#calum x fem!oc
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better left unsaid // cth
in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn't know.
calum x fem!oc
ongoing
word count: 140k+
warnings: mentions of cancer, body image, weight loss. (if you’ve read it and have other things i should add here please tell me!)
read on AO3
chapter zero
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
chapter eleven
chapter twelve
chapter thirteen
chapter fourteen
chapter fifteen
chapter sixteen
chapter seventeen
chapter eighteen
chapter nineteen
chapter twenty
chapter twenty one
chapter twenty two
chapter twenty three
chapter twenty four
chapter twenty five
chapter twenty six
chapter twenty seven
chapter twenty eight
chapter twenty nine
chapter thirty
chapter thirty one
chapter thirty two (new 12/4/23)
chapter thirty three (new 12/5/23)
chapter thirty four (new 12/7/23)
chapter thirty five (new 12/8/23)
chapter thirty six (new 12/11/23)
chapter thirty seven (new 12/11/23)
chapter thirty eight (new 12/11/23)
chapter thirty nine (new 12/12/23)
chapter forty (new 12/12/23)
chapter forty one (new 12/13/23)
chapter forty two (new 12/13/23)
chapter forty three (new 12/22/23)
chapter forty four (new 12/27/23)
chapter forty five (new 12/27/23)
chapter forty six (new 4/11/24)
chapter forty seven (new 4/16/24)
chapter forty eight (new 4/18/24)
#5sos#5 seconds of summer#luke hemmings#calum hood#ashton irwin#fanfiction#fanfic#5sosfam#5sos fanfic#calum imagine#calum fluff#fanfic chapter list#for mobi#calum x ofc#calum x oc#calum 5sos#calum 5 seconds of summer#calum x fem!oc#ao3 fanfic
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Lie To Me - 3 | Heat Waves
Ivy lay awake staring at the ceiling, occasionally glancing over at her clock that read 3:45. She was waiting for it to become morning.
She'd accepted that she wasn't falling asleep anytime soon, not with her head in the manic state that it was in.
Ivy couldn't put her mind to rest, she was thinking about everything. She was so conflicted with her feelings.
She was trying to be honest with herself lately, a new thing she was trying. It was good, to be honest, but it was causing her a lot of stress.
Admitting to herself that she likes someone takes a while, she just keeps telling herself she's being strange or thinking about little things too much over and over again.
She couldn't get Ashton out of her head. His beautiful eyes, his smooth sun-kissed skin and the freckles that splayed across his cheeks.
She was in love with every single feature of his face.
When she and Ashton stayed up drinking beside the pool one night that's when she realised that she was in deep.
He looked so gentle and welcoming with his kind eyes and his features lit up with the pool lights and the moon.
She didn't say anything and tried to act normal but her heart was beating out of her chest.
Her heart was also racing the other night with Luke, his hands grasping onto her like he was going to lose her at any moment. She felt secure with Luke which wasn't a familiar feeling for her, she was almost always on edge, waiting for something horrible to happen. She hoped for the best but also prepared for the worst. He'd take a bullet for her and she knew it. He made sure she knew it.
She loved how comforting his warm, soft and tanned skin was against hers. She loved how he scrunched the fabric of her shorts and how his hands felt against her thighs.
The other night was very new for them, Luke had dreamed of it but he never thought it would happen.
He loved the way his hands looked against her olive skin, soothing her with his delicate touch.
He loved the way his head fit so perfectly on her chest like it was made just for him.
He loved the way her fingers raked through his messy blonde hair. It could send him right to sleep, even if the world was ending it would never fail to instantly put him at ease.
And Ashton was also thinking too much for his own good. He was an over-thinker and it kept him up some nights.
He was used to it. Whenever he couldn't sleep, he would go downstairs and sleep on the couch, hoping Ivy would join him and they'd cuddle up and watch Titanic until they fell asleep.
He threw the covers off his body, slipping on some pyjama bottoms and making his way downstairs.
He ran his hand through his hair, pushing the strands away from his eyes with a deep sigh.
He got a glass of water for himself and an extra one for Ivy in case she came down to join him.
He sat down on the l-shaped couch, staring up at the ceiling again.
He sat in silence for a few minutes until he could hear light footsteps coming down the stairs.
He sat up and smiled, watching Ivy come down the stairs to meet him.
He opened his arms up, moving a little to make space for her beside him. "Hi, Ives," Ashton smiled as she situated herself beside him, and he hugged her close to his side.
"You okay?" Ivy asked him and he nodded.
"Yeah, just thinking too much and I couldn't sleep," he let out a breath and Ivy nodded, knowing exactly what he was talking about.
They had many nights like these.
In the early hours of the morning when they couldn't sleep, they would find each other and just sit and be there with one another, even if they weren't saying a word.
Whether it was on the couch, in the kitchen, in Ashton's bedroom or by the pool they adored just being with each other.
It was one of those nights where they just needed to be silent and simply just...think. They both knew it, so it's exactly what they did.
They sat in silence in each other's arms, watching the tv but not fully registering what was going on in the movie. "Ash? What do I do about having conflict... with my thoughts? I want something but I also want something else. They're both so different but I just can't choose."
"Let it play out, it'll sort itself out and you'll decide what you want. Remember, don't settle for anything, go for what you truly want, Ivy."
"Thank you," she whispered, finally being able to put her thoughts to rest. Ashton always helped her, he gave the best advice but never used it for himself.
"Ivy, help me stop thinking," it was eating him alive. It could be the stupidest, most irrelevant thing but he would spend every minute of the day thinking about it.
"Just think, on your deathbed, this thing you're thinking about. Will it matter to you and will you think about it at that moment? If not, it doesn't matter and it's not worth your time or thought."
Ashton sat staring at the ceiling again, thinking more for a moment. It wouldn't matter, the only thing that would matter to him would be his friends and family in the end, nothing makes him truly happy like they do. "You should've told me that sooner," Ashton chuckled and Ivy smiled into his chest.
"Come to my room?" Ash asks, slightly nudging her shoulder.
Ivy nodded her head, attempting to climb off of him but he didn't let her.
Instead, he carried her up the stairs, the blanket from the couch still wrapped up around her.
As soon as her head hit Ashton's pillow she was knocked out and Ashton brought the bedsheets over her, making sure she was warm and comfortable enough before getting in bed himself.
Ivy's words kept playing over and over in his head. After hearing what she said he'd probably never overthink about something stupid ever again.
She was so knowledgeable and Ashton knew for sure she'd read that in one of her books. A lot of the things she says, all her lyrics sound like they're straight from a beautiful piece of literature.
She was like a goddess out of a beautiful piece of literature.
#5sos fic#luke hemmings#5sos#friendstolovers#love triangle#ashton irwin#best friends#ashtonirwin#calum hood#michael clifford#romance#fanfiction#fanfic#5sos angst#young adult#teen fiction#5sos luke#female song writer#luke hemmings x fem!oc
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𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝚅. 𝙳𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ
𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 | PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader
| RATING: explicit material | 18+
| CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, flirting, fluff, angst angst angst, pining, inherent power imbalance due to boss/employee dynamic, Southern culture slander just for @jupiter-soups, multiple instances of violent men/situations, predatory/SA behaviors, Sad During the Holidays™, financial/emotional/physical abuse, high functioning alcoholism
| WORD COUNT: 18.3k lmaoooo
| CHAPTER SUMMARY: You try to make the best of the "holiday season," and Joel tries to piece together the secret you've been keeping from him.
The shopping centers around town had all hung their plastic wreaths with bows and fake candles from the light poles that lined the increasingly crowded lots. You never understood why the accompanying flags said Happy Holidays! or Season’s Greetings! when all the decorations were clearly Christmas themed. No matter what anyone celebrated, you dreaded this time of year.
The disappointment was obvious when you were a kid and Santa didn’t come some years because you’d “ been too naughty.” You’d get a few meager gifts from your parents that were clearly an afterthought, but you were always left with the failure and profound sense of shame of not being good enough. Of not having tried hard enough. Of not proving yourself. Of not wanting it badly enough.
By the time you were a teenager, you reasoned that those years where Santa didn’t visit were probably due to the volatile, strange relationship your parents had with each other and with money. Your dad had always brought home enough pay to afford the basics and then some, always offering the allure of a financial safety net for your mom, never having to worry about missing a payment on something or not being able to afford what the neighbors could afford. He was outraged when she took up part-time work, thundering about how it belittled him and isn’t what I make good enough for you?
Your mom made awful choices, often one after the other, but you knew she couldn’t have chosen to love your dad. Who on earth would choose to love someone with such a massive inferiority complex? Someone who needed to keep you under his thumb in case his ego needed a boost or his temper needed an outlet? Someone who kept you strung along just enough to make you see what things could be – dangling the carrot on a stick – just to yank it from you because you weren’t worthy of it yet.
It was your dad’s ego and need for validation that led him to cheat on your mom. That was your best guess, anyway. It’s not like the family sat down to talk about it ever. Everyone knew, but no one was allowed to speak on it. Unless of course it was your parents screaming at each other in the middle of the night, accusations and confessions flying.
One of the times your mom had gotten it the worst from your dad is when he’d discovered her fooling around with somebody at her part-time job. After he made sure her body wouldn’t ever move again without a reminder of him, he made her quit and sign over all her remaining pay to his private account. It was probably some sort of punishment for her hard earned money to go into his personal, private account. What’s mine is mine, and what’s yours is mine.
It never stopped her from lashing out at him, though. She always finagled her way into an account or stealing a card before blowing a bunch of money on something insignificant just to spite him. You never understood why sometimes she’d cower from him and other times openly defy him. They’d hit each other and then sometimes he’d just hit her. He always hit Calum, though.
When your mom couldn’t disrupt that dynamic, she started leaving the house more often. If she couldn’t stop it, then she didn’t want to be around to see it. The anger you carry for that still bubbles up every now and then, often when it’s least convenient to address. You and Calum were never given the option of leaving.
You were both expected to fall in line with whatever whims were being had by whichever emotionally stunted adult was home at the time. You were both expected to tune into the mood of the household and adjust yourselves accordingly.
It took a long time after your mom left for you to realize why your dad chose Calum as his main target: he was the next in line that posed an inevitable threat to his authority.
Calum had always leaned more towards the scrawny side, but a few growth spurts after age 12 had bulked him up and upped his height significantly. You can still vividly remember the first time it clicked for them both that Calum was finally a physical match for your dad. They were arguing about Calum’s grades, as if the horrible stress of your mom leaving on top of the already shitty home environment weren’t a clear source for the poor academic performance.
When your dad shoved him, he shoved back. Hard. Hard enough that your dad stumbled backwards into the wall and cracked some of it with his shoulder. The tense silence that followed felt like it went on forever. You watched on in horror, anchored to the spot and shaking. It felt far-fetched and perfectly reasonable all at once when you briefly feared that your dad might kill him.
Before he could say or do anything, Calum scurried off to his room and slammed the door shut. Your dad rounded on you and slapped you clear across the face for “just standing there watching it all.” For bearing witness to the shame of him being challenged and bested. You’d automatically apologized and ran to your room.
You didn’t have fun family holiday traditions like everyone else seemed to. You didn’t have fond memories of a cherished gift. Your parents didn’t have funny stories about the mayhem of beating out other parents to snag the hottest toy of the season for their kid. You didn’t have a favorite holiday movie. You didn’t have fun, quirky stockings or personalized ornaments or special recipes that were only brought out this time of year.
Your distaste for the holidays had grown into an outright dislike for them altogether. If it wasn’t the stress of your parents fighting or whether or not Santa would deem you a bad kid again this year or having to hear all your classmates buzzing with the excitement over break once school started back up, it was the glaring truth that you were different and had to hide because of it.
Everything was a lie. Everything was a carefully concocted and delivered story. To avoid prying questions. To ignore the hurt of what you lacked. To keep anyone from finding out about your home life and getting you and Calum separated.
You tried not to stew in it. You tried not to rain on everyone else’s parade. It wasn’t their fault you’d grown up like that, and it wasn’t your right to be angry with them because they hadn’t. Still, this was your first Christmas without Calum home. Thanksgiving had been more manageable since everyone treated it as a single day of celebration – a half week at most. But come December, it was just a month long barrage. Twenty five days straight of reminders that you were alone. You hated it.
You made sure to keep that to yourself, though. Joel had sheepishly kept the radio on a holiday station, mumbling something about how Sarah would always make him leave it on. You didn’t tease him over it, didn’t mention the obvious fact that he seemed to like the music, too, but wasn’t sure how to acknowledge it without getting grief for it. Tommy for sure would say something just to get a rise out of him. You wonder what they were like as kids at Christmastime.
You jostle in your seat as Joel takes a particularly sharp turn. The usual shopping center route he took as an office cut through was busier with cars and people with all the holidays looming. You cherish the extra 3 or 4 minutes of alone time this alternate route gives you.
It’s only a few days into the month when he strikes up a conversation about getting gifts early so he’s not scrambling at the last minute. He tells you all about how he should know better by now and how many years he spent rushing around at the last minute with Tommy sat up at the house while Sarah slept just so he could try to get his hands on what she’d asked Santa for.
You think to yourself how you wish you knew what to get him for a gift. Not that you’d do it. You barely have any money, and you don’t even know what he’d like. Plus, it’d probably be rude or look weird to not also get Tommy something. At worst, you’d get Joel something you could actually afford, and it would just be a cheap gift no matter what. You’re also not well-versed in Christmas gift exchanges considering your upbringing. It’s probably best to just avoid it altogether at this point in your life.
“You know, you could use a vacation day if you wanted. Or even a half day if you don’t need the whole day.”
You pivot in your seat from where you’d been gazing out the window at all the random, tacky decorations that popped up seemingly overnight. Calum would’ve laughed at them with you if he were here. “What?”
“Yeah, you can use some time off. You’ve already earned some.”
You blink a few times and try to figure out what he means by bringing this up. Did he not need you as much? Were you too unproductive to keep around? Was he trying to let you down easy while he told you the job wasn’t yours anymore?
“I don’t want a day off.”
“Oh. Okay. It’s nothin–”
“Did I do something wrong?”
“Huh?” He tilts his head to meet your eye. He looks just as confused as you feel.
“If I made it seem like I don’t want this job, I do. I really do. And-And I can work harder, too. I can take more hours. I can take on more responsibility.” It all comes spilling out of you in a frantic rush. Whatever he needed to hear so that you didn’t lose this job. So you didn’t lose Joel.
“Sweetie, I just meant if you had Christmas shoppin’ or somethin’ like that. You could use a vacation day instead of fightin’ off the crowds on the weekends.”
Oh. Of course that’s what he meant. And of course it hadn’t occurred to you because you don’t have anyone to get gifts for. The lead brick of embarrassment knocks around your head and leaves little bruises of self-doubt at every point of contact. You could’ve just thought about it for two seconds instead of making a fool of yourself.
“You know,” he starts gently and sounds a lot like he’s choosing his words carefully. “You’re a hard worker. And a good person. And there’s nothin’ wrong with me recognizing that – or anybody else. Even you.”
Your throat feels tight and prickly, and your nose feels suspiciously like it wants to start dripping warm with sentiment. This is already embarrassing enough without you sniffling and getting all bleary eyed. You want to clam up and bury it all deep until you can act like a normal person again. But something about Joel’s earnestness and kindness pulls at the loose thread that’s keeping you from unraveling altogether.
“I thought you were firing me,” you blurt out.
Apparently this is outlandish enough that Joel has to pull over for a moment to digest it. “What in the world?! Why would I fire you?!” He doesn’t sound mad, just genuinely perplexed. “Look, if I’m givin’ you that impression, you gotta tell me because that is NOT what I wanna portray here.”
“I-It’s not you,” you assert. “I just–I get in my head sometimes.”
He softens at that and reaches out for your hand. “Yeah, I’ve noticed.”
You grab onto his hand but can’t meet his eye, choosing to look out the window again instead. “This job–you–This job means a lot to me, and I just get scared sometimes of losing something that makes me happy.”
You feel the dip of his weight bow the bench seat as he scoots across it to nestle closer to you. You practically melt on the spot when he wraps his free arm around you. “Hey, you ain’t losin’ this, okay? I don’t want you worryin’ about that.”
You shake your head side to side like you’re trying to dispel all the disorienting thoughts. “Sometimes I just feel like I don’t do enough, like I don’t—I dunno, like I have to keep showing that I’m useful or something. It’s like that guy who has to push the rock up the hill, and it just keeps rolling down.” You fix your eyes on a spot in the distance to keep yourself distracted enough to keep talking. “I feel like it’s gonna crush me one of these days,” you confide in a strangled whisper.
You don’t protest when Joel wraps his other arm around you and pulls you snug against him. It’s an awkward sort of embrace in the confines of the truck, and your tired, pliant body isn’t helping things much.
“Sweetheart, what’s goin’ on?”
It’s not a demanding question at all, but it certainly feels that way with how trapped you are in your own secrets. Joel couldn’t possibly know what he’s asking you to divulge.
“It’s my dad,” you confess quietly.
You feel Joel’s body stiffen against you. How much had he already pieced together? You couldn’t tell him like this. He didn’t deserve to have this shoved onto his plate. He’d just been so happy talking to you about all his good memories from this time of year, and you’d gone and ruined it like you always do. You backtrack a little. A half-truth. A half-lie.
“Ever since Calum left, it’s just been harder, you know?”
His body relaxes slightly. “Your brother? Is that why you’ve been on edge? And your dad?”
You clock the relief in his voice. He must’ve been thinking it was something worse. He must’ve been too close to realizing the truth.
“I miss him,” you sniff. “I know him and my dad were never going to get along, but I just wish somehow he could’ve stayed.”
He holds you close, and you angle yourself to fit right into the crook of him. You’ll allow yourself this comfort, just this once. You know from now on you’re going to have to keep a tighter lock on things. This wasn’t anyone’s problem but your own.
“He didn’t make it home for Thanksgiving?”
You shake your head against his shoulder. “No. Probably for the best, though. I always just end up getting caught up in the middle of them.”
“That sounds really hard.”
When you let out a shaky breath in reply, Joel rubs your back and shushes against your temple. “You been dealin’ with this by yourself?” He doesn’t wait for your response. He already knows. “You shoulda come to me, sweetheart. You could’ve, you know?”
“I know,” you sniff.
He pulls back just enough to see your face.
“You come to me if you have somethin’ you wanna talk about, okay? No judgment here. Hell, I won’t even offer advice or say anything if you don’t want. I can just listen if that’s what you need.”
Your bottom lip quivers, and you tug it into your teeth to keep it still. You nod and drift into another hug from Joel.
He’d recognized the shift in you. Something had been even more off since Thanksgiving. You’d said it was a nice day, just a lowkey event. As always, there was the presence of something unspoken just in the periphery of the conversation, but Joel knew better than to ask or to push you for more information. He’d been worried about your notably quieter and somber mood, though. He found himself worrying about you a lot these days. He got the distinct feeling you needed something – someone, maybe – and it drove him crazy that he couldn’t seem to flush the answer out of the reeds.
And then finally, finally, you’d said something that made things clearer. Your brother up and leaving all those months ago was the missing piece. It made so much more sense now. Your dad’s prickly, on edge demeanor. His overbearing worrying about your comings and goings. Maybe the whole bank account thing was just him trying to hold onto the one kid he still had left at home. It wasn’t the healthiest approach, but Joel couldn’t really blame a parent for doing anything in their power to keep their kid in their life. The misdirected upset at you was still irksome, though. You didn’t deserve to bear the brunt of your dad’s unresolved issues about your brother leaving.
Joel painstakingly replayed the conversation over and over again in his head, trying to piece together all the crumbs of information you’d left here and there.
You and your brother got along well enough that his absence weighed heavily on you.
He and your dad didn’t get along at all.
You were always caught in the middle of it.
Your brother left because he and your dad couldn’t work things out.
Did you blame yourself for not being able to keep their relationship intact? Did they still put you in the middle or make you choose sides? Were you still acting as referee to their disagreement?
As many questions as your admission had answered, many more took their place.
“You okay with your bonus bein’ in cash, too?”
He always asked even though he knew the answer by this point. You wonder if he wanted you to say no and just get paid like everyone else did. “Oh, I didn’t know I was getting a bonus.”
“You’re an employee, aren’t ya? Employees get a holiday bonus.” He says it like it’s obvious, and for once you appreciate the finality of the conversation. You didn’t have to wrestle with yourself over whether or not you deserved it because Joel and Tommy were going to give it to you regardless, just like every other employee.
“Thank you,” you say politely in a small voice.
He hums in reply and looks over at you. His jaw slides back and forth a few times in thought before his eyes are on the road again.
“You did good this mornin’.”
You snort and roll your eyes, face angled at him to emphasize your amusement. “I didn’t even do anything. Like, a few laps in a completely empty parking lot isn’t really anything to write home about.”
He smiles softly. “Progress is progress, ain’t it?” he contends. “One successful driving lesson under your belt is plenty enough to celebrate as far as I’m concerned.”
Your cheeks warm at his praise and insistence that something you did deserved to be acknowledged and commended. “I dunno, I think my instructor is a bit of a softie,” you tease. “Feel like I could’ve driven his truck straight into a ditch and he still would’ve found something nice to say.”
Joel chuckles and shakes his head. “Now I don’t know about that one, ya little weasel.”
“Weasel?!” you laugh. “Okay, that’s a new one.”
He laughs louder now and fake pinches your side. “Well it’s the first time you’ve suggested driving my truck into a ditch and gettin’ away with it. Had to bring out the big guns on that one.”
You giggle and jerk out of his reach when he goes to fake pinch you again. “Surprised you didn’t put some weird southern spin on it like usual. ‘Cheesy wheezy weasel goober doober’ or some shit,” you laugh. “Constantly making up words. Real country bumpkin shit, Joel.”
He breathes out a laugh and rolls his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”
“I dunno, Goober Doober. What am I gonna do with you?”
“If I’m Goober Doober, you’re Plucky Duck,” he challenges.
You both burst into a fit of cackles at the ridiculous nickname threats. The laughter dies down eventually, and the usually unbearable lilt of Judy Garland crooning from now on, our troubles will be miles away in the background feels almost cozy in the confines of the truck.
For once, when she serenades with through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow, you aren’t thinking about your broken family, your broken home, and all the broken, splintered things that could’ve been. You’re thinking about Joel and all the overwhelming urges to be closer to him and keep him with you as long as possible.
The pull of whatever this is that you share is undeniable. Your fingers reach out to him almost without your permission, body reacting and acting in spite of your brain trying to keep things rooted in professional, neutral territory. Your retaliatory pinch ends up as more of a greedy grab to his soft middle.
“Goob,” you huff.
“Pluck,” he shoots back as he grabs your hand.
You pull it back slowly and place both hands in your lap, smiling like an idiot still. Your brain has entered the picture again and is furious with your autopilot heart for constantly pushing the boundaries. The click of Joel’s blinker and the subsequent honk from another car wrench you from your self-chiding.
He jerks the truck back into the lane before laying on his horn and yelling, “Jackass!”
Your hand grips your chest from where it flew up in fright from the sudden maneuver. “Jesus christ! Where’d that guy come from!?”
“Was speedin’ over that hill back there. Can’t see what’s past it until you’re already on top of it. S’why the speed limit changes about four times on this stupid road,” he grumbles. “Hate takin’ it because of that very reason. Fuckin’ hardware store is over this way, though.”
“Fuck I thought he was gonna hit us!”
“Just about did. Fuckin’ idiot drivers. Honked at me like it’s my fault he ain’t followin’ the signs,” he huffs. He glances over at you, arm still clutched across your chest. “You okay?”
You nod and adjust in your seat. “Yeah, yeah I’m okay. Just scared me a little. Are you okay?”
“I’m good, sweetie.”
It’s a quieter drive to the hardware store where Joel checks on you one more time before leaving the engine running for you while he pops inside for a minute. “Just gotta grab another set of these brackets real quick.”
You sit patiently and listen to the not-so-grating-anymore Christmas music that plays in a low hum on the radio. A lively rendition of Jingle Bells spurs a completely forgotten memory of the year Calum sang the Batman parody version of it over and over again until you were both just about peeing your pants trying to keep your laughter down. You grin and mumble-sing what you can until it all comes back to you.
Jingle bells
Batman smells
Robin laid an egg
The Batmobile lost a wheel
And The Joker got away
You giggle and scoot closer to the driver’s side to turn the radio up more. Maybe you did have a happy holiday memory after all.
The nostalgia is cut short when the driver’s door flies open to reveal a surly looking man shooting daggers at you. You scream and reach to shut the door, but he hops onto the truck step and blocks you. He crowds into the frame of the door, not quite entering the truck, but effectively blocking a main exit. You start to scramble for the passenger side but think Joel’s truck getting stolen would be worse than you getting hurt by some psycho. You inch backwards and put your hands up in a placating show of submission.
“Hey, you fuckin’ bitch! You almost made us wreck back there!” he shouts. It’s so much louder in the cabin of the truck.
You shake your head, eyes bugging out wildly at the baffling charge.
“Back on Beaufort? Just over the hill? You’re really gonna act like you didn’t almost make me hit you when you came into my lane?!” he seethes.
It dawns on you that this is the driver of the car that had come hurtling over the hill and honked at Joel a few minutes ago. You hadn’t even noticed him going this same direction. Had he followed you? Obviously not too closely otherwise he would’ve seen that it was Joel who’d gotten out of the driver’s side. Unsure of what to do, you go with your tried and true default: apologize even though you hadn’t done anything wrong.
“I-I’m sorry,” you warble.
“Sorry? Oh, you’re SORRY? Well I guess that fixes everything, huh?” he barks. “Sorry ain’t gonna fix all of us getting pancaked in a pileup just because some girl thinks she can run around in a big pick up truck and keep up with the guys. You need to learn to stay in your fuckin’ lane – literally and figuratively!”
“I’m sorry,” you repeat in a quieter voice.
He leans into the truck and demands to see your ID card and insurance so he can “make a report.” You don’t even know what that means, but it doesn’t sound good.
“Please, I’m really sorry!”
He yells again, and you flinch. Had this been 5 seconds or 5 minutes? It was all a blur. The adrenaline is coursing through you and making it hard to hear over the pounding in your ears. He looks at you expectantly. He must’ve asked a question and you missed it. You shake your head, tears welling up in your eyes. He laughs, completely devoid of amusement, and shoves a pointed finger in your face. You don’t even hear what he’s screaming at you. You can just make out the furious twitch and pull of his expression, spit flying as he berates you.
And then, he’s gone. Like a giant cane pulling an act off stage, he launches backwards and out of the truck. You shrink onto the floor of the passenger seat and huddle down. The shrill whistle in your ear eases up, and you hear Joel shouting something. There’s someone else shouting, too, but it sounds pained and pitched. Surely that wasn’t the same man who’d just been in the doorframe screaming at you. It sounded so distressed. The loud roar of an engine and then tires peeling against concrete erupt from somewhere behind the truck. It’s quieter again.
The passenger door swings open to reveal a panting, panicked Joel. His eyes lock on yours, and you’re no sooner scrambling up to grab hold of him with your entire body. His arms wrap tight around you as you hitch yourself to him, clawing and hooking your limbs around his shoulders and hips.
“You’re okay, you’re okay, I’m right here,” he says over and over. You slump into him, your body melding against his however gravity sees fit, and breathe in the grounding scent of him. His arm is braced against your back and locking you against him. He shuffles forward to rest you on the edge of the seat so he can look you over for any signs of injury. “Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?”
You shake your head side to side, fat tears spilling over with the movement, and pull a shuddering inhale that catches a few times before it takes. “No, h-he was just p-pointing in my face and yell-yelling.”
“Fuckin’ monster,” he hisses under his breath.
A few beats pass as you steady yourself. The abrupt hostility of it was most upsetting, and you tell yourself over and over again in your head that the threat has passed. Joel switches between looking you over for injuries and pulling you against him and rubbing your back.
“And to a fuckin’ woman, too. Goddamn coward ain’t no man.”
Joel’s unwavering, southern gentleman trope come to life commentary makes you giggle despite the circumstances. It catches him off guard as much as it does you. You sniff and brush your arm across your eyes. “Just, like… s-something about you being equally offended that he did th-that but also that he d-did it to a wom-woman is funny to me. S-Sorry.”
Your lopsided smile makes the drying tracks of your tears crinkle on your skin. Joel’s head inches back a little, bewildered and amused at the sharp turn in mood, and smiles a laugh. “You alright?”
“Yeah, I’m-I’m okay, I think. Just shook me up a little,” you say in a firmer tone.
He sizes you up for a moment and nods, satisfied with whatever clarifying bit of information he’d pulled from your demeanor. “I mean, it is worse that he’s a man doin’ that to a lady,” he emphasizes as though you weren’t entirely understanding where he was coming from.
You close your eyes and grin. “Joel, you’re just, like, the epitome of southern gentleman no matter what. It just struck me as funny. That’s all I meant.”
“I don’t think women are inferior,” he insists with a pleading look in his eye.
“No, I know that. Look, you– this conversation is going sideways. I know you don’t. I-I like how you are with m–how you are with women,” you quickly correct.
He smiles tenderly at the quick switch, obviously catching your original, unfiltered thought. “Just think some things should be taken care of, is all. Nothin’ manly about treatin’ a lady bad. Drives me up a fuckin’ wall.”
You sniff and hug yourself a little closer as the adrenaline starts to fade. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to th—”
“I know. I want to,” you interject. “So, thank you.”
He sighs and rubs a few circles on your knee where it’s bent against the edge of the seat. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Anytime. M’just sorry it happened at all.”
“Not your fault.” You shrug and poke at the side of his thigh as he drifts closer to you again. “Besides, you showed up in time. You came to my rescue, right?”
He doesn’t say anything for a moment. He peers off at nothing in particular in the distance before fixing you with an earnest look. “You know if you needed somebody to show up for you, I’d show up for you. Right?”
You swallow down the wave of warmth budding from your chest and nod. “Yes.”
“Good. ‘Cause I need to know you understand that.”
“I do.”
He considers you again like he’s making sure you’re not just saying all this to appease him. He looks over his shoulder and leans back. “Alright, you ready to get outta here?”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
He makes sure you’re situated in your seat and shuts the door for you before climbing into the driver side and pulling out of the lot.
It made him sick to his stomach every time he thought about how frightened you’d been. You were jumpy in the truck for a few days after but had settled down since. He hated to think what could’ve happened to you if he hadn’t been walking out at that moment. It makes his chest tight to imagine if he’d decided to just walk around the store for a minute to look for something else rather than just going in to pick up what he needed and heading right back out like he had.
He’s sure it was driving you crazy to have him constantly checking in on you, but he couldn’t help it. He had to know you were alright. He hadn’t planned on telling you that he’d always show up for you, but it was so compelling in the moment he couldn’t stop himself. You looked like you believed him. God, he needed you to believe him. To understand how fucking deep this went because he was awash in all of it without any understanding of how it’d happened so fast.
He hadn’t known you long enough to justify this sense of duty and devotion he had for you. This innate need to protect and care for you. You were plenty grown enough to take care of yourself, and you didn’t need some old man inserting himself into your life. But he just couldn’t stop.
At first he told himself he was simply showing you gratitude for helping out in the work bind Jenn had left Miller Contracting in. But you’d been around for a few months now, and his sustained level of interest and appreciation felt less and less appropriate for somebody just showing thanks to a new employee who’d stepped up when the company needed it.
He was wrestling with himself even now as his hand hovered over the send button. He shouldn’t be texting you like this. He shouldn’t be pushing for more than what was necessary for work. Even Tommy had picked up on it and given him a little talk about “just being careful with it” as if Joel was some idiot teenager who let his dick do all the thinking.
Joel hated it even more because Tommy was justified with everything he’d said. How you were younger – a lot younger than Joel. How things were weird because he was the boss and you were under him. How even if everything was above board and two consenting adults were venturing into something romantic, there was still the optics of “fucking the secretary.” Joel had winced when Tommy put it in those terms, but he understood why he’d phrased it so harshly.
There were so many things that screamed this isn’t smart, but Joel couldn’t ever find anything to convince himself to turn away from you. It felt like he was hurtling towards the sun and accepting the burn if it meant a moment of warmth.
He sighs and hits send. Your text bubble pops up almost immediately.
Joel: What would it take to convince you to help me wrap these Christmas presents?
You: idk how big are the gifts
Joel: Normal sized? I dunno. There’s hot chocolate in it for you.
You: do you even have hot chocolate lol
Joel: I could if that’s what it would take to convince you.
You: haha you’re actually so ridiculous
You: be there in a min
And there it was. The reason he couldn’t stop himself. You gravitated to him, too. He knew you felt it, too. He didn’t know if you felt it as deeply as he did, but there was no denying it existed for both sides. And as much as you liked to poke fun at his traditional southern gentleman tendencies, you sure seemed okay with being looked after that way.
He hoped you understood where it came from. It wasn’t ever about sticking to gender norms or playing a part. It was just expressing an intention of care and devotion to someone that deserved it, to honor a beautiful, strong woman with the sort of reverence she inherently deserved.
At least, that’s how he’d been raised. It was hard to shake when it felt so good to take care of somebody, to offer protection and something solid and strong to someone who maybe wanted to lay their defenses down for a little while. To be the safe space for someone to not have to keep those walls up all the time. And in return let him be soft and attentive and competent and strong.
It felt good to be someone a woman could trust, especially in a world as fucked as this one. And when it was more than just being friends, it felt special to be that sort of man for a woman in all those ways, too.
He waits by the window for you like some sort of creep, unable to miss out on the way you glide up to his house on that old bike of yours. He should really get you a new one. He wonders how much of a fuss you’d make over it before just accepting the gift. He meets you at the door and doesn’t even chastise himself over appearing too eager to see you again after wishing you a goodbye and a good weekend not even 20 hours ago.
“Hey, Goob,” you greet with a wry smile.
“Pluck,” he greets back with matched energy.
His heart beats faster and swells with joy when you let yourself in. You felt comfortable here. You felt comfortable with him. An odd sense of pride takes root in him knowing you feel safe with him and recognize even in a subconscious way that you belong here with him. Together.
He grips his thigh from the inside of his jean pocket in an effort to keep his mind from wandering into such ridiculous avenues. He had no business with those sorts of possessive feelings on top of everything else he felt for you. You said something to him, but he had to ask you to repeat it because he was so fucking distracted.
“I said, were you just planning on kicking back and watching TV while I did all the wrapping?”
You point to the TV playing some random, old Christmas movie he can’t even remember the name of. “Oh, no. Just had that on. Was too quiet around here, you know? Good to have some noise.”
Why was he so flustered today? Where had his cool, collected back and forth with you gone? It was like this attraction to you was making his brain rot with it the longer he held it in.
You seem almost flattered that you being here was helping it not be so quiet, like you felt honored in some strange way that you were being asked to be present and just exist as yourself in a space. That impression is further enforced when he asks about what sort of movies or shows you’d like to watch instead.
“Oh, I don’t really watch too much stuff, honestly.” You lift and sag your shoulders so loosely it’s obvious you’re trying to be flippant about it. “My dad sort of prefers the quiet. Work gets him stressed or whatever. Just likes things to be quiet unless he’s got something on.”
“You don’t watch anything together? Y’all don’t like the same stuff?”
“Uh, yeah. I guess we just like different stuff.” It’s a stiff delivery, and you busy yourself with searching for the tape and scissors in the box of wrapping supplies Joel had brought down. He hadn’t even really intended for you to wrap anything. He would’ve been happy to just sit on the couch together and shoot the shit over some schmaltzy Christmas classic in the background. You seemed like you invited the distraction of it, though – something to blame for your diverted attention away from the curious things you were sharing about your homelife.
“Well, d’ya think you’d like watchin’ more movies? Or TV or whatever?”
He can’t ask the things he really wants to, like why on earth you aren’t allowed to watch the TV in your own damn house or why you have to exist in silence just because your dad calls for it. If he ever tried to pull that with Sarah, she’d laugh in his face and tell him to get a grip.
“I dunno. Maybe. Probably.” You sit for a moment and pick at the ribbons. “Yeah. I think it could be nice.”
He wants things to be nice for you, and he wants to be the one to make them happen. It should be done right. You deserve that much. He can do things right for you. He can do right by you.
Christmas morning is just like any other morning, except it’s a weekday and you don’t get to see Joel. Not a great start. Then of course your dad had sprung the news on you yesterday that Denise and her two young kids were going to be coming over, so the house needed to be “presentable.” He’d been spending more and more time with them, and you could only imagine the sort of lines he was feeding her. It wouldn’t be any use trying to warn her about his true colors, though. She was decidedly frosty towards you for some reason. You didn’t much care to have a relationship with her or her kids, anyway.
Your dad is awake and dressed in a nice sweater, mulling around the kitchen and straightening things that didn’t need it. “You look nice,” you offer up in a show of keeping the peace for the day.
His eyes glide over to you and give you a once over. “Wish I could say the same. Can’t you put something else on?” His nose wrinkles at your sweats and tshirt.
“I’m still in pajamas, dad. I’m gonna change,” you explain.
He snorts and goes back to his pointless tidying. “Maybe it should be a bit of a wakeup call that I can’t tell the difference between your pajamas and your regular clothes.”
You don’t rise to the bait. “Maybe.”
You just shrug your shoulders and mosey towards the fridge to look for something to nibble on before you have to fake your way through the day. You eye your dad’s perfunctory inspection and correction of your work from yesterday and bite back the nasty comment you wish you were brave enough to make. He’d of course been missing the entire afternoon as you swept and scrubbed and cleaned. All to put on some show for his girlfriend and her kids.
Deciding it might be best to know what the schedule was for the day so you could play your part, you ask if there’s any sort of itinerary. He must have some nervous energy he’s looking for an excuse to take out on you because he scoffs and throws a demeaning scowl in your direction. “What do you think they’re coming over to do? What do people do on Christmas, genius?”
You once again swallow down the urge to scream in his face. How were you supposed to know what people were “supposed to do” on Christmas when you’d never had a “normal” one in your entire life? Keeping your calm as you chew a small bite of food, you finish and deliver a neutral response. “Unwrap gifts? Eat something?”
“Always knew you were brilliant,” he snorts sarcastically. It’s derisive and upsetting – just as he intended.
You wander into the living room and stop in your tracks when you see the shiny pile of presents under the sparsely decorated tree. You scold yourself for the flash of hope that tears through you, thinking and wishing that maybe there was something under there for you. But you hadn’t gotten your dad anything. What if he’d gotten you something, but you didn’t get him anything? He’d be upset, wouldn’t he? That would be selfish. Even though you weren’t supposed to exchange gifts. That just wasn’t something your family did.
“Don’t touch them,” he snips from behind you. You jump, unaware that he’d followed you. “Don’t want you getting crumbs and fingerprints all over them.”
The subtext there was of course that these gifts were not intended for you. Your heart sinks, and you want to admonish yourself for even being stupid enough to hope for a moment that anything your dad put effort into would ever be for you.
Something spiteful and angry brews in your stomach. All those sparkling, shiny gifts for two kids that weren’t even his. Hell, they weren’t even his step-children. You and Calum had never had a Christmas that looked like this. Your bitterness bubbles over when you consider that your dad never had a reason to lovebomb you both when you were already stuck with him anyway.
“Lots of presents for two kids,” you remark before you can talk yourself out of it. It’s a mistake to voice anything akin to negativity, though. You should know better by now, but the hurt of having to watch two other children live out the sort of childhood you’d never had was just too much.
“They’re good kids,” he snipes back pointedly. “And you better not say a fucking thing, either. I already told Denise we don’t exchange gifts like that, so nobody is gonna listen to your little pity party over no gifts. Got a damn roof over your head for free and you still find something to bitch about.”
“I wasn’t complaining! I was just saying it looked like a lot!”
“You need to quit running that mouth of yours, little girl,” he warns.
“Dad, I’m trying to say that if you got them more than Denise got them, it might make her feel bad,” you lie and clarify in an attempt to smooth things over.
He fixes you with a nasty smile and gestures to the gifts. “Guess what, genius? They’re from me AND Denise. Christ, you’re a real fuckin’ piece of work, you know that?”
Your cheeks heat with embarrassment. There’s no way you would’ve known that, but you still somehow feel stupid anyway. The embarrassment quickly bleeds into resentment. “So, what? I’m supposed to sit here and watch two kids I don’t even know open gifts from people that aren’t me? That’s so weird, dad. Come on,” you huff.
You know this surge of indignation is only going to land you in hot water, but you can’t seem to stop your mouth from running a mile a minute. Perhaps you were bolstered by the fact that somewhere in your subconscious you knew he wouldn’t do anything - not today, at least - with their impending arrival. A wrecked house and a wounded daughter weren’t exactly what you wanted when you were trying to sell a fairytale to some woman.
“They’re going to be here within the hour. You have 20 minutes to get the fuck out of the house and stay gone until I tell you that you can come home. Do you understand?”
“What?! It’s Christmas! Everywhere is closed! Where am I supposed to go for half the day?!” you stammer
“That’s for you to figure out.”
“I’ll stay in my room, okay? I’ll shut the door, and they won’t even know that I’m—”
“No. You should’ve thought about that before being disrespectful and showing how fucking selfish you really are. You were too busy running your mouth instead of rubbing two brain cells you’ve got left in that heard of yours together to form a singular, smart choice. All I know is that I’m not gonna have you ruining this just like you ruin everything else. Get your shit and get out.”
He turns on his heel and stomps back to the kitchen. You scramble to your room to collect your wallet, your phones, your keys, a hoodie…. You grab whatever you think you might need that doesn’t weigh your backpack down too much.
You change into whatever clean pair of jeans and t-shirt you can scrounge up. You’re out the back door before your dad decides you shouldn’t come back until tomorrow or some other harsher punishment.
You don’t know where to go except for the office, and the entire bike ride there gives your mind nothing but time to whip itself into even more of a frenzy. Why couldn’t you just shut up this morning? Why did you let yourself be so surprised over his shitty attitude and hurtful words? Why hadn’t you just played along and kept the peace?
Your thoughts are a full-blown whirlwind by the time you get to the office. You punch in the wrong code at first and set off the alarm because of course you do. A new wave of panic slams into you when you remember that the system sends alerts to Joel’s phone and will call him to verify a false alarm. You get it together long enough to push in the right passcode, but you aren’t sure if the alert has already gone to Joel’s phone. You scurry inside and fish your work phone from your bag.
You: hey if you get an alert about the security system at the office it’s just me 🤦♀️
You: punched in the wrong code like an idiot
You: merry xmas 😬
Your stomach drops when his contact picture takes up the whole screen.
“Hi, I’m sorry,” you groan.
“The hell are you doin’ up at the office? How the hell’d you even get there?” He sounds concerned and befuddled at the odd situation.
Your brain is fried from everything that’s already transpired thus far today, and you contrive some story about forgetting a gift at the office and trying to sneak out of the house and grab it real quick before anybody noticed you were missing.
“You biked all the way up there?” he sputters. “You shoulda called me, sweetheart. I woulda drove you!”
“Joel, it’s Christmas. I’m sure you’ve got stuff going on with your family just like I do with mine,” you lie.
“Not until later, but that don’t matter anyway. What’re you doin’ takin’ your bike that far? That’s not safe.” He sounds like he’s actually upset with you for once, and you can’t take it. Not today.
“Look, I’m extra careful, okay? Besides, I’m just popping in to get the gift and heading back out. It’s a quick trip.”
You hear keys jangling and the scoot of something against hardwood over the receiver. “You stay put. I’m comin’ to get you.”
“Nope, already on my way back out,” you lie again. “Seriously, it’s no big deal. I promise I’ll call you the next time, alright?” He doesn’t respond, and bile starts to lick up your throat. “Joel, can you hear me?”
“Yeah, I heard you. I’m just ignorin’ that ridiculous statement like I’m gonna let you bike all the way back home.”
“Joel, I’m in a rush! I gotta get this gift back home, alright? I’ve already got everything packed up and am heading out now. I appreciate the offer and everything, but I gotta go,” you assert in as firm a voice as you can manage. Your hands are shaking with the effort of keeping your nerves in check.
He grumbles something that doesn’t sound much like he approves before speaking clearly again. “Fine. You better text me when you get home safely, you hear me? I mean it. The second you get home.”
You hold back a sigh of relief and promise to text him when you get home. You practically crumple to the floor when the call ends, anxiety overwrought and mind going so fast it might as well be empty. You estimate how long it would take to bike home and text Joel once the window closes.
You: made it home
You: sorry again about the alarm
Joel: It’s fine. Glad you made it home safely. Please don’t ever do that again! Call me next time!
You: ok ok I won’t! 😳
Joel: Good. See you in a couple of days.
Joel: Merry Christmas, Pluck.
Joel: 💚❤️
You: happy xmas Goob ❤️
Your limbs feel like they’re strapped to concrete blocks as you plod towards the back of the building to Joel’s office. His jacket hangs from the hook just inside the doorway. You pull it down and take it with you as you cuddle up in one of his plushier chairs. You bury your face in the smell of him until you’re able to drift off and forget about your life for a little while.
Sleep had been elusive over the past couple of nights, most hours spent tossing and turning with the events of Christmas playing on loop in your head. It was the cherry on top of the shit sundae to come home later that evening and learn that your dad had proposed to Denise with a big, flashy ring. Just another way of making it clear that you weren’t worthy of his resources and attention and that he was steadily building a new life. A life without you. A life that left you behind, just like everyone else always did.
You push away the nagging thought that money from your account was put towards the ring as you sit waiting for Joel to pick you up. You look awful, no doubt about it. He wouldn’t say anything, but you were sure he’d notice.
You’d never felt like it was work to be around Joel, but keeping all of these disruptive changes to yourself felt like a unique sort of agony. He grew more attuned to your moods and feelings the more time you spent together, and, while that had once felt like a breath of fresh air to not have to explain every single little thing to someone for once, it now feels like a cloud over your head that you have to duck to avoid.
His truck rumbles up the driveway and comes to a stop. He’s out the door and opening yours before you make it down the front steps. You misjudge his body language and go in for a hug. It’s clear you’d misread it with all your inner thoughts flying every which way when he lets out a surprised little exhale. He quickly recovers, though, and wraps his arms around you with a quick, smoothing pass of his palm against your back. It’s like your subconscious needed this, needed the closeness and stability of him, and puppetted you into his broad, solid frame.
“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he hums.
“Morning.” You step back and rub a nervous hand along the nape of your neck and climb into the truck.
His mood feels buoyant and light, like the interior of the truck is five times bigger just from trying to contain such a vibrant air in such a small space. You latch onto it and siphon as much as you can into your own mood.
“So, did ya get anything good?” he asks, eyes glittery with something eager.
“Oh, mostly gift cards,” you bluff. “I’m sort of hard to buy for I guess.”
His eyes slide over to you in a dubious slant, but he doesn’t comment. “Hm, so whatcha gonna get yourself?”
You weren’t expecting the question, and it makes you hesitate. “Oh. Um. Not sure yet.”
“Hm.”
“Um, did you get anything good?”
“S’gonna sound cheesy, but the best thing I got was just gettin’ to spend some down time with family. Got to see Sarah and Ben for a little bit longer than I expected, so that was real nice.”
You’re aware of your rapid, unnatural blinking, but your brain feels like it’s short circuited a bit. You aren’t sure how much more you can handle talking about family right now, especially if it was the warm and fuzzy kind of bond.
“That’s cool,” you offer up weakly.
Joel’s face flickers confusion, but again he doesn’t remark on your reserved conversation. “So, what did ya have to bike back with anyway?”
“What?”
“The gift? You went up to the office to get a gift, but you never said what it was. I was hopin’ it wasn’t too big for you to lug back since, you know, somebody wouldn’t let me drive them home.”
Shit. Shit shit shit. The fake gift for your dad. The dregs of your mental fluidity and deftness weren’t producing a convincing answer like they so often did when you found yourself in need of some believable excuse or story.
“Book,” you blurt out.
“A book?”
“No. Um. A few books. A series,” you stutter.
You suddenly feel wide awake now and on edge at the flimsy alibi that just tumbled from your mouth. Even a series of books could’ve been hidden at your own house. There’s no reason to have them stored at the office. You’ll just have to say you forgot it.
Wait, isn’t that what you’d already told him? You’d told him something already when he spoke with you on the phone that day. Had you said you were storing it there on purpose and had just forgotten it? What lie had you already fed him?
Joel sits in a contemplative silence as he drives you to the office. “What’s the series called?”
It’s an unassuming question, but you feel the probing connotation beneath it. He was fishing for something. He was suspicious. You weren’t lying well enough.
“Um, The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly.”
You don’t know why your brain went with a Western that you vaguely remember watching as a young kid, but now you’re stuck with it.
His lips purse, and he clicks his tongue softly as he turns into the parking lot. “Never knew they were books.”
“Oh, yeah. The movies are from the books. John Wayne was a huge fan of them. I’m pretty sure that’s why he got involved with the movies. Turned out to be a pretty good move, I think. Launched him into fame for sure. Staple cowboy from then on.”
“Well aren’t you just a trivia trove,” he chuckles.
You shrug and force a smile. Your heart stops pounding so hard when it seems like he’s moving away from the topic. You can’t believe you managed to remember so many details about the series. Conversation shifts into easy small talk as you both head inside. You just about descend into a panic again when Joel asks you to step into his office for a minute. Had you left his jacket out? Had you not put the furniture back the right way? You’d been so careful when you were leaving to make sure nothing was out of place.
“Is everything okay? Did I do some–”
Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the shiny blue bike propped against Joel’s desk. He’s beaming and holding his arms out like he’s presenting a prize on a gameshow. He adds a little tah-dah! for good measure.
“What is that?”
“Merry Christmas.” His smile is impossibly wider. “It’s a few days late, but, yeah. Little Miss I’m Too Hard To Shop For. Pppfffftttt. Think I did pretty good, huh?”
Your mouth doesn’t work. Your tongue isn’t cooperating. Your lungs are taut and fixed.
“Are you serious? This is–Is this for me?” you breathe.
“Yep,” he replies plainly with an emphasized pop on the P. “D’ya like it?”
You inch towards it and don’t even want to mess it up by touching it. “This is too mu–”
“We ain’t doin’ all that, so you can cut that short,” he interrupts.
You’re shaking your head when he grabs something from his desk. “Sorry it’s not wrapped.”
Your eyes bug out at the small box of bluetooth headphones he handed you.
“Sarah said it should connect with the work phone, and once we get some apps on there you can use my password. I don’t got all of ‘em, but I think there’s a pretty good selection.”
“What?” you ask a little breathlessly.
“Streaming apps or whatever. You know, movies. You said you wanna watch more movies, so you can just pop the headphones on and watch it from the phone this way. Won’t be too loud and all that for your house. Figure between the two of us we can figure out how to get all of it set up.”
He rocks on the balls of his feet before leaning against the desk. Your mouth feels like you’ve been chewing sandpaper. “But… I.. didn’t get you anything?”
“So?”
“I didn’t get you anything. And-And you got me something, though.”
“Yeah, I got you somethin’ because I wanted to. Don’t need anything in return. And I’m the boss, so I’m callin’ it boss privilege that you can’t feel bad about it. It’s against the rules.” He folds his arms across his chest and grins at you, all boyish and clearly pleased with himself.
You’re still shaking your head when he stands upright again and pokes at your side. “C’mon. Let’s see you take a spin on this thing before everybody else gets here. I’ll load it up in the truck after so we can get it home today.”
You’re stunned into silence at his persistence that you enjoy this – just let it feel good for once. He walks the bike out of the office and calls over his shoulder to you. “Give you five bucks if you can pop a wheelie on this thing!”
His goofy challenge spurs a laugh to bubble out of you. You feel lighter, like each breathy laugh had expelled part of the weight you’d been shouldering lately. You jog to catch up with him. “Make it ten and you’ve got a deal,” you bargain.
He smiles wide at you and agrees.
“Are you sure you can’t walk in the sparkly ones?” Kenzie asks for the fifth time.
“I dunno, Kenzie. Do you want to deal with me spraining my ankle or falling on my ass halfway through this thing?” you lob back at her pointedly. “Besides, the tights have rhinestones all over them. That’s plenty of sparkles.”
She rolls her eyes and sighs. “Fine. Just saying they would be a lot cuter.”
You’re well aware that the almost flat “heel” of hers you’d decided on wasn’t the most sexy pair of shoes to go with the staticky, clingy dress you’d picked from her closet, but you didn’t want to spend your entire New Year’s Eve worrying about looking like a newborn giraffe every time you had to walk. Then again, this event was sure to have plenty of stumbling drunk people, so maybe if you did wobble here and there you’d fit in just fine.
“What was the theme again?”
“I think Monte Carlo or Casino Royale or something. I dunno. It’s not even real gambling since that’s illegal in Texas or whatever, so it’s just like you can earn chips to put towards a raffle or something. I have no idea. I just know we’re gonna be with the Double Phoenix setup most of the night,” she explains.
She applied a heavy swipe of glittery shadow to her lids and leaned back to assess her work. Seeming pleased with it, she started on the other.
“I’m not even planning on drinking to be honest since this is sorta like a work thing. I mean, I’m not, like, technically with the company or this account, but I could be. It’s sort of weird with the whole internship thing. I think it’s like a test or something, so we gotta make sure we’re paying attention.”
“And Double Phoenix is the name of the company?” you clarify.
You wanted to get this right for her. It wasn’t often that you were invited out for things like this. Turns out your more sober tendencies were perfect for something like this since Kenzie was approaching it as a networking opportunity rather than a wild night of partying on somebody else’s dime.
“I don’t know what the parent company is called, but the vodka is called Double Phoenix. I guess after Logan and Charlie – that’s who we’re gonna be with most of the night. It’s their first alcohol brand or whatever. Just coasting off the success of Trial By Fire to be honest, but don’t tell them I said that.”
You don’t even know enough about Trial By Fire – the dating game reality show Logan and Charlie had been on that saw them rise to fame quickly as fan favorite “loveable bad boys” – to even say anything about it, but, regardless, you assure Kenzie that you won’t tell them all the disparaging remarks she’s made about them. You busy yourself with putting your hair back in a few glittery clips while she finishes up her makeup. You opted for as little as possible so you wouldn’t accidentally rub your eyes or lips and smudge all of her hard work.
You mess around with your hair for a little bit until you get the half up half down look presentable enough. You turn your head to catch the light on the sparkly claw clip Kenzie insisted you had to wear. The little dangly fringe pieces glittered in the light whenever you moved your head, much like the little crystal dangly bow earrings she’d shoved into your ears. “It ties together with the bow shoes you picked,” she’d said. You inspect the black velvet slingback pumps and their neat little bow on the back of your heel.
You take the opportunity to assess the entire look in the full length mirror when Kenzie wanders into her bathroom for god knows what. She was smaller than you, but the black cinched dress had a little bit of give.
“Is there, like, a fancy cardigan or something that goes with this?” you ask. “I feel like I’m gonna get cold.”
Based on Kenzie’s reaction, you would’ve thought you’d just asked her to name every single pope in chronological order while jump roping to the beat of deli meat going through a slicer. Her mouth is hanging open in what you think is disgust but might also be a heavy dose of disbelief.
“A cardigan?” she chokes.
“Can you not?” you half-heartedly snip. “It’s not outrageous to just wanna be warm, Kenzie.”
She sighs and shakes her head, hands raised to the side like she’s doing a quick meditation for the distress you’d put her in.
“Babe. Babe,” she starts. She takes a deep breath and looks at you as if she’s trying to reason with some wild animal who’s stumbled upon her picnic in the woods.
“What keeps us warm are the thoughts of how bomb we’re gonna look in the pics, okay?” she says slowly and clearly like she’s explaining a difficult math problem. “No cardigans. This isn’t study hall, babes. We’re gonna work with nothing but these cute as hell ‘fits, okay?”
“Oh my god,” you grumble under your breath. It was bad enough this dress didn’t have pockets, which meant you had to carry a tiny purse (called a clutch for some reason), but now you were gonna be cold, too.
“It’s one night of sacrifice for an eternity of hot pics, okay? When you’re, like, 87 you’ll be able to look back and say ‘thank you, god, for giving me a friend like Kenzie who didn’t let me ruin my Hot Girl Outfit with a librarian’s jacket’,” she proclaims like she’s the Shaman of Thirst Traps.
You snort and roll your eyes but can’t hide the emerging grin on your face. “Yeah yeah. Fine. You’re the expert.”
She claps her hands together victoriously and lets out a dramatic exhale. “Ugh, yes. Finally, you get it. Let me be your guide, okay? Besides, I bet you won’t be complaining when you send Joel a little pic and get his reaction.”
“Um, no?” you sputter. “I’m not sending Joel of picture of myself in all this. He’s gonna know it’s all borrowed, anyway. I would never have the nerve to buy or wear something like this on my own.”
“Um, yes?” she argues back. “Ain’t nothing borrowed about you in that outfit, okay? It’s giving very much ‘I own this’ energy, okay?”
Your chest feels warm and light at the genuine compliments, and you can’t help but agree with her a little. You do feel pretty cute even though you’re not really used to dressing up and going out like this. It felt nice to do nothing but primp and preen yourself for the past couple of hours.
Even Kenzie had an air of excitement about it since this was her first time venturing into a dressy work event. You’d seen plenty of pictures of her “in her heyday” with strappy, tight dresses that showed every bit of glistening skin that was legal to have on display. She looked incredible in all of them, of course, but it wasn’t exactly what came to mind when you thought about career networking.
“You picked really nice outfits.” You shoot her a warm smile that grows wider when she returns the gesture.
“Okay, I was totally freaking out about it, too. Like, obviously I am gonna look good no matter what, but I was so worried that I was gonna end up looking like an Amish lady or something,” she laments.
You can’t help the abrupt guffaw that fills the entire room. “You’re literally wearing a brown sequin minidress with poofy sleeves, Kenzie. I don’t really know how you could be worried about looking Amish in that.”
“First of all, it’s chocolate burgundy. Secondly, they’re ostrich feathers,” she corrects with pretend insolence. “And last of all, I didn’t even have to search through my underwear drawer to find a pair that wouldn’t show in this dress, so that’s basically Amish for me.”
You both crack up at her ridiculous parallels as you check yourselves in the mirror side by side. You might not be as glitzy as she is, but you both go together somehow in a nice little balanced image.
“Okay, let’s go to the backyard to get some pics,” she announces as she snatches your work phone and her phone and prances out the door.
You indulge all the stylized, practiced poses that Kenzie makes as you have a mini photoshoot for her. You smile every time she switches into a new angle and posture. It’s so silly for her to do so many different ones when she looks good in every single picture. She’d argue with you over that, of course. When she declares that it’s your turn to take pictures, you oblige with a few standard poses, which she immediately rejects and insists that you “loosen up a little bit.”
She does manage to get you to genuinely laugh when she retells the story about how your old boss Jeremy most definitely had a lover’s quarrel in the middle of the cereal aisle with what could only be a friend of his grandmother’s or a sugar grandmomma. He’d been so embarrassed even though you both wouldn’t have had anything nasty or negative to say about it. A few “eat me out, sonny boy” jokes between yourselves, sure, but nothing to his face.
“Okay, just a few more.”
She fiddles with the settings on your phone, explaining to you how your flash exposure wasn’t set right and other jargon you don’t fully understand, and takes a few more photos once she’s made the necessary adjustments.
“AAAAnnndddd, done!”
“I don’t even post anywhere, Kenz. I don’t know why I need so many pics,” you protest.
She just shrugs and sports a shit eating grin, which you don’t understand until you receive a notification on your phone that Joel has texted you. The mortification takes hold the second you open to the text thread and see that Kenzie had sent him several of the photos she’d taken of you.
Joel: WOW!
Joel: 🤯
Joel: Where are you going dressed to the nines like that?
You: omg I am SO SORRY my stupid friend sent those to you like an idiot
You: she’s such a moron sorry
You: idek who she was trying to send those to
Joel: I like the pictures. They’re really nice. 👍
Joel: You look like you’re already having a good time.
Joel: You have a ride set up for tonight? Lots of dangerous drivers on NYE.
You: we’re not drinking but also Kenz ordered us an Uber
Joel: Okay well please text or call if you need a ride. I’ll be up.
Joel: Be safe and have a fun time!
Joel: 🪩🥳🥂���🕺
You smile down at your phone and giggle. You’ll remember to be upset at Kenzie in a minute.
You: I will 🫡
You: are you staying home the whole night?
Joel: Yep. Tommy is probably gonna come around for a bit, but otherwise I’ll just be watching TV or something. Too old to be out there partying. Might throw my back out if I tried to dance to the popular stuff.
You: lol I would pay so much money to see that
Joel: I bet you would, ya little punk.
You: 😇
Joel: Okay, angel. And you never said where you were going.
You: here 📍
You attach a link to the venue where Kenzie said the event was being held. You explain the circumstances of it because it’s a lot nicer of a place than most twenty somethings would probably go, especially for such a big party night like New Year’s Eve.
Joel: Pretty nice place. Looked it up on Facebook. Says it’s a charity casino night. Invite only. 😵💰🎰
You: yeah idk we’re just gonna be there with this vodka brand from Kenzie’s work
You: she does this marketing internship thing and this vodka is a client
Joel: Fancy. Already sounds like y’all are some high rollers. 😎
You: lol maybe Kenz is. im just the plus one
You: you should see her outfit then maybe you’d know what i mean 💀
Joel: Nah, you got sparkle tights. That’s the winner right there.
You: wow a fashionista too is there anything can’t you do?
Joel: Yeah, I already told you. Dance ha ha.
Joel: 👴🏼
You: i highly doubt that but ok
You: we gotta leave in a few but ill text if i need anything
You punch in a heart emoji but hesitate for a split second before throwing caution to the wind and sending it anyway. Your entire body warms at his reply.
You: 💖
Joel: 🥰❤️
Joel: I’ll be thinking about you.
Joel: Be safe. ❤️
You: i will 💖
You: happy new years in case i don’t see you sooner
Joel: Happy New Year’s, and I hope you see me sooner rather than later. Want to start my year off right. ❤️
You’re too giddy from texting with Joel to truly be upset with Kenzie, a fact she relishes in the entire Uber ride to the venue. You still feel light as air as you make your way to the Double Phoenix display area and meet the two guys associated with it — Charlie and Logan.
You quickly see why Kenzie hadn’t had a lot of positive things to say about them both even though they weren’t patently terrible right off the bat. Maybe to most people the plastered smiles and forced carefree attitudes would distract long enough to hide the truth of their actual personalities, but you were a little more used to getting a quick grasp on people.
Charlie was younger, but you wouldn’t have known that from all the cosmetic procedures he’d had done. His face didn’t even match with the version featured in all the promotional materials with their images on them. An unnaturally chiseled jaw, lips that seemed plumped and deflated all at once, a marshmallowy cheekbone, and eyebrows that didn’t move enough. It all combined into some strange, plasticine version of a man.
Logan had leaned into the rugged and handsome look quite well, but his teeth were remarkably white to the point that it contrasted with the rest of his visuals. You wanted to laugh at how forced it all was. You knew rugged and handsome well. Joel Miller was the end all, be all to rugged and handsome in your humblest of opinions, and he actually had the life experience that made it authentic. Men hadn’t ever really been much of your “type” - especially not the overtly masculine ones - but of course that had changed fairly recently.
You were grateful that they both zeroed in on Kenzie’s attention and left you to wander close by for a few minutes. The glowing neon and sleek black everything made the entire venue hum with a sort of subdued electricity. You’re sure once the event actually begins and people start showing up that it’ll take on a life of its own as the background to a perfect night of revelry.
You lost track of time for a while as you meandered through the various setups. You can’t begin to guess how much all of this costs to produce and put on. You know without a doubt that you could never afford to get in. With Kenzie’s borrowed outfit, you don’t appear too out of place, and you try to work with the feigned confidence of someone who belonged here. By the time you make it back to the Double Phoenix setup, Kenzie is shooting you where the fuck have you been?! eyes, and you give her an apologetic grimace.
“Ah, there she is!” Charlie booms. He sounded like he’d been sampling the goods, and the stack of empty shot glasses scattered around the tables only lent to that hypothesis. A few frantic looking waitstaff scurried around with rags and fresh glasses. “You wanna do a shot?”
Your face scrunched, reluctant and put off. “No thanks, I’m good for right now. Maybe later.”
“Oh, come onnnnnnn,” he huffs. “It’s fuckin’ New Years! Live a little! Come on, just do a shot.” He starts spinning in almost comedic half-circles in search of shot glasses and liquor. Kenzie is looking a lot like she’s got a headache brewing – but not from any bottom shelf vodka shots. “Tell your friend to knock the sand outta her vagina and take a fuckin’ shot, Kenny!”
“It’s Kenzie, and that’s not a very—”
Logan, who appeared just as sober as when you’d left them all, stepped up with a crooked grin and patted his friend’s shoulder. “Definitely just getting the night started, right? No need to rush a good time, Tank.” He glances over to you and winks, and you think he means to convey that he’s stepping in between you and his rude, pushy friend.
Charlie snorts and taps Logan’s face with a loose, goofy smile. “You’re right, man. Just so fuckin’ PUMPED for this brand, dude!”
Kenzie scoots around to you and guides you away from the front of the setup so you can speak more privately. “This guy is an asshole!” she hisses.
“Yeah, is he seriously already drunk?” you scoff. You note the heavy smell of alcohol on her breath and raise an eyebrow. “Exactly how many shots did y’all even have? You don’t even do shots of vodka, do you?” The last part of the question is up several octaves in uncertainty. Maybe you weren’t a big drinker, but you knew enough that downing shots of vodka was sort of an “alcoholic activity.”
She rolls her eyes and grips onto your elbows. “It tastes so bad,” she groans. “It’s supposed to be ‘so good you don’t need to mix it.’ I honestly underestimated how good of an actor Logan is because he barely even made a face when we were all taking a shot for their Instagram Story. And Charlie? I don’t even think he cares to be honest. He would probably drink hand sanitizer if it gave him a buzz.”
“That’s really sad,” you reply in a low, gloomy tone.
She responds in kind with a cheerless shrug and nod. “I told Logan that we could do a few more shots with some of the bigger local names so they could put it on their socials, but I said we should definitely be cutting Charlie’s shots with water. He was surprisingly cool with it and thanked me for looking out for him.”
“Yeah, that’s smart,” you agree. “How many did you do already? How many are you going to do? I thought you weren’t planning on drinking?”
You try to keep the nerves from creeping into your questions, but a tremor or two slip through. You really, really didn’t want to end up the sole sober person in a room full of rowdy, drunk partygoers. It was more of an upscale setting, but that was never a guarantee that things wouldn’t get sloppy.
“I’ve only had two, don’t sweat it,” she assures you. “I’m totally good to take a few more, especially if they’re spread out.”
“Okay, just be careful. That Charlie guy seems a little aggressive.”
“I think he just likes to party.” She shrugs and eyes the two men who don’t seem to have noticed your side conversation yet. “C’mon, let’s get back before they see we’ve snuck off.”
Kenzie wrangles Charlie into doing a few staged photos around the setup – you assume before he gets even more drunk and won’t photograph well – and Logan strikes up some easy conversation with passersby before wandering back over to you. He shoots you another apologetic grin and holds a hand up in an awkward wave.
“Hey, listen, I’m sorry about Tank. He gets a little nervous for these types of events sometimes and hits the bottle a little early and a little too heavy,” he explains.
“Tank? Why’s he called ‘Tank’?”
He flushes with a sheepish grin and admits it’s from “one crazy weekend” where he repeatedly wound up in a “drunk tank.”
Your nose scrunches and pulls against your unimpressed frown. “Charming. Sort of goes with the whole telling women they have sand in their private parts thing he’s got going on.”
He squints and grimaces. “That was totally out of line. I’m really sorry.”
You sigh and let your shoulders slink down. You hadn’t realized you’d been holding them so high and tight. “I guess it’s not your fault he’s got a problem.”
“No, it’s not my fault, but I should probably do a better job of stepping in before he goes around disrespecting women.”
He scratches the back of his neck and looks off. He mindlessly watches the crowds of people walking by the setup and waves to a few before turning back to you.
“Well, uh, I’m Logan. Just in case you didn’t– um, you know, didn’t catch it before. And I, uh, hope you have a good time with Double Phoenix tonight even if it started out a little rocky.”
He sounds genuinely embarrassed by his friend. Maybe you’d misjudged him at first. You give him the benefit of the doubt and a small smile. He flushes again and busies himself with chatting up some local DJ who stopped by to do a promo shot with the brand.
It’s much the same for the next hour and a half, except you notice that Logan and Kenzie both have taken several shots with numerous local celebrities. Logan at least has enough sense to remind everyone to drink water in between and munch on something. He goes around and checks on the waitstaff to make sure everything is running smoothly. You think without his legitimate interest in this brand, Kenzie would be running in circles trying to keep things on track.
You pull your work phone from your clutch. It’s somehow only 9:00pm. You suppose you had arrived before the event even started, so it’d been at least 3 hours of this. You can’t imagine another 3, but you’ll push through it for Kenzie’s sake. You’re about to tap on the messaging app to see if Joel had sent anything when a shadow passes over the screen. You look up to see a more lax Logan smiling down at you.
“Event's that boring huh?” Yeah, he’s definitely a little drunker than when you’d last talked.
You look around for Kenzie and spot her talking animatedly to some random woman in the brightest neon green dress you’ve ever seen in your life.
“Oh, I was just checking the time to make sure Kenzie was still on track,” you bluff.
“Gotcha, gotcha.” He nods and runs a hand through his hair. “So, uh, you want a drink or anything? I can just get you a soda or something if you didn’t want to try the vodka.”
Something about the way he says it sounds like he’s already disappointed at what he thinks your answer will be. You feel bad, but you don’t know why.
“Listen, I know it’s not, like, the bestest there is, but I think we did a pretty good job of it. I’d love to hear what you think of it,” he hedges.
One shot won’t kill you you remind yourself. You shrug and agree to a single shot with a sugary chaser. He beams like a golden retriever and lopes off to grab your drinks. You smile at his back as he runs off. It’s sort of cute how excited he seems. Maybe he really did give a shit about all this and had to deal with a business partner who didn’t do much of the legwork. He’s back shortly with a canned soda and two double shots for each of you.
“Whoa, that’s way too much!”
He stares blankly at you for a second and then shakes his head like he realizes he’d gotten double shots. “Shit, that’s my bad. Hold on, I can—” He turns to look for somewhere to dump part of your shot out.
“Look, I’ll just have half, okay? You can have the rest or throw it out or whatever. Or give it to Charlie. I dunno.”
He laughs at that and gives you a cheers. You swallow down a little more than half by accident, and you think it must’ve been the shock at how god awful the taste is. Whatever Kenzie had said, it was ten times worse. You choke your one and a half shots down and grab for the canned soda, snapping the tab open and chugging down several large gulps. The sting of the vodka still burns as you watch Logan down your half shot as well as his two doubles. Your eyebrows shoot into your hairline at the amount he’s downing in one go.
“Aren’t you gonna get sick?” you sputter.
He giggles a bit and takes the soda from your hand, downing the rest of it. “Eh, I’ve done all the brand commitment stuff. I’m sort of off the clock now.”
You blink at him and wonder how the hell that’s supposed to explain how he’s not going to be throwing up in about 15 minutes.
“You make me nervous,” he giggles.
He leans in a little, only to list backwards and wave a hand in the air. He erupts into a fit of laughter and covers his face with his hands.
“Christ, I’m so sorry. I’ve been wanting to tell you all night how beautiful you look, but I didn’t really feel like there was a good opening after, you know, Charlie went and talked about your sandy vagina.”
His eyes bug out like he realizes what he’s said, and he slaps a hand over his mouth. It might be the alcohol surging into your bloodstream, but you laugh at how ridiculous it all is. He chortles behind his hand and flushes a million shades of red.
“Fuck, I am so fucking sorry,” he gasps. “I just wanted to tell you you’re beautiful, and then I just said sandy vagina and I’m really really sorry, and I’m, like, very sure your vagina is probably perfectly fine and doesn’t have any sand in it.”
You giggle even harder at his distressed stream of consciousness. “I-Well, thanks and all, but I’m – I don’t really mix business and personal, you know?”
He nods like he perfectly understands your position. He puts his hands up in surrender and gives you a sort of bow before kissing your hand. “I’m– I understand. Definitely. No worries at all. And thanks for trying the vodka even though it’s shitty.”
You laugh loudly at that and wave him off. He chuckles to himself and strolls over to the bar area. You take your time walking to Kenzie, who jumps up and down when she sees you. Not wasted, but definitely not sober.
“That vodka tastes fucking awful!”
She grabs your forearm like you’d just said the most profound thing she’s ever heard. “Yesssssssss ohmygod.”
You hug onto her for support as she whispers in your ear about how she’s got a really good feeling about the impression she’s made with the brand and how this could be a huge opportunity for her. You commiserate together how nasty the taste is but both agree that she sort of had to do shots for social media unless she wanted it to look like she didn’t enjoy it. She snorts and rolls her eyes when you relay the flirty, drunken conversation that Logan tried to have.
“He probably isn’t used to being turned down,” she posits. “S'prolly good for him to hear 'no' every once in a while.”
You giggle and lean against the counter for more support. You felt very warm now – cardigan debate all but forgotten – and a bit like you need to pee. Knowing the extra effort it’s going to take for you to get the tights down enough to use the bathroom, you excuse yourself sooner rather than later.
Everything is a lively haze of big energy as you make your way to the bathrooms. One of the main raffles is taking place, so you don’t even have to wait in line. You eye yourself in the mirror and think you still look pretty good. The little bit of alcohol you had is in full effect now, and you hope it starts to ebb soon.
You make your way out of the restroom and stumble when you hear the excited cheers from the main dancehall. Someone must’ve won something big. You lean against the wall for a minute until you feel more certain these shoes won’t cause any issues.
“Sneaky, sneaky thing,” Logan giggles from beside you.
You jump at the sudden voice coming from the dimly lit hallway. “Jesus christ you scared me,” you hiss.
“Sorry sorry. Just had to take a leak and then had to sit down for a minute. Mighta had too much.”
He seems bigger somehow even though he’s slanted to one side. Maybe the alcohol making him so loose was also making him seem unrestrained, too. “Soooooo, you coulda just asked me to follow ya know?”
He shoves his hands in his pockets as he saunters closer.
“Huh?”
“Earlier? You said you weren’t interested, but-but- and then I see you sneaking off to the bathrooms. Coulda just asked me to follow you, and I woulda.”
“No thanks,” you exhale.
“C’mon you don’t gotta put up a front, 'kay? Your friend won’t get jealous if she doesn’t see us, right?”
“What are you talking about?” you groan.
His body is up against yours, pressing you into the wall. “Let’s mix up a little business with a little pleasure,” he purrs. Your entire body freezes up, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “It’ll feel real good I promise.”
“Logan, there’s been a misunderstanding,” you insist. “M’not interested in–”
“Ssshhhhh,” he coos. “You can quit pretending. Be good 'n I’ll let you take a pic during to show all your friends, 'kay?”
“Get off me, you creep!” you hiss with a shove, but his body doesn’t budge. Another round of applause and cheering comes from the main hall.
“Let'sssssee,” he slurs. His thigh parts your legs just as his hands go underneath the sides of your skirt to grope your ass. “What kinda panties you got on?” He starts to lift your skirt above your hips when you knee his groin with as much force as you can. He doubles over and staggers backward. He chokes out bitch! a few times before vomiting all over the floor. You hurry away to find Keznzie, heart beating a million times a minute. She’s at the bar doing yet another stupid shot.
Between her drunkenness and your flustering, it takes several agonizing moments before she grasps what you’re saying – that you’ve been assaulted by somebody and left him on the ground near the restrooms. She’s looking around for security and asking you what the guy looks like. You tell her again it was Logan. Her body stops mid-movement like some sort of eerie robot that’s been unplugged. She blinks a few times like she misheard you.
“Logan? Logan Logan?”
“Yes!” you practically shriek.
She’s hesitating now, no longer hellbent on finding security, and you can’t figure out why. Where had all her urgency gone? Why had her entire mood just shifted? Why wasn’t she comforting you?
Then her eyes meet yours, and you see it. The reluctance to make a fuss over it because of who it was. The mental math to calculate that it wasn’t right what he’d done but that it hadn’t “gone too far” and he hadn’t “gone all the way” with it. The hesitation to hold off on involving security if this all sounded like a drunken misunderstanding between two people that didn’t need to be escalated. The sort of “mistake” that could be fixed with a few sober apologies.
“Kenzie…..," you whisper.
Like she’s on a sinking ship that’s quickly taking on too much water, she shakes her head and grabs your upper arms to pull you closer. “This will blow all my chances with this brand and maybe even the job.”
Her eyes are pleading for you to understand the position she’s in, what all she has to lose by taking up for you in this moment, and the gut wrenching realization that you’re not worth it to her begins to sink in. She sways a little on the spot and hiccups.
“He’s–He’s prolly so drunk he doesn’t even know what he was doing,” she pleads.
“You sure you’re not so drunk you don’t know what you’re saying?” you snap back. “Because I’m pretty sure a bad friend would tell you to drop it when somebody just had their hands all on you.”
Her nostrils flare at the accusation. “Well maybe a bad friend would make her best friend lose her whole future just because some guy felt up her butt, like that doesn’t happen all the time on the bus and in clubs and, and, and everywhere!”
“All you care about is yourself!” you hurl at her.
You turn on your heel and stomp your way to the exit. Tears blur the edges of your vision, but you’re enough of a mess that people sort of make way for you until you emerge from the building and into the cool night air.
You’re shaking. Your brain is a soupy mess as the alcohol starts to wear off. You pull out your work phone from your clutch. It flashes 9:48. How on earth had so much gone so wrong so quickly?
You fumble through some of the apps and end up downloading several rideshare apps, but they’re all crazy expensive because of the holiday. You can’t risk that large of a transaction showing up and your dad seeing it. You’re not even sure how far of a walk it would be to get home, but you don’t want to go home, either. Your dad was probably out, but you didn't want to risk it.
You shiver and stare at the homescreen.
If you needed someone to show up, I’d show up.
That’s what Joel had said after that guy confronted you in the parking lot. And then tonight he’d said to call if you needed a ride or anything. You don’t have much of a choice, but even if you did, you’d still choose Joel.
You find his contact and hit call.
The influx of pictures of you all dressy and smiles was the perfect distraction. He’d been mulling over the lies he’d caught you in, and it was making his head buzz.
You’d lied about the gift for your dad. Clint Eastwood — not John Wayne, like you’d claimed - had starred in The Dollars Trilogy. A Fistful of Dollars, A Few Dollars More, and The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly. All screenplays, never books. He’d grown up watching enough Westerns to know that much.
That was plenty of proof that you weren’t being entirely upfront with him, but he didn’t understand why. When he went into the security system profile and checked Christmas day, his heart sunk when it showed you hadn’t left when you claimed and in fact didn’t set the alarm again until several hours later.
He tries not to take it personally that you were lying through your teeth over very strange things, but it was hurtful and made him feel a little foolish for some reason. He knew in his gut that you were an honest person, so he could only assume the only other thing that made sense was that you didn’t trust him, which stung in a particularly painful way.
At this rate, he didn’t believe that you even got any gift cards. You didn’t give the impression that you gave much thought to your own wants and needs. It’s like it’s been drilled into your head to put yourself last every time.
He sighed and flipped through the pictures you’d sent — or, rather, your friend had sent on your behalf. The one where you were smiling the biggest was a little blurry, but it was his favorite nonetheless. He’d set it as his homescreen background without a second thought.
He was letting himself get lost in how stunning you looked in the photos when a call popped up. It was you. After the surprise of receiving a call from you wore off, he hit answer and pressed the phone to his ear.
“Hey, sweetheart. Everything okay?”
“Um,” you sniff. “N-Not really.”
His whole body goes rigid at the sound of your trembling voice. “What happened? Where are you?”
“Um, I’m still at that same place I sent earlier. Do you— Can you come get me?”
He’s snatching up his keys and starting his truck in a flash. He stays on the line with you until his headlights reflect and sparkle across the glitter on your tights. He hops out and gives you a quick once over, looking for some sort of hurt. He draws you up into a hug and helps you into the truck.
“What happened?” he breathes.
“Just, um, had a fight with my friend.”
“Is she okay in there? Does she have a ride home? Is she hurt?”
As honorable as his concern for Kenzie’s safety and wellbeing was, something about it irked you. She hadn’t given you any support, so why on earth did she deserve any? Maybe being drunk and left to deal with those jerks on her own would change her perspective. Maybe Logan would hurt her, too, and then she’d have a different opinion on what constituted a big enough violation to be addressed. You instantly feel guilty for thinking it, but the anger doesn’t entirely subside.
“She’s fine,” you grumble. “I don’t really wanna talk about it if that’s okay.”
“Sure, of course,” he soothes. “Let’s just get you home, yeah?”
“I don’t wanna go home,” you whisper, fidgeting with your hands in your lap.
“Okay, sweetheart. You don’t hafta go home. You can come stay with me, alright? Is that okay?”
You nod. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Of course. Of course ya can,” he insists.
The drive to his house is quiet, and he keeps stealing glances your direction. You keep your eyes fixed on the road, fearing that looking him directly in the eye again will crumble all your resolve and you’ll fall into a million pieces and tell him everything – all the rotting, ugly truths of your secret life.
He pulls into the drive and helps you out of the truck and into the house. You let him lead you as you walk unevenly in your heels. He guides you to the living room couch and slips your shoes off. He gives your feet a firm, kneading rub when you wince.
“Feet hurt?”
“Yeah.”
He massages them for a few beats, and you realize it probably hurts his knees to be bent on the floor like that.
“You hungry?”
“Yeah.”
He leads you upstairs and shows you the guest bedroom — Sarah’s old room that still had a lot of her personal decorations and items throughout. He leaves you for a moment and returns from his room with a pair of drawstring sweatpants and a button up flannel. He asks if you need anything for a shower, and, despite feeling utterly drained, the thought of washing this day off you is too appealing to turn down.
He digs around the hallway bathroom, which you learn was Sarah’s once upon a time, and pulls various toiletry items out from the cabinet. While there aren’t any shower specific items, there is a bottle of cosmetics remover and a roll of cotton pads, and you gather them up alongside the borrowed pajamas to take with you to Joel’s bathroom.
He gives you a quick rundown on how the shower works and leaves it running before slipping out the door to give you privacy. His heavy footsteps descend the stairs, and you’re struck by how alone you suddenly feel. You carefully extract yourself from Kenzie’s dress and tights and set them on the vanity. You strip away your undergarments and toss them into a pile near the corner.
You don’t bother adjusting the temperature of the water. You leave it just how he’d left it running for you, and it beats down onto your itchy, too tight skin with a purging heat. You lather in his soaps and shampoo and feel like you can breathe easier with it fogging up around you. It felt safe. Your hands dip to your hips, groin, and backside, and you hesitate for a moment before rushing through the area. You can still feel Logan’s insistent hands on you.
You rinse off and drip dry for a few seconds. The dry, fluffy towels wrapped around you make things feel normal again for a fleeting moment. The cosmetics remover and cotton pads clear away the streaking mascara and flecks of makeup left behind. You look in the mirror at your naked body and feel like you should be able to see the traces of unwelcomed touches painted onto your skin in bright, blood red. Your bare form reflects back to you, and you force your attention away and to Joel’s clean clothes he’d left for you.
The sweatpants are cozy and worn down. The flannel is soft like it’s been worn a million times. You roll the cuffs on the flannel and do the same to the sweatpants a few times, giving the strings a pull to cinch them on tighter, until your feet and hands aren’t flooded in fabric. The smell of him on the clothes only heightens as your body heat warms the fabric.
Wanting to be lost in the scent of the real thing, you head downstairs and find Joel in the kitchen with a tall glass of water and freshly made sandwich. He opens his mouth to say something but falls short as he eyes you. He swallows thickly and meets your eye again.
“Clothes alright? I know the sizing is a bit off.”
“They feel really good.”
“Good. Good.” He clasps his hands together and moves aside to gesture towards the food.
He gives you the option of sitting at the table or sitting in front of the TV while you eat. You opt for the latter and start on your sandwich as Joel flips through the channels until it lands on the Ball Drop Countdown. You sit quietly together, but you can sense the weight of unasked questions emanating from him.
“Guest bedroom look alright? Everything you need in there?” He’s being sincere, but you can tell he’s trying to fill the silence with something.
“It’s really pretty in there. Sarah has really cute taste.”
“She does,” he agrees with a crooked grin. “Kept up the girly stuff for way longer’n I thought she would. I always had a soft spot for that kinda thing, I guess. Kinda made it feel like my little girl wasn’t busy growin’ up and gettin’ ready to head out into the world without me.”
“Do you… Does she see you a lot?”
You aren’t sure why you’re asking or why you want to know. Some part of you is maybe just a glutton for punishment to hear about families who don’t hate each other. Or maybe just confirmation that such a thing was possible.
“Not nearly as much as I’d like, but I shouldn’t complain. She calls all the time, and that helps. Video calls and all that, too. Makes the distance feel shorter, you know?”
You nod like you do know, but you’d never had such an experience. You would kill for a video call with Calum. You weren’t going to think about that right now, though. Not on top of everything else that happened tonight.
As if he could sense the direction of your thoughts, Joel carefully asks if you want to talk about what happened. You think for a minute and then shake your head no.
“That’s okay,” he reassures you. “No pressure. Just wanted to ask in case you… I dunno why. In case you needed m–needed someone to talk to.”
You hold back a smile at his near slip. In case you needed me. And, you do very much need him.
He takes your empty plate and glass without asking, double checking that you’ve had enough before taking it to the kitchen and then settling back onto the couch with you. Without the task of eating and the personal space required to do so, the distance between you both felt infinitely larger than before he left. Your hunger is sated with the food he’d made, but something still stirs in your gut.
The memory of tonight still clings to you. Logan’s mask slipping to reveal the devil beneath. Kenzie deciding that you weren’t worth the risk of jeopardizing her future career, even if it was with men who couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.
You can still feel the ghost of Logan gripping your flesh and turning up your clothing, the stench of his alcohol laden breath clouding your nostrils and making you want to choke. You want to erase it. You want your body to forget the sensation and experience of it. Maybe you can replace it with a different sensation, a new experience. Something to take the place of Logan’s shadow lingering on you.
“Joel?”
He turns to look at you, mouth all pouty and parted with concern. You want to lick into it so badly. “Yeah?”
“Can I ask you something weird? A weird favor?”
“Of course ya can,” he urges. He angles his body to give you more of his attention. “I’m sure it ain’t weird. What is it, sweetheart?”
“I’m–Can I just—” You falter as you try to figure out how you can ask him to act as a prop in your recreation of tonight just so your body can be tricked into believing it never happened. “If I ask you to–to hold me a certain way, could you do that?”
His brow knits together like the hesitant phrasing of your question betrays its innocuous veneer. “I can do whatever ya need me to do, sweetheart, but it might help if I knew what exactly—”
“Please?” you ask so quiet you’re surprised he caught it.
His lips purse, and his body relaxes in defeat. “Of course.”
You wordlessly crawl along the couch until you’re almost on top of him and swing a leg between his. You ignore the way your crotch feels hot and needy against his warm thigh. You gently guide his hands to your hips and backside, urging his fingers to splay wide enough to engulf the globe of your ass and meat of your hip. He tenses like he’s going to ask if you’re okay or if you’re sure about what you’re doing or if this is a good idea, but you don’t let him get to it.
“Please,” you breathe – beg.
He relaxes again.
You slump your body against his and nestle your forehead against the crook of his neck. He feels so impossibly large beneath you, all warmth and brawn and safety. Under different circumstances you’d probably be dripping with arousal by now, but instead your body starts to succumb to the enveloping cradle of his hold. Your breathing evens out, and you think somehow this might actually be working. You can pluck the rotting seed of tonight straight out of your body’s scorecard and plant something that won’t devastate the soil and overtake the sparse sprouts that already exist.
The loud snap! and boom! of fireworks jolt you awake. Joel snorts an inhale and opens his eyes comically wide before blinking quickly. His hands are still on you. Your body is still on him. You’re still safe.
“Nodded off,” he mutters almost to himself, voice thick with sleep. He glances lazily out the window as neighboring houses send off fireworks that probably aren’t street legal. “Damn things are loud.” His head lolls back to face you, and he’s sporting a tired, goofy grin. “Happy New Year’s, I guess, huh?”
You fist the collar of his shirt and crash your mouths together. You’ve been awake for less than 30 seconds, and all your brain can churn out is to take take take.
You meant to take it slow, or maybe you didn’t. You aren’t even sure as you rock your body against his until he comes alive beneath you, hands flying up from your hips to brace against your back and pull you closer against him. His tongue is warm and wet against yours, taking his time to explore you and taste you. He swallows down your hitched moan, groaning in response with a hand coming to cradle the back of your head.
It’s over just as soon as it began when a particularly loud boom breaks the magnetic spell that took over you both. You slowly pull back and release the hold on his shirt. He’s staring like a deer in headlights, and you’re sure you aren’t much different.
What the fuck just happened? Why did you do that? What compelled you to do it like that?
“Um, well. Um. Happy New Year’s. And, um, I guess I’ll – I’m shou–I should be getting to bed, I guess. So–” You awkwardly extricate yourself from the couch and give an awkward wave. Joel just stares back at you dumbfounded.
You wave again like an idiot. “Okay. Um. Happy New Year’s. Um. Goodnight.” You force yourself to walk normally up the stairs and not slam the door to the guest bedroom. You can still taste him on your lips, all echoes of Logan faded into nothingness.
Thank y'all for waiting on this one. The first draft was much shorter, but I just felt like I wanted to flesh it out significantly more than what I had originally written. It feels right now, and I hope you have the same feeling after reading it.
tagging:
@survivingandenduring @bizarrelove-triangle @cumberpegg @verybigvag @koshkaj-blog @pastelpinkflowerlife @toomanystoriessolittletime @walw1017 @tuquoquebrute @confusedpuffin @reneerocks3617 @ellenmunn @electriclasso @pastelnap @zooty-and-fruity @drunk-and-capable @copperhalfcent
#fic: chrysalism#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller au#joel miller x reader#joel miller x oc#hurt/comfort#pedro pascal characters#joel miller smut#the last of us fic#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fluff
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The Daily Grind pt.25 (END)
coffee shop!au Calum Hood x fem!reader x fem!OC
Originally posted on my Instagram
Summary: Y/N has worked at this coffee shop for almost a year when her coworker makes a group chat. Little did she know that would lead her into so much trouble.
pt.1, pt.2, pt.3, pt.4, pt.5, pt.6, pt.7, pt.8, pt.9, pt.10, pt.11, pt. 12, pt.13, pt.14, pt.15, pt.16, pt.17, pt.18, pt.19, pt.20, pt.21, pt.22, pt.23, pt.24
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#calum 5sos#calum hood x you#calum hood x y/n#calum hood x reader#calum hood#5sos fanfic#5sos fic#poly!5sos
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The Hard Things
Doing the right thing is never easy. Calum and Freya have a lot going for them. But what happens when fear gets in the way.
Inspired by I Follow Rivers by Marika Hackman and Starting Line by Luke Hemmings.
Calum X Black Female OC.
I cried once writing this. 7.4k words. Angst. Just angst and sarcasm.
@notinthesameguey is personally responsible for this. So blame her.
The Hard Things--Alternative Ending
Masterlist (on semi hiatus)
___________________________________
If Freya were going to be honest, she would admit that the second she saw Calum and his friends walk into the building she knew things were going to be bad. But Freya’s not being honest. Because being honest would almost include admitting just how too easy it was that day. How if those particular sequences of events hadn’t happened that specifically, then she wouldn’t be here--trying not to watch the quiver in his chin or the way he blinks rapidly. Then she wouldn’t be trying to forget the way his voice quakes.
But they did happen in that particular order. On a Thursday afternoon, he and his friends walked through the door. And here, here at this part, it’s easy to be honest.
Honestly, she is staring--way too hard and way too long at the rag-tag gaggle of people, but especially the man pulling up the rear of the group with a bright red hat snug on his head and covering his eyes, though not even the brim can hide the plump full lips pulled up into a tiny grin at something that must’ve been said. Because another guy, this one fairer-skinned in a hat too and a baggy t-shirt is also laughing. And of course, this group would enter just as Tre stepped away to check on the lanes already throwing. Vanessa wasn’t too far from the desk, but she was trying to help some parents figure out when they could schedule an event for someone’s birthday in the coming weeks.
This only leaves Freya as the only person available right now until rounds were completed to handle any new patrons. With a glance down to the clock on the computer, she could see that a couple more folks would be coming back to the front at any point. But clearly, that point wouldn’t come quick enough.
“Hi,” Freya greets flicking her gaze back up to the group with a quick smile. It’s the training. The fact that more than once she’d been told that customers liked her, especially the way she gave instructions but she needed to smile more. And if this weren’t the job keeping her afloat during her time of getting her degree, in addition to the administrative desk work she did at the university, she would leave here in a heartbeat. Possibly even in the blink of an eye. Whichever was faster.
“Hey! We were hoping you had a couple of lanes for us.”
Freya counts the head. “Just you seven?”
The guy that spoke initially turns the man in the back with the bright red hat on. “Still no word from her?”
The guy shrugs. “Don’t sweat it.” And Freya clings to every syllable. The almost sleepy drawl to his voice lined with a twinge of an accent. She can’t place it at first. But all of them share slight variations in it. The man in the red hat’s voice is low but smooth.
“Yeah just the seven of us,” a taller man pipes in.
“Okay, we can only have two people throwing on a lane at a time. I can put you on neighboring ones but we’ve got very strict rules about how many people can throw at a time.”
There’s a murmur amongst the group but eventually, it comes back to Freya that they’re okay with it. She runs down the safety rules, the forms they have to form out, and checks their IDs. She notices the man with the red hat’s name is Calum and though she knows she shouldn’t, she tries to commit it to memory. It won’t last long. She forgets names all too fast, but she never forgets a face.
“Nessa, watch the desk for me!” Freya calls out as she collects the cases with the axes and directs the party to their lanes. There’s a table for convening and a separate for the axes to rest. “Alright,” she starts with a quick whistle to settle the group. They get chatty but are quick to turn their attention back to her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out, but I will. So one last recap of the rules.”
When Freya finishes, she has the entire group repeat the rules back to her. When they return it to her all correctly, she smiles. “I appreciate y’all already. There are several range officers. They monitor carefully from several posts,” and she points them out as she speaks. “The shift rotates out in an hour. Meaning you’ll have to pause let the old shift go and let the new shift jump in. You’ll hear beeps to signal you to stop and start. If you have any other questions or concerns, you can find me at the front or a range officer. And we’ll be happy to help. Let’s keep all fingers, toes, extremities, and eyeballs intact and we can have a great day together. Enjoy.”
Usually, in her safety spills and best way to throw, Freya makes sure to keep eye contact with everyone in the group. However, she places a purposeful gaze on Calum when she tells them to enjoy. It’s reckless--she knows that. A little flirting hasn’t hurt her. Besides, she knows the moment she walks away, he’ll forget about her. They always did and she likes it like that. Flirty enough to keep good reviews, but never too flirty to insinuate anything more.
In her departure, Freya feels eyes on her, lasting longer than usual. And maybe she put more emphasis behind the swish of her hips and maybe she hoped it was Calum watching her walk away. But she doesn’t dare turn around. No matter how much she hopes in a fleeting second that maybe she had flirted just a little too much, Freya does not turn around to confirm or deny anything.
Back at the front desk, Freya takes a look at the cameras. Anyone at the front can see the lanes too--it’s for safety when you have live blades. Her gaze travels over each one though just out of the corner of her eye she catches the bright red hat. A few guys clasp him on the back but she can’t hear whatever else is said. The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly. As people leave, few come in to replace them. The weekend will be busier--it always in. And Freya knows that soon too, once the afternoon becomes evening things will pick up just a little.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Everything okay?”
Freya barely sees who it is talking before they’re out of the door. Calum, phone pressed to his ear. She watches him for a beat as he paces near the front windows of the establishment. Her gaze doesn’t linger long before something on the floor catches her eye. She sees it’s black and square. When she gets closer it looks like a wallet. Clearly used and loved by the creases in it. She glances back up to Calum to see him still on the phone and peeks at the ID just to make sure who it belongs to.
With the blank stare of Calum’s ID photo looking up at her, Freya takes it back behind the desk. She’ll wait until he gets off the phone. A minute or two later, the door chimes again with Calum reentering.
“Hey, you dropped this,” she calls out, stepping out from the desk to hold out the wallet.
Calum pats his pockets and a split second panic causes his eyes to go wide. “Oh shit, thanks. I-I didn’t even realize it fell out of my pocket.”
“No worries. Just glad to get it back to you.” Calum takes it and slips it into his pocket, hands patting the outside to make doubly sure it’s secure. “You guys doing okay back there?
“Yeah, we’re good. Though I think somehow the girls are kicking our asses.”
Freya smiles with a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “It’s power and finesse. You can tear down brick buildings but if you don’t get the release right so it’s not twirling over the axis too many times, you’ll come up with nothing.”
“So says the expert?”
Her cheeks heat for a second at the raised eyebrow Calum gives her. Running her tongue over her teeth to hide the smile, Freya nods. “Yeah, I’ve thrown an axe or two in my lifetime. So I guess that counts as me being an expert.”
Calum laughs. Whether it’s at her or not, Freya’s not sure. But she likes the sound of it. “Tell me what else the expert suggests.”
A moment passes where Freya’s watching his gaze. Wondering if an anime glint will twinkle over his brown eyes because it’s a smooth delivery. Smoother than some of the stuff she’s done. There’s no way he’s fucking real.
Freya takes a half step back, slipping through the threshold that separates the front desk from the main lobby and the hallway to the back where the lanes are set up. “This expert suggests that you try her advice and impress all your friends.”
“More finesse. In the wrist, right?”
“In the wrist.”
A shy smile is shared between the two of them. It borders telling everything and saying nothing at all, borders on giving away on how much Calum might’ve considered concocting a ruse just to get her attention and how much he did backtrack on his plan because it was his sister calling and that shocked him. The smile borders on Freya twirling the Havana twists around her finger and her rolling her eyes at Calum’s thinly veiled attempts at flirting.
Both of them are saved by the front door chiming and Freya gives a nod to Calum before turning her attention to the person now entering. But Calum watches the way she leans into the counter and smiles down at the small child standing next to their parent. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big,” Freya comments and then walks back around to settle next to them.
“No, Fre, I’m not bigger dan yesterday,” the kid responds.
“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Your dad will be out in just a second. Shift change had to wait for one more person. Anything cool happen at school today?”
Calum leaves then, though he can catch the small boy gush about the races he won at recess. It’s probably crazy of him to try and find some sort of way to come back here again soon, but Calum’s already trying to put together an excuse.
When Calum heads back to the front with the group, laughing at Michael’s utter disgust at the way the last few throws went, he does look for Freya. A girl with red hair is sitting at the desk instead. And though a little bit of disappoints settles into his stomach because he wanted to tell her how well her advice worked, he finds himself resolved and it wouldn’t be broken.
******
Calum told himself whatever Freya had to say during this talk wouldn’t break him. Hell, if he were honest, he didn’t think it would go like this. “You know, I used to say I was no good for people all the time,” Calum laughs. He sniffs hard and wipes his noses on the back of his nose. “It was a clean get-away line.”
“I’m not giving you a get-away line. I’m giving you the truth,” Freya returns.
“No, I’m-I’m not saying you’re giving me bullshit. You’re setting a boundary and a good one at that. I respect it. I’m just saying the irony. The same thing I used to tell others is coming back my way.”
“Karma’s a bitch.”
“I don’t regret it.” Calum shakes his head, not because he’s lying. But to emphasize his point.
*****
Calum doesn’t regret going to the Yelp, Facebook, or Instagram page of the business to see if she had liked it or appeared anywhere on their social media. And luck would have it, he manages to find her. The owners like to show off their employees. Their preferred form of employee appreciation appears, in Calum’s investigation, to be a quick bio of new employees along with a video of them throwing. He nearly misses Freya’s post because of his quick scrolls. The bottom of the page comes up quicker than the app could handle and just as the new page loads that he notices it. The thick twists and black lipstick sitting on her cool dark brown skin.
He doesn’t regret it when he followed the account that was tagged, or the message he sent her from his finsta, or the messages they exchanged for a few days. And he for damn sure can’t find himself to regret it when he came back to the place a couple of weeks later to see if Freya was working.
There’s no regret when she smiles at him and laughs. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m here to test your theory yet again. It worked last time. But I want to make sure that it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”
“You doubt me. You dare doubt me? I’m offended.”
Calum laughs briefly as he leans into the counter of the front desk. “It’s more like I’m testing a theory. Making sure the results can be recreated.”
“Oh, I promise you my results are valid.” She reaches out for his ID and every so gently their fingers brush. Calum can’t tell if that’s intentional or not, but it doesn’t the slight shiver that runs down his spine. “So just you today, huh?” Freya continues on, grabbing a clipboard, some forms, and a pen.
“Just me.”
“Rest of your friends scared.” Her gaze falls to the stack she’s gathering, checking something off on the top page and then sliding the ID back to Calum.
“They’d probably laugh at me if they knew I was here.”
“Laugh at you?”
“Tell me--why do you think I’m here?”
A moment passes between them. Though it takes up more like several seconds, time feels froze as Freya studies his face. Calum wants to reach up and readjust his hat out of a nervous habit. He wants to take it back. But more than anything, he wants to know if he has a shot. If it’s worth really pursuing.
“I think you’re here to test a theory. Maybe, just maybe you’re here because of Vanessa too,” she smiles as it says. Like she knows that isn’t the truth but she doesn’t want to give into Calum.
And while it’s not the answer he was hoping for, Calum takes it. She wants to play a game and he can be down for that.
*****
She wants to reach out for his hands. They sit next to each other in the lounge chairs Calum keeps lined around his pool. But Freya thinks twice about it. The bulbs dangle above them casting an amber hue onto the water, a stark contrast to the twilight pressing evening closer to night’s full darkness. Freya does regret it. She regrets not leaving her teasing response just to testing a theory. She knew what Calum was fishing for, what he was hoping to confirm when he came back by himself.
Maybe it was just where she was then. Then she thought she could give more. Now she realizes she can’t. She likes it when she’s dating someone and they can decide on a random Sunday for errand runs. She likes having them around. And not that Calum wouldn’t be around. Tours didn’t happen all the time. But they did run long. And who the hell knows where she’d be in eight months after she graduated. Her life wasn’t stable--she wasn’t tied to the West Coast like Calum was.
Her life was full of variables. Ones that she didn’t really plan on trying to solve until closer to Christmas in the spring right before graduation. And she didn’t want to give Calum any more false hope. It wasn’t set in stone that she’d be staying in LA and it wasn’t set in stone that she could handle the long departures. Calum deserved someone that was more sure of themselves.
“I think having regrets is no good anyway,” Freya says, finally breaking the long silence between them. “Having them doesn’t change what happened anyway.” But that doesn’t change the fact that you still regret this, Freya thinks to herself.
“I used to believe love could overcome any obstacle.”
Freya turns to look to Calum and catches thhe way the stubble on his chin from the few weeks he’s gone without shaving halos just a little in the lights. “Used to? The right person, the right love--”
Calum shakes his head. “Now I think people loving me means that they love themselves and they can tell me what they want or need. No guessing. No games.”
“Still sounds a lot of a hell lot like overcoming obstacles.”
“But it’s not a dream. It’s tangible. It’s not me daydreaming up in the clouds. It’s me--right here. Right now. Knowing seeing what it means more than anything else that all the shit I was thinking of as a kid really needed just to be put on the ground level for me.”
“What-what do you mean?”
“I mean as much as it fucking sucks that you’re telling me no, I know you’re doing it for the right reasons. I-there’s like this thing with me. I watch people. I don’t walk into a room of strangers and become the center of attention. I don’t like people all that much, but I care. You know? I care about the people I put into my life and I want them to do well and succeed. I want what’s best for them. It’s not always easy to want that, but innately, I do, I think. Deep down I want what’s good for people. And maybe love is doing the hard things, you know.”
He pauses. Freya watches the way he drops his head, fingers threading through the curls. She keeps quiet. There’s something more, something deeper to the words. “And you’re doing the hard thing. Whether it’s for me or not is debatable,” Calum continues. “But I think love is doing the hard things.”
“You said that having some space was important to you. And while I understand that, like you do need to be your own person in a relationship--”
“Your reasons or how you want to justify it to yourself for me isn’t something I need. You already said that you know what you expect and like out a relationship and that the touring would be too hard for you. Set boundaries for you. What good does it do to justify it to me?”
“So you know I’m not being an asshole, Calum. For fuck sake.”
“No, no, I-shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--who are boundaries really for? What do they do?”
“I guess they do protect the person making them. But I’m not trying to be an asshole to you. I swear.”
Calum looks up from the cement of his background lining the pool to the glossy sheen coating Freya’s eyes. They’re black in the settling night. But Calum knows they’re more like a medium brown--dark enough to get lost in them, but when they catch the light just right, they can feel like an enchanting spell sucking him in.
“Freya, you are a sarcastic son of a bitch. But an asshole to those that don’t deserve it, never.”
She sucks on her teeth, swatting at his bicep. “Take that back.”
Calum leans onto his left elbow, closing the gap between them just a little. A smile lifts his lips gently. “Never.”
“We’ve both been burned. Is it bad I didn’t want that again?”
“No. I used to say love is a scam. So I don’t think I’m necessarily the poster boy for relationships.”
“But admit it, you hoped this was the one so you wouldn’t be the odd man out.” His brows furrow at her comment. Freya gives him a soft smile. “Two of the guys are engaged. But all three of them are in a relationship.”
He sighs, gazing dropping from her face. “Maybe I was hoping so. Is it bad of me to want to be in love?”
“No. I told some kids that my boyfriend was Shermar Moore,” Freya admits with a laugh. “I was working at a summer camp and one girl saw his picture on my phone. It was my lockscreen for the longest time. So I just went with it. Well, I was spurred in part because of Drew who was a fucking creep and wouldn’t leave me alone. But I did fantasize about it. Dream of being in love with some famous and the limelight. Shit at that point, I hadn’t even dated anyone either. So another part of it was a desire too.”
“Is that part of it too? Worried about what trolls and whatever will say?”
“Oh, no one who doesn’t know shit about it can make me get outside myself.” Freya laughs but reclines into the cushions of the chair. “But maybe it’s a little bit of it. That’s too many voices talking all about you. It’s a lot of noise and some of it has to bleed through you know. Even if you’re careful and you work not to take it in, some does, right?”
“I don’t think humans were created to be able to handle that much criticism or even love and adoration. Our brains can’t handle it. So yeah, a little bit seeps in. But you keep that door closed as much as you can. You talk to people that also get it. Fuck, you even get a therapist.”
“Or a dog,” Freya says before turning her head to watch Duke laying inside next to the back door.
“And a dog,” Calum corrects.
“Excuse me, you get a therapist and a dog.”
“Tell me something.”
“I’m listening,” Freya returns, looking back to Calum.
“Before you go tonight, tell me the thing you’re going to cherish between us.”
“Will you do the same?” Calum nods at the question but doesn’t respond verbally as he gazes at her.
“Do you want to answer now?”
“Are you leaving now?”
“I-I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”
“I want you to stay as long as you feel comfortable. And then when you leave, the parting thing we have is the good, the best of us.”
“What if I stay until dawn?”
“Then you stay until dawn. Though, I think it’s safe to say both of us will pass out by 3 AM.”
“That was the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever done,” Freya laughs. Remembering the same she spent a Friday night after a shift at Calum’s place. He had a birthday party on Saturday along with a vet appointment with Duke. And then Sunday, Freya had we weekly lunch with her friends that she couldn’t miss. So Calum asked her if she wanted dinner Friday night at his place. Which she said yes to, but then it turned into them doing a movie marathon. Which then turned into Calum betting her that he could stay up longer than her. But they ultimately passed out around 3 in the morning on Calum’s couch.
“Thankfully, I did not miss Duke’s vet appointment that time,” Calum tacks on.
“Yeah, no thanks to me waking you up half an hour before it.”
“That darlin’ is what I call details.”
“No, I call that a very important fact,” Freya defends sitting up. “Duke would’ve been late twice if not for me.”
Calum giggles at her incredulous look. She always got heated fast, though she knew when it was serious things and when it wasn’t. “It wasn’t him paying for the visit.”
“So you ought to kiss the ground I’m standing on right now because you didn’t have to pay anything like a cancellation fee.”
“You’re not standing on any ground right-” the sentence doesn’t get the wind to complete itself when Calum watches her stand up. “Or maybe you are standing up.”
Freya hears him, but she gazes up to the sky. Trying to look past the twinkle of his backyard lights. There’s not much to see due to the light pollution. But the sounds capture her attention next. His neighborhood’s almost been mostly quiet. But with the twinge of the summer’s heat fading, Freya can hear the last bit of people outside. A dog barks into the night and there’s the crunch only tires on gravel and asphalt can give. There’s a hum in the night that Freya can feel in her bones.
It’s hard not to fall in love with the sounds of the night. It’s hard not to romanticize this, how possibly if things were different she could find herself at some point always standing in the middle of this backyard listening to the sounds of the night, having Calum beside her or maybe Duke when he’s gone and just letting herself go to the buzz. In all honesty, Freya craved stability. Always having something to come back was her dream. But in that dream it was a partner who would be there for every dinner. A shared space that was full with both of their presences.
“When you think about coming home what’s there?” Freya asks. “Like, in ten years, what’s in your home when you walk inside?”
Calum closes his eyes, bringing the picture to his mind’s eye. “Like, the truth of what I see?”
“The truth,” Freya confirms.
“Two kids, a dog for sure. Maybe two. A wife. A lot of laughs. Being knocked over with hugs. Maybe a movie that hasn’t quite been paused catches my ears. Maybe it’s summer and my mum’s over too. Because she wants to be around the kids as much as possible. And my sister--she comes over when she can too. So we have to figure out what to cook because it’s a family dinner night. I’m mostly likely in Australia. But I could be somewhere else. Just not LA. I don’t think I could have kids here.”
“That sounds lovely, Calum.”
“But I am scared. My parents divorced. What if it doesn’t work out?”
“That wasn’t your fault. And if we heal from our trauma before having kids then maybe some of our fears won’t come to reality.”
“And if it does.”
“Then we know the boogeyman is real and sometimes we can do our best but things that are meant to happen will still happen.”
“Your parents are divorced too, right?” Calum remembers her mentioning a distinction between her mother’s house and her father’s house. But she hadn’t outright stated that her parents were divorced, just alluded to it.
“Yeah. My dad remarried. He seems happy.”
“What about you? If you closed your eyes and thought about yourself in 10 years, where are you?”
“I technically asked what do you see in your home when you walk inside 10 years from now.”
“Oh, come off it,” Calum laughs, throwing a dismissive wave her way.
“But,” she giggles and then closes her eyes. The breeze blows across her face and she lifts her chin up to catch as much of it as she can. Then she speaks, “I don’t know. Home’s full of the people I love. And I feel stable. I’m not worried about what I’m going to do weeks from now when something inevitably has to change. Because nothing’s going to change. Or at least, I’m not anticipating change. I think that’s what I’m sick of. I’m sick of dealing with change and constantly moving around and not knowing what the next year is going to look like. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and planning. I just want to be still.”
“You did the whole back and forth between houses, huh?”
“Yeah. I always felt like I was playing two versions of myself when I was younger. I had to be one way around my mother and one way around my father and according to my therapist, the constant games of charade fucked me up a little.”
“How often did you go between their houses?”
“Every weekend.”
Calum sucks in air through his teeth, “Yikes. Yeah, no wonder you want stability.”
“Oh, thank you Dr. Hood. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Well this is a question so it’s not something you don’t know, but is the thought of me being gone for months at a time remind you of that? Like, you’d have to be one way while I was here and then another way when I was gone?”
Freya shrugs. But it’s right on the nose. “I’d have to learn to be with you and then be without you. And all I have are switches. No dimmers. I’m either on or I’m off. And I-I’m working on it. But I’ve got a long way to go.”
Calum scoffs, whispering mostly to himself. “All I have are switches. No dimmers.” It’s not a taunt to her. It’s not him blowing her concern off. It’s recognition that colors his tone. It’s the sigh when hearing something that connects so deeply it takes all the oxygen from lungs with it.
“And I swear to Christ, Calum, if you make a Lowe’s or Home Depot joke, I will extract your ankles from you right here right now.”
“Extract? What the hell?” Calum laughs.
“Broken ankles heal,” Freya returns with a smirk. Her face is lit mostly from above due to continued standing position but Calum catches the way her lips move.
“Remind me to really never piss you off. Between your ability to throw axes and the time you told me about putting ham on a girl’s car, I don’t think I want that kind of trouble in my life.”
“I only put the ham on the car because my friend was heartbroken and she was a cunt for cheating.”
“Yeah, see that’s what I mean,” Calum points out, his index finger swirling in a circle in front of her.
“I could’ve slashed her tires too.”
“I think ruining her paint job was more than enough.”
Freya places her hands on her hips, looking down at Calum. “I’ve got some anger issues too. Did I mention that?”
They laugh but Calum recovers first to speak. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Thank you for telling me that. But in all seriousness, Freya, the boundaries you have make sense. I hope you continue with therapy as well,” he states with a giggle. “But it’s not easy to look back at yourself and realize ‘Oh shit, maybe I don’t want that thing again because that actually fucking hurt’. And do something about it. That takes a lot of strength.”
“Thanks, Calum. And I will continue with this therapist for the rest of the school year because it’s free. Shoutout to some universities for having really accessible mental health resources.”
Freya finally sits, facing Calum. He keeps his gaze averted. But it doesn’t bother her. “What’s the intention behind telling me I can stay as long as I want? Is it to get me to change my mind? Just earlier both of us were near tears and now we’re walking down memory lane. Sharing things we hadn’t shared yet.”
“I want as much of you as I can get before you’re gone. Selfish, right?” The tears are back, she can hear them in his voice.
“No. A bit of your masochism showing, certainly.”
“You ever know something’s bad for you, but you want it anyway? You want the pain anyway?”
“I mean considering both of us are littered tattoos, pain’s not something we’re too worried about.”
Calum wishes he didn’t laugh, not even the short burst of laughter. “Someone’s coping with humor.”
“Someone’s self flagellating.”
“Can I be honest?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”
“Maybe love is doing the hard things. You said that yourself.”
Calum swallows hard and his voice only comes out in a whisper. “I know I did.”
Freya blinks away the blur of tears. But as soon as they clear, more replace them. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Doing the hard things suck though. Don’t think this is easy.”
“It’s because it’s the hard thing,” Calum returns. He wants to smile and manages to get a small one but he knows. Freya’s going to leave. She won’t stay.
“My favorite thing,” she starts and Calum exhales hard. There it is--the confirmation. The sentence gets caught in her throat so she pauses to clear it, work the tears down to at least speak. God, why couldn’t it have been easy. “My favorite thing between us, about us, whatever you want to label it as, is that we could also be honest. And even if it was burning waffles or ducking paps to watch a movie for an anime that you had no idea anything about because I wanted to go desperately and you had to Google a summary during the previews, we were always honest with each other.”
“I want to put it out there that you only told me that it was for an anime as I was buying the tickets. So I had zero time to prepare beforehand.”
“I told you the name of it the Monday before we saw it.”
“And admittedly, I forget it the second after you said it.”
“Fair enough, Calum. Fair enough.”
Calum spins in the chair and takes her hand. The first time they’ve touched today. Normally, Freya was more than happy to give out hugs but when Calum opened the front door, she have a half smile and stepped inside. If he could go back to earlier, he’d tell himself that was the first sign.
His thumb passes gently over the butterfly on her left hand. “The thing I’m going to cherish is that you made me feel sixteen again. My entire life changed at sixteen and I felt pretty invincible. I was also scared and excited. I was going to be in a band, like a one with lots of records and I don’t know--I only had that dream to believe in because I damn sure did not have a back up. It was before the downs. And I don’t regret the hard times either. But you’re the first person in a long time that gave me those butterflies. Assumed I was just never going to feel them again and I wasn’t a good person before, not as good as I could’ve been. But you gave me something to be good for again. Getting your text made my whole fucking day. And you-god, you cared about so many things. I bought books you recommended and couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. I remembered the kind of person I want to be. So thank you. For making me feel sixteen again in the cheesiest way possible but also in the best way possible too. That things are worth giving a shit for and that we can let people in and it won’t always burn.”
“Just a little sting.”
Calum nods. “Just a little sting.”
Freya brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the right one. Her sniffle is loud amongst the hum of the night. “If it weren’t for the fact that my eyeliner is tattooed to my face it would probably be running. I’m sorry it has to hurt at all. But-but I’m hopeful.”
“Hopeful?”
“Hopeful that we’ll get what we need out of life.”
He nods again, watching the tears track down her cheek. “We will.”
Her hands gently slip back out of his grasp and she uses the back of her wrist to press under her nose. The tremors shake her hands, so she shakes them before standing. Calum cranes his neck up, words about to fall from his lips. But she cups his cheek and smiles at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing else to say.”
It happens just as he blinks. He sighs, eyes closing to steel himself. Because there’s always so much else to say. And then her lips are pressing to his forehead. It last long enough for Calum to take hold of her thighs instinctively want to pull her in closer to him.
Then she’s gone. His hand slides down the rough denim and Freya’s walking to the edge of the backdoor. Duke picks up his head but doesn’t move much else. “Oh yeah, you don’t need to move. You know everyone comes to you, huh?” She gives him a few pats and scratches. “I’ll send you something for your adoption day, okay, love? And you might hate wearing it or you might love eating it. But be on the lookout for the mailman. He’ll have something from me.”
Calum doesn’t say anything as she says her goodbyes to Duke. She kisses the top of his head too and he thinks she might’ve whispered something else but he’s not certain from his spot on the chair. The swish of the tassels on Freya’s jeans signal her and the click of her heeled boots tell Calum she’s walking farther from him. The latch in the fence clicks and the wood around the hinges creak as she presses into the door. There’s a soft thud as the door shuts and then Calum can’t hear anything over the cough he uses to try and cover the tightness in his chest, can’t see anything in the blurry vision of his tears
She’s just gone.
******
When the front door bell sounds, Calum doesn’t think much of it. It could be a package or someone selling something. So he pushes up from the kitchen table and heads to the door. There on his porch is a light blue box with white bones on it. The subscription box that Calum gets already came. But then he notices an index card with a handwritten address on it. He picks it up. Right there in the return address is Freya’s name. He sucks in a breath and then looks to see who it’s addressed to: Duke Hood + Calum.
“Duke,” Calum calls out, stepping back inside to the house. He closes the door with his foot. The click of paws let him know the old man’s heard his call. “A little early birthday present has arrived just for you.”
He walks deeper into the living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Inside holds an olive green harness, treats, and a card. Calum laughs as Duke presses his snout against the bag of treats. “Alright, alright. I get it.”
Duke happily munches on one of the chews from the bag and Calum opens the card. A different letter slips out into his lap. He can see the ink and lettering pressing through to the other side. His heart hammers, but he forces himself to turn back to the card. “Dear Duke,” Calum pauses to see if Duke responds but his investigation continues on the treat. “I mean, fair enough.” Calum continues to read the card written by Freya, “Even though only the universe knows your true birthday, this card, harness, and bag of treats is meant to mark you sticking it out with your pops for yet another year. To spare you the grumps about a very cute hawaiin shirt I, instead, got a badass harness. Now you’ll be the coolest guy on the block. Happy Birthday/Adoption Day. With Love, Fre.”
Duke, done with the treat, looks to Calum and settles next in front of his folded legs. “Oh, so much work eating a treat.”
But Calum reaches down to gently pats at his tummy. The front of the car is cute, Calum finally recognizes. A cartoon white dog is drawn on it with large pink glasses against a yellow background. There’s no telling where she found it at. Calum looks down to the handwritten letter on printer paper. What would Freya possibly have to say?
Calum hadn’t had the guts to press send on any of the texts he drafted in the three months since they last talked. He wasn’t sure if he could. He is sure that if Freya hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve said so, and she wouln’t have sent this box for Duke. His fingers tremble as he unfolds the letter.
Calum,
I figured you heard me tell Duke he was going to get a gift. And I knew I couldn’t not deliver on my promise to him. But I do apologize if it crosses any line. Please let me know too--if it crossed any boundaries.
I hope you’re well. Congrats on the latest album too.
With Love,
Freya.
P.S. I saw you a couple times drafting a text to me but never seeing one go through. And if you’re asking why I hadn’t sent a text either, know it was fear too. And me not being sure if keeping it open like that between us would only do more harm than good. So I’m sorry. But I am here, in the sense that to the best of my capacities, I can try to be here.
*****
Her bag’s slipping off her shoulders but she finally gets the key into the lock and gets her front door open. She sighs as she falls into the ugly blue apartment door and all but flings herself into her place. The stack of mail in her hands barely makes it to the edge of the kitchen counter too. It was just one of those days and Freya couldn’t be mad at herself. Everyone had days like this.
Putting her keys up and getting her backpack next to the couch, she settles into the stools at the kitchen counter to sort through the mail. One’s a bill from the dentist she visited a few weeks back. The one thing her student health insurance didn’t cover. But she couldn’t complain.
There are few junk flyers that she immediately tosses. And it’s her name scrawled in a almost all caps that catches her eyes before she even gets finished with the rest of the pile. In the top corner for the return address she catches the name: Calum Hood + Duke
“Mail from Duke, what a surprise.”
But the real surprise is Calum’s name. It’s just a plain white envelope with a stamp and the city mark it was mailed from. Freya pops it open and sees a sheet of legal pad paper folded up.
Freya,
Thank you for Duke’s gift. The chews are a hit. The harness is much appreciated for our walks. Though, I think they’re more like walks for me. And Duke gets a little exercise in before he tuckers out. But I don’t fault him. No lines were crossed. So no need to worry about that.
I think I like the idea of mailing letters more than I do like texting. But I understand. Doing the hard thing sucks. It always has and always will. Do what you need to for yourself.
Thank you. I wouldn’t normally do this. But there’s a couple songs--they’re about you. I wanted to give you a warning before you listen to it. If you listen to it, I guess I should say.
Best of luck with your last year of school. You’ll have that Master’s in no time and then maybe soon you can take over the Library of Congress like all your evil plans have laid out. (I know, I know. Not what your Library Studies degree does. But I still think you should.)
With Love,
Cal
Freya chuckles at the Library of Congress comment. She picks up her phone and finds Calum’s thread. It’s easy to want to tell him that she can’t take over the Library of Congress and that she’s glad the treats went over well and that the harness was really more of an accessory to make sure Duke looks like a badass.
But she knows--she knows the ease got her into a pickle before. It’s why she stopped things before they got more serious. But was fear going to always predict what she was going to do in her life? Maybe the ease of things was a sign to continue. But if what if things got too far? WOuld be able to handle Calum being gone? Would she inevitably get her heart broken? And sure no amount of contemplation can predict things like this, but she did want to play with that risk no matter how fucking easy it was in the moment.
With a frustrated sigh, Freya drops her face into the forearms. Her phone is still in her grip with the movement. “It’s never fucking easy is it!” she shouts into her apartment.
There’s silence that engulfs her but it gives no response.
#calum hood#calum hood fanfic#calum hood imagine#calum hood blurb#5sos#5sos fic#5sos imagine#5sos blurb#5 seconds of summer#5 seconds of summer blurb#5 seconds of summer fic#5 seconds of summer fanfic#calum hood fic#calum hood x black oc#calum hood x oc#calum hood x fem oc#h writes
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kissed opportunities
Summary: The three times that Calum almost kisses her and the one time he finally does
Word Count: 5.3k
Parings: calum x fem!reader , luke x fem!oc (briefly mentioned)
Warnings: fluff, bad writing (?) i literally suck, not even calum can save this !
Note: you like that punny title, missed opportunities, kissed opportunities. get it? eh. it’s been over a year since i’ve written anything for this blog, can you tell i’m rusty? but i miss writing, and calm has me feeling some sort of way + quarantining is driving me crazy!
masterlist
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ONE - FLIP THE MONOPOLY BOARD
“I should feel bad about this” She admitted as she watched Calum move the little dog character around the board, until he landed on the dark blue property. The enjoyment in his features slipped away when he realised what was going to happen. A loud groan escaped his lips as he watched the wide grin spread across her lips. “But I just don’t”
Calum watched as she sat up slightly, straightening her back against the couch from where she sat on the floor, hand reaching out and laying palm up, a strand of her hair falling down the side of her face as she leaned closer to him.
She had tied her hair out of her face and into a ponytail before they had started playing, saying that monopoly required a serious amount of focus that only a ponytail could provide her. As the game went on, the ponytail slowly slipped further and further down her neck, until the hair tie fell from her hair and was forgotten about. Strands of hair were now falling down her back and over her shoulders, flyaway strands falling against her face. Every once and a while she was try and blow the strands from her eyes, but she made no move to fix her ponytail.
There was a glimmer in her eyes, the unique shade seemed to lighten as she giggled happily, they were a shimmering river of pure delight. Her cheeks had a pink hue shading them, her skin looking warm and inviting. She had a glass of red wine clutched in her hand, the red liquid that sloshed around in the glass was the same liquid that was painting her lips, making the plump skin look almost red in the dim lighting.
She was getting to the stage of wine drunk. Her movements were becoming slow and less calculated. Her voice had lowered slightly, but it was still effortlessly smooth and still gave Calum goosebumps. Her lips were constantly offering his that smile, where the corners of her lips were turning up just slightly, and he could just see a peek of her teeth between her lips.
She looked cozy pressed against the base of the couch, a dark blue hoodie thrown over her frame matched with a pair of grey sleep shorts, and pair of Calum’s socks attached to her feet. She had complained about her toes being cold around an hour ago, Calum couldn’t ignore the little pout of her lips as she whispered if she could borrow some socks. How could he was no to her when she looked like that, with those wide eyes and those pretty little just begging to be kissed.
“Pay me loser” She snickered as she nudged Calum.
Calum’s thoughts seemed to fade from his mind when he realised she was staring at him with a shit eating grin, hand still held out in front of his face, fingers wriggling. He spared a look down at the board, seeing the dog standing proudly on the square while the words mocked him. He scowled at the board, his lips pouting slightly as he looked at the small pile of money next to him.
“You’re cheating” Calum announced as he turned to look at her, arms folding across his chest.
She let out a loud scoff of laughter, throwing her head back slightly. It gave Calum a chance to take in the smooth skin of her neck, the sight of her bare skin sent Calum in a was that a neck really shouldn’t. Her musical laughter rang in his ears, the sound was joyous.
“Just because your losing, doesn’t mean you can accuse me of cheating Cal” She retorted as she smoothed her hair away from her face, raising a brow at Calum, her wine glass pressed against her bottom lip.
Calum didn’t realise how much he liked when she said his name until right now, hearing the familiar nickname easily slip past her lips. He just wanted to listen to her say his name on repeat.
Calum’s tongue ran across his bottom lip as he watched her place her wine glass on the table, keeping her bright eyes on his face.
“Just calling it as I see it”
Her brows furrowed in mock anger, eyes squinting in a playful glare. She leaned further into Calum’s personal space, but he didn’t make any attempt to stop her, in fact he found himself just inching himself closer to her.
From this distance Calum could smell the light hint of her favourite perfume, something sweet and the tip of his nose, lingering on her skin and weaving through her hair. There was an undertone of something homely and warm that clung to her, beckoning Calum to breath in the inviting smell. It just undeniably her.
“You should just call bankrupt now” She said with a teasing grin, nodded her head along with her words. “And I might just let you off with minimal face rubbing”
She didn’t really pay much mind to the fact that Calum was only part way listening to her teasing, she just tilted her head as she glanced at him. Calum watched her lips as she spoke and as they pouted slightly when she stopped. Her bottom lip jutting out a centimetre or so, if he wasn’t watching the pink skin so intently he would have missed it. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes quickly darted up to her eyes, seeing that little sparkle up close now, her soft gaze trained on his face.
Calum didn’t realise he was moving closer to her, until there was maybe an inch or so between the two. He could feel her warm breath brushing against his lips, he could feel her eyes staring at his own, but he didn’t look up from her lips. He felt a shuddered breath fall from his lips, it would only take a subtle move from either of them, just a small nudge of her head or a swift jut of his chin and they would be kissing.
But before Calum could even think about moving, his hand that was gripping the table in front of him suddenly gave way.
He jumped away from her as he saw the upturned monopoly board, the paper money spread across the floor and their little figure lost somewhere under the table.
“Calum!” She shouted in loud giggles as she looked at the mess the tanned boy had made. “You can’t flip the board when you lose”
Calum’s cheeks were flushed a deep red, a large hand reaching behind to rub at the skin of his neck, embarrassment clearly written over his soft features. He could make out her pink cheeks as she leaned against the couch, hands gripping her stomach as she tried to contain her laughter.
“I guess I’m a sore loser after all” Calum tried to cover his embarrassment.
“You think!” She cackled.
⠀
··· ♡ ↷
⠀
TWO - LUKE BECOMES THE COCKBLOCK KING
“Remind me to never agree to host again” Calum muttered under his breath as his calloused fingers tried to untangle the pile of string lights that were sitting in front of him.
She was standing across the room, bright blue streamers hanging in her hands as she stands on a step stool, hanging them against the wall.
He paused his detangling at admire her. She was wearing a pair of tight fitting blue jeans, they were sticking to her like a second skin, be could make each and every define part of her legs. His dark eyes seemed to linger a little longer around her butt, the denim just seemed to define what was already there. Calum wanted to thank who ever invented denim, because it was a sight he was sure to never forget. Her cream peasant top was hanging off her shoulders, and each time she lifted up the streamers her top would edge up slightly, exposing the soft looking skin of her midriff. The sight of her exposed midriff was slowly driving Calum to insanity.
He could hear her snort loudly, pausing her decorating to peer over her shoulder at him.
“Remind me to never agree to help you set up again” She made a small movement, waving the blue streams in his direction. “Who even hangs streamers at a party anymore?”
The question was more of a scoff as she unrolled more of the crape paper in her fingers.
“Parent’s throwing their children a birthday party” Calum answered her rhetorical question, watching as she gave him an annoyed look over her shoulder.
“And grown men who act like children apparently”
Calum let out a fake gasp of offence, crossing his arms over his chest as he pouted at he, watching as she shook her head at his child like behaviour.
“Luke was the one who wanted the streamers” Calum admitted, throwing his band member under the bus.
He enjoyed the way she threw her hands up in the air as she muttered a string of foul insults towards the lead singer. His stifled his laughter as she continued to whisper to herself.
“I’m going to strangle him with his streamers when he gets here” She scowled as the streamers became twisted with her angry movements.
“I can’t let you strangle Luke, we kinda need him ya know” Calum said bemusedly.
He watched as she shook her head, turning on the stepping stool to look at the bassist, she pointed an accusing finger in his direction as a wide grin pulled at his lips.
“I can and I will”
Calum shook his head, letting the still tangled light fall from his long fingers. He brushed his hands against his denim clad thigh, wiping away the sweat forming on his palms.
She was still facing him, watching as he slowly pushed himself up from the couch. The streamers hanging limply in her hands, he could see her fingers carefully trying to turn the streamers so they were straight again.
He took short strides across the room, his sock clad feel sliding easily against the hard wood flooring. He stopped maybe a foot away from her, giving her a second to see that he was now standing in front of her. She gave him a wide smile as she pulled at the streamers.
She finally got a full view of the outfit he was wearing. A white shirt with an old band logo stretched across his chest, the picture was starting to fade but it added to his appeal. His signature dark pants that she was sure was one size to small for him, not that she was going to complain, in fact she really REALLY like them. His hair was cut short, not quite buzzed, long enough for her to imagine what it might feel like the run her fingers through it.
“You wanna untangle the lights, I’ll put the rest of this crap up” Calum asked as he took another step, the tops of his toes were brushing against the step stool.
Calum reached his hand out to take the rolled up end of the streamers from her hand, his hand brushing against hers lightly, just a mere brush of their fingers.
“It’s a little funny that a bassist can’t untangle a bunch of wires” She said in a feathery tone, smiling at Calum.
Calum gave a scoff of protest at her accusation, but it seemed that the words died right on the tip of his tongue. Her hands reached up to wrap the loose piece of the streamers around his neck, letting it rest against his broad shoulders, she let go of the blue coloured crape paper, but her hands seemed to linger on his shoulders. Her palms grazing against his shoulders, the action let up his skin under his shirt, he could feel her warm skin though the fabric.
He stared blankly up at her, her head standing an foot or so taller now that she was on the step stool, while she gazed softly at his brown hues. He could almost see the gears turning in her head, already feeling her hands slowly slipping away from his shoulders. Calum wasn’t ready for her touch to slip away, and in a rapid movement, his hands gripped her elbows, keeping her hands pressed to his shoulders.
He watched the way her eyes widened at the sudden feeling of his large hands gripping her elbows, calloused thumbs rubbing slowly against her skin. The way her pink lips parted just a fraction as she took a deep breath. An affectionate grin took over his lips as he saw a pinkness creep up on her cheeks.
From this close Calum could see the light dusting of glitter colouring her eyes, a shimmering shade of gold, blending with a matte looking black that Calum thought suited her. He could see the light coating of lip gloss covering her lips, a peachy scent milling around her lips, and he wondered if it tasted as nice as it smelled. He could even see the subtle glow of her highlighter on her cheeks.
“Calum”
She whispered his name so softly, sweet as honey.
Calum’s lips parted. She leaned down an inch, eyes locked on his. Calum’s dark hues were stuck on her shiny lips, he watched the way they parted as she took a breath. She was inciting him and she wasn’t doing anything but breathing, Calum thought he might just be going crazy, but a good kind of crazy.
His hands slipped from her elbows, dipping down to barely touch her clothes waist, hands just hovering above her. She squeezed his shoulders, as if telling him it was okay. His large hands gripped her hips for the first time, thumbs just dipping under the edge of her shirt, he could feel goosebumps lining her skin.
He leaned her body against his, his chest just brushing hers, a breathy sight fell from her lips that made Calum was to scream. He liked that sound.
And just as their lips brushed against each others, there was a loud crashing sound, the front door banging loudly against the wall.
“Who wants a shot!” A loud and tipsy Luke stumbled through the door, followed by a much more sober and apologetic Lola.
She and Calum quickly sprung away from each other, like they had gotten burnt. Her eyes turned down to look are her bare feet, while Calum blankly stared at their intruding house guests.
“Were you two about to-” Luke had a shit eating grin on his face as he wagged a long finger between the pair.
“I’ll take that shot” She announced, smoothing down her top, sparing Calum a single look as he moved out of her way, quickly making her way into the kitchen.
“Nice going big mouth” Lola snorted as she smacked Luke’s arm, following the quickly retreating girl into the kitchen.
“You two were totally about to kiss man!” Luke’s lanky figure strides towards Calum.
Calum give Luke a sarcastic smile, wrapping an arm around the younger body shoulder. “I’m so going to kill you” Calum laughed playfully, gripping Luke’s shoulder tightly.
Luke let out a forced laugh before darting out of Calum’s grip, shouting his girlfriends name. Calum chuckled at his best friends behaviour, ignoring the empty feel in the pit of his stomach.
⠀
··· ♡ ↷
⠀
THREE - CAKE BATTER NEVER LOOKED SO PRETTY
“Midnight cake baking is an essential when you’re drunk” She explained as she took of a box of cake mixture.
Calum had followed her into the kitchen like a lost puppy, taking in her words like they were his religion.
There had been a whole group of them at the pub, just having a drink and catching up, eating good food and listening to a live band. One two many drink had lead the pair to discussing their favourite midnight snacks, and she had admitted that she liked baking cakes at midnight, simply because they tasted better. Calum had now reason to say anything different, because he hadn’t baked and ate a cake at midnight.
She said that is was a disgrace and it needed to be righted if they were going to keep being friends. The pair of them had decided, in their partially drunk minds, that baking a cake was a necessary activity they needed to do. Which is why they were standing in her kitchen, a box of devil’s cake in her hands.
“Open this while I find a bowl” She smiled as she passed Calum the box.
Calum took the box from her hand and watched her stumble around her kitchen in search for a big enough bowl. He opened up the box and took out the darkly coloured dry mixture. He eyed the dry mixture, his clouded thoughts were all coming together in one big idea. He slyly opened the plastic packet and dipped his fingers into the powder.
“I think this one-”
Calum didn’t even give her a chance to finish her sentence before he twisted on the heels of his feet, flinging a small amount of the dark powder into her face. Her eyes squeezed shut as it landed on her face, her lips pursed slightly. He could stop the loud laughter that fell from his lips, it was high pitched and full of pure happiness, or maybe drunken joy? Either way, Calum found it hilarious.
"Calum!” She exclaimed as her eyes opened, locked onto a giddily laughing Calum.
He tried to stifle the laughter, but it started back up whenever he looked at her. And just beyond the laughter induced tears that were forming on his eyes, he could see the corners of her lips turning up slightly.
“You’re wasting the cake mix!” She continued as she snatched the bag from his hands. “Besides you did it wrong”
“What?-” Calum asked.
His brows furrowed in confusion at her words, but he didn’t have long to think them over because she reached a hand into the mixture and pulled out a handful and dumped it over his head.
Calum could see it falling from his hair and down his clothes, caking him in a light dusting of brown. He didn’t even hold his laughter back, clutching his stomach. She was laughing too, loud and occasionally a snort would fall from her lips.
“We- we not gonna have a cake if we keep going” Calum laughed.
“Oh, but I want cake” She pouted.
“Then stop throwing that stuff at me!”
“But you look pretty”
Calum rolled his eyes at her playful behaviour. While she tried to gather her all other the place emotions, she took a deep breath, there was still a wide grin her lips that just didn’t want to go away.
Calum liked when she smiled like that. The smile that she did when she was genuinely happy, the really wide and toothy smile that she said made her look like a child. Yeah, he liked that smile. He liked it even more when he was the reason it was there.
“Okay, cake time” She announced, placing the cake mix and bowl on the counter, trying to gather the other ingredients they were going to need.
Calum poured the dark mixture into the large bowl and prodded it with his finger, squishing the lumps in the mixture. She came to stand beside him, hands full with other ingredients. She dropped everything on the counter in a messy fashion, taking Calum’s hand out of the mixture, while making a tutting noise.
“Don’t play with your food” She reprimanded in a teasing tone.
“Okay mum” Calum rolled his dark eyes.
She snorted as she began to mix in the wet ingredients. Calum watched her carefully, the way her brow would furrow as she tried to put the right amount of everything into the bowl, sober Calum would think they looked like a pair of idiots. Drunk Calum kind of thought that too, but he was more interested in the way she pursed her lips when she was concentrating.
The pouting pink flesh was eyes catching, and all Calum wanted to do was grip her pretty little face and kiss her until he couldn’t breath.
She mixed it all together until it turned into an appetising brown looking sludge, an overwhelming smell of sweetness entering the kitchen. Calum wondered if it was the cake or her that smelled so nice.
She dipped a finger into the mixture, before bringing it up to her lips. Calum watched her do this with wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth, his heart skipping a beat as he watched her clean her finger of the cake batter.
“Better at midnight, I’m telling you” She insisted, turning to look at Calum.
Her head flopped to the side slightly, hair falling over her shoulder, her eyes were glazed over but they still looked bright. His eyes immediately fell to her lips, like they always did when she was standing this close to him. Brown hues falling to the plump skin, seeing pink clash with brown. There was a thin line of cake batter against her bottom lip, his hand itched up to swipe the batter from her lip, to feel the soft skin under his calloused finger. Or to kiss the batter away, slanting his lips over hers and sucking in her bottom lip.
Calum wasn’t sure if he wanted to taste the cake or her lips more. Maybe both?
But he didn’t.
“You got a little-” Calum made a motion his his own finger, brushing it against his bottom lip.
“What?” She asked slowly, squinting her eyes at him.
“You got cake batter here” He repeated the motion with a smile.
“Oh here” She reached a hand up and swept her finger across her lip, brushing more cake batter across the pink skin, which was now stretching into a wide grin. “Oh wait I think I got it” She reached up again and brushed the batter down her lip and onto her chin.
Calum smirked as he watched her do this. He kept his eyes glued onto her face and he lazily dipped his fingers into the cake batter.
“No you missed a spot” He lathered the batter across her mouth and down her chin. He snicked as her lips parted widely in surprise “I think I got it”
Her tongue darted out to lick some of the batter from her mouth. “You know, you should really try this”
“If your offering-” She cut Calum off by smearing the batter down his cheek.
She cackled joyfully as the surprise on his face. Eyes glimmering with mischief.
“Oh it’s on now” Calum announced as he scooped a handful of batter into his hands and threw it at her.
The brown batter stuck to her skin and dripped down the front of her top, landing on the floor right in front of her feet with a loud-- plop. She gasped loudly, moving her hands to her eyes to move the batter from her sight.
“You don’t know who your messing with Hood” She said in a matter of fact tone, flinging to mixture she wiped from her eyes at Calum, who watched it land on his black shirt.
They both stared at each other soundlessly, eyes boring into each others, lips turning up into matching grins. He saw her eyes dart down to the bowl on the counter, before returning back to him. They both scrambled to grab and handful of batter and started throwing it at each other, the brown mixture went flying everywhere.
Calum had it dripping down his face, the front of his shirt was covered and a large splatter was cover his jeans. She had it dribbling down her chin and smeared across her neck, there was a large splotch of batter on her shirt that dripped all the way down to her shorts, her bare legs were covered in chocolatey spots.
The floor was covered in the batter, piles of sweetness coating the tiles, as well as the counter behind them.
She smeared more of the batter across his chest, laughing gleefully when he gasped. Calum took the bowl and held it above her head as she laughed, watching what was left pour down her hair in thick waves.
“Oh my god!” She cried out loudly as she batter slipped down her back, leaving a cold chill on her skin.
Calum snickered at her reaction. She moved her hair from her face, slicking it back, her hands coming back covered in chocolate. She reached up and cupped Calum’s cheeks in her hands, wiping the batter onto his tanned skin. She grinned at him, pearly whites standing out against the dark batter than covered her lips.
“You look really sweet right now” She teased as she licked some of the batter from her finger.
“Wanna taste?” Calum asked, the words falling from his lips before he had the chance to think about them.
Her brows rose high on her forehead, clearly surprised by Calum’s statement. Although she was surprised, she made no attempt to move, in fact she may have even inched a little closer to him.
Calum wanted to slap himself then and there, he felt like such an idiot for saying that.
She couldn’t help the slight flutter that her heart gave. It was beating so rapidly, her breath was caught in her throat. Her eyes carefully took in his features, his rounded cheeks and his shard jawline, his warm brown eyes and his full and plump lips that were covered in batter.
God, she really wanted to kiss him.
God, he really wanted to kiss her.
They both stepped forward, not really knowing if the others was thinking the same, but each of them saying screw it because they really just wanted to kiss each other. But their timing was anything but good, because her foot got caught in a pale of batter and slipped right out from under her, her hand reached out to stop her from falling, gripping onto anything in her reach. Which happened to he Calum’s hand. Taking Calum down with her.
They were anything but graceful, laying on her kitchen floor, covered in cake batter and their own embarrassment.
Tonight just wasn’t their night.
⠀
··· ♡ ↷
⠀
FOUR - FOOT POPPING FIRST KISSES ARE A THING
Three times. Three freaking times!
There had been three times where Calum had been inches away from kissing her. The thought of their almost kisses was driving him crazy, all he could think about lately was kissing her. Every thought he had was about her, if you could look inside his head, not an inch of it wouldn’t be clouded with thoughts of her.
It was making writing music impossible.
Every song he wrote sounded like pure garbage, or it was about an angry he was that he couldn’t grow a pair and just kiss her.
He could tell it was driving the rest of the band crazy too.
“Dude” Ashton had sat down across from him.
Calum didn’t look up at his best friend, he kept his face pressed into his hands, eyes squeezed shut.
“You’re over thinking this” Ashton tried to explain, leaning forward. Calum peeked though his fingers at his, newly dyed, dark haired friend.
“You just need to not think about it, just do it”
Calum scoffed as he moved his hands away from his face, folding his arms across his chest.
Easier said than done.
“I can’t not think about, she’s just- she- god what the fuck is wrong with me” Calum complained as he leaned back in his chair.
“Over thinking” Ashton chimed in, making the tanned boy glare at him.
Ashton chuckled light heartedly, not even fazed that Calum was glaring at him. “Look man, you like her, and not that you can see it but she really likes you too. I think you guys are just stuck in this never ending circle of should I”
“You just need to break the circle, grab her face and just kiss her, no think required. Cause thinking isn’t an option for you right now”
“Thanks mate”
Ashton smiled smugly at Calum. But he knew he was right, they were skirting around each other like teenagers, both to scared to do what they want.
“Fuck” Calum muttered under his breath. Pushing himself up, he straightened out his shirt before speed walking out of the room.
“Where are you going?” Ashton called from behind him.
“I’m not thinking!” Calum called back.
.
“I just- god, thought I was passed this boys are confusing stage” She said through the phone.
She could hear Lola sigh though the phone. This was the third time this week she had called to vent about her feelings for Calum, about how they had almost kisses again last night, and she just didn’t know what to do.
“I’m gonna be frank here, boy likes girl, girl likes boy, sex”
“Please don’t quote Vampire Diaries to me” She retorted, trying to suppress the smile on her lips. “And I’m talking about kissing Calum, not wanting to jump his bones, not that I don’t want to do that- because I do-”
“Are you even listening to yourself Y/N” Lola interrupted her, laughing at her friends rambling. “Just kiss him, then freaking jump his bones so I don’t have to hear you complain about how he doesn’t like you, because believe me he does”
She shook her head. “I just don’t- I- I really hate feelings”
Lola snorted at her comment. “No you don’t, you’re just a chicken”
“I’m not a chicken”
“Yes you are”
“No-”
“Yes”
She opened her mouth to reply when she heard a heavy knock on her door. Her brows furrowed. “Hey, can I call you later?” She asked Lola.
“Don’t be a chicken!” Lola shouted though the phone before hanging up.
“I hate her” She muttered to herself.
She put her phone down on the table, when another heavy knock sounded again. She got up from the couch and walked to the door, turning the handle slowly and pulling the door open.
“Calum?”
She wasn’t even given a chance to comprehend that he was standing at her front door, when his large hands gripped her cheeks, tugging her face into his and slanting his lips over hers.
Shock took over her body, her whole being seemed to freeze for a second or two as her brain tried to catch up with what was happening.
Calum freaking Hood was kissing her.
His hands slowly slipped from her face and into her hair, tugging gently at the soft strands, prompting her to indulge herself. She let out a sort of sigh as her eyes fluttered shut, the feeling of his plump lips brushing against her own, the warmth of his mouth nudging her. Her hands reached out to grab the leather jacket that stretched around his shoulders, bring his body closer to hers.
He stumbled into her body, his hands wrapping around her tresses as he tried to push himself even closer. Calum smiled against her lips, feeling her lips moving against his, a passionate embrace that neither of them wanted to end. She was so involved in the kiss that she didn’t even feel her foot lifting off the ground, it was only an inch above the ground but it was off the ground none the less.
Calum pulled away first, forehead pressed against hers as he took a deep and much needed breath.
“Sorry I made you wait so long” He whispered against her lips.
Her eyes fluttered open to look at him, to take in the flush of his cheeks and the little glimmer in his brown eyes, the slight sheen of her lip gloss covering his lips.
“Worth the wait” She smiled softly, tilting her chin to connect their lips again.
#calum hood#calum hood imagines#calum hood imagine#calum hood one shot#calum hood fics#calum hood blurb#calum hood blurbs#calum hood fluff#5sos#5sos imagines#5sos imagine#5sos one shot#5 seconds of summer#5 seconds of summer imagine#5 seconds of summer imagines#calum 5sos#calmcal writes
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✨Masterlist ✨
You can submit requests, let me know what you think, and be added to or removed from my taglist here 😇
This list includes one-shot fics and blurbs.
Updated December 20, 2020
♀️ = Fem Reader // ⚧️ = Gender Neutral Reader // 🎀 = OC // ✕ = Slash
** = Fluff // †† = Explicit
Feedback is always appreciated! 😊
AO3
——————
Calum Hood
Can We Always Be This Close? ⚧️ **
Power ♀️ †† (sub!Calum)
Young God ♀️ †† (dom!Calum)
Ashton Irwin
Holy ♀️ †† (dom!Ashton)
Just A Touch Of Your Love ⚧️ ††
Lost in Reality ⚧️ †† (dom!Ashton)
Luke Hemmings
Flirty Blurb Night x ⚧️ **
Michael Clifford
She F*ckin’ Hates Me ♀️ †† (dom!Michael)
A Storm Of Trouble ⚧️ ** (pirate!Michael & best friend!reader)
Wherever You Are ⚧️ **
With Eyes To Hear ⚧️ ** (barista!Michael x Deaf!reader)
Your Rainbow Will Come Smiling Through 🎀 ** (dad!Michael)
Cashton
My Heroine ⚧️ †† (poly!Cashton) - part of 5SOS as The Maine 🎵
You Are My Sunshine ⚧️ ** (poly!Cashton)
Malum
Color ✕ ** - part of 5SOS as The Maine 🎵
Growing Up ✕ ** - part of 5SOS as The Maine 🎵
Muke
He Wanted Love, I Taste of Blood ✕ **
Love Like War ✕ **
OT4
70s AU Masterlist (Cashton & Muke) ✕ ** - co-authored with @takemealive
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call if you need me - cth
call if you need me (calum hood x fem!oc) || masterlist || series masterlist
summary: how the love calum has for her and his hopes that she would let that love come to life.
warnings: mentions of sex.
author’s notes: hello! this is my new series based off of vance joy’s album nation of two. please let me know what you think!
next chapter
Calum could get used to waking up next to her. She was the last thing he saw before he had gone to bed the night before, their bodies tangled up in the sheets, hearts racing as they both came down from their highs. He loved her, he knew he loved her since their first night spent together in the darkness of her bedroom, but he wasn’t sure if she felt the same, so he kept his feelings at bay. He could her feel her shifting in bed before his eyes even opened that morning, his arms pulling her closer to his chest, not wanting to let go of her just yet. His brown eyes ached as he slowly opened them, the sunlight flooding his senses. He looked down at her frame, chuckling as he saw the mess of curls atop her head. She smiled sleepily as she heard him, looking up at him, a blush creeping up onto her cheeks. Calum could do this every day for the rest of his life, but he knew that Clementine was just looking for fun, and it seemed like he always found himself in situations like this when he was with her. His heart ready to take the plunge and dive into something new and adventurous. He felt like he had been here before, Clementine in his arms, his love ready to spill out but he bit his tongue, knowing he’d rather have her like this than not have her at all.
She had been broken too many times. Had always worn her heart on her sleeve and dove in deep, only to have to pick up the broken pieces on her own. That was until she had met Calum. She could never find the right words to describe him, none ever perfect enough to showcase how he made her feel. They had started their arrangement a couple of months after she had broken up with her boyfriend, the cheating bastard who took her heart and stomped on it a couple of dozen times before leaving her alone in an apartment she thought she’d go crazy in. Her friends convinced her that going out to a club would help her get over him, help her have fun for once in the entire time she had been living in LA. She remembered how he had looked that night at the club, how the darkness of the club had almost hidden him in the corner of the bar, the occasional flashing lights illuminating him, and showing off the glitter on his cheeks. She was awestruck, his smile was addicting, she couldn’t hear what he was saying but the people around him all seemed to laugh at whatever story he had been telling, he was mesmerizing. She made her way over to the bar, needing a break from all the dancing she had been doing with her friends and their partners.
“Can I buy you a drink?” she heard a voice say, her head turning to look at where the accent was coming from, “Seem like you need something to refresh you, will all that dancing.” he nodded and chuckled a bit, raising his hand up to get the bartenders attention. She was flustered, her mind trying to process what he was saying, “Gonna have to tell me what you want to drink, sweetheart.” he had teased and let out a small laugh as he saw her try to compose herself. “Uh, beer is fine.” she finally spoke out, smiling at him, “Thanks, I’m Clementine,” she said happily.
The pair found themselves a few hours later, stumbling into a CVS with fluorescent lights that hurt her eyes but brought his beauty into a clear view for her. She squinted as she led him through the empty aisles, thankful that he had better vision than she did at that moment. She squeezed his hand gently as she found the wine she had been talking about, her words slurred as she looked at the bottle, handing it to him and nodding. “Trust me, it’s the best thing ever.” she laughed, leaning against him tall frame, Calum nodding and chuckling as he held the wine and a couple more snacks he had grabbed on their way in. And before she knew it, she had ended up tangled in her bedsheets with the cute Australian with an addicting smile, her heart full, and her mind buzzing.
“Flights at eight tonight,” Calum said as he leaned against the bathroom counter, his voice echoing throughout the room. He had been doing a last-minute check on his suitcase, making sure he had everything before he left for weeks on end, humming a small tune to himself. She was in the shower, her hair lathered up in his shampoo, a small smile on her lips as she looked at him through the glass walls. “Thanks again for agreeing to take Duke while I’m gone,” he mumbled, watching his lover as the sun rays coming in from the window made her skin look golden. He was conflicted, leaving for a world tour to do the thing he loved the most made him ecstatic, yet he had to leave the one person he wanted by his side behind forever.
“That’s okay, I’m pretty sure he liked me better than you, anyway.” she teased, stepping out of the shower with a towel wrapped around her frame and one hiding her hair away, “You can Facetime me anytime you want to see him too.” she nodded and shrugged, “It is going to be weird not having you one phone call away though,” she said quietly, her statement causing Calum’s eyebrow to rise, butterflies flooding his stomach. She was going to miss him, the very feeling scaring her as she realized that she wouldn’t be seeing him until the end of the year. “Can also just call me if you need me, yeah?” she mumbled, the question coming out more like a plea, and laughed softly as she walked out of the bathroom, letting out a breath she hadn’t noticed she’d been holding.
Clementine sat in front of her mother, two months after Calum had left for tour, two months of only small conversations and dog updates. Duke sleeping on her lap as she told her everything. She told her mom about how he was electric, how she didn’t know how she had lived before him, and how she was afraid to ruin it all. Her mother chuckled, listening to her daughter vent her feelings out to her, shaking her head a bit and taking her daughter’s hand.
“I just don’t understand why you two aren’t together yet, it’s obvious that there are feelings there.” Clementine’s mother said as she set the plate of pasta in front of her. “You two just need to realize that if you don’t try, nothing will come of it. You can’t just try to ignore these feelings you have for him,” she said softly, “You can’t get struck by lightning if you’re not standing in the rain.”
Clementine looked at her mother shocked, realizing that maybe all she wanted was Calum. She wanted the good parts and the bad ones too. She wanted to be the one he would call if he felt homesick on tour, wanted to be the one who could get him through the dark times. She wanted his love. She just hoped that he wanted the same.
Calum was alone on the tour bus, his finger hovering over Clementine’s contact, he wanted to hear her voice, wanted to know how her day had been or if she had done anything fun with Duke. He had been avoiding her for the last couple of weeks, thinking that maybe it was the best way to ignore his feelings for her. But now he was sat alone on a tour bus as his friends were out exploring whatever city they were in with their partners. And he wished that he had you here with him, his arm around you as you both explored the cities he’d traveled to in the past four months.
“Calum?” her voice was soft, a hint of relief laced into it as she picked up after the third ring, “I...Duke’s okay, he’s at the groomers still, they said they’d call once he was finished.” she mumbled. Calum was silent for a bit, trying to find the right words to say to her, to tell her how he felt. He felt lame, trying to confess his feelings for the girl he loved over the phone while she was thousands of miles away from him. “Calum?” she repeated, frowning as she couldn’t hear his voice, “What’s going on, bub?”
“I-I’m going home for a couple of days.” his voice finally said, coming out more like a question, “I-we have a small break between shows and I, I want to see you and Duke. I want to talk about this, about us.” he held his breath as he waited for her reply, his hands already reaching out to grab his laptop to look for the soonest flight back to her.
“Yeah? I’ll wait for you here,” she said softly, Calum could tell she was smiling, the tone of her voice shifting which made him think that maybe she felt the same way about him. That maybe him booking a red-eye flight back to her would be worth it, that maybe the next time he flew out of LA to do what he loved, it would be with her by his side.
#calum hood blurb#5sos blurbs#calum hood fic#calum hood one shot#calum hood imagine#5sos imagine#5sos fic#5sos one shot#nation of two ch#calum hood#5sos#gemma writes
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fluffy dreams x
ashton irwin x fem!oc fluff
warnings: literally none other than bad writing
[word count: 1.9k]
this is legit based off a dream i had last night, but i added a bunch of stuff so it makes sense lmaooo.. pls don’t bully me this is my first time writing :)
(also, this is during the youngblood era, so like 2018-ish)
I was sitting in a crowd surrounding a circular table. Seated at the table were the four members of 5 Seconds of Summer; Michael, Luke, Calum, and Ashton. They were doing an interview where fans could come watch live. The interviewer was seated on a tall chair in the middle of the crowd. Everyone was listening eagerly to their responses.
"Okay, so now we're going to give the audience a chance to speak with the band! Does that sound good to you guys?" The interviewer exclaimed before pointing to 5SOS. They did a little cheer and clapped their hands.
"What about y'all?!" She gestured to us. Everybody screamed, desperate to finally meet our idols. The interviewer looked worried for a second. Honestly, I would be too if I was in the middle of a bunch of crazy fangirls.
"So we're going to have the guys pick the first person that gets to talk to them. Michael, do you want to pick first?" The interviewer put him on the spot. I felt slightly guilty for him, all of that pressure must be stressful.
Michael looked at his bandmates for help, but they just shrugged at him. "Go on, Mikey. Pick someone," Calum teased, leaning forward on his knees. "Fuck you," Michael mumbled under his breath, barely audible.
The guitarist craned his neck to search the crowd, and everybody in the audience held their breath. I was watching his calculated eyes as they landed on me. "You. The one with the white top and plaid pants," Michael called out. I looked down at my outfit and around at the people around me. Nobody else was wearing that... I don't think. I was about to ask if he meant me when the girl next to me nudged my arm. "He's talking to you! Go up there!" She whispered.
I stood up and made my way to their table. I tried to seem more confident than I was on the inside, because I was secretly fangirling. I think it worked because I didn't receive any sympathetic looks from the guys, only smiles.
I took a seat next to Michael and gave them all a little wave. "Why don't you introduce yourself? In the meantime, let's give them some privacy," The interviewer said before a screen came up around the table. (idfk bc in my dream the other people just dissapeared & then came back so)
"Woah, what the f-" Luke started before Ashton elbowed him in his side. I laughed before I realised nobody else found that funny and bit my lip. I looked at Ashton who had a light smile playing on his face.
"So, um, my name is Hazel and I'm 19 years old. I came all the way from Australia to see you guys," I introduced.
"Oh, we're from Australia, too!" Michael blurted out. I looked over to him with incredulous eyes and said, "No, really? I didn't know that," before giggling.
"What part of Australia?" Ashton asked, leaning back and uncrossing his legs.
"Sydney. I'm basic, I know," I answered while cracking a smile. Luke and Calum chuckled at my lame joke.
We continued chatting for a while, and I felt very close to Michael. He seemed like a funny and genuine person. Our conversation was cut short when the interviewer suddenly removed the screen. "Sorry, guys. You're time is up," She said not so apologetically. "Luke, do you want to pick the next person?" I took this as her way of telling me, Get out, you're time is over sweetie.
I rose to my feet and plopped back in my seat. Luke had picked the next girl- who looked like she was about to faint- and the girl next to me nudged my arm again. I looked over to her with a questioning look. "Yeah?"
"What was it like?" She eagerly asked, her eyes wide and slightly crazed.
"Um, it was good. They were really nice to me and easy to talk to," I explained, a smile forming on my lips.
"What did they smell like?" The girl asked next. I had to do a double take at that question. That's some next level fangirl shit.
"I don't know! I wasn't sitting there and smelling them." I exclaimed exasperatedly. She rolled her eyes and turned away from me, signalling that the conversation was over.
I sighed and pulled out my phone. Mindlessly texting some of my friends back home while waiting for the other girl to emerge. I snapped one of my closest friends, Ruel, telling him that I finally got to meet 5SOS. I only had to wait a couple seconds before he responded with, "omg yasss you go girl". I smiled and shook my head at his sarcasm. A few minutes later, the girl came out of the screen-shield with a starstruck expression. Was that what I looked like?!
The process repeated, but this time Calum picked the person to go in. This time, it was a tall guy with blonde hair. I looked back to my phone before realising how familiar that person was. I caught a glimpse of his face and it was... Ruel? What the-
I angrily texted him so he could see my messages when he came out. How could he not tell me he was coming? He could've at least came with me.
When his time was up, he glanced over at me and sent a lazy grin my way. I rolled my eyes but couldn't stop the smile creeping onto my face. Ruel went to sit down where he was originally and I huffed.
(okay this next part is unrealistic- well this whole story is tbh- but this is what happened in my dream)
"Last up we have Ashton! Ashton, are you ready to pick the last person?" The interviewer stated dramatically. He raised his eyebrows at her tone and exhaled. "Let's hope so," He mumbled.
Ashton scanned the crowd yet again, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. His eyes locked on mine and I gave him a comforting smile; I assumed he would just return the gesture and move on. But his eyes never left mine. Ashton sent me a lopsided grin before exclaiming, "Hazel! Come on up here."
My jaw dropped to say the least. There were mumbles from the people surrounding me, as well as multiple dirty looks being thrown at me. The interviewer glanced around and looked back at the crew mouthing, "Is this allowed?" The camera crew in turn shrugged at her.
I scrambled to my feet and picked my way through the audience. This time I sat down next to Ashton. I figured I would sit next to him because he was the one that invited me. "Why did you pick me again?" I whisper-shouted at him. Ashton just let out a little giggle while looking at Calum and threw an arm behind me.
I shook my head playfully at their stupidity and leaned back. They asked me questions about my life back in Australia, and I asked about random things. I didn't want to be basic and just ask about music.
"Ashton, are you ever going to dye your hair like Michael?" I inquired.
"Nah, he's too pussy," Luke jabbed, making everyone laugh.
"Says you, Mr. I've-never-done-anything-to-my-hair," Michael crowed as everyone laughed again.
I reached my hand up to run it through Ashton's dark brown locks. "I think if you dyed it a red type color, it would look really good," I suggested. He peeped up at me through his eyelashes and I held his gaze. My cheeks tinted pink as I realised our close proximity.
I moved away from him only for Ashton to wrap an arm around my waist. I glanced at him but he was already talking to Calum. I felt slightly awkward in the position, so to free my arm I placed a hand on his knee. Ashton slightly stiffened before relaxing. A grin played on my lips as we all engaged in conversation.
The screen lowered again and the interviewer was talking to the audience. "So that's all the time we have for today! I hope everyone enjoyed themselves, and we'll hopefully see you boys in the future," She winked. "We're going to let 5SOS exit first, so please stay seated until we give you the word."
I made to go back into the crowd when Ashton grabbed my hand and pulled me with them. "We want you to come with us to the back room," Michael giddily told me. "I heard there was a movie theater back there." I sucked in a short breath before following. I relished in the feeling of Ashton's warm hand against mine.
I could practically feel all the people behind me glaring daggers into my skull. Their whispers washed over my head and I felt a wave of anxiety. Ashton must have sensed this as he brushed his thumb over my knuckles. I gratefully smiled at him before looking at the ground.
We reached the 'back room' which was basically a movie theater but with long couches instead of individual seats. I gasped as I took in the lush couches. I dropped Ashton's hand and bee-lined towards one in the center. I settled into the comfortable cushions and reveled in the coziness.
Michael sat down on my left and Ashton on my right. I snatched Michael's beanie off his head, letting out a soft "teehee." He opened his mouth to protest but stopped when he saw me tugging the cap onto my brown hair. "You're so annoying," Michael chuckled.
"You know you love me," I retorted, sticking out my tongue at him.
"Real mature," He rolled his eyes sarcastically, still smiling.
"Hazel," Ashton murmured from beside me. I twisted my head to look up at him. "Yeah?"
He tapped the end of my nose, saying, "Boop." I burst out laughing- even though it wasn't that funny- and they all looked at me like I was crazy.
"Shhh, the movie is starting!" Luke harshly whispered. "Oops," I giggled, mimicking a shush gesture to Luke. The beginning of Back to the Future started playing on the large screen in front of us.
I felt a familiar arm snake around my waist yet again, pulling me into Ashton's side. I leaned up so my mouth was next to his ear. "Very bold and cuddly, I see," I whispered, running my nose along the shell of his ear. The man below me tensed only slightly before rubbing his hand along the side of my torso.
The theater was dark, only the faint glow from the screen providing light. I rested my hand on his knee, but gauged no reaction from Ashton. I lightly ran my middle finger along the inseam of his jeans, moving slowly up towards his crotch area. I heard an intake of breath above me and smirked to myself.
I laid my hand on his upper thigh, making myself comfortable. My head settled against Ashton's firm chest and I let out a content sigh. Our closeness satisfied my craving for human touch. I want to stay like this forever.
...
okay so that's over lmao
peep the ruel shoutout (stream free time) lmk what you thought! :)
#ashton irwin#ashton irwin fanfic#fluff#5sos#5 seconds of summer#writing#fanfic#luke hemmings#michael clifford#calum hood#ruel#help me
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Star-crossed (Part Three); Hockey!Calum
Pairing: Hockey!Calum x Fem!OC
Summary: It was just their luck that they were competing for the same thing.
Warnings: More hockey jargon. Winners and losers are decided.
Notes: SURPRISE!!! Thank you for your continuous love on my lil hockey au (which is not so little anymore.) It raises my spirits getting messages, asks and reading the tags about it. Y’all are the true MVPs for sticking around throughout my writing hiatus!
“Yeah, I’d like to know that too.”
The visiting team’s locker room door was swung wide open as James—flanked by Paul and Kenneth—stood at the entrance.
Blake and Calum were suddenly surrounded by their teammates.
The older Weaver, by two minutes, neared the pair of obviously smitten hockey players. James stepped between them causing Blake to scoff at her brother’s antics while Calum squared up to the man.
The other three Timberwolves neared their defenseman, ready to back their best friend up—in case of a scuffle.
“I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, Hood—”
“Jay—!” Blake gasped as her brother got up right close to Calum’s face.
“—just play hockey instead of with my sister’s emotions.”
James grasped his twin’s hand, tugging her back with the group of Grizzlies who stayed silent throughout the whole interaction. This was a Weaver siblings situation.
“Who says I’m playing with them?”
The twins paused mid-step with Blake turning back to the Timberwolf with an almost hopeful look in her eyes.
Calum smiled at her; the sincerity in his voice being apparent in the expression of his face.
James let out a huff before successfully rallying the Grizzlies back into the locker room. He glared back at the pack of Timberwolves players before shutting the door in their faces.
If Hood thought he could get into his sister’s head to throw off her game; he had another thing coming.
—
Albeit James’ worry—Blake played the best game of her life.
She left everything she had on the ice. She surpassed every limitation she put upon herself.
It was midway through the third period; 2-1 in favour of the Timberwolves who were up a goal, thanks to their captain—Ashton Irwin.
Emotions ran wild, especially for the Grizzlies, who needed to score at least one more goal before the end of the period to keep themselves in the game. Lucky for them, Ashton was not the only captain who could make a goal in high pressure situations.
When Blake scored the tying goal, her linesmen engulfed her in a celebratory hug. In the process, Paul knocked the Timberwolves’ net right out of its place—while trying to get to his captain. With a sheepish grin to the referee, the game was put on a small break to fix the net. All the players on the ice skated to their respective team benches.
“You know, I wasn’t lying back there.”
The Grizzlies captain was approached by none other than the Timberwolves star defenseman. She craned her neck, slightly, her brown eyes meeting his.
They both knew they had a genuine connection that night at the bar—the unforeseen pull towards one another being apparent throughout the game. If only they weren’t meant to be rivals on the ice.
“Maybe once this is over, we can—” The referee’s whistle interrupted Calum.
Blake was being called over to the bench by her coach and team. Her twin brother’s green eyes squinting at the pair of them, from across the ice.
Calum let out a sigh at the cry of his own name—realizing he too was being called over.
They parted ways with heavy hearts and unanswered questions.
In the end, Blake’s goal wasn’t enough.
It was minutes to the end of the third period that James missed checking Calum into the boards and the defenceman’s pass of the puck slid past Paul who didn’t get his stick down fast enough for the block. Kenneth lunged for the puck a second too early—allowing Luke to receive Calum’s pass and shoot at the Grizzlies’ net. Finally, Michael tipped his linesman’s shot—
—past the goalie and into the back of the net.
The final buzzer sounded.
The Timberwolves had won and the Grizzlies’ journey to the championship was over.
—
Calum was thankful the boys let him shower first and change out of his hockey attire—running to the visiting team’s area as Michael and their team of Wolves cheered him on, on his way out.
He laughed as the remnants of a loud, “get the girl” echoed through the hallway.
With his hair still damp under a backwards cap, Calum made it to the area just outside of the Grizzlies’ locker room wherein he last spoke with the pretty blonde captain.
“If you’re looking for Blake, she’s talking down the rest of the team.” James had just returned, fully showered and changed as well; a sports drink in hand likely purchased from the vending machine around the corner.
“They’re pretty devastated.”
Calum could only imagine, if they had been in the Grizzlies’ current position.
“Hey, you guys played a good game.”
James gave the Timberwolves defenseman a blank stare.
“Not good enough, apparently.”
Awkwardly, the two hockey players stood in silence for a moment.
The male Weaver twin let out a sigh. “What do you want, Hood?”
What did he want? In retrospect, the idea of asking out a rival player—one that he defeated only some time ago, sounded a bit far fetched. Telling this to said rival player’s brother even more so.
James already figured as much—his mind replaying how the defenseman’s eyes followed Blake on the ice and the furrow of his brow whenever she would get a check from one of his teammates. It was something James was guilty of doing too, being the overprotective big brother.
With such, he had a few select words for the pining Wolf.
—
When Blake finally exited the locker room, she found her brother alone, just outside the door—staring off into the hallway.
“Jay? You ok?”
James turned towards his younger twin sister, his frown disappearing at the inquisitive look on her face.
“Nothing you need to worry about, sis.”
Blake sidestepped to allow her brother in—an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Her twin was hiding something from her.
Tagged: @irwinkitten @calpops @rosecoloredash @gorgeouslygrace @rainingcalum @cashton-dolan @lockthisheartinchains @lovableah
#ro writes#hockey!5sos#hockey 5sos#hockey!calum#hockey calum#hockey!calumhood#hockey calum hood#hockey!au#hockey au#calum hood imagine#calum hood one shot#calum hood fanfic#5sos one shot#5sos imagine#5sos fanfic#5sos#5 seconds of summer#calum hood
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KNOW IT ALL x THE BAND CAMINO
part 2
a calum hood songfic
read part 1
Calum didn’t want Tillie to be all he thought about, but she was. She littered his social media feeds, his camera roll, his playlists, his conversations… she was literally everywhere. Fuck, she somehow managed to be at nearly every party or event that he went to.
Tonight was no exception.
It was the night of the VMAs, an event both he and Tillie had been to before. They’d never been to it together, but then again, they had never actually been together. He hadn’t seen her intentionally in over a year. Their only interactions had been awkward, fleeting glances from across a crowded room or merely scrolling past photos of each other on Twitter or Instagram.
He knew she’d be here tonight. She just released a new single — a collaboration with The 1975 — and her sophomore album was up for a handful of awards. It was a great PR opportunity and surely she’d win something, so of course she would show up to an important event in the music industry.
He didn’t expect that she would be right next to his band on the red carpet where he could practically smell her. Tillie’s scent always brought memories flooding back. It was a mix of marijuana, Valentino Born in Roma Intense perfume, and, oddly, garlic. She always smelled like garlic. And he loved it.
He loved her.
The weird smell was just the tip of the iceberg for his discomfort. Not only was Tillie there, right next to them, but she had also brought a date. He knew she was dating someone new; the information was everywhere and he’d heard about him via Michael, who’d met him on a few occasions that Calum could barely stand to listen to stories about. The jealousy was gnawing at his stomach and threatened to creep up his throat.
She looked hot. She always did, but she put extra time into her appearance tonight and it paid off. She had chunky glitter highlighting the inner corners of her eyes, something she always did when she wanted a little extra spice for a special occasion.
Tillie was wearing an oversized white button up shirt that could’ve come from her date’s closet for all Calum knew, and the hint of a hem from a tiny black mini skirt peeked out the bottom of it. Her short legs were elongated by a pair of high heeled, knee high boots. In lieu of a tie, she wore a large satin bow on her collar that matched her bright red lipstick. Her long, currently black hair was straightened and tied back in a half updo, a matching red bow knotted around the ponytail.
He could tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra, and that, coupled with her plush red lips and exposed thighs, had his mouth going dry. She hadn’t even glanced at him and he’s already sweating at being so close to her again.
Her date, some ridiculously tall guy that plays for some basketball team somewhere in the country, matches her outfit with a nearly identical shirt, a red bow around his neck, but he’s wearing dark slacks that are patchworked from a mix of fabrics, some pinstriped, some dark gray, some black, and a few pops of navy blue, with platform Doc Martens on his feet.
Tillie dressed him, and he’s sure of it, and he’s jealous. He knows he is and he’s not in denial about it. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s staring at her, either. He’s totally zoned out of the interview he’s currently a part of until Michael says Tillie’s name.
“I know that I’m stoked to see Tillie’s performance tonight,” Michael says, reminding Calum that Tillie will be performing her new single tonight.
The interviewer seems almost too excited at the mention of the petite girl standing a maximum of 10 feet away. “Understandable, I’m excited too! You guys and Tillie go way back, right? She opened for you a few years ago. Are you all still good friends?”
Calum clenches his jaw in frustration, breaking his gaze from being focused on Tillie to now staring at his own feet. He’s wearing Docs tonight, too.
“Oh, yeah, we love Tills. She actually helped write some of my new solo stuff that’s been in the works for a while,” Ashton says.
“She comes over to my house a few times a month unannounced,” Michael mentions with laughter.
“And how do you feel about that?” The interviewer asks. Once more, they seem almost too eager about the information the boys are giving.
“Like Ash said, we love her. She’s usually coming over to hang with the dogs and to binge some reality show with my wife or to challenge me to a Guitar Hero duel,” Michael says. “She has her own key. She’s totally welcome whenever she wants.”
“Why don’t we invite her to join your interview! A reunion of old friends. Looks like she’s on deck to be our next guest anyways,” the interviewer waves at Tillie and her new man to join the band. Tillie lights up when she realizes who’s next to her.
“Oh my god, if it isn’t my four little boys!” She cheers, scurrying over to wrap herself around Michael, squeezing between him and Luke. Her boyfriend — or whatever she’s calling him — stands off to the side, looking mildly uncomfortable due to being left out suddenly.
“Hi mum,” Michael says, grinning down at one of his very best friends.
“Tillie, thanks for coming over,” the interviewer says. She looks very excited by the fact that two artists are engaging on her account. It’s always great for engagement when artists and celebrities interact and she knows her boss will be pleased later on.
“Of course! I’ll take any excuse to see these dorks.”
“The boys have said they’re excited for your performance later. Any sneak peeks about what it’ll look like? It’s your first time performing it live, right?”
Tillie grins. She’s proud of herself. She’s always loved doing collabs, but The 1975 has seemed like an unattainable one until she ran into them at a festival a few months ago and she hung out with them for the day. Between all the alcohol the two parties consumed and Tillie’s loud, unfiltered nature, she brought it up and the band was instantly on board.
“Yes, it’s the first time,” she starts. “But, no sneak peeks! You know me better than to give that info away early, Angela!”
“Boys, is this your first time meeting Nick?” Angela asks. Calum has to hold back a snort as he learns the guy’s name. Of course, he has some douchey name like Nick.
“Mike got to meet him a few weeks ago, but the rest of them haven’t yet,” Tillie answers.
You haven’t spoken to me in a year, Calum thinks. Of course I haven’t met him.
“Michael, do you approve?”
Mike laughs. “No pressure, he’s only right there,” he says and motions to the tall man who’s standing about two meters away from them. “But yeah, I think he’s great. He and Matilda here are great together.”
Tillie glares at the mention of her full name and digs her elbow into Michael’s rib cage, making him glare back at her.
“So Tillie, your album just dropped. And boys, you’ve got one on the way, right?”
“Yeah, we’re stoked,” Luke says with a lopsided grin.
“You’re also performing tonight. Do I get any sneak peeks from you?”
“Think we’re gonna have to follow Tillie’s lead and say no sneak peeks, sorry!” Ashton apologizes.
“Well, I can’t wait to see what the five of you get up to on the stage. Thanks for chatting, but I think we’re out of time now.” Angela’s camera man gives her a signal that must mean that she’s low on time.
“Thanks for having us, Angie. Hope you enjoy the show,” Tillie says while offering her mischievous smile that has haunted Calum for far too long.
As the five of them step out of the camera’s frame, Tillie goes straight for Nick, craning her neck to stare up at him. He doesn’t even bat an eye before he bends down to kiss her. Calum is shocked that she lets him. She’s wearing red lipstick, which, when he and Tillie were whatever they were, she never let him do.
Ashton comes up behind Calum and smacks him between his shoulder blades. “C’mon, let’s go inside. I’m sure we can find more friendly faces to mingle with besides your old situationship and her new man.”
Calum grits his teeth and narrows his eyes at Ashton, but doesn’t say anything. He starts walking toward the entrance, grateful that that was their last press interview before the show itself starts.
Calum heads straight for the bar, ordering a whiskey on the rocks to sip on. He needs something strong if he’s going to be in the same room as Tillie for the whole night. While his bandmates chat with some of their long term industry friends and stop to chat with a few non-famous audience members, he sulks and sips his whiskey, sitting in his seat by himself.
His eyes are glued on a certain black-haired woman that he despises his love for. He wishes he didn’t love her, but how could he not? Even now, he’s watching her be the sarcastic, dry-humored girl that won him over years ago. She’s flirting and teasing, and he can tell by the look in her eyes that he could see a mile away. Her lips are tugged to the side while she smirks at whatever she’s saying, reaching out and touching the arms of none other than Maisie Peters and Taylor Swift, the three of them all giggling together. Nick is a few steps behind her, chatting with Niall Horan.
He almost wishes Nick could see him stare at his girl. He wants Nick to go to Tillie later and ask what the deal is with Calum. He wants him to have to feel uncomfortable about him, for some reason. Tillie is the only girl he’s ever really loved, and he thought that she felt similarly, but the fact that she never said she loved him echoes and flashes and ricochets around his brain all the time. He hates it but it’s true. She never said those three words that his heart ached to hear.
He wonders how long it will be before Tillie drops Nick. She’d dated a long list of people in the span of time that’s passed since Tillie cut off their… whatever you want to call their arrangement. The tabloids have shown her disheveled, doing what some would call a walk of shame every few weeks, blurry paparazzi photos from random dates and kissing a number of different people in dark corners of bars and clubs.
Michael comes to sit next to Calum after he’s chatted with a few fellow musicians and random actors who were invited.
“You good?” Michael asks, even though he knows what’s going through Calum’s head. He’s just trying to show he cares.
“Fucking fantastic,” Calum mutters at a volume that’s nearly a whisper.
Tillie is laughing at something Taylor said and is nearly doubled over. He used to love that she was such a people person and so easy to get along with. She’d never met a stranger, although she repelled some people with her deprecating humor that could easily offend anyone who was too sensitive. Now, he hates that she’s able to laugh with practically anyone except for him.
“Cal, she’s happy. Isn’t that what you want?” Mike asks.
No, Calum thinks. I want her.
Calum sighs frustratedly, his eyes still trained on the tiny woman he used to have latched to him for hours at a time. She was a touchy feely person, and he missed her touch as much as he missed her smile.
“What does that numbskull have that I don’t?” Cal sighs, his gaze moving to stare at Nick. He’s not laughing like Tillie. He’s just nodding along to the conversation he’s in with Niall and Blake Shelton who appeared out of nowhere.
Michael huffs. “This is Tillie we’re talking about, dude. I odn’t know. She wants what she wants and does exactly what she wants when she wants to. She’s happy. They’re talking about moving in together.”
Cal huffs. “She’s happy. Whatever the fuck that means.”
“If you give any ounce of a shit about her, you should be happy for her. Stop focusing on yourself.”
“We were happy. She left me, saying she needed time and space. Next thing I know she’s wrapped around some other girl. She can’t stand to be alone.”
Michael chuckles. “Yeah, because you’re so great at being alone. Don’t act like you haven’t been fucking anything with legs that looks even remotely like her.”
read part 3
my masterlist! :)
#5sos#5 seconds of summer#luke hemmings#calum hood#ashton irwin#michael clifford#fanfiction#fanfic#5sosfam#imagine#calum fic#calum 5sos#calum imagine#songfic#calum x ofc#calum x fem!oc#know it all#the band camino
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Lie To Me - LRH
"I know that you don't, but if I ask you if you love me, I hope you lie to me."
This is a list of all the chapters of lie to me and will be updated as I post the new chapters :)) read on my Wattpad here
1 | Prologue
2 | Model Buses
3 | Heat Waves
started: 12/04/22
finished: ../../..
#5sos fic#luke hemmings#5sos#friendstolovers#love triangle#ashton irwin#best friends#ashtonirwin#calum hood#michael clifford#romance#fanfiction#fanfic#5sos angst#young adult#teen fiction#5sos luke#female song writer#luke hemmings x fem!oc
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𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 · · · · 𝙸. 𝙰𝚞𝚐𝚞𝚜𝚝 ║ ⓒⓗⓐⓟⓣⓔⓡⓔⓓ
𝙲𝚑𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚖 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝 || 𝚗 𝚊 𝚟 𝚒 𝚐 𝚊 𝚝 𝚒 𝚘 𝚗 || 𝚏𝚒𝚌 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝
| PAIRING(s): Joel Miller x fem!OC/reader
| RATING: explicit material | 18+
| CHAPTER CONTENT: POV switching, toxic family dynamics, allusions to and depictions of mental/emotional/financial abuse, high functioning alcoholism
| WORD COUNT: 3.3k
| CHAPTER SUMMARY:
When your friend shares some exciting news, you fear this is yet again someone in your life who will move on and leave you behind. Joel reflects on how far he's come in life after running into an old family friend.
“Here’s a nice tip for you, sweetie,” Mrs. Baker chirped with a bright smile. You watched her wrinkly, dry finger scoot a shiny half dollar across the counter towards you. You fixed your expression into a million kilowatt smile of gratitude. “Oh, that’s so kind of you, Mrs. Baker, but we can’t accept tips.” You’d told her this every week for the past several months – every time she came into the grocery store where you worked.
“I won’t tell if you don’t,” she giggled with a conspiratorial wink. You felt rather certain of that, if your growing suspicions about the state of her memory and mental clarity was anything to go off of. The fact that she was still making these weekly trips by herself was enough to make you uneasy, and the fact that she was the one driving herself here presented an entirely new level of concern.
It was one of the few reasons you’d managed to compile when you were looking for ways to cheer yourself up over having nothing but your old cruiser bike for transportation. You were nowhere near what you needed in savings to even begin thinking about affording a car and all the expenses that came with it. All the progress you’d made previously had been wrenched from you when your dad had found the jar hidden in your closet. It had made him feel vindicated in his “random searches” he liked to conduct on everyone’s rooms. It gave him some sense of justification whenever something cropped up, no matter how rare it was.
But, hey, at least your door hadn’t been beat off its hinges like Calum’s had. And, hey, maybe by the time you can finally afford a car, insurance, gas money, license and registration fees ….. well, maybe you won’t have to worry about encountering Mrs. Baker on the road. You feel a little guilty the moment you think it and feel even more guilty as you shrug and take the half dollar from her. “Thanks, Mrs. Baker,” you say quietly.
You tuck the coin into your jean pocket that doesn’t have the hole at the bottom and finish loading her groceries into her cart. You laugh to yourself when she just starts walking off - you assume the direction of her car. You hope she can remember where she parked it. Your coworkers and boss Jeremy were never as patient with old, confused ladies offering you insulting bits of change in exchange for bagging up all their groceries just the way they like, loading them up into the cart, following them to their car, and offloading everything into their trunk. You always pointed out that it didn’t really take that much time away from your duties and probably made a big difference for someone like Mrs. Baker to have that sort of help. Jeremy would always roll his eyes and mutter something about “not my circus, not my monkeys.” You were just glad Mrs. Baker always came when it wasn’t very busy.
The 17 minute bike ride to and from work was shaved down to a clean 14 with a bit of encouragement from the gloomy clouds rolling in behind you. It’d been a wetter than usual summer according to the weatherman, and it was expected to continue into the fall and maybe even winter. Combined with the fast approaching daylight savings, you’d be in for a wetter, darker commute. Bad news for someone who relied on a bike for transport, but you tried not to dwell on it. You’d just have to divert some of your secret savings and buy a heavier coat, one close to the color of the lightweight one you already had so hopefully your dad wouldn’t notice a new purchase and demand an explanation.
“Dad, I’m home!” you call out. No answer, but that was typical. After all, it wasn’t him who was required to announce every movement in the house. You walked into the kitchen to find him hunched over the table with the paper. You carefully place the six pack on the middle of the counter, casual and unassuming as though it hadn’t become a learned habit after too many times of you having to deal with him running out. His eyes drift up from his work and land on the offering.
“What’s that?” he asks as if he doesn’t already know. You aren’t sure what the trap is or what you’ve done wrong, but you also know there’s no other option than to find out what grievance you’ve committed.
“Just saw it on my way after clocking out,” you lie. You had to double back across the store to pick it out. “Couldn’t remember if there was still some in the garage or not,” you lie again. There was plenty in the garage, but “plenty” in your terms and “plenty” in your father’s terms didn’t always align. Better to play it safe than have to bike in the rain to replenish his stock.
He leans back in his chair now, having decided what exactly he’s going to take issue with. Because it’s always something. “You got a real talent for just throwin’ money away,” he sneers.
You steady yourself as you wash your hands at the sink. Slow movements. Nothing challenging in your response. He loved to lob these decentering comments at you, a sort of puzzle you weren’t really intended to be able to solve. The takeaway was always meant to be that “the obvious” was right there and shouldn’t have to be spelled out for you, but you were just too dense to figure it out. His statement was vague enough that it could be taken multiple ways, all of which inevitably pointed to some failure on your part. At least you always knew that was going to be factored into the answer somewhere.
Was he saying you weren’t good with money because you’d bought more beer when there was already some in the garage? Was he saying that spending money on full priced beer was like throwing your money away? Was he saying that spending money on something frivolous like alcohol was a waste in and of itself in the grand scheme of things? You decide to go with your first interpretation. It felt safest.
“I guess there’s some out there then? I couldn’t remember, sorry.” Accepting some of the imminent blame was sometimes enough to soften the edges of whatever was going to be launched at you. Sometimes it backfired and just added to the fire: you can already see how you deserve this censure, so at least you understand your shortcomings are why this conversation is having to happen in the first place.
“Ever heard of buying in bulk?” he huffs. As if he didn’t stock up every other week at the wholesale store regardless of if it was on sale or not. “Price per unit?”
“Oh, yeah,” you respond in feigned recognition of your so-called error. “Sorry, dad. I guess the 24 pack is just sort of hard to balance on the bike. I’m always nervous it’s going to fall off the handlebars when I get the bigger sizes.”
As if your difficulties getting to and from work were of any concern to him.
“So you acknowledge that you were paying the unspoken price of convenience,” he drawls. Ah, of course. The two birds one stone approach of insulting your efforts and inflating his authority as economic manager. The idea that you would pay a few more cents per unit to make things easier on yourself, to not have to worry about dropping and busting all the cans of beer because you couldn’t balance them. “At least you can admit it.”
He drifts forward again to his work, numbers and charts and graphs that you don’t understand and wouldn’t be explained to you even if you asked. The reprimand had been the short, simple kind. You quietly walk from the kitchen, place the beers in the garage fridge, and head down the hallway to your room. You lighten the load of your backpack and work shoes. The rain pelts gently against the window and is a full on staccato against the pane by the time you get out of your uniform and into your sweats. Getting ahead of the situation – making the call to get more beer without being asked or ordered to do so – had been worth it. You sigh and stare out the window. Thank goodness it was going to be a day where you’d played your cards well enough to come out mostly unscathed. Thank goodness today had been worth it.
The only upside to sweltering August days in the middle of Texas was that contracting jobs slowed a little bit. Sure, interior renovations were still in full swing, but it gave that tiniest bit of reprieve for all the decking, roofing, and sweat-dripping-off-your-balls-it-was-so-hot sort of work that he only ever scheduled for in the “cooler months.” It was the closest thing to downtime he had all year round, even though it was mostly spent on office housekeeping. Catching up on clients and completed jobs. Fostering those relationships so they’d sign Miller Contracting on for another project. Building enough good will and enough happy clients that word of mouth could not only sustain business but had helped it grow steadily over the past decade.
Joel hadn’t ever been much into religion except for Easter Sunday growing up when his mom would give him and Tommy so much chocolate they had barfed it all over the backyard more than once. Yet, he couldn’t help but think about how blessed he felt. He and his kid brother were doing well for themselves. He just wished his parents were around to see it. It would make him happy to show them all their love and hard work had eventually paid off. All those tumultuous teenage years of Tommy getting into all sorts of trouble and Joel winding up a young father without much of a plan on how to support his sudden family. They’d only been witness to the very beginning of their comeback kid storylines, and he’d kill for 5 minutes to show them he’d managed to make something of himself and made sure Tommy was okay, too.
The icy wall of air conditioning smacked Joel right in the face the moment the grocery store doors opened. As nice as it felt to be out of the heat, the jarring change of temperature was something he’d never gotten used to in all his years in the South. He made his way to the convenience section and nabbed a lemonade. He plucked another from the spring-loaded tray just before heading towards the checkout. He wasn’t sure what Jordan liked to drink since he never seemed to have anything except water to offer anybody. At least this way it wouldn’t be so obvious if Joel showed up with a lemonade for both of them.
The wall of heat smacks him in the face this time, along with the blaring sun. He squints and holds a hand to the sky to block some of the blinding rays. He hears the rattle of a cart coming his way and glances over. There’s that cute neighborhood girl he’d see every now and again if he was lucky. He doesn’t remember much about you from when he first moved in – other than that whole strange thing with your mom. He tries to remember your dad’s face in his mind’s eye. Something sort of stony and serious conjures into view. He wonders if he’s just imagining it wrong because your face is never like that. He must be thinking of someone else.
Regardless, he couldn’t remember any of your names. He used to be better at stuff like that. When you smiled at him, he returned it with one of his own and headed towards his car. Yeah, definitely couldn’t have been imagining your dad’s face correctly. No way the snobby frown of a man that came into his head was possibly related to you with your shy but deliberate smile. How on earth someone so insanely gorgeous could only find work at a grocery store was beyond Joel. He wonders if you were even aware of how much money you could probably rake in as a bartender around these parts.
“Is that Joel Miller?” a frail voice calls out.
Joel looks over to see none other than Mrs. Baker. “Well howdy there, Mrs. Baker,” he calls back. He walks over to her four door and wonders how on earth she’s still a licensed driver. She’d been friendly in the church with his mom especially, and even as a kid he was never too impressed with her driving skills. He dreads to think what they are now, multiple decades later.
“How are you, sweet boy?” she asks, all warm and bubbly. He grins back and shrugs.
“Just keepin’ busy. You know how it goes, Mrs. Baker.”
“Well that’s better than the alternative, I guess. Gotta pay the bills somehow.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” Joel chuckles. He glances over to your retreating back as you push the noisy cart back into the store. “You got these folks so wrapped around your finger they deliver your groceries straight to your car, huh? You always were a charmer.”
Mrs. Baker joins him in a light giggle and taps his forearm. “Now now, Joel, I think we both know who the real charmer is between the two of us.”
“Hey, gotta pay the bills somehow,” he laughs in an echo of her words. Her smile widens at his teasing banter. “And, uh, your kitchen still workin’ good for ya?”
She nods and squeezes his hand. “Oh yes, it’s just as lovely as the day you finished it. You boys always do such good work.”
“Thank you, ma’am. M’glad to hear it.”
He edges around to open the door for her, partly to play his role as Southern Gentleman but mostly to get out of this conversation quicker so he wouldn’t be late for his next appointment with Jordan. She thanks him for his gesture and gives a little wave and brief goodbye as he heads to his work truck. If he made all the lights, he wouldn’t be late.
“But there’s something else, and, I’ll be honest, it’s sort of a big deal.” Kenzie was practically vibrating in place. Her high energy was the fun, infectious kind more often than the grating, off-putting kind. You weren’t sure how she maintained such enthusiasm when all she ever seemed to have was good things to share. Wouldn’t you get tired being so happy and excited constantly? It sounded exhausting in a different sort of way, but maybe it was a good thing.
She had a perpetually sunny outlook thanks to her perpetually privileged life, but you didn’t want to rain on her parade by saying things like that. After all, who were you to take away from someone else’s joy? Not to mention she was probably the only actual friend you had these days after all your high school friends had gone off to college or took up actual jobs and move out and got roommates or got married.
Kenzie was just busy and self-centered enough to not really pry too much into your life. It was a dynamic that worked for both of you: her with a constant audience for all her triumphs and growing life experiences, and you with the comfort of never having to say much about yourself or your home life.
“Well are you gonna tell me or are you gonna make me guess?” you tease.
“Uh, definitely not gonna make you guess because you seriously aren’t even gonna believe this,” she whisper squeals.
You have no doubt whatever wonderful thing she’s about to share is very much believable. Good things happened to people like Kenzie. It was never much of a shock when another ray of sunshine came bursting through the clouds of her life. You only wish that some of that “luck” could rub off on our own life. You raise an expectant eyebrow when she doesn’t say anything.
“Okay, so–” she peeks over her shoulders from where you’re both knelt on the ground stocking canned goods “–I’m applying for this paid internship thing my professor recommended me for.”
Your brow scrunches. You thought paid internships were something that existed in the old days when you could still smoke on airplanes and down a vodka martini 5 months pregnant without anyone batting an eye.
“I know, I know, internships are sometimes blegh, but it’s like a legit office and nice company and everything” she explains, wholly misunderstanding your expression. “It’s not like those old offices off the Milton exit.”
You don’t even know what she’s talking about, but you take her word for it. “Oh okay, cool.”
“Yeah, so I’m basically, like, a shoe in for the job since my professor wrote my recommendation. It’s not a full-time thing yet since I still have another two semesters, but over winter break I should have some opportunities to have something more like a real job.” She cringes at her choice of wording. “Sorry, not that the grocery store isn’t a real–”
“–I know what you meant,” you interrupt. “Keep going.”
She shoots you a grateful smile and launches back into her tittering announcement. “So anyway, yeah, if this all goes alright then I basically already have a full-time job set up once I graduate. Can you believe that?”
Yes, you can believe that. “That’s so crazy!” You shake your head and give her a big grin. “I’m sure that has to feel amazing, Kenzie. That’s so awesome, seriously.”
She was a few months out from graduating with her degree in marketing. Or was it communications? You can never seem to remember, and you’re too far into the friendship to keep asking clarifying questions like that. Anyway, it didn’t matter much which one it was since she had pretty much already landed herself a “big girl job” with matching “big girl pay.” The ever present and nagging voice in your head reminds you that she is younger than you and already so much more successful than you’ll probably ever be.
“Hey, y’all both don’t need to be in canned goods. One of you go see what Erin needs help with, huh?” Jeremy scolds from the end of the aisle.
Kenzie rolls her eyes at you with her back to Jeremy. “Alright. You got it, Jeremy,” she replies in a chipper voice. He stomps off as she promises to text you later with the rest of the details. You give her a quick side hug from the ground and tell her again how great the news is.
You stew in it for the rest of your shift. It turns and spoils in your mind no matter how much you tell yourself you should be happy for her and not so focused on yourself all the time. By the time you make it home, it was impossible to ignore the reminders that this was yet another person in your life that you were bound to grieve once they moved on from their station in life and did better for themselves than what they had here. First your mom. Then your brother. Now one of the few people who you’d managed to befriend since graduating high school.
You were left behind. Again.
You were never going to make anything of yourself like everyone else seemed to do.
You were going to be stuck in this place for the rest of your life.
You do your best to control the hectic breaths that start squeezing your chest, but you’re well into a full blown panic attack before you can even pinpoint when it started.
This was going to be the rest of your life, and there was nothing you could do about it.
#fic: Chrysalism#joel miller#joel miller fic#joel miller x you#joel miller x oc#pedro pascal characters#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us fanfic#the last of us fanfiction
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KNOW IT ALL x THE BAND CAMINO
part 1
a calum hood songfic
Tillie Beckett isn’t known for sticking around, and maybe that’s why touring had come so naturally to her, even as an amateur when she first began as an opener for 5 Seconds of Summer a few years ago… hopping from city to city, bed to bed, hookup to hookup. She broke hearts and left messes behind. And she didn’t care about it all, too wrapped up in whatever whirlwind she found herself in next.
The habits became religion as she propelled to stardom. Her music — angsty, energetic, unapologetic, and unpolished — took the charts by storm following her self-titled album’s debut. Her words were raw and honest, and they resonated with her audience, with upbeat and electric sounds that even the grouchiest and grumpiest of listeners couldn’t help but nod along to. It was the perfect mix of relatable and catchy, and that’s what made her the perfect opener for 5SOS.
Ashton had found Tillie’s videos on Instagram, where she often teased her emotional and early versions of songs she was writing. Her raspy voice caught his attention quickly, and he became a follower very early on, before she’d gone viral… which, she has done several times now. When 5SOS was prepping their latest tour, he threw Tillie’s name out as his top choice as an opener, and the rest of the band quickly supported it after they watched her cover of their very own, very old song “Lost Boy” and put a fresh spin on it. It was a song that the band themselves had honestly forgotten about that she gave an entirely new life. They were hooked and called her just hours after Ashton’s initial suggestion to offer her the spot.
Her friendship with the Australian quartet was forged in what, at the time, seemed to be an unbreakable bond. She was invited to dinner at Luke’s house to review the plans, the money, and all the other logistics of the tour, but the nitty gritty was long forgotten as the five of them stayed up until the sun rose the next day, just talking, jamming, drinking, and smoking the stars out of the sky.
She and Calum weren’t instant friends, at least, not the way she was with Michael. Tillie and Michael had bonded instantly over being gamers with an affinity for ever changing hair colors. He could also dress in her wardrobe and no one would’ve been able to guess that they weren’t his clothes, that is, if her clothes were big enough to fit the 6-foot-something Australian giant, since she was a mere 5 feet tall.
But, her friendship with Michael isn’t what landed her on the cover of tabloids.
No, the pictures of hers and Calum’s necks covered in matching bruises were what landed on the homepages of gossip websites. The videos of her and Calum whispering in what they thought were private corners of dive bars spread like wildfire amongst their somewhat overlapping fan bases. Them stumbling down the cobblestoned sidewalks of Montreal, hand in hand, for an impromptu “bachelor party” for Michael littered their tagged photos on Instagram for weeks.
It was a pair nobody expected but nobody questioned. It wasn’t predictable but it made sense.
At least, it did to Calum.
part 2
my masterlist! :)
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A/N: hi i’m actually quite stoked about this one?!?!! sorry to anyone who wanted a self insert i personally feel more comfy in the OC x RP world and that technically won my poll! feels easier to separate as fiction/“characters” :)
#5sos#5 seconds of summer#luke hemmings#calum hood#ashton irwin#michael clifford#fanfiction#fanfic#5sosfam#imagine#calum fic#calum 5sos#calum imagine#songfic#calum x ofc#calum x fem!oc#know it all#the band camino
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KNOW IT ALL x THE BAND CAMINO
part 5
a calum hood songfic
read 1 / 2 / 3 / 4
two years ago
Tillie and Calum turned from being absolutely nothing other than friends to being everything but “just friends” faster than anyone could keep up with. Their friends didn’t bother trying to parse when, why, or how the switch flipped in them. They were used to Tillie’s tendency to get infatuated and get bored, so they just assumed this was yet another shiny new toy for her, except this one was a bit more ingrained in their social circles.
Fans were shocked when the pictures surfaced of the two of them in Montreal online, appearing very much not platonic, but, for the most part, they ate it up. Both of their management teams agreed it bode well for publicity, so they didn’t bother trying to buy the photos greedy paps tried to sell them the rights to.
Calum felt like he was on a high every moment he spent with her. Whether she had her face nuzzled in his neck, her pinky locked with his, her knee touching his, her lips kissing him… it was like a hit of a drug stronger than he’d ever consumed. After the weekend in Montreal, he had practically moved into Tillie’s place.
They spent days at a time cuddled up in bed, swapping stories from their younger years and ordering way too many things from Doordash and GoPuff. They were in their own world, locked away in the walls of her bedroom. Today was the first day in nearly three weeks that one of them had an obligation to leave their little bubble. They hadn’t spoken about it, but they were both planning on ignoring their other responsibilities until the last possible minute.
That is, until Michael Clifford had his way.
She and Calum were asleep when Michael used his key to Tillie’s condo to check up on the girl no one had heard from in weeks.
“Matilda Sloane Beckett, you can’t just fall off the face of the earth and not answer anybody!” Michael yells, stomping through the hallways, looking for his best friend.
Tillie and Calum both look at each other in sleepy shock. They both whisper a quiet “fuck” before they spring out of bed, throwing on clothes so they’re not just naked when Michael inevitably walks in on them. Calum steps into his boxers while chucking Tillie the plain white shirt he was wearing before whenever he last took a shower. Tillie is barely pulling the shirt down over her ass when Michael barges in without knocking.
“I swear to god if you have Cal here—“
Both Tillie and Calum freeze when Michael opens the door, and Michael slaps a hand over his eyes when he realizes that she does, in fact, have Calum there, both of them sporting serious cases of sex hair.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Michael,” Tillie grumbles. She grabs one of the pairs of Calum’s boxers he’d discarded some number of days ago, rolling the waistband so they don’t fall off of her. “We have clothes on, dipshit.”
Michael sighs and takes his hand away from his eyes. He looks back and forth between his two best friends before sighing. “Weren’t you supposed to go to Australia, like, last week?” He asks, the question pointed at Calum.
Calum shrugs. “I moved the flight back.” He ended up moving his flight to tonight, which is when Tillie and Michael are headed to the Cliffords’ home in Sydney. It bought him more time with Tillie, both just the two of them, and on the flight this evening with Michael.
Michael’s eyes narrow. “Why?”
Calum’s full cheeks turn red and he looks away.
“Because he wanted to? What the fuck is wrong with you, Mike?” Tillie snaps.
Mike then glares at Tillie. “Well fucking excuse me for being concerned about my two best fucking friends, neither of whom have been seen or heard from in weeks.”
“If you’d asked Roy, you’d have known where both of us are, Michael. Clearly, your search and rescue wasn’t that thorough.” Tillie glares back at Michael before she picks up the hoodie by her feet, handing it to Calum, who’s too nervous about the two people in the room going in on each other. Calum stares at the floor while he messes with a hole in his hoodie’s sleeve.
Michael is annoyed about a number of things, so he’s practically got steam coming from his ears, but arguing with Tillie is like taking the LSAT. It’s a mind game that exhausts you while you do logical gymnastics in your head. He drops the whole “fallen off the face of the planet” thing.
“Are you at least packed? We have to go to the airport in like, four hours.”
Tillie huffs. “Shit, Mike, are you just here to chastise me?”
“We were going to get Tillie all packed up after we ordered some late lunch, and then head to mine so I can pack before heading to LAX tonight,” Calum says calmly, trying to ease the tension in the room.
“Cal, can I talk to Tillie for just a minute?” Michael says, shockingly far more calm after just a few seconds.
Calum looks to Tillie to make sure she’s okay with that, and she nods, so he holds his hands up in surrender and walks out of the bedroom. Tillie rolls her eyes at Michael as he steps closer to her.
“What?” She asks, her eyes sharp and glaring at him.
Michael steps even closer to her, trying to keep what he’s about to say quiet enough that Calum can’t hear.
“What the fuck are you doing?” He hisses lowly.
She looks up at him, nose scrunched up. “What the fuck do you mean?” Her voice is at normal conversation level. She doesn’t care if Cal hears what she’s saying.
He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tillie, you can’t just do your normal ‘get obsessed and then completely forget about them’ shit with Calum. You can’t just hurt someone we all care about like that.”
Tillie’s jaw drops in shock. “First off, how coldhearted do you think I am? It’s… it’s different with Calum—”
“Yeah, right,” Michael snorts, cutting her off.
Tillie squints at him with frustration. “You may think you know everything about me, Michael, but you don’t. It’s different with Calum. I actually like him.”
Michael laughs loudly and claps his hands together. “Ha! Yeah, you ‘actually liked’ Hannah, too. And Ben. And Priya. And Wyatt. And—”
She rolls her eyes again. “You’ve made your point, and you’re wrong. It is different this time.”
He stares at her, wanting to believe her, but truly worried for Calum’s well-being if he keeps pursuing whatever this is with Tillie. He sighs, the sincerity in Tillie’s big blue eyes almost scares him. He’s never truly seen her have feelings for anyone. She’s been infatuated with and attracted to plenty of people, but liking or loving someone as a person, not just a body, hasn’t happened in the few years he’s known her. He’s not sure if it’s ever happened.
“Okay, if you say so.”
She nods, hoping that he actually believes her and isn’t just dropping that. “I don’t want to hurt him, Mike. I know how good he is, and I don’t want to do anything that would make his golden heart tarnish, okay?”
Tillie does like Calum. She likes him more than she thinks she’s ever liked anyone, and that’s a little scary to her. Actually, it’s far more than a little scary. It scares her shitless. She doesn’t know how to do the ‘relationship’ thing, but if she’s going to try it with anybody, it’s going to be Calum Hood.
At that, Michael starts to smile. It’s not like Tillie to get so poetic in her conversations. Her songs are poetic. When it comes to music, she writes killer lyrics that cut deeply, but Tillie’s day-to-day vocabulary primarily consists of cuss words and slang. She also doesn’t talk about her feelings. At all. This is a new side to Tillie.
“Aw, do you have a crush?” He asks. The mood is now significantly lighter, and a cocky smile is now tugging the corners of his mouth.
Tillie punches his shoulder, hard. “Shut the fuck up, Clifford.”
She then exits the bedroom, headed straight for the kitchen, where Calum is pulling random ingredients out of her fridge. He looks somewhat goofy in just his boxers and a hoodie, his dirty hair sticking up in all sorts of directions. He smiles at her as she walks in, a nearly empty thing of cottage cheese in his hands, along with a bottle of her favorite Cholula hot sauce.
“What do you say we throw together some weird mix of things that will go bad if we don’t eat them?” He asks.
She grins and nods. “Hell yeah.”
“Mike, want lunch!?” Calum yells out, not sure where his friend is in the condo currently.
He appears in the kitchen seconds later. “What are you making?” He asks, an eyebrow raised as he takes in the random assortment of items on the counter.
“Everything?” Cal says, laughing.
Michael agrees to stay for lunch, and the three of them have fun eating all the random things in the fridge. They discover that some had already gone bad by Michael unfortunately taking a bite of them and making a disgusted face. Michael takes out the trash after they’ve all eaten and cleared out the fridge, leaving just Tillie with Calum again.
“Why do you spend Christmas with the Cliffords?” Calum asks, helping Tillie out with her packing by folding everything that she tosses at him. He’s gotten to be an expert at packing after so many world tours, whereas Tillie normally just tosses a few things into a suitcase and buys a bunch of random stuff while in different cities.
Tillie clears her throat as it goes dry. She throws another hoodie in Cal’s direction, ignoring his earlier comment that it’s summer in Australia and she doesn’t need several hoodies.
“I, uh, don’t really have anywhere else to go,” she says.
Calum’s head snaps up, his focus on folding breaking quickly. She’s from North Carolina and had grown up there. She has her sister, which, he knows she has a complicated relationship with, as he’d learned in Montreal. Why isn’t she headed to the other side of the country, rather than across the Pacific?
“I just figured you’d go to your parents’,” he says. He doesn’t want to pry, but he really did think that’s where she’d go. She has spent every other Christmas that he has known her with Michael in Australia, and always found that odd, but never had enough of a relationship with her to actually ask about it.
He watches as her facial expression shifts to sadness. Worry lines wrinkle her forehead and she chews on her lower lip. “No. I don’t have a relationship with them anymore.”
How had he not known that?
“Shit, Tillie, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” He debates standing up so he can hug her, but he doesn’t. He’s pretty sure she will pull away from him if he reaches out to her, both emotionally and physically.
She shrugs, resuming her search in her mess of a closet. “It’s fine. Old news. Mike’s the only person outside of my family who knows.” She throws a graphic t-shirt at Calum, hitting him square in the face, just like she’d hoped. “Oops,” she says, smiling smugly.
“Tillie, you have at least twenty other graphic tees in here, do you really need another?!”
“Define ‘need’?”
“We’re going for two weeks, not two months. I’m cutting you off. You have plenty of clothes, and even if you didn’t you know you’re going to be stealing half of Mike’s clothes anyway.”
“Okay, but I definitely need more underwear. Am I allowed to bring more underwear?”
At that, Calum perks up. “Hmm, but if you’re hanging out with me, will you still need underwear?”
Tillie rolls her eyes. “Unless you intend to spend your entire trip to Australia in your childhood bedroom, naked, with me, yes, I need underwear.”
She turns around to head to her dresser, keeling over in laughter when she finds Calum with her black lace thong on his head like a weird hat. She whips out her phone, quickly snapping a photo before Calum can stand up and grab it from her.
“No!” He whines, grabbing the phone from her hands before she can take another.
“Don’t give me a reason to take a picture of you being stupid if you don’t want me to take a picture of you being stupid!”
Calum pouts, bending over and throwing Tillie over his shoulder, quickly starting to run out of the room. He runs laps around the living room while she howls with laughter.
“Delete the picture and I’ll put you down!”
“Honestly, I’d be perfectly happy if you carried me for the rest of my life.”
His heart skips a beat. Doing anything with Tillie for the rest of her life sounds like a dream come true. He doesn’t put her feet back on the floor but puts her on the kitchen counter so they can be at eye level. She opens her legs so he can fit between them, their arms instinctively wrapping around each other. She’s staring into his brown eyes and he feels like she’s staring at his soul.
“Y’know, I’m sorry it took so long,” she starts, shocked at herself and that these words are coming from her, “for me to actually admit that I, uh, like you.”
Calum blushes but he can’t help but smile. “I, uh, like you too,” he says, somewhat mocking her, even though he means every single letter in every single word.
“I’ve always been a sucker for a slow burn.” Tillie smiles while she speaks. Cal realizes she doesn’t smile with her teeth very much, but she’s so beautiful when she does. He makes a mental note to try to make her smile like that more.
“Feelings have always seemed so scary,” she continues. “Letting people in, I’ve just always felt like I’d end up burned. But with you, I think I realized, it might be my turn.”
Calum lights up with a beaming smile. “Tills, that sounds like a fucking song.”
She snorts. “That’s way too cheesy to be a song of mine. Maybe your boyband can use it.”
He gasps with fake offense. He knows Tillie is just giving him shit, and she doesn’t consider 5SOS a boyband. He sticks his tongue out at her and she leans forward, pressing the tiniest bit of her tongue against his, which makes him giggle. He kisses her nose, and then she grabs the back of his neck, pressing her lips against his and wrapping her legs around him to pull him even closer.
She’s not used to being close while feeling close, and she’s not sure how she feels about the idea.
next part!
#5sos#5 seconds of summer#luke hemmings#calum hood#ashton irwin#michael clifford#fanfiction#fanfic#5sosfam#imagine#calum fic#calum 5sos#calum imagine#songfic#calum x ofc#calum x fem!oc#know it all#the band camino
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KNOW IT ALL x THE BAND CAMINO
part 3
a calum hood songfic
read part 1 / 2
two years ago
Michael’s birthday had come and gone, but the whole thing had been planned by his fiancée. He loved her and he loved the weekend that she’d planned for them, but he wanted a proper weekend of being an idiot with his friends, rather than being on his best behavior and having a picture-perfect weekend that Crystal could share on social media.
Cal could tell that Mike wanted a chance to be a blubbering idiot for a night or two. He knew that they’d all have to grow up eventually and stop doing the dumb shit at some point, but this year wasn’t the year that they grew up. They all knew it, but Cal was the only one who took action.
He booked an AirBNB in downtown Montreal and found a ski resort about 30 minutes outside of the city to spend a day or two on the slopes, knowing they’d spend the better part of the weekend drunk and acting like fools with each other at dive bars and singing karaoke.
The place he booked was huge, so he told Michael to invite anybody he wanted. Because it was a bit last minute, not a ton of people were able to join. It ended up being the band, Roy, Brian, Tillie, and Tillie’s guitarist that they’ve all befriended over the past year and a half, Marco.
Even though they were all flying in from LA, they all arrived at different times of the day. Cal had flown in last night to make sure everything was ready to go. He stocked up on booze, went grocery shopping, and scouted out the ski resort to make sure it would be suitable for a few “celebrities” to spend time at.
Mike and Tillie had flown in together, of course, and it made Cal jealous. He’d been a sucker for Tillie since the night they met, but she was either entirely oblivious to it or simply uninterested. He hoped she was just oblivious, but he tried not to figure out which it was, too scared to truly consider the possibility that she wasn’t into him at all.
Tillie’s contact photo lights up his screen as she calls him, and he answers instantly. He hopes it comes off as just being expectant of them, rather than someone who’d pick up as soon as humanly possible whenever she calls. Both are true.
“Hi, Matilda,” he answers, smirking at the use of her full name, knowing it would make her annoyed. Tillie was fun to tease, but only if you weren’t faint of heart. You had to be ready and willing to be met with twice the amount of insult that you doled out if you wanted to talk shit to Matilda Beckett.
“Shut the fuck up, Thomas.”
“Nice to hear your voice, too,” he dryly says.
“We’re here. Come let us in or we’re gonna go have fun without you.”
“Coming,” Calum answers, already halfway to the door. He wants to spend the whole weekend by Tillie’s side.
Calum makes his way to the front door of the condo and then rides the elevator down to the lobby, where he finds Michael and Tillie dressed in nearly identical outfits. Both are wearing black joggers with black sneakers, along with black hoodies layered over turtlenecks. Tillie’s currently blue hair is partly hidden under a red beanie, whereas Mike’s blonde hair is topped off with a black baseball cap.
The only other difference in their outfits is the white satin sash across Michael’s body that says “bride to be.”
“What the fuck is that?” Calum asks through laughter, his eyes focused on the sash.
“This idiot isn’t planning on having a bachelor party, so I’m forcing him to make this a bachelorette weekend.” Tillie says it so matter of factly, as if Calum should’ve known the reasoning without her explaining it. She’s already stepping into the elevator with her black suitcase rolling behind her and Michael following suit.
They ride up to the floor they’re staying on and while they walk, Michael is on the phone with Crystal, talking about some “emergency” with their wedding planning. Tillie side eyes Calum, trying not to laugh at how little Mike obviously cares about the satin tablecloths Crystal wanted that are unavailable.
Michael retreats to the balcony when they get to the AirBNB, leaving Tillie and Calum in the living room with their luggage. Tillie reaches into her hoodie pocket and pulls out a baggie of colorful candy.
“Brought eddies. Want one?” She asks and pulls out a small gummy to offer it to him.
Calum eyes the candy. “Maybe later? Once everyone is here.”
Tillie rolls her eyes. “You’re no fun.” She doesn’t say anything else before she heads toward the bar cart in the corner. She grabs the bottle of Casamigos from the top shelf, pops the lid off, and then takes a few gulps of the tequila. Wordlessly, she holds the bottle toward Calum.
He’s already turned her down once, and he fears that, if he turns her down again, she’ll stop offering things. Thus, he takes the bottle from her and swallows a mouthful before handing the bottle back to Tillie.
She’s smiling at him, a glint of cockiness in her eyes. “Didn’t expect you to be one to give into peer pressure so easily, Hood.”
Truthfully, he wasn’t, but something about Tillie has him completely willing to do whatever she says. He’d jump off a cliff if she told him to.
“C’mon, Tills. You know me better than that. A shot of tequila is nothing for me.”
She raises an eyebrow and then holds the bottle back out to him. “Okay, then take another.”
Calum hesitates before doing what she says.
He’s practically squinting under her intense gaze, her blue eyes piercing into his skin in a way that’s painfully pleasant to Calum. He’s grateful when Mike reenters the room, hanging up his call with Crystal.
“Okay, crisis averted. I’d like to go get a beer and a snack, if you guys are up for it,” Michael says. He notes the bottle of tequila in Calum’s hands but doesn’t question it. When Tillie is involved, substances are involved, and she’s known for being a bad influence.
Calum doesn’t get a chance to speak before Tillie does.
“Whatever the bride-to-be-slash-birthday-baby wants!” Tillie cheers.
Michael rolls his eyes. “Tillie, you’re younger than me. Why do you always call me a baby?”
Tillie smirks her classic smirk that makes something in Calum’s chest tighten. “Because you act like one. You’d all be so fucking lost without each other like babies are without their moms. Don’t worry, Mike. It’s cute.”
Calum watches as Michael’s eyes roll again.
“Don’t test me, Matilda. This is my weekend, remember?”
Tillie cackles and shakes her head. “Yep, I know. Bachelorette trip in Montreal. Let me get changed and then we can head out?”
Calum and Michael wait in the living room while Tillie goes into a bedroom to get dressed and freshen up. Calum uses the time to text the rest of the gang for the weekend how to get into and out iof the AirBNB and shares his location with them so they can find the trio wherever they end up.
When Tillie re-enters the room, she’s still wearing all black, but this time she’s wearing a long sleeve, black corset style top that has the tiny tattoos on her collarbones exposed, and tight black jeans cover her legs. She’s kept on her black sneakers and taken off the beanie, her hair now just laying straight over her shoulders. She threw on some makeup but not a ton, but, if you ask Calum, she’s the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.
“Close your mouth, Thomas. Let’s go.” She walks up to him and lightly smacks his face, headed straight for the door without looking back.
Michael snickers as Calum blushes, both of them following the sassy girl out of the condo once more.
Countless shots of tequila, beers, and a few bites of Tillie’s edibles later, the whole crew is now in Montreal and well intoxicated at a dive bar. Tillie had coordinated with Ashton to bring more “bachelorette” items with him, so everyone is now wearing satin pink sashes that say “bride tribe” to match Michael’s. Some of the boys are wearing sparkly pink headbands that have penises attached like antennae while Michael has a veil clipped onto his baseball hat. They all look like fools, but Calum is happier than he’s been in a long time.
Tillie is standing on a booth bench with Luke while they scream along to “Everytime We Touch” by Cascada. Calum is just staring, the weed gummy hitting him hard and he feels like his head is floating, smiling contently at the girl he’s been crushing on, hard, for so long.
“Tommy!” Tillie yells. She’s incredibly high, but not too drunk. Drunk Tillie is talkative, whereas High Tillie is smiley and goofy. She’s had a cheesy grin on her face for the last 30 minutes.
Calum waddles over to her, feeling like he’s wading through a pool. He used to hate that she almost exclusively calls him by his middle name, but now he loves it. She has a nickname for him, even if it’s not all that creative.
“What’s up, Tills?” He asks. He barely has to look up at her, even though she’s standing on the bench. She’s so tiny.
“If you’re gonna stare, you might as well do it up close,” she says, only loud enough for him to hear her. It makes his heart thud quick and hard in his chest and he blushes, but he doesn’t look away from her blue eyes.
Tillie holds her hands out to him, offering to pull him up to stand next to her and Luke. He takes them, feeling on cloud nine because of the way she just flirted with him. When Calum is standing with Tillie, she doesn’t let go of his hands and moves them around while she continues to scream the lyrics of the song.
Calum is over the moon at the physical contact and relishes in the moment, singing and dancing along with her. The bar plays “Dear Maria Count Me In” next, then “What’s My Age Again,” and then, as soon as the opening notes to “Sweet Caroline” start playing, Tillie scrunches up her face in disappointment.
“I’m not white enough for this shit,” she says, craning her neck to make sure Calum hears the words she says. “Wanna go to the patio?”
Calum, bewildered by her suggestion that they step outside, just the two of them, just nods quickly. “Yeah, sure, that works.”
She looks up to him with her eyes wide and a smile tugging at her lips. “Go get me a PBR and meet me out there?”
Once more, he’s stunned, but wordlessly nods, stepping down from the bench before helping Tillie down to the floor. She mumbles something along the lines of ‘see you out there’ before she disappears, and Cal hurries to the bar to order her beer and another for himself. He also orders a shot for himself, needing an extra boost of liquid courage.
As he’s walking out toward the patio, Ashton stops him. “Where are you going?”
Cal’s cheeks flush. “Tillie and I are going to the patio.”
Ashton widens his eyes in surprise. “Oh, that sounds nice, I’ll join—“
Calum cuts his best friend off with an expression that begs him to shut up.
Ashton then smiles and shakes his head. “Fine, I’ll give you your moment.”
“I’ve only been trying for two fucking years,” Calum mumbles while grabbing the two beer cans from the bartender. “It’s under Hood,” he say to the bartender, who nods.
“Good luck, Cal. She’s a tough nut to crack sometimes.”
Cal glares at Ashton. “No shit.”
He’s walking out toward the patio before Ashton gets a chance to say anything else, a smile reforming on his lips when he sees Tillie outside, taking selfies with the city lights behind her.
“Need a camera man?” Calum asks as he approaches her. She rolls her eyes and takes the beer from him, gulping down a few sips.
“Nah, just wanted to post a picture to my close friends story.”
Calum nods. He sips from his own beer can. It’s not silent, since he can still hear the music inside, but now that it’s just him and Tillie, he doesn’t know what to say. She makes him so nervous, but he’s so excited to have her to himself, even if it’s just for a moment.
“Mike’s really glad you threw this whole thing together,” Tillie says, filling the air with conversation easily.
Calum smiles. “He’d do it for me, so it’s only appropriate.” He gazes at Tillie, noting that her hair is now pulled up into a ponytail, a little sweaty from her dancing and being surrounded by so many warm bodies. Her lipstick is faded, almost completely gone, and her eyes are tinted pink. “I’m sure he loves the bachelorette shit you’re pulling, even though he’s being grumpy about it.”
Tillie smirks at him. “Yeah, well, can’t let you steal the best friend title from me.”
“Excuse me! You stole it from me first!”
“Can’t help it that I’m cooler than you, Calum.”
Calum frowns. She called him Calum, not Tommy and not Thomas and not Hood. He can’t disagree with her though. She’s far cooler than he’ll ever be.
“Maybe we can just share?” He asks.
Tillie smiles. “I don’t share, Thomas.”
Something comes over Calum and the words he says shock even himself. “You’d never have to share me, Matilda.” When he realizes what he’s just said, his whole face turns bright red.
Tillie doesn’t say anything, she just nods. She keeps drinking her beer, but when she pulls the can away from her mouth, Calum realizes she’s smiling.
“You know,” she starts, “I thought you were scared of me for a very long time.”
Calum laughs. “I was. I mean, hell, I am.”
She grins. It’s a wicked grin that makes her eyes sparkle. “Good.”
Calum snorts before he and Tillie both fall into a fit of giggles.
“It’s a good scared, though, Tills. Makes me want to talk to you even more, even if it scares me.”
Tillie’s expression turns unreadable and she keeps sipping from her beer can. Her eyes focus on the metal tab, and her fingers follow suit, fiddling with the small piece of metal. Eventually, she sighs.
“I feel like you have me on this pedestal, Cal. And I haven’t earned it.”
Has Tillie always known I’ve had a crush? Calum thinks.
“I don’t have you on a pedestal, Tillie. I just…” he trails off. He wants to say he’s practically in love with her. He can’t say that, so he just doesn’t finish his sentence.
She shakes her head. “However that sentence ends, I don’t deserve it.”
Calum is bewildered. Tillie, the confident, snarky, sassy girl that he’s spent countless days with, is insecure. How had he not seen that? How could she be insecure when she’s so… Tillie? Tillie is loud. She’s sure of herself. She doesn’t give a shit. She does what she wants and doesn’t care what anyone else thinks.
As if she can read his mind, Tillie continues. “I’ve done some fucked up shit, Calum. You’re too… nice for me.”
He raises his eyebrows. “I’ve done some fucked up shit, too, Tillie,” he counters.
Tillie snorts a laugh. “Yeah, sure.”
Calum shakes his head. “Tills, we’ve all made mistakes.”
Her lips press together, her mouth forming a straight line. She debates dumping all of her past on him, right then and there. She won’t lie. She’s wanted to pursue Calum. He was kind and funny and she’s never slighted the fact that she found him incredibly attractive. She just thought he was way too good for him. He should’ve been with a person with way less baggage than she.
“I’ve made too many big ones, Cal. Far more than it takes to disqualify me from being a good person.”
Calum wants to scream. He doesn’t care if she thinks she’s a good person. He knows she is. She’s a good friend, a wonderful companion. She’s thoughtful and he thinks she’s the funniest person he’s ever met. Her confidence is irritatingly high, but he loves that about her. It’s a quality he wishes he had.
“I don’t believe you.”
Tillie rolls her eyes. “Whether or not you believe me, Cal, it’s true.”
Calum takes the chance to roll his eyes back at her. “I don’t believe you. I have zero confidence that it’s true, Tillie. Your heart is too big.”
She has to hold back from pouting out her lower lip. “I’ve fucked up, big time, too many times—“
“Try me,” Cal says, cutting her off
“What?”
“Try me. Tell me one of these big bad things you’ve done and I’ll tell you if it makes you a bad person.”
Tillie looks like she’s on the brink of tears, and Calum suddenly feels horrible for pushing her to this point. She takes a big, deep breath before she speaks again.
“No judgment?” She asks. Her voice is smaller and more shy than he’s ever heard it.
Cal shakes his head. “I could never judge you, Tills.”
She takes a deep breath. “My sister got kicked out of our house because of me.”
When Calum doesn’t say anything, she takes it as a cue to keep talking.
“My parents found a stash of weed in our bathroom. It was mine. We both knew it was mine, but I was young and dumb and I said it was hers. I found a picture of her smoking with friends on her ‘finsta’ and showed it to my parents as proof. I didn’t think they’d kick her out. I thought they’d be pissed, ground her maybe, but I didn’t think she’d be kicked out.k”
She lets the words sink in for Calum, but he seems unfazed.
“And you were how old?”
“Like 15, but—“
“Tillie, you were young and stupid. You clearly regret it. Sure, it wasn’t a good thing to do, but it doesn’t make you a bad person.”
Tillie still looks upset, but she puts on a front and smiles. She’s good at faking it, and it makes him wonder how many times she’s done this around him and he hasn’t detected it.
“I haven’t talked to her since the night they threw her out,” she confesses. She’s staring at her beer can.
“Have you tried to reach out and apologize?”
“She calls me like every other month and leaves a voicemail. I just don’t answer.”
Calum’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Why don’t you answer?”
“I’m scared.”
“Tills, it sounds like she just misses her sister if she’s still calling you regularly,” Calum tells her, trying to reassure the girl that she has no reason to be scared.
Tillie doesn’t say anything in response. Her eyes stay trained on her beer. Calum wants to hug her or hold her hand, but he doesn’t know how she’d react, so he keeps his hands to himself. He’s already making leaps and bounds in his quest to pursue her by simply being alone with her. He doesn’t even care that it’s cold as shit outside. He’s with Tillie and she’s telling him things.
“I’ve never told anyone that,” she says to break the silence.
“That you’re scared?”
“No. Well, yes, but the whole thing. I’ve never told anyone what I did.”
Calum tries not to lose his shit. She trusts him. She trusts him enough to tell him something she’s never told anyone.
“It’s not good to keep everything bottled up, Tills,” he says. “Thank you for telling me.”
Tillie laughs quietly and shakes her head. “You’re just so… nice.”
He raises his eyebrows in response. “Thank you?”
She giggles then, and Calum is happy to hear the sweet sound. He’s not used to her being anything but lively and confident. The insecure and scared girl he just saw for the first time wasn’t the Tillie he knows.
“You’re so soft. I feel like I’ll break you if I look at you the wrong way.”
“I’d let you break me any day of the week, Matilda.”
That must’ve been the right answer because before he knows it, Tillie’s kissing him, her hands tangled in his curls. He’s taken aback but entirely happy about it, kissing her back instantly.
He has no idea what he’s just gotten himself into.
read next part
#5sos#5 seconds of summer#luke hemmings#calum hood#ashton irwin#michael clifford#fanfiction#fanfic#5sosfam#imagine#calum fic#calum 5sos#calum imagine#songfic#calum x ofc#calum x fem!oc#know it all#the band camino
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