was rather unusual.

The body still had marks all over it; the cross embedded and burned in the flesh of the dead man’s chest was certainly a novelty, and the face of horror was similar to the ones seen in the previous victims. It was the blood that threw people off.

This time the killer did not drain the victim’s blood as it usually did. For whatever reason, that might be, although people do claim it was because it was tainted, and the killer had some sort of dignity or whatnot. Instead, the blood was smeared all over the wall, spelling the message:

“This is god’s will”

2022

“For the thousandth time, Luke. If you’re going to convince a girl to give you her number, you should not read her fucking mind first” Ashton sighed over the phone, having had this conversation countless times.

It was another sunny day in L.A. Ashton found he likes it way more than the grey clouds of London where he spent the last portion of the twentieth century - It was the music that drew him in when the Beatles first started, but it can get quite boring after a few decades. He’d just gone on his daily coffee run, catching up with Calum that just moved in closer to him after spreading some mayhem in the southern part of the continent. And now he was trying to convince Luke, once again, that when girls say they like someone who could read their mind, they do not mean it literally.

“It didn’t work out last time, so what makes you think it’ll work this time?”

He passed the bookstore that Michael owns, saying hi to him as he walked passed the window, but not daring to come in while there were customers. He did, though, checked himself out on the reflection. Whoever said that beings like him can not see their reflection or walk under the sun was gravely mistaken.

After two centuries he still didn’t look a day older than twenty-eight. His hair was shorter now and his skin was adorned with tattoos that healed way too quickly and served to hide those blue marks of his veins. The only thing that changed was the lack of beating of his heart but, well, no one needed to know that.

He caught a glimpse of the two dangling rings on his necklace and let a sudden moment of nostalgia run through his mind, as a small, sad smile crossed his lips. After all, not all wounds can be healed with time.

“Yeah, Luke, I gotta go” He sighed, walking away from the man in the reflection “We can talk about it tonight, alright? Just, stay away from her childhood memories. You’ll thank me later”

He hung up the phone just in time for the crosswalk light to turn red, so he waited, not really paying attention to his surroundings when all of the sudden, a door opens across the street.

It was a quick glance. One of those that makes you take a double look. But it was gone the moment Ashton recognized it. He took a step forward, but the loud horn of a Tesla that was about to run him over, made him take a step back and let his coffee cup fall to the ground.

A sudden desperation took over him, cranking his neck up to see beyond the passing cars. He had to make sure it was really-

“No,” He thought “It can’t be-? No, but what if-?”

The light turned green and Ashton started to run. He would push past the people walking in the opposite direction, mumbling apologies as his senses heightened. Which way? Who? What? Where?

He was about to give up when all of the sudden he spotted it: the same shade of hair color, shining under the sun in the middle of sunset boulevard.

For the first time in nearly two hundred years, Ashton shivered. A pit of emptiness filled his stomach as he gathered enough courage to approach and- and do what? Well, it didn’t matter at this point, given that he was already walking toward this person, and before he knew it, his hand was on their shoulder.

“Hey, I-”

It has been a while since Ashton was left completely breathless by someone. But this wasn’t just anyone. The hair, the face, the eyes… oh, those eyes. He would always remember those eyes, that look, how they shined in the darkness. How many nights he spent forcing himself to remember them, even at his lowest he knew those eyes would pull him through anything. And now…

“I found you,” He whispered

“Excuse me?” The girl he’d unconsciously - consciously - stalked looked at him quizzically, ready to take out her pepper spray at any minute.

It took Ashton a second to realize that he was a complete stranger. He immediately took a step back.

“Oh shit,” He said, laughing and blushing awkwardly but without being able to take his eyes off of this girl “I’m sorry, I- I thought you were- Thought I recognize you from somewhere”

The girl rolled her eyes “Let me guess, from a dream?” She mocked.

“Uh, do guys actually use that line?”

“I don’t know, you tell me, stranger” She shrugged, ready to walk away again.

“W-wait!” Ashton hated how needy he sounded. But he can’t let this go just yet, not if it really is her “I’m sorry, I’m a dick. I shouldn’t have scared you, I promise I’m not a-” The girl raised an eyebrow at him “You just seem very familiar. May I ask your name? If that’s okay, I don’t want to make you even more uncomfortable”

The girl seemed to relax a bit more, and Ashton smiled at that.

“I’m Y/N, and you’re not a dick” She sighed “I’m just new to the city and you never know who’s a creep and whatnot”

“Y/N…” Ashton repeated, loving the way it rolled off his lips with such ease “I’m Ashton,”

He extended his hand and she took it, shaking it lightly. And for that brief moment, the wind started to change. A new hope settled inside his chest.

Y/N took her hand off first, but the touch still lingered. He knew she felt it, too.

Ashton cleared his throat “So! What brings you to the land of opportunities?”

“The same thing as always, I guess, to find that opportunity and make something out of myself” She smiled “Not more interesting than the next person, I’m afraid”

“Oh, I bet you are quite interesting,” Ashton rushed to say, blushing immediately “I- I mean, I can tell that you’re a very interesting person, Y/N. Not at all like other girls!”

“Wow, you really said that at loud, huh”

Ashton looked embarrassed “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” He sighed “Sorry, I’m just not very good at- well,”

“Flirting?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while”

“How long?”

He laughed “A lifetime, probably even more”

Y/N squinted her eyes at him, almost as if she was analyzing him. Ashton couldn’t help but smile, his wife used to do the same thing when she knew something was up with him.

“Alright,”

“Alright?” He asked, confused.

“We can go for coffee”

“We can?”

“If you want,” She shrugged, but Ashton could tell she was nervous as well. He smiled widely.

“I do!” He said, eagerly “Mine actually fell a few streets down and I couldn’t even taste it”

“A tragedy!” Y/N gasped mockingly, smiling right at him “Then, it’s my treat. And maybe I can give you some pointers on how to flirt with strangers”

Ashton smiled as they started walking side by side “I would love that, actually”

“Okay, first up: Don’t just approach strangers on the street. How do I know you won’t drain my blood or something?”

A nervous laugh escaped his lips, but he covered it up with a cough “So why are you inviting me for coffee then? If you’re not sure I won’t do that”

Y/N shrugged as she looked at him with familiar eyes “I don’t know. You seem…familiar. Maybe we met in another life”

“Yeah,” Ashton smiled, “Maybe”

Tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @hoodhoran @hoodharlow @littledrummeraussie @bubblegum183 @irwin-fletcher-ash @wiiildflowerrr @in-a-world-of-fandoms @another-lonely-heart @aabc5sauce @in-superbloom @sadcupofcoffee @personalmuyverypersonal @vtte @as-hs-blog @himbohood @sofiaaraee @irwindoll @weasleytwinscumslut @fairytrice @colourfulcal @nibin0912 @hfkait @savagejane1 @youneedtocalumdown @pvnkcloud @ashtonsunflower @nicebasscalum @calumspupils @secretsicanthideanymore @alltimesos @wontlastimokwiththat @cncoangelss @whywontyoulovemecami @theimpossiblehologramtree @perriexed @abiancajg @rewmuslupin @icelily13 @whywontashloveme @lendeluxe

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notsofrozt · 6 months

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#spotify #spotify wrapped #To be fair #I'm more of a 6-hour recap of [series of books you've never read] type.#fish in a birdcage #imagine dragons #5 seconds of summer

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 2 months

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Sweet Dreams--Part 11

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

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

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

Melvin, reads the contact name. The 11 digits that follow stare back at you from the contact record of your phone. There’s never once been a text thread. His name wouldn’t come out on your phone outside of the contact in a search. But you had your distraction. You had your time to wallow and time to let pity make a fool of you. You can’t stay there. You refuse to stay there. So you tap the phone icon. It rings and rings. It might be a bad time, you realize now, as there’s no guarantee that Melvin will answer at ten in the morning. But that doesn’t matter much now.

Melvin answers the phone breathlessly. Your name tumbling from his lips in a rush. There’s concern in your name that paints his voice as he asks, “Is everything okay?”

“I’m calling to ask you that, actually,” you answer. The words nearly don’t leave your throat. He’d always been the easier of the two to interact with. He cared--you saw that with Teagan and Charlie. He seemed genuinely interested in your life when you spoke of it. But you didn’t think the care or the concern he had for your siblings would make him worry about you. Maybe now you’re even afraid of what that means.

“What-what are you referring to? Did something happen?”

You can’t get off track here. You’re calling about Diana. You’re calling to fact check the conversation from last week and to make sure they’re not drinking again. “Do Charlie and Teagan have new winter coats?”

“Uh, yes, they do. Diana and I--we got them nearly a week ago. There’s no guarantee now either that they don’t have another growth spurt, but we’re hopeful these coats will last the season and into the next.”

The more you talk with Melvin the more you realize Charlie got the gift of talking from him. At least Diana hadn’t been lying about the coats. But the bitter bite of her words rings back against your ears. “Diana called me last week,” you start. It’s the safest way to start.

The line crackles and you hear the sigh from Melvin. Something shuts--you hear the creak of hinges in the background. “I was worried when I saw the two ignored calls from you on her phone that something might’ve happened.”

“Is she drinking? Are you?”

“I’m not, no. God, no,” Melvin returns. His offense is palpable. He sounds as if the thought disgusts him.

“And what about Diana?”

A pause. Moments are passing by, the clock in your room ticking loudly as you listen to Melvin breathe. He better say no. He better answer with the same disgust. But the longer the two of you stay in silence, the more dread leadens in your gut. “I’m trying to get her some extra support,” he answers slowly. Like he might even be unsure of the words himself.

Not an outright denial but not an outright confession either. “Could it be vodka this time that gets her to her senses?” It’s a vile question to ask. But it falls and behind it comes more vitriol. That old wound, exposed again to the elements. “Could she go zero for three with her kids?”

“Enough,” Melvin commands. It falls clipped but tired. “We didn’t do right by you and we know that. We live with it every single day. We failed you in ways no child should’ve ever been failed by a parent. But it is not easy to watch from the sidelines now. And I don’t want to make it your responsibility to let us back in after what we’ve done, but please, do not mock us. The closer you get to Charlie and Teagan, the more hope grows in your mother. And the more you shut her down, the more she crumbles. It’s not your fault. She’s got to get better, face the consequences of her actions like we all must do. But she is human.”

“A terrible condition to be human, I’ve heard.” Your chest aches. It certainly still feels like your responsibility; it still certainly feels like that wound will never close up right. You still wish to every god that you could’ve had what Charlie and Teagan had. Wish you could move the stone of anger off your chest when it comes to Diana and Melvin. But you cried for them. You begged for them and it wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t enough.

“Just, please give her grace. I’ll get her help. I will.”

“Grace is Charlie and Teagan. You can give her grace.”

“And what about you? Is there satisfaction in wrath?”

“Wrath is rather hollow.” You don’t know what you have anymore. There is something between contempt and regret filling you. Yet, you are tired of both of them. You’re tired of the wheel you feel stuck on. You’ve got to let it go. It’ll kill you if you don’t.

“We hurt you. I know that. It was easy at first to keep our distance. It gets harder now—sometimes. She just needs some extra help.”

“Then you get her help. But I don’t like knowing she’s on a spiral in the same house as Charlie and Teagan. They don’t deserve that pain. I will do whatever possible so they are not subjected to the same thing I was.”

“As you should,” Melvin agrees. “As you should. I’ve been worried about disrupting Charlie and Teagan’s routine too much. I don’t think the kids are catching on.”

You have to tread lightly. You can’t tell him that Teagan’s caught on, as unknowingly as she is about what she's stumbled upon. But you can warn him. “Children are more perceptive than you give them credit for. You can hope. But that’s not the same as the reality.”

“Was it Teagan? What did she hear?”

“I hope Diana’s kept up with bedtime stories.”

“Fuck,” Melvin whispers. You’d never be able not to answer his question. He’d hear what you’re saying between the lines. “I can’t lose them too.” It’s soft as Melvin says it, thick with emotions you can’t see, but can hear. A true terror shakes his voice.

Here you think is where you might reassure Melvin. That he won’t lose them. But you can’t promise that. You’d possibly be the hand that orchestrates it. You remain silent.

Melvin fills in the gap of silence in a flurry of panicked words. “There’s a birthday party this weekend and then a field trip next week. Please give me some time. You have every right to save them from the fate that fell you. But they’re just kids. They’ll only see what they lost out on. Give-give me just a little bit more time. If things are getting out of hand, let’s arrange something then. Okay? Just give me a few more weeks to get through to Diana.”

You only remember what you lost out on too. The dances you never attended, the nights spent hoping that your parents' breath didn’t reek in the morning. Praying you had just a little bit more attention so you could ask them about field trips, tell them about the things you were learning about in school. All you wanted was a crumb of attention, more than just the plate of food at dinner. You wished you could’ve told them about the crushes, the dreams you had--that maybe one day you’d been a veterinarian as all children hope to become. Maybe even then you could’ve told them how much you wanted to paint too.

You don’t know what’s more important, to save Charlie and Teagan from a potential fate or let them live their lives as children knowing what looms for them if Melvin is not successful. But they are just kids. They might hate you either way--if you pull them now, if you save them later. They’re just children. You don’t expect them to understand it all right now.

“You’ve got until of November.” October’s nearing its end in another week and a half. “But if I get wind of anything that even smells like Diana’s losing her grip, I’m taking them.”

“That’s only--”

“I know. And Christmas will be right behind that. But I’d rather they hate me for ruining Christmas than letting their lives be at further risk.” Doing good might mean at times having to be the villain. A spark never knows it’s going to start a wildfire, but you’re wiser than that ember. You know the damage that could be done. You know the damage you will do as well.

“End of November,” Melvin agrees. “I’ll, uh, we’ll have to come up with a contingency plan. I don’t know where you’re living these days. But I don’t want to pull them out of school.”

“We’ll figure something out,” you agree. Your hours at work will allow you to drop them off in the morning. But you’ll need help in picking them up in the afternoon. You wonder if Calum would be okay to do it. Though you don’t want to interrupt or commandeer his schedule either, you’ll still ask him. It’ll take a village to help now. You’ll need to figure out where they’ll stay. You have no qualms with them taking over your bedroom in the place you’re staying. But it couldn’t be a long standing agreement. You’d need to move and give them their own bedroom at the very least. You don’t have a lot saved, but you could afford a two bedroom apartment on your own now. The first few months would be tight, but it’d be doable now.

“Thank you,” Melvin nearly whispers. “I see how much you care for them.” The weight rounds your shoulders at his words. Is this what it means to be recognized—quiet and weighty recognition that feels like relief and lead?

Beyond a sense of duty, you only want for them what you didn’t get. Teagan and Charlie are getting everything you wanted. Watching out for them is everything you needed. They’re children who do not deserve to be punished for what was between your parents and you.

“It’s what they deserve,” you return. Melvin let’s you go and you blink up at the ceiling, swirling in your vision. You want them to be safe. You need it. But you still feel the whisper of Melvin’s gratitude. How it feels like thick humidity on your skin in the middle of summer. Your skin is hot and the tears caress your cheeks as they descend to your chin. As stupid as the thought feels,, you hope Melvin can find it in himself to be proud of you no matter what you wind up having to do.

_____________________

It’s bright--the windows to the right bring in streaks of sunlight and though Calum sometimes wishes he’d opted for a slightly lighter brown, there’s few clouds today which makes the shed feel lighter. The clear skies make the deepening chill tolerable. Your slippers rest on the floor right under the easel you sit in front of. Your socked feet tapping lightly against the metal bar on the stool you perch up on. The stroke of your brush scratches against the canvas--a deep red cutting through the top left corner.

Calum’s sure that even with your apron on the sleeves to his black and white striped long sleeved shirt will be stained forever. Not that he minds. He’d prefer to carry that little piece of you in the threads. He’ll be able to say that it’s your work if anyone asks about the stain. He’s supposed to be doing preliminary comments on this briefing. It’ll become part of the address he gives at the charity event in December, but given the magnetitude of the event it’s best to get started on these things earlier rather than later. Yet, he has no interest in the words on the document in front of him. He’d rather watch you as you gather more paint onto your brush. You stroke once, twice, and then reach for something else in the glass jar which holds other brushes and tools.

From this angle, Calum watches the twist of your lips, fingers fluttering over the jar. Debating, he concludes--you’re debating which tool to go for next. The bottom right part of the canvas is still blank. He traces the faint line you’ve etched into the white fibers. You’ve told him that you plan to include pages from several print media types--books, pamphlets, and missing posters-- layered and attached to the canvas. You don’t want to add those yet until all the painting is done and can cry before you glue them up there to keep bleeding minimal.

A knock sounds from the door and Calum turns to see his mum at the door, thanks to the addition of the glass cutouts in the door frame. He waves her in and she only opens the door just far enough for her head to poke through. “I don’t want to interrupt,” she starts. “Just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi, Mum. You’re not interrupting. They’ve got headphones in and I’m not really doing anything much myself,” Calum laughs.

She laughs, sliding in through the crack. “So only one of you is being productive. But that’s alright. Rest, too, is important.”

“Something like that.”

His mother nods and shuffles softly over to you. You turn at the touch on your shoulder, slipping your headphones down off your ears. “Hi, Joy,” you laugh.

The embrace is tight, even Calum can see how tightly his mother winds you into the one armed embrace. “The painting looks good, sweetheart. It’s coming together nicely,” Joy comments.

“Thanks, I’m trying over here.”

“You’re succeeding. How was the feedback from the check-in?”

“They’re excited. They did ask to see what printed materials I’m using for the piece and said they were a little outdated. But they replied with some other books and materials that are more updated and relevant to their mission I could use. It was constructive at the end of it,” you explain.

“And those pages are going here, yeah?” Joy asks, pointing to the blank corner.

“Yeah, they are,” you nod.

“Okay, okay. I’m excited to see where it goes. I hope you’re proud of the work you’ve put in.”

“I think I am. For right now. I’m sure once I start painting in the gold details it’s going to kick my ass again,” you laugh.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so. It looks good.”

“Thanks, Joy. And I finished off the last of those beets.”

“Oh, good, good. I was wondering. Did you roast them again?”

You nod. “Easiest way for me to get through them. But they were really good. Better than store bought.”

Joy’s laugh is loud, taking a firmer grip on your shoulder and tugging you into her. “You wouldn’t be attempting to butter me up, would you?”

“I’d never attempt such a thing. I always succeed.”

The shed falls into a round of laughter, even a round of small snickers from Calum as he unabashedly watches the two of you. Joy never falters, squeezing one more time at your shoulders. “Succeed, you do, I’ll admit. Don’t tell Calum though.”

“I won’t,” you promise.

“Hmm, well, I guess I’ll leave you to work. Need anything?”

“No,” you return with a small shake of your head. “I’ve got everything.”

“Good.” Joy presses a kiss to your forehead and then steps away.

Calum watches the way you linger, still pushed forward into where her embrace once was, like you might chase behind her. But you don’t. You lean back and put the headphones back on. But there was a pause. Long enough for Calum to see it. And he knows--or at the very least figures--what that pause means. How much you get from the small interactions with his mother. He’d be glad if you did steal his mother, as you called it, if it means that you were getting the pieces of what you’d missed.

And it’s only a moment--the briefest of pauses. The headphones are settled back on and pick up your paints again. Joy slides into the bench next to Calum and nods in your direction.

“Everything okay?”

“With them?” Calum clarifies, pulling the top of his laptop down as he sits up a bit straighter.

“Yeah. With them. You’ve been a little tight lipped lately. If it’s not something you can share I get it. Just want to make sure of course.”

Calum looks back over to you. Your foot’s tapping again, the brush ever so gently scratching over the canvas again. You’d been tight lighted about it too to some degree. The only thing Calum has is that you asked if need be, could he help pick up Charlie and Teagan from school. He agreed that he could. Considering that sessions were closing in another two weeks for the holidays until January, his free time was considerably much larger than usual. And even if you needed help once sessions resumed, he’d always be able to take a recess whenever Charlie and Teagan were almost done with school to get them.

He’s not sure what’s caused you to ask this--if you’re planning something for Charlie and Teagan, but the alternative is much more sinister. Calum turns back to his mother and she’s only watching. Her fingers are wrapping around his and he exhales. “We’re okay. But something might be happening with Charlie and Teagan. I don’t know.”

“What makes you think that?”

“They asked if I could pick them up from school in the afternoons.”

Understanding crosses her face, brows rising before she looks your way. “Parents drinking again?”

Calum shrugs at the question, but tightens his hold around his mother’s hand. He felt more comfortable telling his mother more about your situation than his dad. She was a bit more careful with what information she was given. “If anyone, it’s probably Diana. But they haven’t said anything to me. Not yet anyways.”

“Will their current living situations support Charlie and Teagan?”

“Temporarily, I’m sure. But not long term, I don’t think.”

Joy hums and it’s a sound that Calum knows well. Her wheels are turning. “Well, we shouldn’t assume. But if they need help relocating, we can help. If not here, then wherever they feel most comfortable being of course.”

“We will. We will,” Calum agrees.

The conversation between you two had been short--that you needed a plan in place should you need it. Only as he rethinks through the conversations, does he think it was confirmation. I just need to have a plan, sooner rather than later. He should’ve pressed more about it, he thinks. But he does trust you. If there’s anything he needed to know, you’d tell him. But that doesn’t mean Calum can easily swallow down his desire to help. Yet, trust is the only way any of this will work. Choosing you means choosing trust.

“How’s the garden going?” Calum asks.

“It’s all mostly harvested. But good.”

“Any new recipes you think you’ll try?”

Joy laughs, patting at Calum’s hand. “Oh, no, not this time around. Gave it to the staff mostly. But if you are interested, I could always use a second pair of hands for the spring planting. We can put something together.”

Calum knows that dance--dangerous as it is. He laughs. “Do you need some help right now?”

“Oh, no, no, I came out here just to say hi to the two of you. Feels like I haven’t talked to my boy properly in a few weeks.”

Calum waves her in, arms opening for a hug. “Love you, Mum,” he whispers into the embrace.

“Love you too.”

Calum remains until she lets go first and when she does, he slides back into this original spot. “It's been rather boring lately if I’m honest.”

“Hmm, nothing from the boys either?”

Calum shakes his head at the question. “Nothing that I’ve heard. Well, there is Michael’s birthday next month”

“Yes, yes, his mother was talking to me today about that. She said he’s just doing dinner?”

“That’s what he said he’d prefer. Ashton, Luke, and I are still working out the details and getting a table reserved.”

“Do you know who I talked to recently?” Joy asks. She grins as she speaks, a little bop to her head as well. It’s good news then.

“Who did you talk to recently, Mum?” Calum laughs.

“Do you remember Ms. Brenda, Joshua’s mum?”

Calum nods. He still keeps in contact with Joshua from time to time. It’s not nearly as frequent as Luke, Michael, or Ashton. But Joshua and Calum were thick as thieves as kids on the time. “I remember Ms. Brenda.”

“She told me Joshua is proposing at Christmas.”

Calum whistles. Joshua had told him that he was dating seriously and they were moving in. That was only a few months ago, maybe almost a year, but not more than that. “Wow. God, we are really growing up, huh?”

“Oh, god, you can say that again,” Joy laughs. “When’s the last time you talked to Joshua anyway?”

Calum had texted Joshua a few weeks ago, mostly to say he hoped Joshua was doing well and Joshua replied with his usual, hanging in there by my toes, but hanging. As they’d gotten older Joshua moved away from football. In high school, he’d gotten a little gig to help out at home. But he didn’t talk about it much and since, Joshua mentioned he’s swapped from trade work to an office job. But the conversations were filled more with jokes and laughter than catching up on their lives.

Calum shrugs a little. “A few weeks ago. He said he was doing alright, but not this alright to be proposing. Has Ms. Brenda given up her banana bread recipe?”

“No,” Joy laughs. “But I’m going to get it from her eventually.”

“One of these days,” Calum teases. “If I get any more updates from the boys, I’ll be sure to share. As long as you share too.”

Joy holds up her hands, one at her chest. “Swear it,” she grins.

“The holidays are coming up soon too. I’m sure they’ll have some juicy stories then. ”

“Never fails,” Joy hums. “Anything you want? While we’re on the topic of the holidays.”

The question does make Calum ponder. There’s nothing that he wants that he thinks could be given by his parents. His gaze falls back to you. The sun cascades down around you, propped in the almost perfect center of the room. It's a small floor plan to begin with--the shelves help give storage without sacrificing the too much square footage. But finding a good place to put the easel for you really only had a few places to go--along one of the walls that was taken up by the bench and table or go into the center. But it’s nice to have your work at the center. What Calum really wants is time with you, time where you don’t have to worry about anything, where nothing is hanging over your head.

“Something that I could get would be ideal,” Joy laughs.

Calum snorts. There’s no embarrassment about being caught. “Can I take a rain check on that question then?”

“Absolutely, son. Absolutely. But besides the stuff with their parents, you two are okay, right?”

Calum regards his mother. The grays are prominent and continue to grow more so as the years pass in her hair. She shares a nearly identical cut to Calum’s though her sides are cut nearly as close as his. Calum had teased his mother when she first cut it that she was copying him. Joy never denied it. Just hugged Calum in tight and laughed. It’s going to destroy him when he can’t get one of those hugs--bone crushing and warm. Calum wonders if he’ll ever be able to recover from such a loss like that--death or not. He doesn’t know how you do it. How you’ve survived this long, but you do. He’s glad that for the time being the both of you can get soul warming hugs from his mother.

Because she’s real and present and looking back at him with the same concern she used to direct his way when he’d talk about a bad day at school. But instead of feeling like a child, instead of feeling small, he finds himself proud that he looks back into his mother’s face and knows that he’s got nothing to hide, that he can put it out on the table and she will always be there for him. He’s a little scared, how much he feels and how much of him is so willing to take the risk to get hurt again.

“We’re okay,” Calum answers. “I told them about Nora though.”

Joy whistles, brows rising at the news. “How’d that go?”

“Better than expected.” He’d prepared for the day he told you about Nora. How it might send you into a panic or even worse might cause an argument given how some that hurt still lingers, how he still mourns what could’ve been while discovering how much of the desire isn’t broken or gone with you. But thankfully it didn’t. For all that could’ve happened, nothing bad did.

“How do you feel about that? Now that it’s out there?” Joy asks, reaching for his hand again.

Calum shrugs, gazing back up as a shadow passes. A few birds flying overhead, he assumes. “It feels like I’m hiding less things now. Like I can be human with them more. But it’s hard. I-” His throat jumps. Fear he can place as it thumps in his veins. “I love them. But the last time I loved someone like this…” The words are catching. He wants to get them out but the emotion seizes his throat.

“It ended poorly. I know, I know,” she whispers in return. Both her hands wrap around Calum’s left hand.

“Yeah. But it’s so strange. To know that this all falling apart is still a possibility but not caring as much. All I find myself focused on is what I can still experience. Like even if it does have to end, and I don’t. I really don’t want that. But if it has too, I don’t want regrets on the table.”

“Well, that sounds like something to me. Like you know what you want,” Joy returns. “Sounds like you know what’s worth taking the risks for, which in turn, means you don’t have regret.”

Calum notices the hand retreating now from his space. A bottle of water rests onto the table, on the coasters you insisted on having for the shed. “It’s a good thing I don’t have plans on leaving. I’m right here, love,” you whisper against his cheek before pressing a kiss to the stubble he knows he needs to shave.

Calum takes his free hand and tugs you back when you go to step away. Your legs hit the edge of the bench with a stop thump. There’s red and gold paint on the end of the sleeves decorating the threads. Your fingers are stained too, but that doesn’t make Calum hesitate as he threads his fingers through yours. “You’re supposed to be painting.”

“I took a hydration break,” you laugh. He spies now the second bottle of water in your hand that’s now being lowered to the table. With your second hand free, you reach into the pocket of your apron and unearth a clean rag and drape it over his shoulder. “For any snot.”

Calum laughs, head dropping into your stomach. “If we’re keeping score about who’s cried the most, I think you’ve got me beat.”

“I’m a water hose, sue me.” You press a kiss to the top of Calum’s head though.

The paint is tacky against Calum’s fingers. His skin will be stained red and gold too, but it doesn’t matter. He drags his thumb over yours, a soothing action back and forth. You are there. You are just within reach. “I won’t,” Calum answers. Your hum is reassurance coupled with the squeeze of your hand.

Calum takes a deep inhale, attempting to commit to memory the way you smell in his clothes. The smell of paint powering over everything and yet, there is something so deeply you at the root of it--fresh like how clean linen smells. He tries to only take a minute or two, knowing that you’ll probably draw back first to head back to your painting. But you stay in the embrace.

“You two hungry by chance?” Joy asks. “I’ll go fix us something.”

Calum nearly tells her that she doesn’t have to go. But she’s giving his one hand one last squeeze as she slips out from behind the table. Joy gives your shoulder a squeeze and then slips out the door; it shuts softly behind her. You stand, towering over Calum. But he pulls you even closer into him, hands winding around your waist.

“You’re going to have paint all over your face,” you laugh.

“I don’t care.”

“Is everything okay?” you ask.

“Yeah. Just…I love you, that’s all.”

“I love you too.” The return is even and quick. You ease him out of his embrace and Calum looks back up at you. “Is now an appropriate time to make an inappropriate joke about why I’m not leaving you?”

“No,” Calum laughs. “Now is not the time for an inappropriate joke, but thank you for asking.”

The cap on the water releases with ease and you pour a little bit of your bottle onto the rag. The touch is tender as you swipe it over Calum’s cheek and forehead. “You’ll let me know when I can, right?”

“Yeah, of course. The world needs all your inappropriate jokes.” Your work is steady on his cheek, one hand holding ever so gently against his chin. “Sorry to interrupt your hydration break.”

“Not an interruption at all,” you laugh. “How’s the speech coming along?”

Calum gingerly tugs at the rag in your hand. “You see how that laptop is closed?” You nod. “That’s how well it’s going. I don’t even need to worry.”

“Or are you too distracted?”

“Some might say those are the same.”

“Yeah, all people named Calum Hood,” you snort, before taking a sip from your bottle. Your gaze is steady. But Calum can see it, the question brewing behind your eyes. “Would I be correct in assuming that I’m the first person since Nora?”

There it is. Calum doesn’t even need to ask what you heard. “You are.” He’s sure it’s more obvious than needed but at least you asked.

“I know I can’t promise not to break your heart. But I’d like to politely ask for the space to prove to you I’m not her.”

Calum knows you’re not her. It’s not even a comparison of people, just a comparison of situations. He’s right where he was before. And it’s all different than it was before. Less tense, more space to converse and to be. But he’s scared. He doesn’t want to fall on his face again, doesn’t want the person he cares about most taken away from him. “Since when do you have a polite bone in your body?”

“Since my sarcastic timing isn’t always well loved. And I know that’s rich coming from me, considering everything I’ve done and yet to tell you. However, still, I wanted you to know that I want this relationship with you.”

Calum knows that on an intellectual level. But it’s nice to hear the words again. “Thank you.” It feels too small a phrase for what he means. Because what he means to say is that you are right--you and Nora are two different people. These are two different relationships. But the fear has a strong hold. What he means to say is the sound of you saying that you want him makes his stomach knot, makes his toes curl, makes Calum feel like a kid again in the most innocent of ways. What he means to say is that he never wants to forget that, but he knows he’s human. So he will forget, but please always remind him.

The kiss to his forehead is wet, no doubt to the water on your lips, but gentle. “I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear.”

If he could have you say it all the time, he would. But Calum revels in the whisper of your voice even as you slip away. He knows you’re in a bit of a time crunch. The paint will need plenty of time to dry so you’re trying to get through this with enough time to spare. He lets you go, promising him to himself that he’s going to spend the entirety of the night having you say it again and again how much you want him.

“Baby,” he calls out, just before the headphones cover up your ears.

“Yes, my love?” you ask, turning on the stool.

“I’m glad it’s you.”

“You’re glad it’s me?”

Calum nods. “Yeah, I’m glad it’s you.” He’s not sure if you understand, if you’ll get what he’s saying. But he is glad it’s you. Someone that got to know him from the ground up, someone that he got to know out of pure interest. He’s glad you’re who you are and that the two of you have this. Truly, what other ways can he say it? He’s just really glad it’s you.

You smile, headphones covering your ears, but you’re still facing him. “I’m glad it’s you too.”

______________________________

The heat from the oven grazes your arms as you slip the tray onto the rack. The orange pumpkins dyed into the white dough smile back at you--gaps between their carved teeth. You hope it’s not too much--that you’re coming over with a basket of things for what might be a pretty small holiday. But you are curious--has Mevlin made progress with Diana? Charlie makes no mention of noticing anything strange. Teagan hasn’t tipped you off that more things are happening out of the ordinary. It looks as though things might be on the up and up. Yet, you know looks can and will be deceiving. Its hardly been a week but the anxiety is gnawing on your innards—a feast for it and starvation for you.

With ease you wind the white timer for 10 minutes and set it down onto the counter. The ticking seconds are background noise for you cutting persistently through the crackle of plastic as you tear open the package of black tissue paper. The orange plastic pumpkin mirror the cookies--blackness around their gaped teeth, a hollow but practiced smile. You line the bottom of the buckets with a couple sheets and then start to toss in the socks, and stickers. They get a book to color in each, a fresh pack of coloring pencils, and Halloween pins for jackets or backpacks. Charlie gets one in the shape of a ghost and you slip a bat theme pin packet in for Teagan.

The candy waits in big bags--an unfortunate reality that you’d waited a little too long to get the smaller bags for the occasion but Calum promises to help when you get back to divvy up the remaining lollipops, chocolate, and other sweets into bags for people on staff and their children too considering he’d gotten a hefty amount of the remaining bags as well when he accompanied you on your errand run for the baskets. Teagan likes the sweeter stuff and Charlie’s a big fan of chocolate. So you slide a bag of the respective kind of candy in front of each one of the brackets for them.

“Oh my god, a ghost,” Declan laughs, sliding in next to you at the kitchen island.

“Boo,” you smile in return.

“You know that you and the Prince are both adults? I didn’t suspect the two of you to be into Halloween this hard.”

“These are for my siblings,” you return.

Declan pauses, hands having stretched out towards the back of Snickers, Reeses, Almond Joys and other chocolates. “Oh. Well, that makes a lot more sense. Need help?”

You know you don’t. There’s only the candy left aside of their bags of cookies that you’ll be putting together after they cook and cool. “If you’re truly that bored, sure,” you offer.

It’s an easy out, a way for Declan to slide into the bench at the table and take a load off before he works. Dinner will most likely be starting soon and you’re hoping that your timing hasn’t interrupted Declan’s work. He started to take weekend dinner shifts most often. “I’ve got time. Just vouch for me if Janet chews out my ass.”

“I hope I’m not in the way. The cookies only have like another 8 minutes or so and I will always vouch for you if Janet comes.”

“You’re not in the way,” Declan answers, but takes the bag into his grasp and pulls it open.

You slide him a few more sheets of black tissue paper. “I was trying to time between shifts,” you offer.

“You timed it well. How much candy am I giving your dear old sibling? Whole bag? Half?”

“No more than half? They’ll be going trick-or-treating this weekend too.”

Declan laughs, reaching into the bag for a handful. “Oh, your parents are going to hate you for all this extra sugar.”

“Perhaps that’s the point.” Perhaps, you’re adding fuel to a forest fire. But you’ll add it. You shimmy a few extra packets of the nerds into the bucket.

“Are they still super young? Your siblings, I mean.” Declan tips the bucket in your direction a little for you to get a better view. “Too much or too little?”

You peer onto the bucket. It’s not empty, but it does look a little sparse. “Tiny bit more if you don’t mind. And they’re still in elementary school. Nine and seven.”

“And you’ve never talked about them before because?”

You didn’t know about them before. You were terrified of what it meant. There’s a small part of you that feels vindicated. You knew something would happen with your parents involved. You knew that if you got too close you’d wind up in a mess. But god, there’s a larger part hoped you’d been wrong.

“It’s complicated,” you answer. “My parents and I aren’t close. But I am trying to be there for my siblings at the very least. They’re important to me.”

“Well, I--should it matter in the slightest-- think you’re killing it. This enough?”

You take a peek into the bucket. There’s enough candy that you know Melvin will be dealing with wrappers and sugar highs for at least a week. You nod. “Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime.”

“How-how are things with you?”you ask. There’s a bit of hesitation. The timer ticks around you and with the baskets full, including the extra bits of tissue paper tucked in, there’s still something that lingers. Something that you don’t want to fall flat with Declan--like you know how friends do.

Declan shrugs. “They’re going.”

The shrills interrupts what you think might’ve been on his tongue. Declan turns, kitchen towel already fall off his waist as he tugs on it. “Just going?”

“These extra shifts are a little bit killer, but they’re helping pay off the work I had to get done to my car, so it’s all evened out.”

“What happened to your car?”

“Brakes needed to be replaced, and new tires.”

You hiss at the answer, watching Declan slide the tray onto the aisle. The cookies are a golden color now around the edges--perfectly cooked. “At the same time?”

He nods. “Same time. I could’ve done the brakes myself but they were closing in on being dangerously thin. I was already going to have to go in for the tires so I just tacked on the brakes and figured I’d work out the money later. Was not the smartest financial decision, but it was either taking two days off from work or just one. I need my remaining PTO for the holidays.”

“Your sister’s graduation right?” He’d mentioned it once to you before but hadn’t really talked about it since.

Declan nods. “Yeah.” It comes slow. And you’re not sure what’s causing his hesitation but he laughs with a shake of his head. “I shouldn’t be shocked you remember that.”

“Yet you are, you jerk.”

“Credit where credit is due. My apologies.”

“What is your sister studying?”

“Data Analytics. She’s got a job lined up too once she graduates.”

A feat you know given the current landscape. A whistle leaves you. “A whiz, I see.”

“Just don’t let her hear that.”

“Promise,” you laugh.

“Her plan is to move out in another two years time, I think,” Declan offers. “Of course it all depends on how the market stabilizes."

“Do you know if she is looking for roommates? Could help her a little bit but it comes with its own risks of course.”

Declan shrugs. “I’d offer for her to move in with me. I know our parents are going to be a little overbearing, but it’s not cool to move in with your older brother and his roommate. But I did at least tell her that if she’s interested in my complex, to let me know. I’m only a ten minute drive from our parent’s place so she’d still be close enough to them too.”

“Sounds like that’ll be nice if it works out.”

“Time will only tell in the end. Things still going good at the new job? You sure you don’t want to come back to us?”

It’s a tease and you can tell by the way he bats his lashes. But even just the offer makes your heart leap. You think you’d take this job back in a heartbeat if you could. But Forest has its perks. There was a reason why you had to leave. “It’s good. It’s a lot more hectic than here on average. But pays the bill. Health insurance is a small step down but not that I needed more than yearly check ups for anything.”

“Good health is a fountain of wealth in the end,” Declan returns. “I’m glad it’s going well. I think Val said she tried to pop in but didn’t see you.”

“I’m back of house right now. Until I get licensed to bartend. When that happens I’ll be on the front a bit more.”

He nods, a hum falling from his throat. “Sounds like the place is still stretched thin though.”

More than a handful of times you’ve heard runners complain about how many shifts they’ve been asked to cover. The kitchen staff is pretty solid. It’d come up as you worked more than the person you took over for left because of needing to move back home for family needs. But Turner seemed to still be struggling to retain servers. You were sure that she’d train you up by now but perhaps the concerns you voiced about your relationship with Calum were keeping her from getting you onto that boat. Though, once you got on the bar you’d undoubtedly have to learn tables too.

“It is,” you agree after a meaty pause. “But it’s not so much that I think I’m getting screwed over. I guess. I know my time will come once I move to the bar.”

“Does it make you nervous at all? To move to the floor? Given your relationship, I mean.”

“Makes Calum more nervous than me. But seeing what I have of the bartenders right now, I’d run food and take care of those right at the bar. Right now, it’s like a bridge that I can’t see enough to worry about if I'll have to cross it or not.”

You slide over to the cookies, testing the temperature with your finger. They feel cool enough and you gingerly wiggle them loose from the sheet. Declan slides you two plastic bags. “I guess in some ways it’s like not trying to stress yourself out twice about things,” Declan states.

“Yeah,” you nod. You seal up the last four cookies for Charlie. Two more remain on a piece of paper towel. Declan takes the sheet and moves it to the sink. “Oh, I can wash it.”

With a pointed stare, Declan turns on the water and squeezes a bit of dish soap onto the sheet. “What was that? I can’t hear you over the water,” he shouts.

You’re not sure what you expected but when he’s done, you toss him one of the remaining cookies, hoping he doesn’t drop it but hoping just a little that it tumbles. Declan catches it with ease. “For all your hard work,” you return.

He snorts. “Thanks.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it.”

“Oh, anytime as long as I get fed cookies at the end of it.”

The door to the kitchen opens, you catch the movement from your peripheral and look up from Declain. Calum peeks his head through the door. “Ready, baby?”

“Yeah, I just finished up.” You offer Declan the second cookie as well. He waves it off.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ll see you around.”

“I’m not going to eat it,” you laugh and Declan huffs before plucking the sugar cookie from your fingers.

“You owe me,” he calls out around his bite. “I need advice on what to get my sister for her graduation present.”

“Call me. I’ll help. But you can’t go wrong with money.”

“Aye, yeah, I thought about that. But I want to do something more personal. As the oldest, I can do better than that.”

The bags of candy rattle in your grasp as you slip the shopping bag they’re in on your wrist. The two baskets are wrapped securely into the curve of your fingers from the plastic handles. You get Declan’s concerns. The pride in his voice makes you realize perhaps you’re less alone than you felt with Charlie and Teagan’s situation.

You nod at Declan. “We’ll cook up something. Be thinking about what she likes or what she needs. Text me whatever you think of and then we’ll grab coffee or something to solidify a plan.”

“Thank you,” Declan grins. “You’re a life saver.”

“Don’t I know it,” you laugh over your shoulder. Calum steps in closer, his fingers brushing over your wrist as he takes the Target bag with the leftover candy.

“Shut up. No one told you to brag about it.”

Calum holds the door open for you. “Sorry I couldn’t help with the baskets. But it looks like you still had some help around.”

“Don’t worry. I know you had other obligations. Declan sort of forcefully helped out. In a way.”

“Declan has a sister?” Calum questions. “Didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, he does. She graduates university in December.”

“Oh, that’s nice. I didn’t realize Declan was old enough for a sister graduating uni.”

“He’s 27. So not that much older.”

The lights on Calum’s truck light up briefly and you two slip inside. You’re not sure what you’re about to head into. Though you hope it’s good news, there’s dread in the bottom of your stomach. Calum doesn’t know. You only asked if he could help pick up Charlie and Teagan from school. But he doesn’t know.

“When’s your next day off again, baby?” Calum asks. You were off today--having spent most of that time doing laundry and cleaning out your car. But then came by after were done so that both you and Calum could go over to your parent’s place--at Charlie’s request that Calum come.

“Uh, next Tuesday, I think,” you return. “I have to look at the schedule again.” You take a picture of it when it gets posted. You can only imagine what haunts you in the photo album of your phone should you ever go back through it more thoroughly.

“When you do, can you let me know? Next month we’ll need to schedule a fitting for outfits to the auction and banquet. It’ll be pretty straight forward for me. But I know they’ll want to do your measurements, talk about what you’re comfortable wearing and show you some pieces. It’s….going to be a lot. But it won’t take the whole day.”

That part you hadn’t considered. Though you were still working on the painting religiously in the evenings, the banquet was being pushed further and further down on your list of concerns. Having to actually go was a dream, or perhaps you held onto some delusion that you wouldn’t have to go. Though you definitely did. “I’ll let you know,”you return.

“I’ll be there, the entire time,” Calum promises, a hand on your knee. “It’s really not bad. If you want, we can sit down together and look at stuff to help you prepare. Brands, maybe colors, silhouettes and such.”

“That would be nice.”

“Of course, baby. I’d be happy to.”

The first part of the journey is smooth, the tires gliding down the road. Calum seems to find a sense of content with his hand on your knee, a gentle gliding up to the middle of your thigh and then a slide back down. Rhythmic in a way that you’re partially sure it’s not conscious. It feels unbothered, unworried in a way that only the subconscious is capable of doing. And the longer his palm slides along your denim cladded knee, the longer you think about the mess Calum could be walking into. He might already suspect, but it is still your responsibility to be transparent, to tell him what’s going on in your life even if it’s hard, even if it’s tiring.

“I want to say thanks,” you start, capturing Calum’s free hand for a moment to give it a squeeze. “For agreeing to help me with my siblings. I do know I need to explain what’s going on right now. It’s just hard—I guess it’s also shame. But Teagan noticed that Diana missed tucking her in a few nights back in August or so. And things just sorted to feel off with how pushy she started to get. Melvin confirmed a couple weeks ago that she’s drinking again.”

Calum hisses, his hand squeezing against your knee. “I am so sorry, baby. That’s so awful.”

“Melvin asked for some time to get her more help. He’s worried about disrupting too much of Charlie and Teagan’s schedule. I gave him until the end of next month to make progress with her. But if she’s not better, I’m taking them in for a little bit.”

“Outside of pickup from school, what other help do you need? I-there’s-whatever you need, I want to help.”

You know Calum’s being careful. You can hear how much might be behind those words. “We might need a room at the palace if that’s okay. I don’t know how suitable my room is long term. Until my lease is finished and I find a two bedroom apartment.”

“We have space. That’s not a problem.”

Your cheeks are warm. He says it so easily like he doesn’t have to think. And some in ways he probably doesn’t have to. But the deep pressure of his hold tells you that he means it deeply. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I’m really sorry that this is happening. To them. To you all over again in a way. All three of you deserve so much better. But I think you’re doing what you might’ve wished someone did for you. And that in and of itself is incredibly powerful.”

The tears burn. You watch the way the highway signs wave in their wake. It’s not exactly what you’d want, though maybe in your younger years you did wish someone to save it before it started. And you can be that light. You can be the hero that your siblings need, even if they’ve never wanted for one. “I just hope they don’t hate me.”

“I can sympathize with that fear, baby. They’re kids right now. They maybe won’t get it immediately. But when they get older, you can explain more. And maybe you and Melvin find a way to frame it so it doesn’t seem so bad right now and they don’t take it so hard. And I hope they don’t hate you either. I can’t say they won’t. But Charlie and Teagan seem like kids that would at the very least listen.”

You hope. You’d beg of the universe that Charlie and Teagan at the very least listen to you, understand that you don’t want to make any changes to their lives unless it’s to improve it. But they are just kids. Temporary displeasure for more stable and permanent change seems like a fair price to pay, but you know they’ll take years to see it that way.

“I hope,” you return softly, sniffling back the snot that threatens to slip down your cupid's bow. “I hope.”

Calum motions to the glove box. “Tissues if you need them. But I’m here. Mum is too. So is Dad. You’ve got people in your corner. I’ll talk to security and we can get Charlie and Teagan set up so they’re safe and they have a nice place to hang out. We’ll create a plan so that they’re always on time to school and picked up and for any after school activities they’re in as well. All hope is not lost.”

Hope is not lost. Just beaten and maybe a little battered. “You sure you still want to be with me?” you tease, taking out the small pouch of tissues from the glovebox.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby. But I am going to make sure Charlie and I have the best jack-o-latern on the block, so be prepared for that.”

“Not if Teagan and I have the best one.”

“Oh, game on, baby. I hope your mouth is not writing checks you can’t cash.”

“All my checks are good.”

Calum gives a disapproving hum but risks a glance in your direction. “We’ll see about that. We’ll see. Is it this exit or the next one?”

“Next one,” you answer. “Once you got off, I’ll help more.”

“Next one. Got it. Thanks.”

“No, thank you.”

The front of the house is dark when you arrive. There’s no lights bleeding through the curtains. There’s no flutter or wide swinging of the door as you and Calum ascend the stairs. You’re not sure what this means and from what you can see there is at least one car in the driveway at the very least. There were two--a car for Dian and Melvin each. But you’re not sure who drives what. It feels a little pointless to knock on the door, but you do so anyway. It sits unanswered for a minute or two.

Calum’s hand rests gingerly in the dip of your lower back. “Want to try the door bell?”

It feels silly to think you haven’t had to use the doorbell in months. But you wait a moment more and then reach for it. The toll rings out, so much so that even you hear it from behind the closed door. The seconds pass and you don’t hear anything. Melvin had told you to come at this time. You worried nothing had happened in the meantime but a few seconds later you catch a faint call, “Coming, coming!”

Melvin smiles as he opens the door. There’s light but from deeper in the house, from the kitchen you think. The front of the house is dark. “Uh, we’re in the backyard,” he notes, pushing his glasses back up on his face.

You nod and step inside. “Okay.”

“That’s cute,” he comments, pointing down to the buckets in your hand. “For Charlie and Teagan?”

“Uh, yeah. There’s a lot of sugar as a warning.”

“To be expected,” he laughs. “Just head straight back. I’ve got to run upstairs and I’ll be right back down in a minute.”

Calum slides in around you, giving Melvin a passing greeting before taking a couple steps further ahead of you. You watch Melvin though, as he ascends the stairs one hand on the railing. He moves quietly though you distinctly remember the sixth step always having a little bit of a squeak to it. So far, there’s no Diana. Not that you can see but you know you’re staring too much when you notice just how Melvin skips over the second noisiest step too.

“Ready?” Calum questions.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” you return and then catch up. “It’s just this way.” You lead Calum deeper into the house, past the living room and kitchen to the sliding glass doors. Charlie and Teagan sit at the wooden bench in the backyard, two pumpkins resting already on the table on top of newspaper. The big kitchen trashcan sits outside--ready and lined with the black garbage bag.

The two turn at the sound of the door sliding in the grooving, faces immediately brightening up when they spot you and Calum. Teagan slides out and rushes up the porch steps. “Hi!” she laughs colliding into your lower body.

“Hi,” you laugh in return.

Charlie follows up behind his own cheer leaving his throat. You wrap him up in a hug as well. But as you do, you pause. He’s hitting the middle of your stomach now, and creeping towards your chest maybe. Just a few weeks ago he was maybe just starting to hit your waist. But now you feel it in your bones. In the next couple of years, you’ll be looking him directly in his eye. It would break your heart for it to be sooner, but the longer you take in the extra inches, you think it might be sooner.

“You’re getting so tall,” you marvel.

Charlie laughs. “Yeah, I guess so. The basketball coach asked me if I’d considered joining the sport last week.”

“No more baseball?” Calum questions, slinging his arm around Charlie’s shoulders.

“Never giving up on that. But I might consider basketball too. If they don’t share the same season schedule.”

You know you shouldn't be shocked. It’s supposed to happen. They’re supposed to grow up. But as Charlie collects his basket full of goodies and carries on back to the table, you find yourself still in awe of how much he’s grown. They won’t be little forever--a terrifying thought to have. But they still laugh, digging into the baskets for their first pick of candy.

“We’re supposed to wait,” Charlie notes, warning Teagan of some previous agreement. You think you hear somewhere in there where his voice cracks too. Maybe it’s just in your thoughts. There’s no way he could be headed towards puberty young. You didn’t.

She huffs, but places the box of Nerds back onto the table. “You could let me slide.”

“No, Dad said to wait, so we wait.”

“Where is Dad anyway?” Teagan questions. Her gaze falls behind you back towards the house but when she doesn’t seem to garner enough for an answer she looks back to you. “You going to help me destroy Charlie and Calum from over there?”

The shock glued your feet. You hadn’t made it from the bottom of the steps of the porch but you soldier on and settle onto the bench next to her. “No, sorry. Any ideas on what you want to do with this here pumpkin?” you ask with a slap to the side. It’s a dull thud, but the gourd is still firm under the weight of your hand.

She nods, reaching for a stack of papers. “I drew up some ideas at lunch. Which one do you think is best?”

As you begin shuffling through Teagan’s ideas, you can catch the murmur of Calum and Charlie discussing too. For a brief moment, you lock in again on Charlie’s voice. There’s nothing there, not another crack. It’s enough that you think you could convince yourself that you imagined the earlier sound. But you know it’s a fruitless wish. So you zero back in on the four sketches--one has furrowed brows and though the brows aren’t quite even in the drawing, you do like the added touch. You slide it out towards her. “I like this one.”

“That was my first choice. But I liked this one too a lot.” She reaches for the drawing with the word, Boo written in a speech bubble out from the pumpkin’s mouth.

You look back up to her pumpkin. Charlie’s chosen pumpkin is shorter and wider, which you think would fit the words a bit more. But Teagan’s pumpkin is much taller and a tad bit narrower. The word would inevitably wrap around the side. “I think given the pumpkin you’re working with this one is the best bet,” you return, holding the picture in your hand up a little bit more. “The pumpkin’s a bit too narrow for the word. But if you really want it, we can try to make it work.”

Teagan holds the design up to the pumpkin, eyes flickering up and down from the picture to the pumpkin, around the edges of it. “I think you’re right.”

“Save that one for next year, if you want. Then we can make sure you get the right size pumpkin for it.”

“There’s also the tiny pumpkins we’re going to paint too today,” Teagan begins, “so I’m sure I can use that design on one of them.” She points to the side of the table you’re at but there’s nothing a top of the table so you look down and spot a collection of six mini pumpkins waiting.

“Oh, yeah, that works too.”

The four of you wait for another minute or two, but you can see how antsy Teagan and Charlie are getting. They fidget near their boxes of candy and near the tools assembled on the table for carving. Melvin made it sound like it would only take a minute or two. It settles into your gut that Diana’s the reason for the hold up. And behind that lead is bile at the realization that Melvin may not be getting to her. If your lungs could collapse at a thought, this would be their undoing.

Charlie looks back to the house. “I’m going to go look for Dad,” he states.

It flashes before your eyes--how he might discover Diana drunk, Melvin doing his best to coax her from the glass, or worse, an argument. His world would crumble in an instant. You know that it might be the wind to bring the house of cards down and it might make whatever you do in the future make more sense, but you call out his name instead. He doesn’t need to be dropped into reality just yet.

“We can get started, if you want. I think Calum and I count as adult supervision,” you tease. “Even if just barely on Calum’s part.”

“Excuse me?” Calum laughs. “I have been well into adulthood for quite some time now. Not nearly as old as you, but it still counts.”

Charlie laughs at the exchange. “No, but like, we always do it with Dad,” he counters. He’s not moved closer back to the bench, hovering in the few feet between the bench and the deck steps.

“You can blame me,” you counter, nodding for Charlie to come back. “C’mon. Teagan’s got ass to kick--yours specifically.”

“Oh no, now that’s unfair,” he retorts, inching back towards the table, back towards safety. “And you owe money to the jar.”

“Add it to my tab,” you grin, sliding him an apron.

“Game on,” he grins. Devious as it is, you count this as a win. You know the trouble won’t get smoother, won’t get easier, but Charlie doesn’t need the veil torn down just yet.

As you help Teagan into her apron, you notice her own concern, the flickering of her gaze back up to the house. God, what you wouldn’t have done to save her the first time, when she snuck down to that kitchen and caught those few seconds of the cabinets slamming.

“Do you want to scoop or cut?” you ask, trying to pull her back. You can save her now, even if it’s only for pumpkin carving. “After we get the outline done, of course.”

“I’ll take a stab at the cutting.”

You snort at the pun, but nod. “If it’s too tough, just let me know and I’ll take over.”

She nods and takes the sharpie with ease to begin outlining the brows, eyes, and mouth of her jack-o-latern. She works with little hesitation until she has to make the brow on the right with the one on the left. Charlie and Calum laugh from their side of the table as Charlie works to get the knife through the thick rine.

“Please watch your fingers, yeah?” Calum states as Charlie works.

Teagan slips out from the bench and takes a couple steps back. You watch her and she tilts her head just a little. “I can’t get the brows straight for the life of me,” she laughs.

You lean over to get a more straight one look. The right brow is just a little lower than the left. “It’s now an aesthetic choice. Adds to the character,” you offer.

She snorts. “We can call it that.”

As she returns back to her spot, you hear the slide of the glass doors. Melvin slips through but pauses with the door not fully closed behind him. You see it, the flash of fear and disappointment over his face. It makes you wonder if he ever consider that even this particular path of action would have its own cost? The hand of the universe is always perfectly balanced--for every x that is solved, there is a z.

The two of you lock gazes, as you stand to help Teagan with getting the gourd open, and you know that Melvin’s truly not prepared. Neither are you. The two of you are wading in the same sea. Neither one of you has a buoy, neither one of you have a life vest for what’s coming or what’s already here. The difference between you and Melvin are merely only the reasons that brought you into this stormy sea. You already know the cost of every choice. You already know that every action you take or don’t take will come with its own weighty consequence. You know the cost of keeping Charlie from going inside is that when the truth does come out, it will destroy him tenfold. You know when you take them in, when you do what you must do, there will be anger and resentment. As much as it scares you, you know you’re going to do it--regardless. You don’t know how to navigate those feelings. You don’t know how to live with the fear of what you know must be done. But you will still do it.

Does some part of this feel like deja vu for Melvin? Not that you envy his position. He is at the crossroads of his own impossible trolley problem. If Melvin wanted to save his wife, save the mother of his children, Charlie and Teagan would become the sacrifice. If Melvin wanted to save his two youngest children from the same fate that fell upon you, his wife would become the sacrifice. You watch the crushing reality swallow him whole. You’ve never seen true horror on someone’s face until now. Until Melvin watches as you work the knife through the flesh of the pumpkin and the foundation of a tradition cracks.

You could and would do whatever necessary to protect them. You wish you could tell him, say to him that this is the moment of sink or swim. This is the very second to decide if he’s going to let Diana’s own choices destroy what he’d worked so hard to build. But you’ve the rest of the rind to get through. There’s Teagan waiting eagerly to your right with the spoon to scoop out the innards of the pumpkin. So you look back down to the work you’re doing, sliding the knife through the tough outer flesh and resign yourself come the end of November, even if you have to sink, Charlie and Teagan will still swim.

You can only hope Melvin’s accepted that fate too.

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let-the-bands-take-c0ntrol · 7 months

Text

Adore You (Part 5)

Ashton IrwinXFemale Reader

Part 4

Warnings: pure fluff, tender moments, food, nature, photographs, wars

Dress comfortably, but bring a change of clothes. I’ll pick you up at 5am.

You stared at the message over and over, sleep still in the corner of your eyes and a yawn leaving your lips. You hadn’t been daydreaming the day before when you got Ashton’s text during the afternoon. He had written five in the morning and somehow you set an alarm to wake you up at 4:30am so that you could get ready. It was Spring Break and you were supposed to be sleeping in, not waking up at the ass crack of dawn. You were barely into your break either which meant things were not at all what you expected it to be. Since Ashton dropped you back off at home the two of you had been messaging non-stop, aside from the times he would work. The two of you had just been talking, getting to know each other a bit. Ashton’s message about picking you up was the last thing you had heard from him.

The sun wasn’t even out yet and you had no idea what Ashton had planned for your date. Let alone why he chose 5am as the start time. You had just finished packing a spare set of clothes when Ashton messaged you that he was there. After giving yourself a quick look in the mirror to ensure you looked “on the first date” presentable, you gave yourself a quick pep talk before leaving.

“Good morning,” you smiled, waving at Ashton. He was leaning up against the side of his jeep, dressed in navy colored sweatpants and a gray t-shirt. The grin on his face was bright for the early morning.

“Good morning, I hope you slept well?” Ashton said, he opened the car door for you. You slid into the passenger seat, tucking your backpack between your feet.

“Sorta. Having to get up this early made me anxious,” you confessed, Ashton gave you a slight frown, closing your door and jogging to the driver side. “Why are we up this early?” you asked once he was inside the car.

“Well. . .I thought we could watch the sunrise,” he said, a beautiful smile coming back onto his face. “But we gotta hike to the spot.” Your head whipped over to stare at him in bewilderment. Ashton kept his attention on the road, but from the dimple poking out of his cheek you could tell he was trying hard not to look at you. That explained why he wanted you to dress comfortably.

“You got me up at 5am to hike just to see the sunrise?!” you reiterated, nearly in disbelief at the revelation. He finally gave you a side glance, a guilty look on his face this time. “Ashton!” you whined out, slumping into your spot only to earn a giggle from him. “This is practically kidnapping.”

“It’s not kidnapping if you voluntarily got into the car,” he said, “I just didn’t specify the activity.” You rolled your eyes at his words, elbow resting against the door and chin landing into the palm of your hand. It was silent for a moment and Ashton took another glance in your direction. “I promise it will be worth it,” he said, right hand reaching out to give your thigh a reassuring squeeze. You relaxed in your spot at his words and gave him a sly smile.

“You better be right. If not, you’re making it up to me,” you told him. Ashton held out his pinky to you and you hooked it with your own. Both your thumbs met in the middle, locked with a “kiss.” The rest of the car ride was spent getting to know each other more until you made it to your destination.

You wheezed out air, head rested between your legs and hands on your knees as you tried to catch your breath. It had been a while since you last hiked and your hiking locations were never this steep. Daylight was starting to peak out, the early morning air crisp and somehow burning your lungs even more. A few trees surrounded you on your left and boulders to your right. Your eyes focused on a beetle scurrying by with a rock in hand, one eye closed tight. You felt Ashton’s hand gently land on your back, his face soon appearing in front of yours. “Here,” he said, holding a water bottle in front of your face. You reached out for it, cracking it open and spilling a bit of the water as you brought it to your lips.

“You’re trying to kill me,” you said over the rim. He laughed, hiking his backpack up his shoulder even more.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, “You had said you used to hike, so I thought. . .”

“No, it’s fine-this mountain is just hella steep.” Your breathing finally got back to normal, and you stood up straight to give him a weak smile.

“Yeah this mountain wiped me out the first time I climbed it,” he told you. He gave you a concerned look and you sent a thumbs up to him to signify you were good to go.

“Did you collapse at the top?” you asked, slowly trailing behind him. Ashton paused, his hand reaching out to help you over a log that was in the middle of your path.

“I did, actually,” he laughed, “Legit waited an hour before I decided to go back down.” He didn’t let go of your hand as the two of you continued your trek up. Soon Ashton pulled you through a grove of trees on a flatter part of the mountain and you found yourself looking at the most breathtaking view. “The sun should be fully rising in three, two, one,” he said, glancing back and forth between his watch and the view. A gasp left your lips and your hand came up to cover your mouth. It was silent and you basked in the view, sucking in a deep breath and slowly releasing it.

“This is. . . “ you whispered, trying not to disturb the silence. “Absolutely gorgeous,” you finished off, you felt Ashton’s fingers brush against yours and your own fingertips tickled his. He fully grabbed your hand then.

“Gorgeous indeed,” Ashton whispered back, you could see him looking at you out of the corner of your eye and you smiled to yourself. “I uh-I brought my camera for some pictures,” he said after a few minutes. You looked at him then, a smirk playing on your face.

“To document a first date?” you questioned, receiving an eye roll from him.

“No, to document the sunrise, but this lighting looks fantastic on you, so I wanted to ask if it’s alright-you might be in some of them?” You laughed at his words and glanced back towards the stunning view then at him.

“Snap away,” you told him, gesturing towards the view. He pulled his backpack from his shoulder to pull out his camera. A second later you heard the snap of the camera, and then a few more clicks. You didn’t know if you should pose or not, so you stayed taking in the scenery. “Do you always carry that thing with you?” you asked, gulping down the water Ashton had given you halfway up the hill.

“Not all the time, but I can’t resist a good photo opportunity especially in nature.” He turned the camera on you this time. You gave a quick smile and pose before waving him away. After a few more pictures were taken, the two of you found a rock to sit on and fully absorb the quietness. You laid your head on his shoulder and in turn Ashton laid his head on top of yours.

“I can see why you’d like it up here,” you commented, “It’s peaceful and it feels like everything in the world will be just alright.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.

“Can forget assignments and deadlines exist from up here too,” Ashton said. You nodded in response and the two of you sat in silence for a while. A hum of comfort left your lips and you felt Ashton’s head move against yours and briefly felt his lips ghost at your hairline. The two of you watched the sun slide higher up into the sky and your eyebrows furrowed as you thought about the message Ashton sent you the day before.

“Why’d I need to bring a change of clothes?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Ashton looked down at you with a grin.

“Ya get sweaty while hiking,” he told you, “And this isn’t our final destination.” Your eyebrows rose in surprise at his words. He laughed at your response. “What? Did you think this was just a hiking date? I made plans, Sweetheart.” He bumped his shoulder against yours and shot you a smile. You bumped him back, and Ashton stood up. He dusted dirt off his bottom then reached his hand out for you to take.

“Okay then, what is next on the agenda?” you asked, grabbing Ashton’s hand and allowing him to pull you up. He pulled you into his chest for a hug, the two of you shuffling a bit in embrace. You looked up at him with a smile on your face.

“Depends,” he hummed, smirking down at you.

“On?” you questioned, the embrace breaking as you both started to descend down the hill. You followed closely behind Ashton, marking where you were stepping.

“On if you like french toast sticks because I know this place that does like every flavor under the sun,” he said over his shoulder. Ashton stopped for just a moment and turned his body in wait for your answer.

“I honestly can’t remember the last time I had french toast STICKS, so I’d say. . . of course I’m down!” you said, earning a grin from Ashton. The climb down was always easier than going up and sure enough by the end of it you were starving.

Ashton sat next to you in the booth. The heat radiating off his body and warming your already hot skin. The two of you had changed clothes in the back of his Jeep before heading towards the french toast place. You didn’t realize how drenched in sweat you’d be and was grateful Ashton suggested you bring a change of clothes. Now the two of you were in the cool of the diner, but still the tension lined your skin at his close proximity. A menu being shared and your hair stood on ends as he wrapped his arm over your shoulder, scooting closer to you. You swore he’d be able to hear how hard your heart was beating, and you tried your damnedest to not stare at him from the corner of your eye. “What flavor do you fancy?” he questioned, raising a hand to push his glasses up his nose.

“The red velvet sticks sound amazing, but I keep looking towards the tiramisu ones,” you responded. “What about you?”

“Hmm cinnamon roll is always my go to,” he bashfully admitted. You laughed at his admission, at least it wasn’t the classic french toast sticks he was going for. “Do you want to maybe try the variety special? Since you’re having trouble deciding.” Your eyes widened at the variety special list.

“Ash, that’s way too many sticks for me,” you mumbled, eyebrows furrowing. Two french toast sticks from the sixteen list flavor board.

“How about we share it? Whatever's leftover can be boxed up,” he suggested.

“It’ll allow me to try both the red velvet and tiramisu,” you said in agreement. It also gave Ashton the chance to try something other than his usual order. Once your order was taken, the two of you found yourselves in a game of thumb-of-war as you waited. “So how’d you f-find this place?” you asked, trying to invade Ashton’s thumb as it nearly pinned yours down.

“I’m all about the mom and pop shop places,” he said, tongue sticking out as he once again tried to pin you down. “One day of procrastination led me here. . .curiosity really.” You smiled at his words, understanding how curiosity got the better of him. The entrance to this place held knickknacks that’ll draw in any magpie. It was something new you were learning about Ashton. Just from his accent it was clear he wasn’t a local, but he seemed to become one just by finding local eateries. Ashton became distracted as the tray of food came towards your table. You took advantage of it and pinned his thumb down.

“I win!” you shouted in triumph, hands lifting high in the air.

“That has to be considered cheating,” he argued, moving his cup of fruit juice to make space for the two large plates. All you could do was laugh in response, shaking your head as he tried to plead his case.

“There are no rules to thumb-of-war,” you teased, eyes widening in surprise when Ashton stuffed one of the french toast sticks in your mouth to shut you up. He bit down on his lip to hold in the laughter at your reaction. Your expression changed into delight at the taste. “Which one was that?” you asked, mouth still full.

“Uh I think it was the blueberry pie one,” Ashton said, helping himself to the food as well. You licked your lips in satisfaction, grabbing your own fork to dig into the meal. You couldn’t help but smile around your fork over at Ashton. If this was what he did on first dates, then a second date was definitely in the cards. Until then, you were going to enjoy your morning with the dimpled man.

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