#prince! calum au

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Sweet Dreams--Part 7

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

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

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

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

Series Masterlist

My Complete Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course, baby. C’mon.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is?”

“To worry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How dare I do such a thing?”

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

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

“I can take a hint,” Calum laughs.

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

“I’m not the work,” you laugh again.  

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

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

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

“See anything interesting?” Calum asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, too formal,” he interjects. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Really good.”

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

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

“Thanks, baby.”

“You’re welcome, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s what Turner said too.” 

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

“Does the perfect job really exist?”

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

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

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

“Are you now saying you regret your duties?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Love you,” Calum whispers against your lips. 

“Love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Booth or a table then?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Burger,” you return. 

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

“You clearly come here often.”

“It’s good food,” Calum defends. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for listening.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you have some of what I got?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“C’mon,” you encourage. 

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

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

“I am sure it does.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’d he do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No harm, no foul, Calum.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “Yeah, I’ll let her know.” 

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

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

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

“I’d appreciate that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I’m happy to assist.”

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

“Like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

Yet, you haven’t cracked the code. 

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

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

“With friends?” you ask. “Is there anyone else you know who likes to paint?”

There it is. That’s what Calum was waiting for. His shoulder drops and he waves you over with a wag of two fingers. You shake your head with a laugh, backing into what’s almost the center of the gardening shed.

“I think an easel stand would look good here, don’t you?”

Calum’s response is a nod. It’s where he imagined one too. “I’ve got an old buddy from college that’s into the arts too.”

“Ceramics? Illustrations?”

“Music, actually. But I think he knows another guy who is into ceramics now that I think about it.” The gap is short to close and when Calum’s pressed into your chest, he wastes no time to wrap you up into his arms. “So what’s your second opinion?”

“I think you should match the original blue when you paint the outside again.”

“I’ll take that as you like it.”

“Yeah,” you nod, taking Calum’s cheeks into your palms. “I do like it. Thank you. For thinking of me. I don’t know what else to say besides thank you. I can’t imagine the effort it’s taken and will take.”

“I figured you’d like a little bit more elbow room than what your room has right now. It’s not all that hard if I’m honest. The guys are a good bunch; even when I’m slowing them down.”

“Is this what I have to thank too for the deliciously sweaty photo that may or may not be my home screen background now?”

Calum laughs, quick and from his chest before shrugging. “It may or may not be.”

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips, “my love.” 

 ______________________________

Irony is how the paper shakes in your grasp, how you’re knocking but not quite sure if it’s loud enough and you want nothing more than to slip the page under the crack at the bottom of the door, but your feet don’t carry you an inch out of place. You are here, now, bolted to the floor in front of Janet’s office. You can’t back out of this, can’t just slip it to her. Not after how integral she’s been in you securing the new job, in how long you’ve stayed, in getting you out of the monotonous routine you had for yourself. 

“One second,” Janet calls back. Her keys click though as she shuffles about. The door creaks open a few seconds later and when she sees you, the single page in hand, her face crumbles. “No, stop. Already? I thought--oh,” she sighs. “I wanted you to get something else quickly. I know it’s gotta be stressful, but I don’t think I’d ever be prepared.”

“That makes two of us.” Your throat quivers as you try to force the words out and you know the words are all shaking too. “This-this is for you.” The words feel like concrete, heavy thuds as they fall to the floor. 

Janet nods, taking the letter. You watch her read over the words, the date for the middle of September sticks out like a sore thumb you know. It was the last part you put in, knowing that once you put that down your fingers wouldn’t be able to type anymore so you came back to it. Janet’s eyes are glassy when she looks back to you. “I’d ask if there’s anything we can do to keep you, but it might be a useless question.”

“I’d never go as far as to say useless. The priorities are different.” They’re vastly different now. No longer is this a game of pay, of trying to find the top dollar and best benefits. It’s a matter that’s utterly out of even your own control. You want to see how far things will go with Calum. You want to go on more dates. You want to see how that old shed comes together. You want to have him in your kitchen, laughing as popcorn sounds in the microwave and the movie is queued up. You want a simplicity you’ve never fucking had--even if it means gardening with Joy and being a terrible caddy with David. 

Janet nods, arms opening up. “Can I have a hug?”

It’s easy now, to slot yourself into her embrace. Though you two hadn’t previously been this affectionate, there was always a jab or two, you can’t deny such a simple ask. Her hold is firm, a squeeze around your shoulders that feels like it could crack your bones. You don’t object though. You hold back tighter. Even though Janet was a boss, you know that you’re not just leaving a job. You’re leaving a little piece of your family-- a family that you choose but you’d choose a thousand times over. 

The sob racks up your chest. It’s a cry that blindsides you but you don’t hold back. Janet gently shushes in your ear. “We’ll still be here. I’ll call your new job like a mom and tell them not to overwork you and to not let you overwork yourself. We��re not going anywhere.”

Janet’s words are comforting, but you know that you’re not crying because it’s change. You’re crying because this places feels like home. It’d never dawned on you--not even as you dished up everyone’s individual breakfast orders or stitched buttons back onto uniforms or tagged in to help set up for events. But now it’s all crashing down. This was a job and it will always be just that. But the folks here have become home. 

“Thank you,” you sob into Janet’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Her voice is tight and you think she might be crying too. “Tell him he better not ever break your heart or I’ll make sure the next breakfast shift makes burnt pancakes for him. Everyday. No one will fix them for him either. I promise.”

Your laughter is choked, torn between the amusement and trying to suck back down the snot and tears. Only Janet would ever consider such a thing. “I’ll let him know.” You try to break the embrace, peel back because you know without a doubt Janet’s business. 

Yet, Janet squeezes you tighter. She clings to you and you don’t fight it. “You have to visit us. You can’t forget about us.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

It takes you ten minutes in the bathroom to get the stains off your cheeks and for them to lose the flush thanks to your tears. The cool water is a welcomed addition to the heat that’s flooded through your body with the emotions. You know soon you’ll need to get into the kitchen, not that your shift is anytime soon, you’ll actually need a nap between now and then, but there’s a CCTV in there to watch. With the voting happening, everyone’s wondering if the ratification of the emergency funds will go through. It’s been dire straits now to think about what you could do with the cash--your dental bill’s been paid off now, all important bills are up to date. Perhaps you could get ahead on the Christmas shopping or save it for a rainy day. 

There’s commotion as always in the kitchen, the creak of the door seems to hardly register as the crew’s gathered around the kitchen island. Declan’s at the stove, manning dinner it appears. Yvonne and Cyprus are at his right and left, dawned in their chef coats too. “You feeding the whole Cabinet today or what?” you ask, leaning against the wall next to Declan. 

He laughs. “Nah, not today. Gotta get the meat ready though now.” His focus remains on the hunk in front of him for a moment. You can spot oregano, basil, thyme, salt, pepper, and a few other spices that already decorate the cut. “Janet would’ve lost her whole head if we were, you know that already.” His brows furrow as he takes you in. “You okay? Your eyes are a little red?”

You nod, though your throat threatens to close up again on you at the thought. You’ll have to tell him, and everyone else soon too. Before the week is out of course. They’ll need to know. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you squeak out and then clear your throat to relax the muscle. You can’t cry again. Not here. 

The TV crackles a little, voices still far away come floating in through the speakers. You watch for a moment as members of the Cabinet come filtering in. You spot Joy and David, and find yourself with your heart racing trying to spot Calum. He’d been long gone by the time you gained full consciousness though you barely remember giving him a good luck kiss before he left in the morning. 

“You don’t sound okay,” Declan counters. His voice tears your focus from the screen back to him. “Did you and him get into a fight? I’ll kick his ass.”

“No, not that. Also, Declan, I think I could hold my own in a fight if it came down to it.”

“You can tell me what’s going on, you know? Whenever you’re ready of course. But if it is the prince, just let me know. I know some guys,” Declan teases with a wink. 

“Declan I will deck you if we don’t got the rub together before the new fucking year,” Cyrpus snaps. She stalks over, a mixing bowl held to her body as she whisks away at the bowl. You’re not sure what it is, but think it may be a dessert. 

“It is my turn as head cook. Things get done when I say they get done not the other way around,” Declan huffs, but turns back to his work of getting the rub on. 

“But he still listens to me,” Cyprus teases in your direction. The door opens behind you, you catch the squeak in the hinge. 

“Good afternoon,” Calum’s voice cuts through the chatter of the kitchen. The silence falls instantly around the room. A hand rests on your shoulder and you know Janet’s joined the room too. “Thank you for joining me today. I know we are here today to vote on a long debated and much needed issue. I understand for the members of Cabinet present here today that me taking the lead on this voting is a little bit different to previous times. And I greatly appreciate your willingness to hear me out today as the last speech; it is an honor. Over the last few weeks, we have borne witness to an economic leap--one that’s leading our constituents to face decisions no one should be forced to make. Should they get grocery? Are they able to forgo medications? How much can they pay on a bill before the service gets cut off fully? Questions that should not be plaguing the people we, in these roles, take responsibility in helping. 

“I wanted to write this speech with two matches under it; a fire to make big progress and prove to myself that I could be a good leader and to prove that I could make real change. I had an image of myself built on the years I spent in university where I am aware of the crevices. I’m reading up on the latest news. I’m watching what laws go into effect and watch what the impacts are. I’m watching how the people I am meant to lead and care for are impacted by the small things. I suppose, I had an imagine of myself with quite a high nose. I thought just because I was younger and just because I was aware of political issues that we collectively in the Cabinet have historically shied away from or stayed conservative on, that I somehow was immune or better than. However, I spoke with a dear friend recently.”

You feel the entirety of the kitchen look back at you even as you keep your gaze lasered in on the freshen shaven face of Calum. You point back to the TV. Even if it is true that you are who he is referring to, you are not the focus. There’s small bouts of laughter as they turn back to Calum. 

“It came to my attention in that conversation that the budget for the staff that works for us, here, in the castle, gets reviewed every three to four years. Which, from a business perspective, is appears to be a perfectly balanced system. It’s just enough time for things to change and, theoretically, just enough time to respond to them without it cutting into the margins and profits substantially. The reality is that a schedule like this calls for sacrifice. Someone has to stitch buttons back on when they’ve fallen off shirts. Someone inevitably comes into work hungry because the money they do get goes towards their children, or nieces or other family members. Someone picks up a second job. Someone picks up extra shifts--even if it means they work 15 or so hours straight. 

“In reality, even a system that seems perfectly balanced is creating a sacrifice. A system built on someone having an over means someone else has the under. In the very same place, we discuss, we meet, we theorize, there is someone else doing the sacrificing. In the very same place where I lay my head down each night, there is someone sacrificing. I polled the current landscape of the staff in the castle. Out of 165 staff members polled, 49 members reported having a second job. 73 reported that they have come into work without a meal prior to their shift. 86 of my staff live at home or with roommates and this still does not always save them money. Over 100 members of my staff polled reported that they have had meals prepared by the chefs at work or saving leftovers from events in order to make ends meet. I am not immune to the propaganda. I am not immune to the smoke and the mirrors. You are not immune to them either. 

“In a poll conducted just three weeks ago,” Calum starts. The screen cross fades to bring up the graphical visual. “78% of the constituents who participated stated that they did not feel the Cabinet responds to major crises in a timely fashion. This based on a sample size of 5,923 participants, a small but mighty sampling. Those that did state that the Cabinet responded quick enough, noted that most of the help received only marginally impacted them. Upon reviewing the response to the medical pricing surge, five years ago in which we worked to help regulate some the pricing on medications, I found that the national insurance coverage received over 11,000 complaints on deductible changes as it impacted the cost of prescriptions. According to formal insurance regulations, 11,000 complaints is not quite significant enough to constitute an internal investigation. Instead, it took several grassroots advocates, with 42,000 signatures in tow, to bring the issue to our door. 

“In the 18 weeks we debated and worked on solutions, there were 53 deaths directly connected to improper access and usage of prescriptions. Doctors reported that the people who passed did so because they were not regularly taking medication needed for health. I don’t know how to reconcile the number 53 after rattling off numbers in the thousands, and tens of the thousands. One might dare say that 53 could not be hefty. Yet, there are 35 of us in attendance. That is one and a half Cabinets dead. 53 direct deaths. 53 grieving families. 53 mothers who have lost children. 53 fathers who ask themselves if there was anything they could’ve done to save their child. 

“You,” Calum emphasizes with a single digit to the members in front of him, “are not immune. I urge this Cabinet, as you vote, to think about the staff in your own homes. Do you know the last time they skipped a meal? Do you know the last time your staff did not fret at the emails and paper statements in their inboxes and mailboxes? Do you know the sacrifices being made in your very homes while you sit here and talk theory? What have you turned a blind eye to in order to maintain your over? Who is under? I urge this Cabinet, as you vote, to vote not just for yourselves but the people who need this relief the most. I urge this Cabinet,  as you vote,  to consider the 53 families who received the news of their loved ones dead because we waited. I urge this Cabinet to consider that it has already been five weeks since we started making substantial strides to get money back into the hands of those who need it. I urge this Cabinet, as you vote, to consider who’s family might get this relief too late, just in time for a debate about what pine box they should get, if we drag on longer.” 

The kitchen erupts into cheers, the hoots and claps echo well above your head. You can hear Declan’s laughter, his shouts of “Someone had to finally tell those old crusties off in a way they understand!” but you are focused on Calum. The fire that stays lit in his eyes, the distinct lack of a closing gratitude, the hard line of his mouth. That is a man with two matches under him. That is a man ready to make waves--damn the boat if it tips over. 

The screen flickers to the floor and you can see the specs of the Cabinet members in their seats. You imagine that the room is tense, that they may be swaying in their seats after such a direct and open flogging. They have to make smart moves now because the man fit to take over the helm will no longer be playing a game of handshakes and behind closed deals. There’s a sense of pride. You feel it in the base of your gut. You know Calum worried himself to death about his speech, about what to say to get through. And surely he delivered. You hope he feels the same way at the end of it too. 

The members of the Cabinet--one by one-- cast their votes into the box. You watch them all. Count every single one of the 35 slips as they fall into the box. The part that you hate, the part that you know will stir your gut with anxiety is the count. As the names are off with their vote, your heart lurches. You wait for the name and the call for ‘nay’. 5 for, 6 against. Then 7 for and 6 against. 8 for, 6 against. 10 for, 9 against. 11 for, 12 against. 15 for, 12 against. 16 for, 13 against. 17 for, 13 against. 17 for, 14 against. 19 for, 16 against. 

A tight vote, a race to pull through by a hair. The thing that you realize is some victories, even brutally won, are still victories. This is still a win for Calum. Even a few of the stark and staunch most moderates, swing in favor of economic assistance. Your feet are shuffling, your weight shifts and you know where Calum is vaguely. You know that it’s just a few wings over. You could get there in about ten minutes or so. Yet you stay, you watch on the screen as Calum and David embrace. The smiles they both wear. The cup of David’s hand on Calum’s cheek in pride is a sight you’re glad you get to witness. 

The feed cuts a few minutes later with the count as the last display. The kitchen is slow to resume back to it’s normal pace. Everyone’s still drawn into the now dark TV. You wonder when you held so much anticipation that the bill wouldn’t get passed through. Where had all that pessimism been hiding? Its a shock to see the votes, 19 to 16 still burned into your retinas. “Hell of a speech,” you hear from a cluster at the kitchen table. 

“I’d sure as hell would vote for him if I could,” someone else laughs in return. 

“Alright, if you keep hanging around this stove, I’m going to put you to work,” Declan teases to you. It’s clear he’a ready to get back to work, even after such a rousing speech. The reality though is that the world keeps turning. Even after wins and even after losses, the earth still rotates on its tilted axis waiting for no one. 

You slide away with a laugh and move a bit closer to the kitchen island. THere’s still a crowd around it but you’re hoping to be absorbed into that crowd, make light conversation until you can slip back away for a nap. “No need to tell me twice.” 

You can feel the hover though and turn to find Janet in the space between you and Declan--like a mother torn between her children. You nod her over to you, scooting to a corner of the kitchen island. “If Declan burns the food, just give me a call,” you tease. 

Janet’s laughter is small, but she nods, hand clasping yours. “I know you won’t be far.”

Her comment will raise suspicions and you notice the looks from a few other staff. “Oh, did someone melt your heart outside of the prince now finally?” Yvonne teases. “I’m hoping so.”

You know she means well. Yet Yvonne looks at you the same way Declan did--like they know but don’t want to say what’s going on. “Oh, for a moment, it sounded like you might care.”

Yvonne shrugs. “And if I did?” she huffs, but pats your shoulder as she passes. Perhaps, it’s less about telling them and more about accepting the fact that things have changed drastically. You’re not just the person who comes in when they need it. You’re not just a coworker all the time. Though it feels much too little too late for that. 

“Tell me; are we losing you before or after Christmas?” It’s Val who asks. She’s seated right next to the corner that you’re tucked into of the crowd around the kitchen island. 

“Before,” you return. “Mid September.”

She nods. “Do you think if I took your shift there’s a second prince in the family to fall in love with me?”

You snort at the question. “Worth the shot, I guess. They do say lightning can strike twice.”

“A rarity, but I could try,” Val returns. “We’ll miss you.”

“I’ll still be around. I won’t be going far.”

“Where’d you land?”

“Forest; downtown--couple blocks from the town center.”

She nods, “Yeah, yeah, I’ve heard about it. Good food, allegedly. I’m sure you could make it better.”

You shake your head and wrap an arm around her shoulder. She’s the youngest of the group, recently joined for the mid-day shift mostly but takes whatever shifts she can get. You don’t know what her home life is like, but in her, there is a mirror. You see yourself--the person working to escape life. “I’ll just be a line cook and potential bartender to start out. Highly doubt I’d be in the near anyone high enough to influence the menu.”

“You’ll get there soon enough.”

“Maybe. But it’s neither here nor there really. If you really want my spot though, I’ll give you my recipe for french toast.”

“But not your biscuits? I see how it is.” The two of you share a teasing grin but Val nods before speaking, “Deal. You work tonight?”

“When am I not here working?” you return. 

“When you’re upstairs getting smooches,” Cyprus interjects. 

“Who’s getting smooches?”

The voice nearly startles you but you catch the cologne; it soothes the ache in your chest. He’s not directly pressed against you, but now that you’re aware you can feel him behind you. You release Val and turn to face him. The grin’s lifting your cheeks before you can stop yourself. “Congratulations,” you offer first. “Hell of a speech.”

Calum reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket and produces a pack of matches. You’d jokingly bought a matchbook of them from an antique shop that you happened across in search of second hand canvases that you might be able to use and to find something to replace the desk lamp in your room; you’d come up on a bust for either one of those but did manage to find the matchbook. The matchbook had small individual packets in them. And now the white cardboard of the match pack is tucked between Calum’s fingers. “I had my good luck charm.”

You gingerly take the pack from his fingers, and flip it open. “If only now you had something to light with them.”

“I think it might defeat the purpose of them being a good luck charm.”

“Only one way to find out.” It’s not lost on you about the box also tucked into that inside pocket of Calum’s jacket. You press the match back into Calum’s chest, over the box of cigarettes. “But seriously, that was fucking incredible. Perhaps, not all politicians are bad.”

“Well,” Val teases from behind you. “I don’t know about all that.”

You snort and Calum’s laughter shakes him too as he takes hold of your hand still pressed into him. “I’d say I’m offended, but I’m far from it,” Calum states. “Can I steal you away for a second? It’s nothing bad and can wait if you’re busy.”

“I can spare a second.” You follow behind Calum as he leads the way out. The crowd lets out a few whistles and the urge to flip them all off wins out against the better odds. You raise the single middle digit into the air briefly and there’s a roar of laughter from the group. 

Calum leads you down the hallway, like one would take to get to the front of the castle but ducks into a small offshoot of the hallway. Around another corner, a door reveals itself and it’s not long before the two of you are outside. It’s a side of the castle that none of the windows in the kitchen face, which is a plus. Here you press in a little closer to Calum, daring a grasps at his waist. The belt presses into your palm as your fingers catch around the loops. 

“How do you feel about that speech?” you ask.

Calum’s exhale is heavy. “I-I don’t know how I really feel. Relieved. A little stoked.  A lot of emotions right now I think that I can’t pick apart if I’m honest. I wanted to find you immediately, but it took a little while to do the rounds.”

You shake your head. “No it’s okay, Calum. You have to do those formalities. I get it. But I hope, once you’re able to dissect those emotions a bit more there’s pride in there too. You were phenomenal.”

“It wouldn’t be the same speech it was if you hadn’t asked those questions. If you had made an accusation, or kept quiet, I think I’d be looking at a very different outcome.” 

“Well let’s be glad I didn’t do any of those things.” 

“I am. I’m very glad.” 

The gap between the two of you inched closer and closer together. And like magnets the final push happens together. You reach up towards Calun and he reaches for you. The kiss is soft, a gentle press of lips slotting together. As much as you want to give in, press your body into Calum's, you settle for the quick squeeze at his hip. A teasing hiss falls from his throat. “Tell me you’re staying through the day?” 

You nod at Calum’s question. “I am.” 

“Good, I want to properly show you my gratitude.” 

The exhale of laughter is quick. “I haven’t forgotten about the diner either. You little masochist.” 

“Tricks up your sleeves? Or are you just a sadist with nothing to back it up?”

A hum falls from your throat. “That’s a lot of lip coming from the guy that’s begging.”

“Well, not yet I’m not.” Something buzzes from Calum’s pocket--his phone you assume. He ignores it, coming in again for another kiss. It’s deeper than the first, but still chaste enough. “Tell me, how long did you know?”

“Know about what?”

“The smoking,” Calum answers. 

“I had suspicions when I took us on the picnic. Was confirmed when I got in your car the other day by the smell”

“I’d say I’m trying to quit.” Calum offers it with a grimace. You don’t mind the habit much. You shrug at the statement. He’s probably on and off on the habit as the smell is not overpowering in the slightest. And there’s no reason to force him into something he wasn’t ready to give up yet anyway. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking you to be a liar.” There’s another buzz. “Someone’s trying real hard to get in contact with you,” you tease. 

Calum huffs a little. “Yeah, apparently.” 

His half step back to gather the phone from it’s pocket gives you enough time to look him over. The navy blue suit, as always, is tailored to perfection. It’s clear he means business, and you hate the way he’s lately been wearing the dress shirts with the top couple of buttons undone. You don’t actually hate it, thought more often than though the thought of tracing the valley of his chest with your tongue has come to mind. The thought doesn’t linger long, as you trail your gaze up to his face again. 

“I’m proud of you,” you whisper to him. 

Calum’s snap is fast--so fast you think he might drop his phone. But he looks up at you, eyes wide. “What?” he questions. 

“I said I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, baby.” You swear for a second you see his chin wobble, but Calum grins in return, slipping his phone back into the pocket. “I’ve gotta head back, but I should be done before 5:30. Do you think you’ll still be up?”

“If I’m not up, you have permission to wake me.” It’s about 3 right now, you figure. Maybe a little before, but definitely not quite four. You don’t think you need that long of a nap, but you do know you’ll need sleep. 

“No, no. If you’re still asleep, I’ll get you up after dinner then. No need to interrupt your sleep. Did it go well with Janet?”

“We both cried. But, she understands.” That’s about well as it could go, if you’re honest. “I didn’t realize I’d miss all of them so much.”

“You all are like a highly dysfunctional, yet functional family. I wish I could say you don’t have to give it up. But you don’t have to stop being friends with them. That’s not something I want for you, given how much I’m part of the reason so much of your life is being uprooted.”

Your worry though is that things will shift. When you go and if things with Calum get more serious, you worry that the relationship will have to change then. It’s a worry that you can’t afford to hold onto right now. You don’t know where things are going. You know you want to carry this torch with Calum for as long as it’ll burn. You want every second you can with him. But the future is evasive--the murky waters that don’t clear until your waist deep in them. You just need to wait until you’re waist deep in it. 

“They’re nice.” You want to try and find a way to continue whatever relationship you’ve built with them. 

Calum cups the back of your head, lips pressing into the skin of your forehead. “They’re your friends, baby. You’re allowed to call them that. I’ll see you tonight, okay? I’ll bring you a plate if you want.”

“Check the meat first. Declan’s cooking dinner.”

Calum’s laughter is soft against your skin. “I’ve yet to get sick from anyone’s cooking. But I’ll check it before taking the first full bite. If it’s all clear I’ll bring you a plate. Let me walk you back, okay?”

“Okay.”

The hallways are quiet, but you know the kitchen is always alive. Calum cracks open the door to the kitchen and lets you in first. Yvonne, Cyprus, and Declan are still bouncing around the kitchen. A few others are already gone, most likely only hanging around for the vote after their morning shifts. Calum doesn’t cross fully into the kitchen, leans into the door he’s got cracked open. His smile is soft. 

“Play nice. I don’t want any calls from Ms. Janet,” Calum teases. 

You shove at his shoulder, the heat flooding your cheeks. “I’ll have you know it’s only a problem if you ever get caught.”

“Well, then, I guess don’t get caught then.” He winks and starts to back away from the door. 

Once the door closes, you exhale. You didn’t want him to go yet, but you know he has too. “Oh you’re not even going to get a kiss goodbye?” Val shouts from behind. 

“Oh,” you groan. “You lot are going to be insufferable from now until eternity I take it.”

“You wouldn’t have us any other way,” Cyprus laughs. And, you know that you wouldn’t. Not in the slightest. 

______________________________

Calum takes the door handle tight in his palm, easing his weight into it. The light under the door is still off and he’s not sure if it’s from your departure from his room this afternoon or if you’ve returned and gotten the nap in like you said you might. So he takes the steps into the room carefully. There’s a small shuffle from the sheets and Calum’s quick as he can to get the door closed. The light from the hallway fades as he sweeps the door closed. 

I’m proud of you. The soft utterance has echoed in his mind the entire afternoon. It’s played like a loop--the soft look and ooze of pride on your face. It’s not that he thought he’d done terrible. He felt good about the speech. A couple people approached him and tld him how rousing it was. The close vote didn’t exactly help his vote of confidence either. Yet, Calum still felt an odd mixture of emotions--some of them a lingering anxiety that he now considers something he’ll be dealing with for quite some time. He’ll always be concerned about how what he says is received. He’ll always be worried that he’s not doing enough. 

But you’d stilled most of that concern with such a simple phrase, I’m proud of you. He had done good. He’d won the vote like he wanted. It is still a victory nonetheless. 

“No,” you groan as Calum settles onto the bed next to you. “No, you’re too handsome right now for me to resist you.” Your voice is thick with sleep. 

“Just one kiss,” Calum barters. 

You blindly reach for his face. “One.”

Calum captures your lips in a kiss, once, and nearly goes in for a second you, but you fall back into the pillows. He kisses your cheek instead and pushes up from the mattress. I’m proud of you, feels almost as good as the first time the two of you shared an ‘I love you’. So Calum lets the thought carry him to his bathroom where he strips from the day and showers. He doesn’t need your approval for everything, he knows. But it’s nice to hear it, to have that verbal affirmation to what he knows the two of you share. 

Changed into an old T-shirt and flannel pants, Calum slips onto the bed next to you. He stays above the covers, but does press another kiss to your temple. This time you don’t rouse awake. He knows in another hour or so your alarm will ring if it’s set, so he settles against the pillows. Like clockwork his right hand falls to the top of your head, light scratches against your scalp as he picks up his phone in his left hand. 

Calum checks through is texts first--a few from friends who also watched the voting today and congratulating him. One reminding him of his dental appointment next week and then one from Michael--outside of the group text. Don’t ask how I found this. Attached to the message is a link. Calum doesn’t like the look of things just from the preview and when he opens it, pictures from the date the other day load up first--one of Calum walking you of the restaurant. Your face is mostly hidden. 

So Calum scrolls on, down until a hot pink headline catches his eye: Even as summer cools off, things with this pair are heating up. 

His heart thunders in his chest as scrolls down. A picture of you kissing Calum’s hand is the first one after the headline. It’d be passable if not for the look on Calum’s face. He knows immediately without a doubt people will scrutinize the hell out of it. Though he should be embarrassed about his own pleasure being captured on film--not with his own consent involved of course--the thing he’s worried about is that this causes issues for you. 

You just landed that job and hadn’t even started. The thing Calum doesn’t want are these photos to ruin your shot. They aren’t the most scandalous photos ever--far from it. But they are particularly revealing the more Calum scrolls, pictures of the teases and taunts. Calum tries to remind himself it is tame. There’s no nudity, no sex tape, or sexual photos that have gotten out. It just feels like a warning that nowhere in public is truly safe for you.

The first thing Calum wants to do is call Forest, see if he can get in contact with Turner and ensure that your position stays secure. And the second thing he thinks about is his promise. How you asked him to only be a knight in shining armor when you asked. Right now, Calum knows that he’ll need to tell you when you wake up. He only needs to talk to you and then everything else will be done together as a team--whatever you want. Calum just hopes nothing bad comes as a result of this. There’s no reason for this to get in the way of your new job. Your face isn’t that clear in some of these photos. It wouldn’t be hard to piece together who you might be, but it is a worry that even with your job as a line cook that things might get crazy fast. 

The chime echoes around Calum and he spin from his desk chair to the bed. You push up from the covers to turn off the alarm. When your arms hit the mattress, you sit up. “Why are you way over there?”

“I’m sorry, baby,” Calum returns. He crosses the short distance to your open arms. 

“I don’t like the sound of that,” you whisper into his shoulder. 

“Oh, it can wait a minute. You just woke up.”

“Pictures of our date are surfacing online,” Calum mutters into your neck. “I’m worried it’s going to hurt your chances with Forest.”

“Show me, please?”

It’s hard to piece together your thoughts, not with the furrow of sleep still on your brows as you scroll through tabloid on Calum’s laptop. But you do release a snort after a moment and tip the device so Calum can see the screen. “I’m kissing and nibbling on your hand, baby. I thought it was the picture of you sucking my fingers or like ass out photos.”

“Okay, first, we’ve not been ass out in public so unless they’re deep faked that wouldn’t get out there. Second, there is a photo of me sucking the ice creams off your fingers if you scroll down far enough. Third, there’s going to be more people interested in trying to get the next most scandalous shot of us. The sharks can smell the blood in the water now.”

Calum watches over the top of the screen to the photo in question. It's clear as day with him licking the ice cream off your lingers, the spoon does just enough to block anything that could be construed as too graphic, but it's as close as Calum can get being caught red-handed without having the paint on his hand.

“Hmm, yeah, I can see your concern especially about people knowing that you're really into ice cream now," you snort.

Calum knows it's your attempt to diffuse the situation. The insecurity isn't lost on him, but you've always covered up that fear with a bit of a deprecated humor. It's a smoke and mirror tactic. Though perhaps now some levity isn't harmful. It is, on the face of it, not an appealing photo of Calum--the angle is terrible and if it there weren't high stakes he could find it himself to laugh. These photos are truly child's play to what has come out in the past about people of interest and celebrities, but it's you--you are cost in the crosshairs this time.

"But, I mean, in all seriousness," you continue on, "the first photos plus these don’t make it exactly hard to maybe piece together what I look like. However, if Forest wants to take back a job offer because of pictures of me with my boyfriend then maybe it’s not a good company. I mean, we’re in the business of service. As long as I can cook, then I don’t think my chances are hurt that much.”

You know more about what something like this can mean for your chances. Yet Calum’s not ready to let go of the voice in the back of his head. What if it does hurt your chances? What if after all this you don’t have any income anymore? Calum’s more than happy to help cover whatever expenses you have until you find a job or arrangement that suits your needs best. But you’re going to want to work and find something fast. 

“But,” you start and then stop to clear your throat. “But thing I can do right now is I could try and call Turner and get ahead of this on their end. We can’t stop the folks who do this, but we can take precautions. Go to places a little further out of town. I’ll be a bit more careful about taking bites out of you if you promise to instead suck toes in private. We can figure something out.”

Calum gathers a throw pillow from the floor and whacks you in the shoulder with it. "I highly doubt this situation demands a joke about sucking on toes. And if there's something you want to tell me, please by all means do so. But yes, we could take more precautions."

Your laughter chokes you, a broken but delightful sound. Calum hands over his glass of water. He’d gotten it in the hour-long fret session he’d been down. Michael offered his help too, keeping an eye out for any more sites that post the photos and so his best to collect them for Calum. Calum could then go to Miranda with a clear list of who would be slapped with whatever legal red tape she could give them of course. 

“Would you be okay if I went to Miranda and see what she can do? She’s got connections to places we dare not think about.” 

You nod, swallowing down your sip. “Yeah, that’s okay. Just keep me posted on what she says, if that’s okay.”

“More than okay, baby.”

“I’ll call Turner tomorrow after I get home and I’ll let you know what happens there too.”

There’s a plan, as you and Calum settle down into the kitchen and Calum warms up the plate of the food Declan made, he reminds himself there is a plan. There is a plan and the two of you would work it together. 

"So," Calum starts around the plate of cookies he put together himself to snack on while you eat. "We have a plan."

You nod around a bite of potatoes.

"We have a plan," he mutters to himself. It's real. Tangible. A plan. You'll call Turner. He'll go to Miranda. Whatever happens after that just has to come after that. For the most part, you should be okay. It might not be hard to piece together who you are, but it's not easy. There's still time.

There's still time.

"We'll be okay, love. We'll be okay," you offer, taking his hand.

Calum squeezes at the pres of your digits into his palm. "We will."

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Michael/Luke (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

30,000 Feet in the Air (ao3) - antisocialhood E, 3k

Summary: Luke teases and Michael strikes back.

ain't it funny how the night moves? (ao3) - soulmatism E, 6k

Summary: Luke really shouldn’t still be thinking about the summer he spent hooking up with his best friend when he was nineteen.

Arcadia (ao3) - paperstorm michael/luke E, 100k

Summary: Crisp, thin air. The rough scrape of blades on ice. The jumbled, unintelligible echo of male voices, ringing off the rafters and bouncing through the empty seats. The familiar smell, sweaty equipment and rubber flooring and Zamboni fluid. Luke’s taken to closing his eyes sometimes, cutting off his primary sense, and just absorbing the noise and the scent and the feel of cool air on his cheeks. That way, regardless of where he is, an arena still feels like home. Or, an AU in which Luke is a small-town hockey superstar who gets drafted to the Montreal Canadiens, Ashton is the bubbly team Captain, Calum is a defenceman with a bad habit of settling on-ice conflicts with his fists, and Michael is the NHL’s first openly gay player.

Baby, Show Me What It’s Like (ao3) - FayeHunter E, 5k

Summary: Luke shouldn’t be trusted at parties. Luckily, he has Michael

Beg (ao3) - FayeHunter E, 3k

Summary: The first thing Michael hears when he opens the hotel door is a broken off desperate moan.

Or Michael and his boyfriend have a little fun

Cherry Bomb (ao3) - littleficlets (addictedkitten) E, 1k

Summary: Cisgirls!Luke and Michael, the first time Luke eats Michael out backstage after a show.

come alive and bring the thunder (ao3) - merlypops E, 36k

Summary: Prince Luke of the Faeries is forced to marry King Michael after a War between kingdoms threatens to tear their lives apart... and maybe Luke and Michael fall in love too. Maybe.

Complication In Your Heart (ao3) - DracosPubicHair E, 29k

Summary: Michael has killed over 10 people and has never been caught, and maybe Luke is just as crazy.

do you want me (dead?) (ao3) - cliffakitten M, 12k

Summary: Michael and Luke are flatmates who can't stand each other, so the two of them having to spend the Christmas break with just each other could only be a bad thing, right?

Eat Me (ao3) - notonguexwithbutt M, 14k

Summary: “Michael’s bottle green eyes are absolutely shining and Luke has to take a second to appreciate the beauty before him. Luke convinces himself it’s not weird to think things like that because it’s so obviously a fact. Michael is a beautiful boy, the prettiest Luke’s ever seen, and it makes Luke’s heart pound to think that he’s his best friend. How did he get so lucky?”

Michael is upset that none of his bandmates want to take him to a deserted island and eat him so Luke makes him feel better. In doing so, he discovers the feelings he has for his best friend are a little stronger than he ever intended.

Grind On Me (ao3) - flowercrownmikey T, 3k

Summary: Hotel Room Smut where Muke discover themselves.

Hearts Pounding (ao3) - notonguexwithbutt M, 7k

Summary: “Michael realizes he’s blatantly staring at his friend’s mouth so he finally tears his gaze away and returns it to Luke’s eyes. When they meet, Luke is staring right back at him and something in Michael’s stomach tightens and flips. He clenches his jaw, smart enough to know that that’s not a normal feeling to get for your best friend. That’s the feeling he got in high school when a girl he liked actually felt the same and kissed him after school one day.

It’s not a feeling he should have about his best friend.”

Luke feels sad in the middle of the night so he goes to Michael for comfort and decides to finally take a chance.

How He Moves (ao3) - thesoulsailor michael/luke, calum/ashton E, 30k

Summary: And Luke knew he was staring, he knew, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t pry his eyes away. Because the feeling that spread through Luke's body when he looked at the strange boy was the same he strived for when he danced. The stranger was consummate.

or Luke lives for the ballet, Michael lives for the moment, Ashton is a dance prodigy and Calum will do pretty much anything to win his boyfriend back.

If Walls Could Talk (ao3) - orphan_account past michael/calum, michael/luke M, 23k

Summary: “Don’t even fucking say anything about me, Wave. You have no fucking idea why I left the team, and you have no clue how much I lost after it,” Luke says surging forward, eyes glowing bright white and causing the electricity in the room to crackle with his true emotions coming out.

or the Don't Stop AU where everything fell apart.

Kinky (ao3) - wastedheartmuke M, 43k

Summary: While moving into their new apartment, Luke finds a list of kinks Michael wants to try.

Seems like vanilla sex isn't enough for his boyfriend, but is Luke willing to try some kinky things?

Lily (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance E, 49k

Summary: Luke and Michael, they used to be boyfriends, lovers and each other’s world. Michael did not know whether those things really existed but he used to think Luke was his soulmate and that they completed each other; that was until Luke left without saying anything. After many years, Luke had decided to come back home but he did not come alone; he brought along a cute little girl, named Lily. When he suddenly came across Michael, the feelings that he had forgotten started to come back. Will he be able to ignore them? Or let his heart decide for him? Although many years passed, Michael had never really been able to be with anyone else because his heart has always beat for Luke. Meeting Luke again was like a second chance to save what had been lost; he wanted to get close to Luke. Will Luke allow him into his world again? Or was it just him and Lily?

No Chance (ao3) - iCheeseYou (EHkook) T, 72k

Summary: So Ashton's going on a road trip with his friend, Calum, and he invited me to tag along. Being the adventurous shit I am, I said yes, but I wouldn't have if I knew that Luke Hemmings was going as well. God, I hate that guy, and the feeling's mutual. Why does that annoying brat have to come along? And Ashton and Calum expect us to be friends? Yeah, right. There's no chance that Luke Hemmings and I, Michael Clifford, are ever going to get along.

she wears short skirts (ao3) - loafers michael/luke E, 3k

Summary: Probably is a bit of a joke, getting off with your unofficial arch nemesis.

Target Workers (ao3) - Muke_Niam michael/luke N/R, 1k

Summary: They all work at Target. Michael is a new worker who really likes Luke and goes to his new friend and co-worker for advice. Luke is another worker who likes Michael.

You Ain't No Friend Of Mine (ao3) - CliffordAffliction michael/luke E, 50k (WIP)

Summary: Luke hates Michael and Michael hates Luke ever since they started playing on rival teams but it turns out that they don't hate each other as much as everyone thinks

[littledrummeraussie]

💝what is a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

🤍what's one fic of yours you think people didn't "get"?

📡why is writing and sharing your writing important for fandom?

💝: honestly, prince!Calum is still a shock because it really was just something inspired by a Calum video I saw and wanted to get it out of my system, and I never thought people would bring him up later or even request more of him. Guess I'm that deep in my Ashton feels and thoughts that I didn't really understand the hype Calum gets 😅

🤍: the light in your eyes and the dark in your heart. But that really is because it was a self indulgent piece so I can make Ashton into some kind of mysterious creature with a lot of literary references and like make it a bit dark academia. I think people are really picky with their AU preferences and I don't blame them.

📡: I don't think my writing has any importance in this fandom. I think most people wouldn't even know who I am and what I write. It's just entertainment for myself and those who are interested enough to read it.

[alwaysxlarrie]

I wanna know about twice upon a time and new luke fic?? :D

ahh yes ofc love !!!

twice upon a time / cinderella au is basically new employee harry = cinderella, evil coworkers nick grimshaw & simon cowell = evil stepsisters, evil boss james corden = evil stepmother, and prince charming = new boss louis tomlinson. nick and simon who were once friends with intern harry started stealing harry’s ideas when he became a permanent employee at their company, heavenly homes, because his ideas were always praised & they want that praise and a raise but without doing any of the hard work and they know harry’s too nice to like fuck em up for it. their current boss, james, is at best indifferent and at worst dismissive and condescending when harry tries to approach him for help/tries to point out instances when it’s happening. enter new boss louis who sees that something’s going on and wants to get to the bottom of it. harry and louis might just end up falling in love and having office sex, but who knows?¿ (i’m hoping to post chapter 1 before christmas, so if anyone’s interested in betaing it, please lmk!!)

the new luke fic is luke hemmings x OFC (it’s either muke or luke x OFC, those are the only acceptable luke ships for me LMAO) they meet at a bar, her best friend wants to see the guy she has a thing with (calum hood) performing at a local bar. luke’s best friend is — shockingly — calum hood. i haven’t sketched out more than a vague outline of the fic outside of that so far, but it’s not going to be as cliche as it sounds, i promise lmao. not that there’s anything wrong w cliches, i just don’t want this fic to be one LOL. it’ll probably be something along the lines of slow burn, enemies to lovers, domestic fluff, along with a few plot twist to keep people on their toes 😂

thank you sm for the question :)

[calumxkisses]

Yellow | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none

summary: prince!calum au - you're his yellow and he's yours.

a/n: hi! 'm not really good with au imagines but i hope you'll like it. let me know what you think of this imagine. love you!

this imagine its inspired by the song: yellow

✰ ✰ ✰

“Yellow.” A sudden voice makes you jump. You close the book you’re reading as you place a hand on your chest, feeling your heart beating quickly.

The library is huge, the storm lights barely illuminate the room, making it almost impossible to find your way around and read without the help of candles. The smell of old books is strong, there is a lot of dust on the shelves and feeling small near these high shelves make the perfect atmosphere to be able to take refuge from the outside world, from a world made of rules and confined to the land surrounding the property. Your little refuge, however, is interrupted by the presence of this man and you turn around quickly, trying to hide the smile that forms on your face at the sight of the stranger.

Despite the size of the room, the prince appears to be in full control of everything around him. He is standing in front of the door, several meters separate your figure from his, yet you can see the smile he gives you, his hands hidden behind his back and the fine lines near his eyes that underline his amused expression.

“What?” You ask before placing your hand in front of your mouth and widening your eyes. In your mind, a vivid image of your mother scolds you for your language and reminds you that you are no longer a child and that you must be careful when addressing a prince or any other high-ranking social figure.

“I'm sorry for talking to you like that, sir. I'm afraid I don't understand what your 'yellow' refers to.”

Prince Calum laughs briefly before slowly approaching you.

"We've known each other since we were children, we don't need certain formalities."

“My mother says-” you try to justify yourself, but he cuts you off right away.

“Nobody’s here.” He whispers before standing in front of you, keeping some distance to avoid misunderstanding in case someone enters. If it were up to him, there would be no such distance between you, but rules are rules and he would never want to compromise your image.

You look around to make sure no one is spying on you and, sure you are alone with him, you relax your shoulders and jaw, releasing the sigh you were holding back.

“So, yellow?” You ask, smiling, placing the book on the table to your left while you look at the boy, waiting for an answer.

His curly hair is carefully pulled back and the dark circles under his eyes lead you to imagine him sitting at his desk, with a lighted candle next to him and his gaze on the window in front of him, instead of the pages he is holding with his hand, pages he should study in order to become the man his father wants him to be, but that he will never be.

“It was a difficult choice, I will not lie to you. There are so many colors that remind me of you, the red of the dress you wore at your first dance when you entered society, the purple of the vase you broke when you discovered that you have been promised in marriage to an old man or the blue of water of the stream next to the tree where we always go to sit under it. And there are a thousand other colors that I associate to you.”

You smile proudly to hear that he paid attention to every detail and remember how as a child he couldn't even memorize the poems the teachers taught him and the thousand fights you had when you tried in vain to help him learn each verse.

“When I think of you, however, I think back to when you collected Ranunculus repens and put them in your hair, to embellish your hair and feel like the princesses who came to visit us. You always did it and you always took a few more so, when it rained and we couldn't go out, you had your little escort and you could wear them even inside these walls. You always have and if I'm not wrong-”

Calum slowly reaches out his arm towards you, his hand brushes your neck causing you to shiver all over your body, before moving a strand of hair and grabbing something from behind your ear.

“You still wear them.” He whispers, bringing his hand in front of your eyes and showing the small yellow flower you were wearing until a few seconds before.

“They still make me feel like a princess from one of those fairy worlds I read books about.” You whisper, you look down as a sense of shame takes hold in your body. Your heart seems to feel pain as you think back to how you still feel as a child, how you still dream of those fairy tales you hoped you could live one day.

“You're a princess with or without those flowers on, you know it too, you just hope that others see you as you do, too special for a life you don't want to be part of.” He says bringing his fingers under your chin and lifting your face up. His gaze no longer conveys joy and his tone is harsh, an angry expression has taken place on his face.

“Calum..” You try to stop him from speaking that truth you don't want to hear, but his words have broken through your heart and the pain you seemed to feel, now you are definitely feeling. You take a step back, trying to get away from a situation you can't escape from.

“You don't have to do it, you don't have to stay and spend the rest of your life between false smiles and sleepless nights. Your sister will be queen and my father thinks I'm a failure since I was born. Let's run away, me and you. My cottage already has everything we need and I'm sure they will never come looking for us. We will live that fairy tale we imagined for us and we will have the life we ​​always wanted.”

His hand grabs yours and his gaze is on you. You know he's not lying, he told you the love he feels towards you in the dungeons of this same castle and you haven't thought twice before confessing your love to him.

But this castle, these people, is all you have always known.

It’s a world that doesn't belong to you but you can't just leave. There are rules, responsibilities, tasks that you cannot escape.

“It's not that easy, Calum.”

“No, it's not, it's not easy and it won't be. We'll probably end up arguing and you'll regret running away with me. But then you'll think back to all these tight corsets you had to wear, all the formalities you had to comply with and the man you would hold if you have stayed and you will understand that country life is so much better than a life spent in sadness and that that terrible man who made you cry actually loves you madly and just wants what he knows it’s better for you.”

He also grabs the other hand and continues.

“And if you really want to go back, I will be ready to be looked at with scandal by everyone and to take you back to the castle, to face your father and see you held by arms that are not mine.”

You know that it will be hard, but you have never wanted to be a queen. It’s a big responsibility for a girl that just wants to live a fairy tale, that wants to be free in her own terms. You never wanted a kingdom, you never wanted to be property of some old man and certainly you never wanted to spend your existence submitted to someone else’s orders.

You just wanted to be happy, to live your life to the fullest, to love a man who respected you, your dreams, your independence and your passion for flowers and books.

And maybe house cleaning, mud and small rooms will never be like having silk sheets, breakfast prepared by someone else and the floor always clean, but they certainly convey a sense of greater happiness and a life spent in misery and in sadness it’s the dream of those who do not want to fight for what they dream of and are satisfied with mediocrity.

And you don't deserve mediocrity and the guy in front of you knows it well, he sees it in the way you feel uncomfortable during the dances, when your father talks to you about matters you can never take care of because you’re a woman and in the look that you give to your mother when she talks about her marriage, that is only political and not based on love.

You turn to your right, a huge gold mirror near the window reflects the library, the place where you grew up and where you have taken refuge millions of times. You look in the mirror, the diamond earrings reflect the gray of the sky and are too heavy for your ears. Your dress is gorgeous, hand-sewn by the best tailors, yet you don't feel as beautiful as when you wear old, unfashionable clothes and run free for the castle hills, without the fear of getting dirty or ruining expensive dresses.

Your eyes, pupils who love to look at the horizon, are sad, aware that by staying they will not be able to see any wonder. You touch your face, slowly run your hands over your cheeks, over your lips and run your finger over the bridge of your nose, remembering when you were just a little girl and were treated like a normal girl, a girl that loved when her father played with her and touched her nose while making funny noises with his mouth.

Then you look outside. The sky is full of dark clouds, the rain falls incessantly and a few lightning illuminate the afternoon sky. You look at that garden you have walked a thousand times, at all the flowers you have collected and at all the plants you have destroyed while playing with Calum.

You close your eyes thinking about all the places you haven't visited, all the trees you haven't leaned on to read and all the rivers you haven't seen flowing. There is a world out there, you think, that has yet to be discovered. And who are you, if not a woman ready for life's adventures?

“You didn't ask me.” You whisper.

“What?” Calum asks, confused.

“You didn't ask me which color reminds me of you.” You repeat as you slowly turn around to look at him.

A huge smile forms on his face.

“What color do you think when you think of me?”

“When I was ten, one night, I decided to explore the dungeons alone. I wanted to prove to myself that I was able to do anything. I almost made it, I almost managed to face the monster we thought lived in the cells, but then it was all too dark and I ended up going back to my room crying.” You slowly approach him.

“The next night, you showed up in my room with a jar full of fireflies, you gave it to me and whispered "You can do it." I ended up walking through the dungeons with this jar in my hand, you were a few meters behind me to make sure nothing happened to me, but I always knew you were there, even if you tried to hide.”

“I was able to face one of my biggest fears that night. Whatever other problem happened, you were always ready to help me if I needed it, you always supported me, with advice or simply by being close to me, a few steps back to let me free. You were essential in making me grow, while remaining away. Like the stars, who guide the sailors from the sky, they let the sailors do what they believe is right, but they are there to help and guide them if they need it.”

You bring your lips to his ear and whisper: “At midnight, in our place. Don't be late and take the blue carriage, it makes less noise on the street.” You turn around and walk to your room to pack a small bag with all the essentials.

“Wait, you didn't answer my question!” He says turning towards the direction you went.

“You are my yellow, Calum.” You say, you are far away but you know he’s smiling and you smile too.

[calumthoodshands]

Getting a fanfic idea be like: is this a oneshot or will i let it consume the next 37 of my nights to finish it a whole ass story?

[softforcal]

Nova bby! It’s always so exciting to get notifs of you posting on here! congrats on one year of patreon lovely! for your blurbies what about a royalty au with childhood best friends cashton??? love you lots xo

awww baby hello! I miss you oh my gosh, thank you! oooof what a great idea, it’s ANGSTY!

***

You’d met Ashton and Calum at a summer royal retreat when you were around four years old. They’d been total opposites. One, a loud little prince with a bright smile and blonde curls. The other, a dark-eyed quiet royal with regal cheekbones and a knack for watching as opposed to interacting.

The three of you had been inseparable the whole trip, and with each summer, your friendship had only grown. Things had changed of course, the three of you had grown, learning how to perfect your manners and ready yourselves for a crown that might fall onto your head one day. 

Ashton is 26 when he is told he’ll be taking the throne, the first of you who will become an actual ruler and not just a ‘next in line’. 

The three of you are in his room, you and Calum sitting on the sofa while Ashton walks around, practicing his speech. Calum doesn’t offer much to help in terms of editing Ashton’s run-on sentences and tangents about how much he ‘loves his kingdom’. You try to help where you can, but it becomes obvious that Ashton is getting more and more worried.

The man who’d been happy and eager since he was a boy, is worried, and that sets off your own anxiety. You find your leg taping up and down with nervousness and Ashton notices, realizing he’s in over his head.

Ashton collapses onto the sofa, effectively sandwiching you between him and Calum. “I’m fucked.” Ashton announces, he only ever swears in front of you and Calum. His family thinks they’d trained him against vulgarity at aged 15, however they’re wrong.

“What else is on the list of things to do?” you ask, hoping to maybe tackle a different errand and come back to the speech later once you feel better about having accomplished a few things. 

Ashton pulls out his phone, opening the file sent to him from his advisor, he hands it to you and lets you read.

Your eyes scan words like: coronation, crown fitting, royal address, and finally, they land on the bold word Queen at the bottom of the folder. 

“Queen?” you read out loud, drawing the attention of the men on either side of you, “like... you’re getting married?!” 

Ashton groans loudly.

The last time the three of you had talked about marriage, you’d been rebellious 13 years olds making a pact to stay single and together as the royal version of the ‘three musketeers’ your whole lives. 

Calum exchanged a look with Ashton. They’ve talked about this without your knowledge for years, since they were teenagers who realized they were both in love with their girl best friend. 

They’d agreed back then to stay friends, to not ruin the perfect group you’d created. But now that the word ‘marriage’ is getting thrown around, things aren’t so easy.

They’ve heard of ‘unconventional polyamorous relationships’ but those are for ‘commoners’ not royals. In the royal system, everything is about history and tradition. 

Ashton swallows thickly and Calum looks down, neither are sure what to say to you. They both want to tell you about their feelings, but they don’t want to create a rift in the friendship. 

Neither Ashton nor Calum know how to remedy this situation, but they do know, whatever ends up happening, your relationship will never be the same. 

******

1 year with patreon celebration :)

[the5sosfanfiction]

Hey! I was wondering.... do you have any fics (preferably with muke or cake or lashton..... anything with luke😄) where one of them is royalty? Also can you recommend fics where one of them is abused (same ship preferences)? I'm sorry if I'm being a bother😕 Thanks❤️❤️

for the abuse recs i’m going to link our abuse tag and abusive relationship tag as the list is so long as it is and there are A Lot of fics that fall under that category on ao3 (make sure to read the tags of each fic and look after yourself

Lashton

Royally Pirate

Crowns and Riches

Once Upon a Dream

A Kingdom of Love and not of War

Castle Murmurs

a kingdom of hearts (but not of love)

Ashton, a Prince? Yeah right.

No Place Like Home

i'll be yours truly unbelievable (luke is underage)

Prince

Save Me From Who I'm Supposed To Be

no i could not want you more (then i did right then)

Cinderfella

Muke

When I First Met You There Was A Garden

Northern Lights

I'm Sitting Eyes Wide Open And I Got One Thing Stuck In My Mind (I Don't Wanna Fit Wherever)

Rebel Heart

We'll Never Be Royals

That One Name

Romeo Take Me Somewhere We Can Be Alone (It's A Love Story Baby Just Say Yes)

One True Love

come alive and bring the thunder

Cake

Baby Boy, I Can Misbehave

- kels

[lilacsos]

Calum as Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid

want one?

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Sweet Dreams--Part 12

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

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

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And your press?”

“Times--Politics division.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sounds good.”

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

Another text comes through just as Calum starts to type. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sounds good to me, Luke replies. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Twenty-nine, thirty. 

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

Forty. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind of downs are we talking?”

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

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

“Will do, Dad. Thanks.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, hush.”

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

“See you inside.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it? Something on your mind?”

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

“Just a feeling,” you return. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You seemed pretty confident about cooking.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

Friends to Lovers (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

And I almost had you. (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton T, 4k

Summary: '"Good night weirdo." Luke mocked, and then rolled over away from him. Ashton just hoped that Luke would stay quiet in his sleep this time. '

[AKA the one where Ashton knows exactly what to do to get what he wants from Luke and Luke is a powerbottom, as it turns out!]

Arcadia (ao3) - paperstorm michael/luke E, 100k

Summary: Crisp, thin air. The rough scrape of blades on ice. The jumbled, unintelligible echo of male voices, ringing off the rafters and bouncing through the empty seats. The familiar smell, sweaty equipment and rubber flooring and Zamboni fluid. Luke’s taken to closing his eyes sometimes, cutting off his primary sense, and just absorbing the noise and the scent and the feel of cool air on his cheeks. That way, regardless of where he is, an arena still feels like home. Or, an AU in which Luke is a small-town hockey superstar who gets drafted to the Montreal Canadiens, Ashton is the bubbly team Captain, Calum is a defenceman with a bad habit of settling on-ice conflicts with his fists, and Michael is the NHL’s first openly gay player.

blind at the roots of flowers (ao3) - merlypops calum/ashton T, 3k

Summary: 'Everything was dark and cold but the older boy’s hands were warm in his, calloused and strong from years of playing the drums. Calum liked the way Ashton’s hazel eyes glittered in the lights at the station as they sat on the benches in the evenings after college, waiting for their train to come in. (Sometimes, Calum wished the pair of them had stayed like that, back before everything had crumbled to pieces.)'

All Calum wants is for Ashton to love him back. Only, when it happens, things don't quite go as planned.

Blue Masquerade (ao3) - CalumSmiles (dreamforlife) michael/luke E, 85k

Summary: Michael is in love with Luke. That much is clear. Well, to Calum, Ashton and the rest of the world anyway. Luke is blissfully oblivious to the blatant signs. He gets a girlfriend. Michael tries to move on.

Spoiler: he fails.

but then i hear u calling (there u are) (ao3) - orphan_account Michael/Luke N/R, 933

Summary: michael and luke have always been the closest. friendly kisses lasting no longer than 3 seconds are shared frequently between the duo- calum and ashton watching from a distance, almost admiring their friendship. until it wasn't a friendship anymore.

Cards Are Dealt - @ashtcnirwin (elivigar) luke/ashton E, 100k

Summary: A story about wants and expectations branching out and evolving without the knowledge or consent of those they belong to.

come alive and bring the thunder (ao3) - merlypops michael/luke E, 36k

Summary: Prince Luke of the Faeries is forced to marry King Michael after a War between kingdoms threatens to tear their lives apart... and maybe Luke and Michael fall in love too. Maybe.

I Can't Remember (ao3) - im_just_a_sucker_for_bromance luke/calum E, 49k

Summary: Waking up naked next to your best friend is not good but waking up naked next to your best friend and being the only one who remembers is worst. That was happened to Luke Hemmings. Maybe he would have forgotten about it if it happened once but that was not the case. And what were those weird feelings that he was experimenting all the time? He could not be attracted to Calum... that was impossible since he has known Calum all his life. He was definitely going crazy...

Lay Me Down (ao3) - stelleshine luke/calum, michael/ashton E, 101k

Summary: Calum is the one thing Luke has as his world falls down around him.

rhythm of the night (ao3) - lourrygum ot4 E, 6k

Summary: It was great when Calum and Ashton finally stopped being dumb and got together but its not so great when the lines between where they can and can't fuck get a little blurry and Luke and Michael have to endure it

or, Michael and Luke are turned on by Ashton and Calum's sex sounds and also by each other.

Something Better (ao3) - notonguexwithbutt michael/luke M, 10k

Summary: "It’s like Luke is trying to say so many things with one look and somehow Michael is understanding them all. Or is he? Because to him it looks like Luke is saying 'push me up against a wall and fuck me' or maybe it’s something more like 'do something, I dare you.' Or maybe Michael’s just really turned on by the sight of his best friend covered in sweat and staring at him with dark, dilated eyes."

Luke gets his wisdom teeth removed and feels quite affectionate and honest in the haze of his anesthesia. Later, he's embarrassed about the things he confessed to Michael, so Michael does what he can to even out the field.

stick to the status quo (ao3) - cliffakitten luke/ashton, michael/calum M, 29k

Summary: It's weird. Luke knows it's weird. He's very much aware of the degree of weirdness that he is being right now. Very, painfully aware. Which is why he's wearing a black beanie and sunglasses inside in the middle of spring. Inside the school theatre to be exact, sure to anyone else it wasn't exactly a place which requires a friggin disguise to be in. But Luke was a football player, by the ancient and all knowing laws of high school he shouldn't even know where the theatre is, never mind sneaking in through the lighting booth to stand in the back of it. ~ Or, the one where Luke is on the football team but has a mahooosive crush on this kid in the theatre club with the big hazel eyes and emo fringe.

Take Notes - @daydadahlias (cornflowerblue (daydadahlias)) luke/calum E, 78k

Summary: Or, the one where Calum wants someone to teach him about sex and Luke happens to be an education major.

that’s why you like it (ao3) - merlypops michael/calum E, 69k

Summary: Calum starts doing workouts in the garden over the summer and Michael spends the whole time with his hand down his pants (until Calum takes matters into his own hands).

Three Thirty AM (ao3) - lourrygum michael/luke E, 7k

Summary: Michael feels bad. Worse than bad. He feels like the ultimate knob and he knows he should stop encouraging Luke to talk in his sleep, to talk about Michael in his sleep, to talk about getting fucked by Michael in his sleep. He knows this, and he knows that he definitely shouldn't respond when he talks, shouldn't push his hair out of his face so he can see his eyes squeeze closed a little tighter, his bottom lip quiver, his skin flush.

He absolutely should not tell Luke how much he does want him, how he loves how wrecked he looks when he's barely even touched him, and how much hotter he'll look when it's Michael getting him off as opposed to him doing it himself.

or, Luke is sleep talking and Michael really shouldn't be encouraging him.

Tie That Binds - @ashtcnirwin (elivigar) E, 98k

Summary: In which Luke wants to explore miscellaneous kinks and Ashton strikes him as a good candidate to do said exploring with with.

What I (don't) like about you (ao3) - truly_madly_deeply michael/luke, calum/ashton E, 70k

Summary: Michael hates Luke, Luke hates Michael. When Luke’s older brother Ashton starts dating Michael’s best friend Calum out of all people, the two arch enemies are suddenly forced to spend way too much time together. Which they don’t like at all, but hey, shit happens, and so does love.

Or the one where Luke gets his lip pierced and Michael finds it very distracting.

your string of lights is still bright to me (ao3) - merlypops michael/calum, bryana/ashton, luke/omc E, 81k

Summary: Michael is struggling to be the father his daughters need. Until he meets Calum again.

[zelfanswhenshecan]

back on some bs & craving a good prince / royal read ... if you have any PLEASE link :)

& if not how are you today?

[angelbabylu]

Romance #5 with Calum!?!? Bitch please omgggg.

Romance 5 - He’s royalty of a small country and he wants to go to college and have the normal college experience and you’re tasked with teaching him how to behave like a normal college student

Calum looked at the food in front of him with an air of distaste. “I don’t understand how burgers have anything to do with me being a normal college student.”

You shot him a look of exasperation before flicking a fry off your plate straight towards him. He had to move left to avoid it hitting him in the face. “Look, Your Highness, do you trust me or not?”

Immediately, his jaw dropped; he frantically searched the room to make sure no one had heard you. You were in a Shake Shack, just a few miles from campus. When your dad, an American diplomat, had approached you with the prospect of teaching the prince of a small European nation how to be a normal college student, you thought it would be easy. Calum, as it turned out, was anything but. He resisted your efforts at every turn and continued to behave so posh and proper that almost everyone who met him could tell he was different. This, of course, made hiding the fact that he was a prince increasingly more difficult. Your solution to get him to lighten up was Shake Shack. There was no way to eat a messy burger and remain dignified. But Calum refused to trust you, or the burger.

Calum took another disparaging look at the item on his tray, then back at you as if to ask, Are you sure I have to do this? When your glare didn’t let up, he sighed and picked up the offending item. Sauce was already dripping from its sides.

He bit into it reluctantly, then slowly began to chew. Miraculously, the scowl that he had donned the minute his food came slowly turned into a smile. “It’s actually quite good.” He said once he had finished his first bite. Then, he went for another.

“Okay,” you said, reaching over to remove the lid off his cup.  “Now dip your fry into the shake.”

The look of doubt was back on his face, but this time he didn’t protest. Instead, he slowly followed your orders, eyes lighting up when the mixture of salty and sweet hit his taste buds for the first time. You laughed at his amazed expression and began to clap, not caring whose attention you caught.

“Yay,” you exclaimed. “Your first true American food experience.”

“I like this,” his voice was filled with wonder as he moved to dip yet another fry in his vanilla shake.

You laughed, moving to tend to your own plate as he took his time devouring his burger. He was actually quite cute, your brain supplied, when he wasn’t driving you crazy with mannerisms you believed to be somewhat antiquated. When he was finished with his meal, he used his napkins to gently wipe the sauce from his face. Unthinking, you reached across the table to wipe away splash of sauce still at his mouth side. You didn’t miss the way his eyes tracked the finger back to your mouth, watching, enraptured, as you liked the sauce off it.

An intensity lingered between the two of you for a moment, before you cleared your throat and said, “Now, will you start to trust me? I promise not to steer you into doing something I know you won’t like. I’m just trying to get you to lighten up.”

Despite your attempts to dispel the weird mood that had settled between the two of you, the intensity in his stare was still there.

“Honestly,” he began, and the prince had, on more than one occasion, demonstrated that he had no qualms about telling the truth. “You intimidate me.”

“What?” You couldn’t imagine a world where a prince was intimidated by a nobody like you.

“I want to, how do you say, ‘lighten up.’ But I look at you, and you’re just so beautiful, I find myself slipping into my old charms and mannerisms to try and impress you.”

You bit your lip and looked away then, trying to hide your blush from him.

“Calum,” you looked back once the heat in your cheeks began to feel a bit more manageable. “I am more impressed by you letting loose and eating a burger than you opening doors and pulling out chairs for me.”

You were not expecting it when he stood up from his chair and took one long stride to cross to you. Capturing your face between both his palms, he bent and kissed you gently on the lips. When he pulled away, you released a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding.

“Kissing you in the middle of Shake Shack,” He quipped. “Is that the kind of letting loose you were looking for?”

You brought your hands up to bury in his curls. “Oh absolutely,” you say, before pulling him down for another kiss.

Send me a prompt!

[calpops]

searching souls | c.h.

Calum despised the crown that sat atop his head, he never wanted to inherit a throne and a kingdom if it meant bowing to the pressures of a court and a union that wasn’t with his soulmate. He was left with reminders of who he was supposed to be with; fleeting marks gracing his skin. They served as reasons, they told him in fine silver lines and blooming purple what was worth fighting for. A ballerina with an injured arm and distaste for all that royalty brought showed Calum what his soul truly yearned for. Who he truly was and who he was supposed to be with. He could only hope her soul was set out in search of the same.

18k words

This fic has been in the making since April of 2019 and I am so incredibly happy I have finally brought it to life and can now share it with you all. I hope you enjoy. <3

Copyright © 2020 calpops. All rights reserved. This work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format (translations included).

<< >>

Calum became one with the shadows, the night disguising him with tendrils of darkness that were a little too easy to sink into. His back pressed to a stone wall and a cry of relief and for privacy fell from his lips. He was always aching for a moment alone, to be away from the endless amount of people that endlessly crowded him. Moments before his dash down a flight of stairs he was sat among such a crowd and added tenfold; he had stared at a stage with dancers telling a story he didn’t quite understand, with people crowding him he didn’t really know. His presence was obligatory according to the court—an invitation one he was not allowed to refuse. He was a visitor in this domain, one where the tilt of his crown was less commanding and more endearing. He wasn’t quite considered and treated as a future leader here; he was viewed as a rare commodity, a celebrity and something to be passed along and propped up in advantageous places.

His royal guard, Ashton, stood just behind the exit, the door stayed propped open so he might spring into action on a moment’s notice. Even when Calum was alone someone always lingered. He wasn’t sure when his last true moment of peace and solace was. He’d bargain it may have never happened, that he might be chasing that feeling for the entirety of his life. Going round and round against the court and commoners, tailspinning through a whirlwind he never chose to be in. For the moment he found a semblance of peace; of all the people to be alone with Ashton was the easiest. He was a lively guard but a quiet presence when needed.

Calum could still hear the music that played floors above him. The ballet was only about half through, possibly nearing the intermission, more hours to sit through facing Calum in a taunting way. He had never been one for the ballet or operas or plays; he found them to be disarming, unamusing and hours of his life he would never get back. With agile fingers he pulled a lone cigarette from the inner pocket of his suit, a light to follow and took a drag—smoke pluming into the night air in a thick reminder of reliance. He was trying to quit, he knew the habit was nasty and left reminders on his skin, a tendency to forget leaving mild burns in their wake. Reminders that would fleetingly grace the fingers of his soulmate.

Footsteps echoed down wooden stairs, they were light and rhythmic; landing each step in a delicate and decisive way. Calum turned, shoulder pressing into the stone as his eyes shifted to the door, caught a shadow towering on the back wall as the person descended. He heard Ashton clear his throat and the squeak of a floorboard as he too shifted to accommodate and size up the new presence. Calum turned back, took another drag and let out his breath as the steps neared and dropped down to the level he stood his ground on. Saccharine invaded his senses, nearly covered the smoke and drowned out the breeze of city air.

“You know this is a performer’s exit only,” the voice that said it was soft but commanding, a warning laced with subtlety that spoke volumes more than a boom.

Calum rolled his shoulders back, dropped his hand with the cigarette to his side and spun to face the voice of reason. She stood tall, leotard clinging to every curve, large coat trying and failing to conceal her arm that rested in a sling. Calum shrugged, gave a half attempt at expressing an apology.

“I’d be careful. Intermission is coming. Some people like to sneak down for a smoke. Guess you couldn’t wait,” she continued around a pointed look and sigh, pushed falling honey hair that Calum surmised was once neatly tucked into uniform back behind her ear with her free hand.

“I could wait. I chose not to,” Calum mumbled as he lifted the cigarette up for one last drag before letting it fall to the cobblestones below and using his shoe to snuff it out.

He wasn’t used to being called out as clear as day. He wasn’t used to just anyone speaking so freely but it sparked something deep rooted and missing from his life. He enjoyed petaled pink lips giving him a reality check without inhibitions or fearing his crown. It suddenly hit him she might not know. That his identity could still be under wraps and as much a mystery to her as she was to him. He smirked, adjusted his jacket and crossed one leg over the other for a more casual stance.

“Very well, then,” she said and made as if to leave but Calum stopped her short with an explanation she hadn’t asked for.

“It was just a bit too crowded, I needed a breather,” he said and realized the tobacco infused irony of his admission.

She laughed, the irony not lost on her but his identity seemingly so. Her head tilted back ever so slightly with the giggle and her free hand found hold on the strap of the sling. He wondered about that; clearly something had gone awry in the time he left and she appeared. He couldn’t place her on the stage but knew her to be among the ballerinas, if not for the proper use of a designated exit or the leotard then for the graceful poise and posture that carried her every movement.

“I heard we sold out tonight. Quite the full house in there,” she began with understanding flooding her eyes. “Some royal was invited. Guess it drew quite the crowd.”

For the first time Calum noticed her eyes, his gaze finally drawn away from delicate pink to clashing colors. Her right eye was deep and dark, brown to the point it was almost black. The left was nearly hazel, green with tints of gold that glittered against the contrast of the right. Stars above them lit the way for Calum’s gaze to wander and linger, take in fine details he wouldn’t have if he spotted her on stage. A small silver scar hid at the edge of hazel, a story that tried to disguise itself with make up but shone through like the moon behind the clouds. Her coat was tweed and worn out, scuffed shoes took the place of ballet slippers and tights ran up and down her long legs with ease. She was put together but built with rough edges that would never see the light of a stage. Of all the ballets Calum had been forced to attend he couldn’t picture a ballerina out of the light; with hair falling down and clothes that hid immaculate costumes. He liked seeing her on the other side.

“A little packed for my taste,” Calum commented and inwardly shook his head, hoping the comment didn’t come off as condescending or belittling. Her eyes narrowed but a small tilt of her head spoke it more as curiosity and less as offense. “A little too long too. I’ve never been able to sit through an entire ballet.”

Once more Calum scolded himself for his choice of words. If not for the near insult then for the opening of questioning on her behalf. She jumped at the opportunity and Calum admired her quick observations and wit.

“Frequent ballets though you hate them?” She inquired and took a tiny step forward, sticky sweetness coming closer, another tendril of hair falling loose and covering her dark brown eye.

“It’s never really been a choice,” Calum reluctantly admitted.

She nodded as if she understood but Calum knew she didn’t, she couldn’t.

“It was never really my choice to be in the ballet,” She quipped with a shrug and a slight grimace at the motion; arm injured obviously hurting with the thoughtless act. Her fingers curled into her palm and Calum made note of the white knuckles and tightening grip that surely left crescent prints into soft skin. “Parents.”

She said her explanation just as Calum thought the word for his own explanation. Parents. The court. His crown. They all begged his duties and required his attendance to places he wouldn’t usually care for. He arched an eyebrow at her explanation though; suddenly captivated by how she might understand and what similarities they truly shared.

“At least you’ll get a break?” He offered in question as he peered at her injured arm, still curious what happened in his absence. “How did it happen?”

She laughed but the sound wasn’t as humorous as her first laugh at burning irony. This time it was dryer and expelled in a force that lingered between them. “Don’t tell me you left within the first five minutes?”

Calum shook his head and wracked his brain for any incidents but admittedly paid very little attention to his surroundings other than the creeping claustrophobia and desire to be anywhere else. He bit his lip, wished he hadn’t snuffed out his last cigarette so soon and felt his fingers close around empty air. He felt Ashton’s gaze and to his guard’s credit he did try to be discreet though his lingering presence must have aroused questions and suspicions to the ballerina rolling different colored eyes.

“Of course you wouldn’t pay attention,” she uttered and once more made to pass Calum but he was quick to pull her attention back to him, cleared his throat and mustered out an apology—albeit a bit of a sarcastic one—that made her sigh and pause in the night. “I was dropped and replaceable. I best be going. You might want to as well; if you don’t like crowds.”

The promise of people sneaking down during intermission reminded Calum that he had his own people waiting within the balcony seats. In a brash and unexpected even to him move his hand searched the depths of his jacket pocket for a crinkled scroll he had tucked away—after sparing half a glance at it when his advisor handed it over and droned on about the ‘gathering’. He felt the folds and pulled it out, smoothed it a bit so she might have a chance at reading it and offered it to her much more timidly than his confidence usually allowed.

Her curiosity was admirable as she willingly took it without a word and read under starlight.

“A royal gathering?”

Calum shrugged, hoping to keep up the facade he was one with the usuals. “A ball of sorts. I  have some connections to the kingdom. Drop by, tell them Thomas invited you.”

Her eyes roamed from the scroll and back to him, trying to figure out the sudden invitation and the reasoning for it. Trying to figure out who he was and what his intentions were. His middle name may have thrown her off, if she had any suspicions his method of secrecy was practiced; known to his kingdom but lacking common knowledge outside palace walls. His people would understand.

She folded the scroll back up with her free hand and didn’t say a word as she moved along, stepping around him and glancing back. Calum forced an uncertain smile as she blew out a breath of disbelief and fully turned back to him, hand raising with the scroll in her clutches. Calum felt winded as she pressed the scroll to his chest with a decisive shake of her head.

“I could go, I choose not to.”

Her words were a near replica to his explanation of sneaking away before the intermission. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a fleeting second of eye contact; his heartbeat was erratic under her palm. He wondered if she could feel it, if she could hear it past the music that still accompanied dancers he had paid so little mind. Her hand stayed in place, scroll pinned to him; his hand came up to ghost over hers, waiting for a reaction, waiting for her hand and the scroll to fall. Neither happened.

“I’ve never been able to endure an entire royal gathering,” she added on with a glint of humor and mischief sparkling clashing eyes.

“Or let go of me,” he remarked around a smirk. Calum heard Ashton shifting, held his breath and grimaced as he came into sight with protective senses in overdrive. The ballerina casted a quick and flickering gaze to the not so inconspicuous guard just doing his job.

She backed off in a split second, the loss of contact burning through Calum as she cocked her head to the side and pouted petaled pink lips. She gave a shrug as the scroll drifted down to the cobblestones below, settled neatly at the toe of Calum’s shoe. Part of him wanted to move to pick it up but he stayed stoic and merely dipped his hands into his jacket pockets and toed at the edge of the invitation. It was stagnant in the still night air.

“I don’t think your friend over there really wants me around,” she commented. Calum shook his head and gave a warning glance to Ashton to back off; all was fine and his presence wasn’t needed. But Ashton lingered with a serious gaze and set jaw, eyes flickering back up the stairs as if to communicate what Calum already knew. He should be getting back. Ashton cleared his throat to emphasize his point. “Oh don’t get all worked up. I’m leaving now.”

Calum watched as she began to stalk away again, her coat trailing down to her knees and sashaying with the swing of her hips as she glided under moonlight. Calum sighed as he watched her but one last question sprang to his lips, one last desire to see brown and hazel and a silver scar that held them together.

“I didn’t get your name?” He said it as a question and waited as she paused. He didn’t know if she would answer or if she would tell him the truth. He hadn’t. His offering of his middle name less than honest.

“Alena,” she said without turning back to him and granting him his last ditch desire. “Maybe some day you’ll tell me your real name, your highness.”

She rounded the corner of the alley and dissapeared around the edges. Calum stood in shock at her knowledge, the brash way she dangled his lies behind her back and in front of his face leaving him a bit breathless and uneasy. She knew and she still treated him as any other. She was aware of crowns that sat atop his head and thrones that placed him higher than others, of castle walls that shrouded him in a life he didn’t desire. He turned back to Ashton who wore his practiced patience in his subtle expression. Calum shook his head again; still befuddled by the exchange. He rolled his sleeves up and moved to enter the stone building and go back to boredom built around crowds. Ashton stopped him short.

“Your arm,” he said and made Calum peer down.

A fine line of bruising ran up his forearm. It was blooming purple and light blue, completely unfazed by the touch of his fingertips grazing along it. His soulmate’s aches appeared on his skin and tampered with his thoughts. He froze as Ashton was trying to carral him back into the building, the distant sound of footsteps above them delivering a promise from petaled lips and an injured shrug. Calum sucked in a breath that got caught in the back of his throat as Ashton placed a hand on his upper back and broke the motionless state he was once captured by.

“She was wearing a sling,” Calum managed to get out, craning his neck back towards the corner she rounded and dissapeared to. “She had a scar by her eye.”

Ashton was seemingly confused for a moment as Calum was slow to move up the stairs with him. But the statements quickly caught up to him and began bursting into a world where your other half bore your scars and wore your bruises for just a moment in time; just long enough to know their pain and identify matching intricacies.

“You don’t think?” Ashton asked, suddenly more deadpan than Calum had ever witnessed his guard. “She’s not…”

Calum forced nonchalance. Tucked his own wants and hearts content to the back of castle walls. “It doesn’t matter.”

The court would never allow for Calum to pursue anyone without a royal bloodline. It was all a game of opportunity. A contract in the making to unite kingdoms and gain more power than they already had. Power that Calum didn’t want and couldn’t actually control. Power he would gladly give away in exchange for being with the person he was made for. For years he was convinced there was no one out there; that he wasn’t deserving and if he was they weren’t deserving of the complications that would follow. Now, coming eye to eye with someone who finally didn’t care about his title, didn’t bow at his presence or fear his authority, to see hazel and deep brown marked by a silver scar, it was a fear he needed to confront.

Calum made his way back up the steps as ballerinas passed by, Alena’s promise becoming fulfilled as the music had died off and people made a getaway for a short break. He knew the scroll he had given Alena had fallen and was probably long gone, lost to the wind and roaming cobblestone streets in a nighttime haze. It was the only reason he would have to see her again. The purpled bruise that stained his arm would fade by morning and he would no longer have any trace of her except the drone of music that rang through his ears. If in fact an identical bruise laid within the sling that hid her arm from his view. If, a matching scar ever graced his eye. If, forgotten cigarettes left marks on her fingers or an accident with a sword ever graced her with a line from ankle to knee or the press of a blade marred above her heart too; accidents in training that sidelined him from any type of further combat work.

Questions would stay unanswered during the rest of the ballet. People would drift in and out of Calum’s focus and a new attention would be paid to the art form taking life on stage. He would go back to his quarters that night, fingertips grazing along the reminder of her—the wonder if it was truly her—as he lost himself in the echoes of the night and souls set out in search of each other.

***

Morning came in golden glows and faded colors already leaving his skin. The first half of the morning was spent in a haze, bypassing those who whispered words in his ears and controlled the strings that were always attached and following him in secret shadows that no one else could see but he felt with every step and pull. His accommodations were regal but they were so much like home he had a desire to leave and wander; to break away from the usual mold of frivolous expenses. With Ashton by his side he roamed halls made of marble and gold, with chandeliers that hung as high as the heavens on vaulted ceilings with intricate carvings. He wandered past the fleeting rush of advisors and the courts, of people who were likely to stop him in his tracks and push him this way or that; if only Calum hadn’t had a lifetime of slipping through the cracks and ghosting along hallways until an escape was found.

Only Ashton was a shadow behind him that could keep up as he made a getaway into the city. People passed by in rushes and Calum blended into the crowd with ease. He was practiced in the art of escape and when given the chance he could be one with a crowd—Ashton always following; evidentially two with the crowd. Only when his people lingered around him and royal clothes clung to his body did anyone make a fuss; except Alena. She was still on his mind as he wandered cobblestone streets in pursuit of something out of the ordinary. Street vendors hollered out their merchandise and prices in competition with each other’s voices. The sun beat down but a small breeze helped liven the day and make the heat bearable. Calum was accustomed to the warmth, his own kingdom was not far away and not much different in temperature though the winds carried salt from the sea up to his quarter windows and waves could be heard crashing around his land. This city held only the ricocheting of footsteps and busy voices.

Up ahead a flower cart stood elegant with orange petals spilling over notched woodwork. In a moment of intrigue and finding something out of his own ordinary Calum ventured over. White petals usually graced the palace halls. Orange was a far cry and more lively touch. Floral perfume greeted him with grace as his fingertips touched satin petals, eyes fixed upon the warmth of the flowers and the heat that touched his cheeks.

“Thomas?” A familiar voice said around a question and disbelief. Calum looked up, found clashing eyes fillled with questions and a silver scar shining under the sunlight and lack of makeup. Alena smirked on the other side of the flower cart.

“Calum, actually,” he corrected around a faint blush that danced from his cheeks and down his neck; painting a path of embarrassment at his half truth. His voice was low, hopefully only loud enough for Alena to hear. Possibly Ashton who lingered at a diagonal with shifting eyes and open ears.

She tilted her head to the side and let her smirk deepen as the truth floated between them. She nodded as Calum casted a gaze up and down, noted the sling still supporting her arm, the loose dress that hung off her frame and the honey hair that framed her face in soft tendrils. She was a different person from the previous night. Calum wished the bruises on his arm hadn’t faded so soon, that she might be able to peer at them and recognize them as her own. Affirm his suspicions or deny his foolish thoughts. But they were barely a whisper on his skin now, much too faded to catch the eye.

“Hate ballet but love flowers?” She asked around her tilted smirk and eyes that gleamed and tried to figure him out.

He gave a shrug and eyed a bunch of flowers at her side, she followed his gaze and used her free hand to scoop them up and offer them over the other side of the cart.

“A ballerina and a florist?” Calum then asked, just then realizing she was the merchant; the one in control.

“And a hard bargainer; just for the morning until my father takes over,” she said wryly with a raised eyebrow and a lingering touch as she made the exchange of flowers from her hand to his.

Calum took just a moment to inspect her hand, no identifiable marks except a freckle on the back of it laid on her skin. None to Calum’s knowledge other than of his own doing had ever graced his hand. Only small burns from forgotten cigarettes and blisters from weapons and instruments. Alena told him the price for the flowers and Calum saw it as an opportunity to strike a deal.

“How about all of that and a day with me?”

She contemplated his offer much more genuinely than she had his invitiation to the ball under the guise of his middle name and ‘connections to the palace’. His honesty must have been refreshing, his true self accepted. He didn’t need pretenses or walls up, he didn’t even feel the need to worry about being used for his title. It was abundantly clear it didn’t impress her and wasn’t the way to win her over. But a genuine offer and smile, a brush of fingers and hope strung up in his heart seemed to do the trick,

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” she said, free hand going to fidget with her sling and insightful eyes finding Ashton still lingering and watching. “But he can’t come.”

Calum heard Ashton scoff—his duty to protect and promise to stay inconspicuous being overridden by an ego that sometimes had a hard time fitting through drawbridge doors. Alena swept her gaze from Ashton to Calum, waiting for a confirmation and time spent together. Calum mused through the outcomes of his decision. He gave Ashton a glance that asked him to stay where he was as he pulled Alena slightly to the side and hopefully out of Ashton’s ear shot.

“Losing him will be difficult,” Calum warned with orange flowers tucked neatly into his grasp.

Alena smiled and Calum watched as her eye line got lost up the way of the street of vendors. “My father is just up there. We could make a run for it,” she whispered, gone on the tops of her toes to ensure Calum was the only one to hear. Saccharine came back to him, warmth collided with soft skin and fingertips tingled at the contact.

Calum followed her gaze and saw an older gentleman; flowers pinned to his coat and a cane in his hand. He grinned and waved at Alena who responded in kind. He then took a peek at Ashton who lingered around the flower cart; appearing as a curious customer inspecting petals; attention rapt on the display of colors and stems.

“Now?” Calum asked and instructed with a low voice and hand that reached out to capture hers not contained by the sling.

She accepted the offering and they started to edge away in a slow movement at first and then broke into a run that rounded corners and lost a guard who didn’t know his way around the city the way a poised ballerina did. It wasn’t the first time Calum had dared to run away from a guard but it was the most successful plight he had attempted. Ashton was lost around bends and breaths were caught as they came to a stop with backs pressed to a stone wall. Calum recognized the building; only because he lived a moment outside of his own mind. She brought them back to last night, the alley between buildings and an exit meant only for performers.

As Calum and Alena let their breathing level out Calum noticed the flowers in his grasp had lost petals along the way. A scattered and hazy orange path must have laid in their wake as they made their getaway. He pulled them up and presented them to Alena who giggled at the sight of mostly stems. Calum smirked as he handed them back to her.

“For you.”

She cocked her head to the side and clashing eyes scanned the once bouquet. Delicate fingers plucked a lone survivor from the pack, spun the stem and created a glow of orange dancing in the morning sun. Calum dropped the rest, carefully took hold of the one in Alena’s grasp and moved it to tuck it behind her ear.

It fell lopsided, cut shadows against a scar and added to the line of color that happened across her face. Dark brown glittering under the sun, warm pink tinging tan cheeks, hazel accentuating a crescent of silver, and orange petals blending with honey hair that fell free. In the night and morning he had known and interacted with her; her confidence had yet to be shaken but a sweep of modesty that had her playing with her skirt and turning her feet inward had Calum chasing that reaction. He rolled his sleeves up, still disappointed her gaze wouldn’t land upon a sign that perhaps they were something more than strangers on the run together. He could ask her but questions and words with implications only meant so much. Proof was much more becoming and believable.

“Let me show you beyond the city,” she offered. Her hand came up so her fingers brushed against his that lingered after placing the flower in her hair. They both dropped but he timidly intertwined their fingers and motioned for her to lead the way.

They were stopped before they could get in motion and for a heart pounding moment Calum was worried it was Ashton and their deal would be negated or another getaway would have to ensue. Though the voice was masculine it was different and called out her name instead of his.

“Alena.”

She turned and Calum moved with her, held his breath and kept his head low, hoping that whoever it was would pay as little mind to his identity as she had the previous night. The man didn’t bat a blue eye at Calum, only kept an apologetic gaze on Alena and shook his head somberly as he took her in. Calum was confused and waiting for more of their interaction to transpire.

“Luke,” she said with a courteous head nod and much to Calum’s surprise she didn’t untangle their fingers.

“I’m sorry about last night,” he offered and Calum stayed silent, simply watching the way Luke’s eyes fluttered to her sling and recalled words of being dropped and replaceable. “How long will you be out?”

“A few weeks”—she began and shot Calum a look that playfully turned to a smirk—“guess it will give me a break. Don’t worry about it.”

Luke nodded, left well enough alone, and headed for the performer’s door. “I’ll see you in a few weeks then.”

The door shut and Alena turned them back to the venture they were setting out on before being interrupted. Before Calum could question her about the exchange and affirm his suspicions she launched into an explanation laced with nonchalance. “He missed his cue last night. Timing was off. It was just an accident.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention,” Calum muttered, remembering the way she called him out for not noticing something that happened within the first five minutes of the performance.

“Wish you’d seen me fall?” She asked with a narrowed gaze that set nerves alive in Calum’s bloodstream until it was all followed by a giggle that fell unabashedly from petaled lips.

Calum blew out a breath of relief that relaxed his accidentally tensed shoulders, her banter was unwieldy and took him off guard. He’d never had such open conversation with someone so unafraid to speak their mind and make jokes. Calum let their journey pass by his peripheral vision as he kept his gaze trained on her, head slightly shifted to his left, corners of his lips begging to turn up but he kept his cool as she led him along. As promised their journey led them away from the city and the crowds of people that pooled into the streets. Calum appreciated the quiet as they left buildings and gatherings behind in favor of towering trees and grass up to their knees with paths inlaid by steps walked before them. Flowers bloomed along the trails and Calum wondered if this had any connection to the cart overflowing with petals.

“Where are we?” Calum asked though there was a feeling inside of him that told him he didn’t really mind wandering into the unknown with her.

Alena stopped and so Calum did too; the hold their hands held finally broke as she spun and her back was to walls of flowers. The sun casted golden shadows and glows that highlighted her in all of her glory. Silver scar faced the world and Calum, put questions in his head—ones he was determined to ask before their day together was up.

“I used to come here all the time,” she explained with a shy smile and cheeks that held a faint blush of rosy color. “My brothers and I used to run through the field. It was the only place to escape the city. That or running into another one. I thought you might like it here; no crowds, no boring ballets or royal guards.”

“I do,” he admitted around a smile. Her assumption was spot on.

Calum wished he had a place like this back in his kingdom but all of his hiding spots were known to Ashton, all of his escapes were mapped out. Usually he didn’t mind Ashton following, he knew it was his job and if push came to shove his protection might be necessary. But there were days and nights—like this one and last—where Calum craved alone time, wanted a solace to himself to sink into the shadows or the sun on his own. Being alone with Alena felt better than being alone by himself; or at least he was guessing.

“What’s your kingdom like?” Alena asked out of the blue, head tilting with her curiosity as she looked him up and down and awaited his answer.

Calum paused for a moment; just a slice of trepidation cutting through him at her newfound curiosity about his kingdom. She hadn’t so much as uttered a word about him being a prince since dangling his lies in front of his face with a sarcastic ‘your highness’. He searched her face, noted the dimple that deepened on her cheek as she pursed her lips and the slight arch of her right eyebrow as she waited.

“A lot like this one, I suppose,” Calum answered with apprehension. “Except we have the sea.”

A look of wonder and delight captured her, shone in her eyes as she approached him with slight and slow steps. “I’ve never seen the sea.”

“There’s a view from my quarter’s windows,” Calum explained and felt himself loosen up; her curiosity was pure, voice soothing as his anxieties filtered away as she broke into a grin.

“I assume that’s lovely,” she commented with a dreamy gaze at the feild expanded out all around them. Calum assumed she was picturing waves within the grass, ripples of water instead of petals and glistening highlights of the sun. “Have you ever sailed before?”

“A few times,” Calum answered and let out a small chuckle. “Why so many questions?”

“It’s called conversation.”

Calum continued laughing at her witty and fast remark. Her grin broadened at his response yet a bite of sass crossed her face and danced within her eyes.

“Then I deserve to ask you some questions too,” Calum quipped and moved around her, circled past her and came to a stop where she once had her back to the flowers.

“Ask away, I have nothing to hide.”

They were stood close, a summer breeze of distance between them. The fingers that fell from the sling curled in and her free hand settled on the fabric of her skirt. Calum hesitated, collected his words to ask as gently as possible, raised his hand slowly to keep his touch as soft as possible. His index finger grazed silver.

“How did this happen?” He asked in a whisper.

Alena sighed and slightly pulled away from him. “Except that.”

A beat of pause ensued between them and Calum felt his heart drop to his stomach as his throat tightened. He hadn’t meant to overstep. He went to apologize, words tight but she came back to him and the shake of her head jolted him.

“I’m only joking. I don’t have an answer. I don’t remember; I was too young, I can’t recall a time it wasn’t there.”

“You’ve never asked anyone about it?”

“What good would knowing do?”

“You could explain it to your soulmate,” Calum offered around a nervous shake of his head and fingers curling into his palms.

“Aren’t soulmates a little far fetched?” She asked without hesitation or flinching. “Even if there is someone out there perfectly matched with all the same scars, who’s to say you’ll ever meet them? The world is much bigger than that.”

Calum swallowed down a lump in his throat and nodded though he didn’t agree. At one point in time he held those thoughts, just last night he was stuck in a world where soulmates were outranked by royal bloodlines. But morning gave him new perspective and a need to know; to try and chase that person, to see if Alena was that person. Everything inside of Calum wanted to scream that she was, but maybe that was foolish and derived from finally being treated as a person and not feared or catered to as a royal.

Alena gave him a soft and inviting look as she settled into the grass, dress splaying out around her lap as she crossed her legs and used her free hand to pat the grass beside her. Her words on soulmates were conversation and she seemingly welcomed Calum’s response—whether or not she agreed with it. Calum knelt down, settled at her side and felt the earth beneath him, the dampness of dirt and the dew collected on blades, he didn’t mind, not when Alena shifted to face him full on and tilted her head to the side; golden glows finding her silver scar.

“What if you did meet them?” Calum inquired with a raised eyebrow and pure intrigue carrying his words. “Would you deny them?”

She pondered that for a moment and Calum was glad to see she was receptive to his criticism of her thoughts. She blew out a breath. “No, I suppose not. But coincidence is quite convincing.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“What if you truly believed you found the one but it was all coincidence in timing and placement? Are we truly that quick to be persuaded? Are we that desperate for a validated love that all it takes is marks in the same places? What if the one you found was coincidence and the one for you was still out there?”

Calum had never considered her elaboration but her words cut deep and left swirling uncertainties ghosting through his thoughts; he was sure they would haunt him for nights to come. The line on his leg tingled and his chest warmed to that of a small inferno; something inside of him told him that she was wrong.

“Wouldn’t you just know? Don’t you think you’d be able to feel something and know it’s true?”

Calum was asking her on account of wondering for himself. He didn’t quite understand the mysterious workings of the universe or the powers that may be. Alena paused and Calum could see the way she collected her thoughts and wished he could understand the way her mind worked. He caught the flicker of brown and hazel eyes, the way they darted from him to the flowers and back again, the slight narrowing as she contemplated.

“Perhaps that feeling is drowned out by the power of persuasion and thinking you know. Maybe I’m an idealist and want to believe I fell in love because I fell in love; not because some unknown power told me that I should.”

Calum was finally understanding and thought that he maybe even agreed, but there was still something inside of him that lingered with deflating hope and broken and splintered shards of optimism.

“What if you could have both?” He asked and inched just a touch closer. She responded in kind and the distance between them became so minimal Calum could feel the warmth of her collide with him. “What if you could fall in love first and then be reassured by that unknown power?”

“That sounds”—she turned away from him and lost herself in the field of flowers—“unrealistic. Too good to be true.”

Calum let the conversation go in that moment. Let the breeze drifting past take it away from them and instead focused on the tendrils of hair that became one with the wind and the way the scent of her carried through the air. The flower tucked behind her ear held on, folded with the breeze but stayed in place and only lost a petal. Calum nearly reached out to save it between delicate fingertips but kept his hands down. Their walk out to the field and questions turned to conversation hadn’t taken up much of the day—Calum was grateful for that and for their deal—though time felt endless and too fast all in the same breath.

“Any other plans for the day?” Calum asked, voice suddenly soft and implying it was okay for her to believe the way she did. “Anywhere else you’d like to show me?”

“Actually, yes,” she responded and Calum swore she lifted herself to the tops of her toes as she got up and spun around and away from him. She didn’t explain, didn’t wait or look back for him as she began to take off; merely trusted that he was following and so he did.

The field broke away into a tree line, mossy grounds took place of dew filled grass and sunlight filtered in through branches that dominated the sky. Foliage fell from branches and littered the grounds in muted greens that blended in with the path they walked. Wind carried through the trees and saccharine and petals followed after them. The walk was shorter than their first and soon enough Calum heard running water, Alena stopped and kneeled down, beckoned him over with a sideways glance and small motion of her hand.

The stream was small and wildflowers that thrived with water littered the edges. Alena looked peaceful as her fingertips grazed over the cool water, Calum settled beside her and followed suit; felt the coolness on his skin and reveled in the simplicity of the act. Never had he a moment alone when by the water. It was either crowded ships or lines of guards that ran up and down the shoreline. Being alone with her and the small stream was born of dreams and fantasies Calum never usually allowed himself to linger on for too long. He got a bit lost in the notion as he built worlds around such a simple desire. It was a flick of water that splashed across his cheek that brought him back to reality.

“Gotcha,” Alena laughed and sent another small splash of water towards him.

Her daring moves and unabashed nature around him was welcomed; but her warfare of water could not go without a fight. Calum splashed some her way, enjoyed the small gasp that left her followed by another laugh and flick of water. They became fixed on splashing each other and with only one arm available for the fight Alena quickly surrendered, lone hand raised to the sky—a metaphorical white flag waving in the wind. Calum took mercy and dropped himself away from the stream where a line of sunlight filtered in through a break in the branches. His skin was cool from the water but he was warming quickly. She joined him silently and wiped water from her eyes and inspected her now soaking wet sling.

“I didn’t think about that,” Calum mumbled as he moved closer to try and be of some assistance to the issue. She waved him off.

“I started it. It’s alright if I don’t move it. I can let it dry in the sun.” She was gentle and careful in removing her sling, practiced movements guiding the way, let the soaked cloth drop from it’s support as her arm very slowly eased back down to her side. She laid it beside her in the face of the light.

An identical line of bruising ran up her forearm and Calum was winded for a moment. But doubts began to plague him in the form of coincidence. With her words on soulmates he wasn’t sure what to believe, he wasn’t sure she’d want to know—she wanted to fall in love for love not for the notion that something told her she should. Calum stayed quiet as they laid back in the grass, enjoyed the lack of noise—the contrast to his usual daily life was striking and inviting.

The day bled on in swirls of clouds as their refuge away from the city went undisturbed. Calum knew Ashton would be looking for him but also covering for him with the court and whatever duties he was supposed to be filling for the day. There was another invitation to somewhere he didn’t want to go that laid ahead for the night. As much as he always wished to skip out on such occasions a sense of duty always brought him around. Evening was approaching and though Calum knew he should make another appearance before the moon was out and highlighted his absence that much more he couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye to Alena.

“You’ve shown me your world, how about I get to show you mine now?” He asked, head turning, grass rustling with the motion.

They were still laid out in the grass, reveling in the quiet and making idle conversation. It was much less than that of the possibilities of soulmates but stories from childhood filled the air and time between them. Calum laughed at the tales she told, yearned for a life like it, and wished hollowed and echoing palace walls might someday be replaced with those of a home. That a marriage wouldn’t just be a union for power but a commitment with a soulmate.

“You want me to see your world?” She asked with an arched eyebrow and crooked smile. She sat up slowly, reached for her sling and stopped short. “Only if you help me first.”

“Anything for you,” he quipped and moved to take the now dried and warm cloth in his hands.

She shifted, slowly brought her arm back into place and let him wrap it into position and tie it in place. His eyes may have taken in the bruise that once stained his skin and committed it to memory. His touch may have lingered for a just a moment longer than necessary and she may have pressed closer into the smooth feeling of his fingertips on her exposed skin, he may have felt the gentle beat of her heart as he pulled away. But it didn’t matter. Her views on soulmates and his duties to his kingdom negated any possibilities that might have played through his mind.

He brought her back to the lavish accommodations her city provided. Watched the wonder in her eyes and realized she’d never been through the doors or seen the marble intricacies. One of his hands found the small of her back and the other pointed up at the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. She peered up and shook her head in disbelief.

“Your world costs a lot more than mine,” Alena muttered.

“My world made ours collide,” he offered and when she looked at him in confusion he went on, “if it weren’t for an invitation I couldn’t refuse I never would have been at the ballet. You never would have found me loitering at your exit.”

“Then thank the crown for that,” she responded in awe as she took in surroundings she had never seen before. For a moment Calum envisioned what wonder and awe might capture her at the view of the ocean from his lands. Wondered if she might try to drown him in splashes playfully and completely forget and disregard his title.

“Calum,” his advisor's voice rang through the space, it was high pitched and grating—his name always followed by an order or as his advisor put it; a suggestion. At times he felt less an advisor and more a keeper. “You have a dinner to attend.”

“Yes, Charles. I know, Charles,” Calum responded as he always did.

“I best be going,” Alena said in a breathy whisper. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer.”

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Calum asked before she could so much as turn to leave.

“Perhaps you’ll catch me at the flower cart,” she said nonchalantly and spun on her heel; the grace of a ballerina carrying her movement. “Sometime in the morning.”

Calum grinned as he watched her walk away, waited for the doors to close behind her and wished he had the power to invite her to the dinner. But it wasn’t his. He was a visitor and even in his own kingdom he often felt he had no say, no rule, no true authority until a prince’s crown was replaced by that of a king’s. Ashton took up a silent presence beside Calum; stealth and the art of surprise bringing about his return.

“You enjoy her company,” Ashton stated. “I’ve never seen you so smitten.”

“I do. It’s too bad nothing will ever come of it. My parents and the court would never allow it.”

“Perhaps they would if you tell them she’s your soulmate,” Charles’ nasally voice was finally a welcome sound that punctuated a sentence that made Calum crane his neck and shoot a look of confusion his way. Charles hadn’t seen the bruise. Charles pointed to the corner of his eye; right where a silver crescent accented hazel on Alena. “You had the same when you were just three years old. Scared the living daylights out of your mother. She thought something happened and it was yours; but it faded by morning and all signs pointed towards your soulmate.”

“I don’t think that it’s enough,” Calum said around a sigh and waved off their curiosity; an explanation of coincidence and finding love by falling didn’t seem so easy to explain or understand within regal halls and limited time.

He left for for the dinner, found himself surrounded by the royals that ruled Alena’s kingdom and felt a sinking and sneaking suspicion start to shroud him. This was no usual diplomatic gathering. The presence of a princess and sneaking glances built assumptions in Calum’s mind that he would place his crown on being true. A royal set up.

***

Dreams of moonlit scars and fading bruises graced Calum all through the night. When he woke a lingering ache burned through his chest and before he even realized what he was doing or where he was going he found sunlight on cobblestone streets and an abandoned flower cart. Alena was nowhere to be seen and the ache that built from a lonely night and morning only intensified. Ashton had followed but kept a more respectable distance this time. He now knew that Calum was chasing a question born of tales as old as the earth itself. Was she truly his soulmate? Was it coincidence? Could falling be achieved nonetheless?

“Good morning.” Her voice was soft but strong as it sprung up behind him and had him turning quickly to face her.

A new bundle of flowers laid within a woven basket she carried with her free hand. Yellow and blue were the colors that graced the morning and cart, petals overflowing and spilling everywhere. They reminded Calum of sunrise over the ocean on mornings when nothing particular called him away from himself. He greeted her with a smile and offered a hand in helping with the basket and placing new flora around the cart. She was gracious and grateful as she accepted the help. Her dress that morning was white; a soft cotton that clung to her and fell below her knee, showed scuffed shoes and had small stitch work of petals at the hem, cuffed sleeves and a draped bow neckline before buttons finished down the dress. Calum grinned as he took in the sight and decided everything about it screamed Alena.

“Up for another adventure today?” He asked and watched as her concentration of arranging flowers broke, hazel and brown eyes finding his with a playful narrowing. “You didn’t get to see much of my world yesterday.”

“Are you trying to impress me with fancy places and expensive pleasures only a prince can afford?” She quipped with a sarcastic smile and went on, “I can’t be bought you know.”

“I’m always trying to impress you. Never because of my title,” he replied in a murmur and let his eyes dart around the growing crowd.

It was earlier than the previous morning. Less people lingered and filled the city but there was still a bite of anxiety about his world being spoken so candidly and so freely. He still wanted to blend into the crowd. Alena picked up on his shifting gaze and awkward plea to keep his secret.

“I understand,” she said and leaned over the cart to whisper words only he could hear. “But if you’re looking to keep your status a secret your clothes are an easy tell.”

Calum looked down at his outfit curiously. It was as simple as his admittedly extravagant wardrobe allowed. A lace up shirt and slacks, dark shoes and a leather cap to keep the sun from him. He cocked his head to the side and waited for further elaboration but Alena pulled back and got lost in the job in front of her.

“We can leave in a moment,” she said and just like the day before Calum spotted her father just up the way.

He wondered about him, about her comment from the first night and how her parents were the reason she was in the ballet. The man looked kind but any chance to further investigate the situation was cut short when Alena rounded the cart and on instinct Calum offered her arm to walk along. Calum thought about what her father might think; if he cared his daughter was walking off with a near stranger or if Alena had an explanation that quelled any uncertainties that may have aroused from their situation.

It’d only been two days but Calum felt she wasn’t a stranger. Matching scars and coincidence set aside there was something inside Calum that told him all he needed to know. A lingering ache in his chest when he was away from her, a warmth that danced across his skin at contact with her, an easy feeling of the world coming together with clashing colors.

They began walking and Calum realized his world was much closer to hers than he first thought. At least in the sense of where his world allowed him to stay within the confines of her city. He couldn’t shake the feeling that had settled within him ever since the dinner last night. The prospect of it made his skin crawl though he had anticipated a marriage set up for most of his life. He had seen his older sister already face the consequences of what royal bloodlines entailed. She had run away from it; found her soulmate within their kingdom and fled the night before her wedding to a prince she didn’t know, didn’t love, didn’t have a soul purpose of finding and being with.

Alena was a calming presence by his side, her soft hold on his offered arm shot warmth and ease through Calum’s bones. Just enough so to drown out the impending doom of diplomacy that lingered and swayed with the weight of worlds and power above his head. He brought her back to his accommodations, slowed down within the halls to watch her wonder and disbelief gather on her face; to see the light from chandeliers sparkle within deep brown and hazel.

They snuck through the halls with Ashton trailing them at a respectable distance; once within his own private quarters they were afforded another piece of time that was completely alone.

“My place of holding for the time being,” Calum said as an introduction to the space.

Alena walked the perimeter of the room in silence; stopped to cast a gaze out the window that overlooked the entire city line. A gentle and poised hand lightly touched the grand drapes that shrouded the window. Alena was backlit by the glow of the morning; a perfect silhouette in the new light. As she paused to take in the view Calum paused to take her in, search for more identifiable marks that might grace her skin. A silver scar and line of bruising feeling like it wasn’t convincing enough to bypass coincidence, to prove to her or the court; though they were enough to convince Calum.

“This is more than I could ever show you,” she said in a low voice that edged on the verge of resignation.

Calum wandered to her, stopped short just behind her and for the first time truly looked out to the city below. It was vast and made him feel smaller. All of the power he supposedly held felt insignicant. If a royal set up was truly in the works then more power would be gained and the smaller Calum would feel. He looked back at Alena, all of those insecurities and doubts washing away into multicolored ease. She was soft and subtle as she peered at him in curiosity. It was easy to find silence and solace with her. Just a gaze was enough to settle him but Calum saw her own anxieties in a bitten lip as she gazed across the room once more.

“All of the glitz and glamor wears off,” Calum explained and tried to bite back a forlorn sigh but it escaped him in a small and quiet huff. “You could show me much more than this.”

Calum pointed down a line in the city, was thankful that her eyes followed and settled on a path that led away from it all. A small grin lifted the corners of her mouth and a shine in her eyes told Calum his explanation was well received. Their day in the field and under the cover of leaves and branches meant much more than a lavish and luxe lifestyle Calum didn’t sign up for—one that he resented at times.

“And I’m sure you could show me much more beyond that,” he concluded and felt her behind him, the sway of her hip bringing her to brush against him. “Now tell me, what’s wrong with my clothes?”

“It’s very fine fabric, it’s not what we wear in the city but what we make for people above us. It’s easy to see”—she explained and didn’t hesitate to turn and grip the shoulder material of his shirt—“even easier to feel.”

Her hold didn’t drop and Calum was reminded of their first night together. A lost scroll pinned to his chest and her hand keeping it there. He arched an eyebrow and blew out a small laugh.

“I see you still have a habit of not letting me go,” he quipped in a whisper and reveled in the way she didn’t pull back, only smirked and stood on the tops of her toes to bring them to a more even eye level. “Might you reconsider attending that royal gathering?”

The words left Calum before he could stop them. The invitation was clear and hung in the minimal space between them. The knowledge of a scar gracing his eye pushed him to do it, his parents arrival into her city for the ball harbored questions and possible solutions, the prospect of marrying someone who didn’t light fires inside him or bare the same scars fueled his desire to fight back.

“I’m not sure,” she said in an airy and playful tone. “Is Thomas inviting me or is it Calum this time? Should I drop by or am I properly invited?”

“I’d like you to go with me, Calum, properly.”

“Then I suppose I can reconsider. For Calum.”

“It’s the night after next,” Calum reminded, knowing she merely glanced at the scroll when he offered it to her the first time.

Alena didn’t say anything, didn’t move or break eye contact that held so easily it felt like breathing. Calum was caught up in the moment and the thought of seeing Alena nearly drowned out all the troubles that might arise from his brash invitation. With new knowledge of a possible arragngment with this kingdom, a princess who eyed him and his crown, and two courts that would make decisions in tandem with each other Calum felt the need to shrink back and flee from her touch. But her eyes brought him in, pulled him under and kept him breathing underwater.

A subtle smile shone through the silence and slow movements filled every minuscule edge and gap between them. The world spun in slow motion, Calum’s arm and corner of his eye tingled with remembrance he couldn’t actually recall but he reveled in the feel of her lips against his. It lit him up form the inside out, a small inferno turning into a wildfire that spread heat and certainty through his body, to his heart and rippling through his soul.

The city out the window became a blur when eyes fluttered back open and modesty tinged cheeks pink. Her hand had not fallen from the shoulder of his shirt but her fingers loosened and splayed out, edged the fabric away from his skin on accident and eyes fluttered to Calum’s own silver scar. It was much less noticeable than the one that settled on Alena’s skin. Forgettable to even Calum, but her eyes took it in for all the jagged line was worth. Calum held his breath as a whirlwind of thoughts plagued him. It was the first of his own marks she had ever witnessed.

“What is this?” She asked, a tone of allure and disbelief swept into the whirlwind surrounding Calum. “How’d you get it?”

Her questioning was nearly identical to Calum’s in the field. Her curiosity screamed and simmered between them. Calum bit his lip as she left a gentle trail of fingertips under his collarbone. He didn’t flinch, kept his breath held as she wandered his skin and waited for his answer.

“It used to be much worse,” Calum started, thankful the wound had healed and the placement was not any lower, not life threatening the way his parents and the entire kingdom surrounding him made it out to be. “It was just an accident. A few years ago. Tip of a blade pressed a little too hard.”

Alena’s eyes were insightful and her touch fell away from him; his breath coming back in a rush. He watched her step away, felt the distance that she enforced and heard the sounds of the city like static filling the air between them.

“I had the same, for a day,” she admitted and her eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed and a small shake of her head told Calum she was trying to reason with her stance on soulmates.

“Coincidence,” Calum said though he didn’t believe it for a moment. “It’s pretty powerful you know.”

The shake of her head turned to a nod and her hand found the strap of her sling. She gripped it with white knuckle force as her beliefs began collapsing around her. Watching new belief be born was slow and painful and beautiful and every contradiction under the sun and moon. Calum cleared his throat and pulled the fine fabric of his slacks near his knee, bending just slightly to roll his pant leg up.

“What about this one?” He inquired and watched as her eyes swept from ankle to knee.

She sucked in a breath and Calum heard the way it caught in her throat. Belief came hard and fast in that moment, crumbling walls that sheltered her from knowing a world with love finally fell.

“I should go,” she announced out of nowhere; the spell she was under breaking just like her old beliefs, the twirl of her dress guided her away from Calum who was quick to right himself and chase after her. “I need to think.”

“Alena,” Calum tried and felt the fire inside him start to snuff out as she pushed open the wooden door and made her way into the hall.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said and lit just one flicker of hope in Calum’s heart. “I’m sorry.”

Those two words bid Calum a sorrowful goodbye.

***

Alena left and Calum was thrust back into the role of a prince. Thrown back into the face of a princess who wore pink that was too bright, a smile that was too fake and selfish intentions on extravagant sleeves. Calum couldn’t help but compare her to Alena. Her eyes were dull in comparison to hazel and brown. Her hair was done up to perfection but left nothing to be desired if the breeze ever touched her. Soft skin cornering his eye ran fiery yet cold and held a dull ache in Alena’s absence and the princess’ presence. Just above his heart tingled and the line down his leg ached with pain he hadn’t felt in ages.

Ashton stood diagonal to Calum at another invitation to a dinner he couldn’t refuse. He saw the very subtle humor that crossed his guard’s face at the boisterous princess who didn’t quite have a grasp on personal space or polite conversation. The dinner droned on but an escape eventually found Calum when the meal finally disappeared and an excuse of it being late fell from his lips. He excused himself as cordially as he could and dodged forms of affection from the princess he didn’t want from anyone but Alena. Ashton walked with Calum back to his quarters.

“She’ll make a lovely bride,” Ashton commented—his observational and reasoning skills unparalleled. He must have rationalized the reason for the trip as well. Calum whipped around toward him, his disdain cutting across his face without censorship. “Though Alena would be better suited.”

Calum’s eyes shot wide at Ashton’s words and his heart thudded painfully against his rib cage. Pulse points came alive at the picture of Alena as a bride. Heat coursed through him and simmered with desires.

“Try convincing my parents and the court of that.”

Ashton cleared his throat and gave Calum an inquisitive look.

“Why don’t you?”

“They’d never agree,” Calum mused with regret and a harbored anger that finally came out. “A princess outweighs a soulmate. Just as a prince outranked a soulmate.”

Ashton understood Calum’s words; had been there the night his sister made her escape to live on her own terms.

“They could have stopped her,” Ashton said with a shrug. “They let her go. Maybe they’ll do the same for you.”

“They let her go?”

Ashton smirked. “An entire royal guard against two desperately feeling people? Do you really think they made it out on their own? We were told to stand down, let them pass peacefully. They could have made her stay.”

Calum had never considered that; didn’t know how she made her escape or where she went. It startled him to realize she made it out not of her own volition but because they let her go. But there were differences in the problems they faced. His sister was to marry and inherit a different kingdom. He was to rule his birth land, to take the crown from his father and create heirs to keep the line of succession strong. To keep their blood in power.

“It’s different.”

“Possibly. But you’ll never know unless you try.”

***

Calum worried that he wouldn’t see Alena again. That his revealed truths had scared her away and her time to think was just an excuse to get away. She was not at the flower cart when the sun rose into the sky; a flicker of flame lighting up the city in an orange haze. Disappointment lingered within Calum, made stone walls around his heart as he stood across the street with a watchful eye scanning pink petals. Her father manned the cart, brought new life to the woodwork and took her place entirely.

Calum sighed and shook his head at Ashton. He rolled up his sleeves and wished a fine line of purple still graced his skin, wished he could remember a silver scar that accentuated his eye, wished he had a memory of her forever with him; not just for a fleeting moment. He turned on his heel, took a few small steps, heard Ashton following but stopped short. Honey hair and clashing eyes came in a whirlwind up the street. Alena ran to him, out of breath and hair in disarray; perfectly unkept, dress wrinkled and eyes painted with  a sleepless night. Her sling hung a bit more slack than the previous days.

“Leaving so soon?” She asked around an attempt to catch her breath. “Before I could see you again?”

“Never,” Calum responded automatically and felt the aches that had harbored within him during her absence start to ease.

“Can we go somewhere… private?” She asked and let her eyes flicker over to Ashton and then around the bustling city. “I think we need to talk.”

Calum nodded and gestured for her to lead the way; wanted her to make the decision and find somewhere she was comfortable talking with him. He hoped all her thoughts that seemingly kept her up at night would match with his own thoughts the way bruises and scars mirrored the other’s. A sliver of hope made a home with him as he recalled the way she responded to the lines that plagued Calum and the crumbling disbelief that captured her eyes. While Ashton usually would have followed he stayed back; knowing his absence for this moment was more appreciated than fulfilling his royal guard duties. Calum was safe with Alena; the only danger he faced was the pain of a broken heart and scattered pieces of a soul left to search and wander.

Alena led him away from the city again, back towards the meadow that was overrun with flowers that Calum could never forget. She was subtle and demure under the sun, hazel blended in with stems and grass that stood lively with the petals. Alena reached for his hand with her free one, traced lifelines on his palms and stared at his fingers quizzically.

“You burn your fingers,” she inquired and though it may have been a question it was more of a statement.

“Cigarettes,” Calum murmured and watched as her eyes flickered from the pads of his fingertips to his eyes.

“You should quit.”

“I know.”

“You get blisters on your palms,” she said once more and tapped the middle of his palm. Her finger was light and tickled his skin, made his hand react and wish to capture hers and keep it there.

“Swords,” Calum offered the one word as a simple explanation that she nodded to.

Alena blew out a breath and Calum watched as her shoulders dropped and a grimace of pain cut through her eyes. She went silent and introspective at the new knowledge of what scarred her soulmate and appeared on her own skin for a moment in time. She never felt his pain, perhaps a tingle when the worst of them appeared, but never a burn or biting pang. Calum hadn't either. Not until after she graced his world with poise and tip toes, not until after she left and static filled the distance between them with uncertainty and longing aches. He wondered if she felt them too.

“I suppose ballet explains the bruises you get on your legs,” he stated with confidence and took in her nod and subtle bite of her lip for all they were worth.

Coincidence was drowned out by confirmation. By the timing and the feeling of matching incidents. Coincidence was powerless to the running tingles and heat that flooded all the spots they came to know as each other. They knew each other and the moments that graced their bodies, could remember the smallest of marks and moments and now they knew what they meant and what they were from. But questions still built walls around them in a meadow of silence save for the occasional chirp of a bird overhead or rustle of leaves from the wind. They both stood still, her fingertips still settled on his palm and seemingly not going anywhere.

“What does this mean for us?” She wondered aloud and lit Calum’s nerves back to life. Fire coursed through his veins and warmed him with a blush of possible scenarios. “You’re a prince. I’m no princess.”

Calum swallowed down a harsh lump in his throat, tried to ignore the tightness in his chest and the wind that was very fleeting in his lungs. He was breathless when he responded.

“You’re more than that”—he said as he brought their hands into a hold reminiscent of running away from a guard and to this very spot. Brought life back into shallow breaths and restored some peace that had been torn to shreds by a sleepless night of wonder. It was hard to believe that was only days ago. “You’re my soulmate.”

Alena paused again; seemingly collecting her thoughts as problems and complications faced them within a soothing summer breeze. The calm was eerie.

“Is that enough for you? For a kingdom?” She asked and furrowed her eyebrows.

“You are everything and more.”

Alena took his words and nodded. He hoped that there was enough room for belief in her heart that she truly understood and accepted the meaning of his words. Down to every last syllable.

“What do we do?” She asked and for the first time Calum saw that her confidence was well and truly shaken.

She didn’t have answers or ideas for the questions and problems that laid ahead. She had no quick quips or sharp tongue to guide them out of the storm that was brewing on their horizons. Calum shook his head, just as perplexed as she was. He had vague ideas built on idealistic expectations that had no concrete backing to them. He had snippets of knowledge of his sister’s escape and the circumstances that allowed it. His thoughts spiraled mercilessly around his mind. The root of the problems laid within royal halls and crowns that tilted on his head and shifted the path of his life. He decided that’s where they should start to mend the breaks and cracks in the interwoven life they wanted to share.

Calum brought Alena back to his world, determined to ensure they could properly collide and become one. Michael—a man of Calum’s court—was at the doors and Ashton was coming out of the shadows of a corridor when they entered. Michael held an air of control, he was always chivalrous yet not bowing in Calum’s presence. He held his own, gave and got respect for the attitude that followed him. Calum nodded at him, his arm around Alena in a light hold so as not to disturb the injury still resting in a sling.

“I’m supposed to give you this,” Michael said after clearing his throat and fishing into his pocket. “I would have done it earlier today but you’ve been quite evasive.”

Calum’s eyes wandered to the small box in Michael’s palm—his fingers were still partially closed around it but velvet peeked through and set Calum’s predictions of what it was on edge. Calum stiffened at Alena’s side, his arm fell from around her and slowly reached out to take the offering a man in his court was entrusted to keep, carry and deliver during the trip. Calum’s worst fears were confirmed when the small box laid within his grasp and his thumb flipped the lid open. A diamond ring laid within the cushioning and a princess in pink infiltrated his thoughts—made his heart plummet to the depths of his stomach and freeze in its once rhythmic beating.

“Why?” He asked though he already knew the answer and didn’t realize how much he didn’t want Alena to hear it. “Why now?”

“For the princess,” Michael said but his words held no volition or authority; Calum wondered if he even wanted to say them. “The courts expect a proposal and a union. Tomorrow. At the gathering; a rather public and royal affair. It will look good.”

Calum felt the shift of Alena under his hold and hoped with every part of his soul that she wouldn’t flee and give him a proper chance to explain. She stayed silent and Calum couldn’t tell if that was a sign made of good or bad or the worst. Ashton stayed as poised as he could but Calum noted the subtleties only years of being shadows together could have given him; his left eyebrow raised just slightly at the edge, his mouth twitched minutely and he shot Calum a look that only the prince could read. He was worried for Calum, rarely showing emotion other than determination and caution.

“I’ll speak with them in the morning,” Calum said decisively, shut the box and handed it back to a surprised Michael who barely caught the velvet as Calum walked away with Alena thankfully still at his side.

He brought them back to his quarters and held his breath the entire way. He had no clue if anyone of importance lingered in the halls or had heard what transpired in the grand entrance. There was a part of him that hoped they wouldn’t run into anyone and that no one other than the four of them had heard, but, there was another part that wished for confrontation then and there. To clear the air and speak his piece. But no one showed face and the only to follow their footsteps and conversation was Ashton. Alena wasn’t warming to his hovering presence but she accepted him as they made way down the halls and made sure the door was shut behind them to afford them a semblance of privacy.

“So this is goodbye,” she whispered as she turned to face Calum from the door. Her eyes were downcast, brown and hazel shining with unshed tears in which she held in only from a practiced lifetime of composure and poise.

Calum frantically shook his head, breath leaving him in scattered falls. Alena was still, back to the door and body language closed off behind the sling with a hand gripping the strap with white knuckle force. Calum moved to her, chased the taste he knew he couldn’t last a lifetime without and broke his vows of silence for his complete disdain for the crown.

“No,” he said and felt the fight inside of him swell with heat that flickered and coursed through his veins like the rising sun. “This isn’t goodbye. It doesn’t have to be. We can find a way to be together.”

Alena looked past Calum, out into the extravagant room with a view of a city he may be forced to marry into spilling light through open drapes. To the place that mirrored Calum’s quarters back in his own palace so well it sent shivers up his spine at the intrusive thought of an obnoxiously pink princess standing within instead of Alena.

“We hardly even know each other,” she said in an unconvincing whisper.

Calum stiffened; her words enough to cause a reaction that ran bone deep, coursed flickering fires through his resolves and livened them tenfold. He knew her. He knew the intricacies of her life without explanation—the bumps and bruises, the scars and silences that ran maps over her body and connected her soul to his. The only thing that separated them was time. Time they spent in different worlds. Time that forced them to make rash decisions. Time that might be stolen away from them.

“I know what I want. I know who I want to chase after it with,” Calum said and kept his eyes pinned on her, the concept of freedom making a home in his heart right beside clashing eyes and a scar that was crescent and silver just like the moon. “We know each other. Deep down. And if given the chance we can keep getting to know each other.”

Alena pursed her lips and Calum watched the crash of emotions that riddled her. A small breath left her lips. Her hand fell from her sling and invited him closer to her. Settled at the press of a blade that travelled the universe to find her. Her fingertips were light against the material of his shirt but he felt heat build under his skin. Fires came to life at the contact. Her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment and Calum welcomed her as she stepped into his embrace, cheek resting against a scar they shared and her injured arm awkwardly shifted into the fray. Calum yearned to be able to hold her properly one day, feared that one day might never come, that a pink princess would be given her place in his arms—but never his heart.

“It’s only been a few days. You’ll go tomorrow. You’ll find your princess, you’ll bring her home and make her a wife and a queen. I’ll stay here. And maybe someday you’ll come back to the ballet and we’ll find each other again, if only for a passing moment,” Alena said in a soft whisper that landed chills up Calum’s spine. Her breath was warm against his skin but the prospect of her words left him chilled. The thought of distance already made all of the places she touched with soul connections ache.

“I don’t want to be with a princess. You would just give up on us? Sacrifice all that our souls are meant to have? Each other?” Calum questioned with fire behind his words but he stayed calm in her embrace, enjoyed the feeling of her pressed against him; a taunting feeling that it would be short lived driving him to soak up every moment of it.

“That’s what soulmates do. They love you enough to make sacrifices. You were born to be a king,” she explained and Calum caught the note of sadness that captured her voice and shook her sentences apart.

He believed she would make that sacrifice. But it wasn’t one he was willing to watch or have her bare the pain of. He wondered if she felt the burning cool on scars and the reborn ache of pain lived long ago when they were apart. He couldn’t imagine being the cause to the pain or the distance that would enforce it.

“I was born to be with you,” he refused, the title of king much less meaningful than finding the one and fulfilling a lifetime with them.

They were lucky. As Alena had pointed out there was no certainty to finding each other; no promise scars didn’t come as coincidence and a lifetime could be spent with the wrong person. Calum was sure of who they were to each other and what he wanted. He couldn’t let that slip between his fingers or fade away into a royal city’s night sky.

“You can’t have both.”

“I don’t want both. I’ve never wanted to be king. I don’t want to rule anything but my own life. With a crown I never will; I’ll still be a puppet. There’s a line of succession. They don’t need me, they just need a body to sit on the throne and fill the gaps,” he explained in a rush and felt the wind get taken from his lungs. He was running on low to try and convince her. She pursed her lips in contemplation at his long held admission. He’d never truly voiced his disdain for the crown before. Not out loud. “Run away with me.”

“Where would we go?” She wondered aloud with just a a touch of wanderlust and curiosity biting through her words.

“Anywhere. We can find the world together.”

They’d already showed each other pieces of their respective worlds. An exit meant only for a performer and a force that made her a ballerina. A meadow with flowers and a stream that helped laughter and childhood stories echo around a forest. Marble hallways and golden chandeliers strung up so high only angels could touch them; disdain for a world that neither one chose.

“It’s not that simple. We can’t just up and leave our lives without regard. What of our families, the ballet, everything surrounding us? Do you really think they would just let you leave?”

Alena hadn’t said no, just given reasons to slow down and think. But Calum felt time to ponder was frivolous and slipping away from them. The ball was tomorrow night and his parents arrival in the morning would mark time that need not be wasted. If they were to escape, if they were to prove soulmates and find a way to stay, they needed to act fast. No matter what they did, time was not on their side.

“My sister did it. She fled. We could too,” Calum admitted and smiled at his sister’s bravery and determination to live a life she chose. He often wondered where she ended up but knew that it being anywhere other than a castle and a prop to a court would ensure her happiness. “Or we could try convincing them. You could be my queen.”

Alena lapsed into silence, hazel and brown filled with contemplation. Her cheeks warmed to a rosy pink and her breath staggered once before evening out in her consideration. The corners of her lips turned down and Calum could sense she was seeing a life she didn’t want pass by her eyes. He didn’t understand how they could be so connected; want the same things and yet be world’s apart in attaining them. She blinked slowly, hooded lids fluttering with eyelashes that casted shadows along her cheekbones. She let out a sigh and buried herself against him.

“Think on it for the night. No matter what we decide, we’re not ready yet.”

“Will you stay?” Calum asked and felt the painful pause of his heartbeat against the moment it took for her to decide.

“Yes. We should make the most of tonight. In case it’s our last.”

***

Morning came much too soon for Calum’s liking. He had barricaded himself and Alena in his quarters. Kept her hidden in the shadows when advisors and his people made appearances at his door. He wanted to keep knowledge of their world to a minimum; to those who already knew—Ashton, Charles and a sneaking suspicion within Michael. They spent one night together. Days earlier it would have been more than Calum could have ever hoped for. Now there was a resolve that was ready to fight for all the nights and bliss filled mornings that mirrored each other’s desires. Alena was still asleep when Calum rose. Her hair spilled across the pillow in a honey halo, marks that bit into her skin thumped wildly with tension on Calum’s as well. If it weren’t for fingertips grazing and feeling tingles on purple Calum wouldn’t know which truly belonged to him, which were created by his lips and which were kissed by her.

Calum strode to the window and looked out to the city, the usual bustle he became one with felt far away from his high perch. The vendors were out and he knew flowers would be gracing a cart; Alena’s father tending the petals with a kind hand. When lust had been satiated and breaths began to even out; Alena tucked into Calum’s hold in the most comfortable position her injury allowed, they began talking. Calum thought back to the night they first met and the explanation of parents being her reason for joining the ballet.

He had asked her about it under the protection and serenity of moonlight with bliss still on their lips. She told him it was for them, to keep the memory of her mother alive in every step she took across the stage her mother once claimed. It was never her dream but one she was happy to afford her aging father. He had told her he’d love to see her perform again—and when she let out a dry laugh he corrected himself and promised to pay attention this time; knowing there was no way he’d ever take his eyes off of her. Calum had never heard an explanation so selfless, usually surrounded by those who did only for themselves. He turned to look back at her still warm under the covers, silent and still and a picture of perfection Calum wanted to memorize. He could have stayed right there for days but a soft knock on the other side of the door broke him of his reverie.

He made his way over to the door quickly, hoping it wouldn’t jar Alena from her sleep. He opened it carefully, slowly, made sure no creaks sounded through the morning. Ashton stood on the other side. Calum raised an eyebrow as a silent question.

“The king and queen have arrived,” he explained and shot a look down the hall that made Calum react and flinch on instinct.

“I’ll be out in a moment,” Calum said and shut the door; found clothes to put on and left Alena with one last look. When he was back in the hall he met Ashton’s eye and held his gaze to show the importance of his request. “Watch the door. Make sure no one goes in.”

Ashton nodded his understanding and Calum traipsed off down the hall in the direction Ashton’s eyes shot towards. He ran into Charles who directed him to the chambers the kingdom had graced his parents with. They weren’t expecting his hasty visit, were a bit shell shocked at their son’s promptness of their arrival. He was never one for punctuality unless it was led by the court and forced on his hands. Calum wasted no time with formalities—held onto hope that his parents would lend him their familial hearts and understand this was a matter of life and happiness. His sister’s escape instilled faith in him.

“I’ve met someone,” he stated and took in the slackened jaws and wide eyes at the bold claim.

“The princess?” His mother asked and bristled when Calum shook his head.

“My soulmate.”

Silence befell the chamber and somehow echoed around the high ceilings; played tricks within the shadows and settled heavily between the three. His father stood stoic and Calum could picture the crown that would be, could be, should be passed down sitting astray in a line of succession.

“We’ll talk to the court,” his father offered and it made Calum realize even as a king power would come with restriction and strings still attached to his every decision and movement. “Perhaps a different union can be arranged.”

Calum went breathless at the prospect. Recalled the flash of despair that captured Alena when she pictured a life on a throne by his side. Calum felt the same in regards to living a life under everyone else’s thumb. He had already endured it for years. Meeting Alena, running away into meadows and being afforded a fleeting taste of freedom told him what his heart truly desired.

“What if we don’t want the throne?” Calum asked in a rush and felt heat blaze through him, felt a pounding and throbbing that spanned from his ears to his temples. There was no time for his parents to answer as their advisor entered the room and a new discussion was born.

Calum phased in and out of the conversation that was about him and Alena. It was hard to pay attention even though the entirety of his future surrounded him in hushed whispers. He caught enough to know he didn’t like what he heard. The importance of uniting kingdoms, how the princess would be a lovely wife—that he scoffed at—and a learned queen to sit at his side. He left the room after refusing their words, making it apparent what he wanted and how willing he was to make it happen. His mother stopped him in the hall.

“Come to the ball tonight. We will figure something out, together,” she promised and while Calum was apt to believe her there was still doubt that made a home in his heart.

He offered a noncommittal shrug and made his way back to his quarters and Alena. Ashton stood with watchful eyes, back to the door and a professional stance of hands folded capturing him.

“Has anyone come around?” Calum asked.

“Michael passed by, he was looking for you; I told him you were with the king and queen. He still holds the ring.”

“He can keep it,” Calum mumbled and moved past Ashton as soon as he cleared the door and made room for him to slip through.

Calum stayed quiet though Alena was awake. She hadn’t moved from her comfortable embrace on the bed except to sit up and slip her dress back on. She was bleary eyed with tiredness born of a long and exhilarating night. Her hair fell in disarray that had Calum aching to run his fingers through. He approached the bed slowly, smiled on instinct when she smiled at him first. He kept words of the court inside, not wanting to worry her when his mind was already made up. Their chance to be together came before anything else, before minimal power afforded to him from crowns and thrones he had no interest in.

“You’re still going to the ball tonight, right?” Calum asked as he recalled his mother’s soothing words and promise. If all was going to be figured out then Alena needed to be there. She was everything in the grand scheme of things.

“Is that a good idea?” She wondered, the words stung Calum but her tone held no bite. She was downcast as the previous day and the ring Calum had refused came back to her. “I don’t think my invitation and presence will be well received.”

“It will be,” Calum promised and knew that even if it was just from him she would always be welcome in his world—no matter where that world may end up being. “Please come, for me.”

Alena slid across the bed and came closer to Calum as she let out an anxious breath but nodded her intention anyway. Calum bit back words from the advisor and suggestion to keep the unity between kingdoms with a marriage. It wasn’t for Alena to worry about. After the ball it wouldn’t be for Calum either. Either his mother’s words would come to fruition or a daring plan in the back of his mind would lead them to where they wanted to be. Together.

***

Alena’s kingdom spared no cost in the royal gathering. What was supposed to be a smaller occasion became grand and overcrowded with mingling people who were all too stuffy and boring for Calum’s liking. Ashton lingered in the crowd and Calum waited on his heels for the arrival of Alena. He picked a spot with a good vantage point of the front doors and an easy exit out the back. Music filled the overly decorated glitz and glamor of the ballroom. The princess offered eyes that spoke her knowledge of what the courts wanted at Calum. She fluttered her eyelashes and danced around him in an attempt to be inconspicuous and yet eye catching all the same. Calum all but brushed her presence off and completely abandoned her when familiar eyes found his.

Alena was stunning in a simple dress—soft orange clinging to her skin like a subtle sunrise—hair falling loose around her shoulders and a nervous smile all greeted Calum. Her sling still supported her injured arm. Calum knew eyes had flocked to her upon her arrival but many men and women of all status flooded the ballroom and it wasn’t her lack of royal blood that drew eyes. It was the grace and beauty that was so intricately her that made heads turn. She was hesitant to accept his embrace but ended up in his arms, spinning to the music that droned on behind them. Calum felt her poise, the easiness that carried her steps around the dance floor and the natural ability to be one with the music even with an injury holding her back. Calum’s hold was gentle and her gaze was soft as she peered up at him from under her lashes.

“I’m glad you came,” he admitted in a breathless whisper. He didn’t care who heard but her presence made his words and tone much softer than usual.

He knew what challenges laid ahead, what obstacles danced beside them with narrowed eyes and pursed overly pink lips. Calum didn’t want to waste any time in fighting for their futures but the moment was too good to let go of; she was too close to be anywhere else but in his arms. He savored it a moment longer. The rest of the people blended into the crowd and became a murmur in the background. Eventually he found the will to lead her away from the crowd, up towards the resting place for a king and queen of another land that were too weary to mingle among people that were not yet united to them. His parents sat above the crowd with regal posture and eyes that watched everything, broke away from it all to take in the sight of their son with his soulmate on his arm.

“This is Alena,” he introduced timidly; tip toeing on the splintered hope of a promise his mother made in the morning. “My soulmate.”

“We gathered that,” his mother said softly and Calum saw the way she took in Alena. She tried not to stare at the scar that once graced her son’s skin but it was a shock of evidence that commanded her attention. “She’s lovely.”

The compliment felt sincere but flat and missing a roundabout excuse and reason that it didn’t matter who she was so long as it wasn’t a princess. His father eyed Alena less carefully, his broad shoulders straightened as he shook his head minutely.

“The courts still find it in the best interest of all if a proposal is given tonight,” his father’s words came crashing down—that reason falling hard and fast; it was one his mother had much too soft a heart to break the news of.

“If you’ll excuse me,” Alena said quietly but Calum heard the break of her words as she broke the hold he had on her and slipped away with quick steps back into the crowd.

“I’m going after her,” Calum proclaimed, eyes skirting the crowd to keep her in his sights as he stood his ground.

“The courts find a union with the princess important, perhaps your cousin might be a more suitable match. We cannot stop you should you go,” his father finished and restored that broken shard of a promise they had lent him.

“We only have enough men to guard us tonight,” his mother explained with a wry smile and a tilt of her head out to the crowd—permission to go after what he truly wanted laying within the subtle motion.

Calum expressed his gratitude with one last hug and took off, searched through the crowd and bypassed a princess who was prone to invading his personal space. She was crestfallen at his rejection but her facade of affection would be easily replaced for the next man that wore a crown she wanted to sit by. Calum made a beeline for a side exit; a beautiful arching and round door leading him outside stone walls. Alena lingered quietly—oblivious to Calum’s presence—back pressed to the stone and fingers lightly stroking just above her heart.

“You know, this is a prince’s exit only,” Calum declared in much the same tone Alena had taken the first night they met.

She twirled around, eyes blown wide and gleaming with moonlight and tears that Calum wouldn’t allow to fall. He moved to her, felt every essence of her that ever graced his skin start to warm and tingle beneath the surface. She was more than skin deep to him; she was innate and ran through his bloodstream, pumped his heart with purpose and prospects of a life he wanted to chase after.

“What’s wrong?” He asked though he knew exactly what she would say, he could feel it within his soul and all that he knew about her.

“You changed my perspective about soulmates. You made me start falling before I knew and then gave me hope with matching scars and took it all away because of a crown. It was all for naught.”

Calum let Alena speak her piece while he brushed her tears away before they could stain her cheeks. He shook his head at her words that held no bite, no fight, no determination as she felt all was lost within merging kingdoms. He let out a small breath and she turned away from his hold, let dark brown and hazel find the cracked cobblestones beneath them and stay haunted with remorse for the way that she fell—unguarded and with the belief that he might be there to catch her. He wanted to prove that he would be.

“Alena,” Calum began and tried to grab her attention from the ground up. She was still stoic in his hold, eyes downcast but flitting up to him for just a moment, just long enough to show him that she was listening and wanted his side of the story and all the answers and rebuttals he could provide. “I don’t want the crown. I don’t want a princess unless she’s a ballerina and florist and hard bargainer as well. I’m not staying, I’m not going back to my kingdom. The princess will find another heir and sit another throne. Without me. I want to be with you.”

“How?” She asked and the question was needing an answer to instill faith of falling back into her heart and soul.

He explained his parents' words as his slightly disbelieving gaze swept the night for guards of his own and of the princess’ court. He found no one but Alena and that was just the way the world wanted it. “We can leave, if you want to go. They won’t stop us.”

“I think I’ve realized I’d go just about anywhere with you,” she admitted around a blush and fumbling words. “I don’t think I can take the pain of being without you now that I’ve found you.”

Her words confirmed what Calum had been wondering, he surmised she must have felt the aches and tingles in all the places he felt them too. That distance was an injury they might live with forever. Her free hand finally reached up to grip at Calum’s shirt, just under his scar and at his heart. It was so much like the first night they met, but this time Calum was sure that she could feel his heartbeat—that it possibly matched hers—that she really was the one he was meant for.

“Please don’t let go of me,” Calum whispered as a request much more meaningful than fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.

“Never,” Alena replied with implications that would last a lifetime.

***

Calum sat among a crowd a world away from where he was born and raised. A world away from a crown and a marriage that wasn’t to who his heart and soul desired. Alena was radiant on stage. Calum found a new appreciation for the ballet when it was Alena his eyes couldn’t peel away from. When he truly could be one with the crowd and no one of importance other than a merchant that sold flowers and trinkets on cobblestone streets.

Using fine fabric and gems from Calum’s wardrobe had bought them passage across the open ocean, his parents' promise ensured they could flee without trouble. Goodbye’s were somber but filled with hope for the future. The king and queen understood. Alena’s father was kind and wished them well and asked them to write from wherever they ended up. They made that promise and kept it; found adventure in exploring the rest of the world and each other. They ended up finding a home in a country across the waters where princes were obsolete and royalty was hardly a murmur in the background of another world.

The ballet consumed Calum, all of the hard work Alena put into her art came alive on stage and Calum was grateful he was able to life a life that let him witness it every night. For once, the end came all too soon, though Calum was thankful that it meant Alena could be in his arms and not just in his sights. They met outside a performer’s door, orange flowers tucked into Calum’s hold and a plan in his mind.

“For you,” Calum greeted and passed the flowers to Alena like it was the first time—though it had become a well worn tradition through the time they had spent together.

Alena accepted them gracefully, didn’t hesitate to fall into Calum’s embrace of an arm thrown around her shoulders, and let him lead her on. He brought her to the ocean and lit up at eyes that were still mesmerized by waves they had sailed during their escape.

“I’m glad I found you,” Calum murmured into the night and watched as the moonlight rippled off the darkened sea.

“I’m glad I took a chance and let myself fall,” Alena admitted and Calum felt her words deep within him.

They fell back into the sand with flowers and hope in hand. Calum didn’t let his gaze wander to anywhere but brown and hazel and silver. Alena was demure under the moonlight and soft with grains of sand in honey hair. Calum grinned—wrapped up in the finality of searching souls finding each other, fighting for each other and making a home with one another. No matter where else they ended up, they would be at home so long as they other was by their side.

<< >>

If you’d like to be added to my tag list just let me know!

Tagged: @rosecolouredash​ @irwinkitten​ @golden-hood @who-do-you-love-5sos​ @caswinchester2000​ @wildflowergrae​ @empathycth​ @cuddlemecalx @malumsmermaid​ @babylon-corgis​ @outerspaceisbetterthannothing​ @mariellelovescupcakes​ @xhaileyreneex​ @goth5sos​ @gosh-im-short​ @feliznavidaddycal​ @loveroflrh​ @findingliam-o​ @flowerthug​ @g-l-pierce​ @talkfastromance4​ @cashtonasfuck​ @sc0ttish-wildfl0wer​ @wastedheartcth​ @calumscalm​ @notinthesameguey​ @akafeliznavidaddy​ @myloverboyash​ @treatallwithkindness​ @haikucal​ @wiildflower-xxx​ @calum-uncrowned @egyptiangoldhood​ @drarryetcetera​ @another-lonely-heart​ @megz1985​ @idk-harry​ @dinosaursandsocks​ @wildflower-cth​ @idontneedanyone​ @everyscarisahealingplace​ @myfavfanficsever​ @stormrider505​ @karajaynetoday​ @333-xx​ @calumshpod​ @calumsphile​ @calumrose​ @justhereforcalum​ @mantlereid​ @hemmingslftv​

[ashtonandcalslefthand]

Checkmate (Prince!Cal) Part One

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Slowburn shitty writing, sorry.

Dedicated: To @angelbabylu for coming up with 90% of the beautiful names in this story and to @heartbreak-5sos for the infinite love and support you’ve given me, even if I don’t deserve it. Love you, Buggy 💗

She sat elegantly upon her throne as her brother furrowed his brow in concentration, the way she did everything. The wooden pieces were scattered across the board in a way that anybody else would call random, but nothing she did was ever ‘random’. Finally, Noah dragged his rook right, and his eyes lit up, his face lifting into an ecstatic grin, “Check.” He said in ecstatic surprise. She returned his bright smile with a cool smirk, and his face immediately fell.

She picked up her bishop, relishing the cool, smooth wooden piece in her hand as she took his queen in a simple, sweeping feat. She had won the game for the eighteenth time in a row. Her brother’s jaw fell agape in shock as his eyes widened in shock. She grinned slyly, “Checkmate.”

Elena watched as her brother’s eyes scanned the board, obviously attempting to point out a flaw in her moves, but he wouldn’t be able to. She knew it. Her plans were always meticulously perfected. “But, no. That can’t be right!” His eyebrows furrowed as she stood from her seat, her gown rippling with the sudden and unpredicted movement. He looked up at her, pouting slightly. “I really thought I had you that time.”

She let out a small, light chuckle, folding her hands behind her back, “I know you did.” She walked toward the hall, her heels interrupting the clean silence with every step. “Also, you know the rules, Noah. The loser cleans the board.” She said with a small pitiful smile, walking away as her brother groaned.

She had almost just left the room when Noah spoke. “You know, you will be expected in the throne room soon for the introductions, then in the ballroom for the remainder of the night. You won’t have much time for your reading and moping today.” She sent him a sharp glare but didn’t respond. Of course, she knew about what was happening today. It was custom for the groom to visit his bride’s home for a month since she would be living in his for the rest of her life. 

Most women would be excited, but Elena saw it under a completely different light. To most people, it was an official engagement. To Elena, it was an unofficial trap.

“How could I forget?” She asked under her breath -- not to Noah, but to herself. She turned once again and walked down the hall, her head high and her jaw set. She walked down the hall the way she did everything -- elegantly.

“I overheard this afternoon from your mother that your prince’s name is Calum,” Emma whispered with a quiet giggle as she brushed through Elena’s long hair. “I asked around the girl’s of the castle, apparently he’s an angel in black.” Elena stared at herself in the mirror, blinking with the reflection as a small grin danced on her lips.

“Calum Hood,” She mumbled, tasting the name in her mouth. Elena had known the family name, but her parents refused to tell her anything else. Emma, her maid and closest friend, was her one and only source of information, and she never disappointed. “Tell me more about this black-clad angel.”

Emma giggled once more, wrapping Elena’s hair with gems and jewels as she tugged and teased, “According to rumours, he’s the precise opposite of you,”

Elena hummed a response, closing her eyes in an attempt to imagine what this mystery man might look like, “So there’s absolutely no chance of me liking him?”

Emma burst out in a fit of laughter before silencing herself, letting out a few stray chuckles, “I doubt you are so vain, Elena.” She said quietly, running her fingers through Elena’s hair once more.

Elena raised her eyebrows in the mirror but remained silent and still as Emma continued her quick-fingered work of preparing Elena for the dreaded night. The night she’d been looking forward to for weeks, the night that would set her fate in stone.

The night.

Her train of thought was interrupted by a knock at the door. Elena’s eyes were greeted by Noah in a suit blatantly tailored for a prince. Such a meticulous outfit paired with such a wild person was humourous to her. Elena found it so comical that she became oblivious to the lustful gaze Noah shared with Emma.

“Well, don’t you look dashing?” Noah scoffed at his sister’s ironic remark, running a hand through his hair, returning it to its natural unruly state. 

“Shut up,“ He said jokingly, making his way to his sister as Emma tugged on her hair harder. “You look rather dashing yourself, El.” He mocked as Elena laughed and Emma blushed -- something she was prone to do around Noah.

“It’s all because of Emma’s talented fingers,” Elena beamed. Noah’s eyebrows shot up.

“Talented fingers you say?” He asked with a smirk that flew just below Elena’s radar. “Well, I just need to borrow Emma very quickly. Her quick fingers are needed,” Emma jumped up, knocking over a little cup of hairpins. She squealed, picking all the pins back up rapidly.

“Well, it looks like she’s done anyways,” Chuckled Elena. “She’s all yours,” She said and rose from her seat calmly as Noah walked out of the room, followed by Emma’s small stature. 

“I know.“ He said with a grin. And then they were gone, and Elena was alone.

Elena felt royal. She felt it with every long-stride step she took and every bow she received. As she sat in the throne room, Noah to her left and her parents to her right, she as able to inhale without fear. This was her kingdom, this was her palace, this was her throne, and she was in control.

And then the Hoods walked in.

They walked in with a calm, serene, friendly air about them, with all the elegance and confidence of a royal family. Except for the son. Calum Hood.

He walked in with arrogance, smugness, cockiness, and certainty. He was dressed in a black jacket -- which was rolled up in the sleeves -- and a black shirt -- which was half unbuttoned -- and his crown -- which was nearly falling off.

“Welcome,” The king started with a warm (and obviously forced) smile, “To our kingdom.” Elena tuned out after that, she already knew the usual introductions and how long they took. Instead, she spent her time more wisely. She observed her fiancee.

He had dark, curly hair and it spiralled off his head into a mess of waves. That must drive the other girls wild, Elena thought. It didn’t help that he was tall and broad. He must’ve been a couple inches taller than Noah, and Noah towered above Elena,  she could only imagine how tall Calum would be when compared to her, even in heels. She dragged her eyes all over him, attempting to memorize his features, attempting to size him up. It was only when her sight returned to his eyes that she noticed he was doing the same to her.

Most people would have looked away, blushed, something, but all the prince did was blink at her lazily, which she returned with her own unimpressed blink. And then they were staring at each other.

Neither was weak enough to break the gaze and yet neither was strong enough to speak out. So, they stared at each other with a calm, burning intensity. Finally, as Elena’s father’s speech came to a close, Calum blinked and Elena’s back straightened in pride and slight arrogance.

Calum didn’t look back at her for another five minutes, but when he did, she was looking right back at him with a smirk imprinted on her elegant face. Her lips formed soundless words, but he received the message. Checkmate.

The ballroom was big and beautiful, crafted to impress and impress it did. The ceiling was arched way above the dance floor, which was made of wood, sleek and smooth to the touch, and it was so clean it practically glowed underneath the light of the crystal chandeliers placed along the core of the ceiling. The whole room glittered gold, reflections of the colourful gowns and the star-dimming jewels moved like shadows along the dance floor. The whole room itself seemed to vibrate with the sound of music and polite chatter. She stood in the corner, far away from her family, further away from her guests, and furthest away from her fiance.

Still, just like her mother taught her, whatever you attempt to push away will always come back to you with twice as much force. She probably shouldn’t have taken her mother’s advice so lightly, especially during a moonlit walk in the garden. 

Stop and smell the roses, that was one of Elena’s life mottos, and she thought of it with a grin as she bent over next to the bush of ruby red roses, inhaling the sickly sweet aroma of the blossoms. Suddenly, she began to choke and cough on what she quickly identified as smoke. Elena turned on her heel, looking around with eyes full of alarm, only to find Calum leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand. 

Calum felt a presence and couldn’t help the immediate reaction of clenching his jaw. He’d never liked people, much preferred the company of a cigarette and some whiskey, not that his parents would ever let him say that out loud. So, he took a drag off the disease-stricken stick, inhaled, closed his eyes, and exhaled again. And he relished it.

“Those can kill you.” She did not say it as a question, she did not say it with disappointment, she said it as a fact, and Calum admired that. Lazily, he turned his head with his eyes still closed and opened his eyes to look at her.

His parents had refused to tell him anything about his fiancee before the limo ride over, during which they told him her name, which wasn’t particularly appreciated on Calum’s part, but they told him nothing about her appearance. At that point, he hadn’t expected much about this princess of his, but when he met her he had to bite his tongue so as to not drop his jaw. She was not the delicate little flower he expected, she was the delicate little bomb.

Calum shrugged nonchalantly at Elena as he inhaled another puff of smoke, “I know,” He didn’t flinch as he exhaled the smoke into her eyes. She didn’t flinch, either. 

Without hesitation, she reached across him and plucked the cigarette from his long fingers with grace and light dominance. He didn’t attempt to pull it away from her like he would have with anybody else. Curiously, he simply watched as she pulled the cigarette up to her lips and inhaled fluently before passing it back to him, at which point he inhaled as she exhaled, and then he passed it to her and she took a drag as he exhaled. They continued this, smoking and breathing and slowly killing themselves together under the moon until the sun started to rise. At which point, the cigarette burned out. And then they lit another one.

The sun shone through the curtains, and he couldn’t help but admire her beautiful, soft features, the slight dip of her waist and how all of the creases in her forehead disappeared amidst the dreams she had in her sleep. He sat up, leaving as much of the room undisturbed as he stood up, redressed himself, kissed her forehead and whispered a quick, silent goodbye, and snuck out of the small room. Nobody had noticed when Noah and Emma snuck out of the ballroom together, quietly, of course, and made their way up to her still, seclusive bedchamber.

In the still of the late night, or, more like early morning, the ruffled and flushed prince made his way down the stairs, quickly buttoning his shirt back up as he ran down the steps, practically flying. It was to his dismay that the party was still alive, despite how long he’d been gone. He stopped by a mirror, quickly centring his jacket and fixing his hair before entering the ballroom.

Noah wasn’t as noticed as he usually was, today wasn’t about him. There were no ladies of the court hurling themselves at him, there were no relatives fawning over the oldest child, there were no visiting princesses or kings attempting to strike a deal with the family, no one was here for him. Everyone was here for his sister.

And no one knew where she was.

“I saw her just a moment ago, right before I spoke to Miranda, James, and Lacey. Oh, but I spoke to Meghan and Laura right after that...”

“Noah!” Everyone turned to him with wide eyes and fearful expressions, “Have you seen your sister?” He had been taught how to be the most regal of princes, and he acted the part under the heat of a hundred intense gazes.

“No,” He said, quickly coming up with lies that he’d begun to store in his mind. “I was just looking for her,” Noah’s hands had begun to sweat and he quickly hid them behind his back.

“Where have you searched?” His eyes darted across the room, avoiding eye contact.

“She wasn’t in the library or her room when I checked, but she could very well have moved,” He chuckled forcedly, “You know how restless Elena can be.” 

No one was here for Noah, everyone was here for his sister, but all eyes were on him as he ordered the guards to search for her and then quickly started the music again, reassuring everyone that the party would continue.

No one was here for Noah as his hands' sweat for his sister and for Emma, who lay upstairs underneath her rough white sheets with a calm, angelic face. He didn’t know what he was doing as a thousand eyes gazed upon him for leadership and all he could hope was that, wherever Elena was, it was worth the trouble.

“The cigarette’s burned out,” Elena complained as she ground their third cigarette into the ground, frowning slightly.

Calum scoffed at her, “That would be because you keep smoking all of them.” He shoved his hands in his pocket, searching for warmth in the cold night air. The silence weighed down on both of them, the crushing pain of the whole night sky crashing down on their lungs making both their breaths laboured. “That was the last one,” Calum whispered, looking up as the sky’s blue lightened with every blink of his eyes. 

“Okay,” She whispered back, staring at the ground. 

The next time he turned to her, many minutes later, about to say something, he was only met by the cool night air. She had left, and now he regretted looking at the stars.

She was so much prettier.

Elena entered the ballroom with a frown and the faint smell of nicotine and moonlight clinging to her skin like a sheer sheet of sweat. She expected to be able to go up the stairwell silently, stripping off her breath-taking, rib-breaking dress, and going to sleep. She did not expect everyone to gather around her and begin screeching like out-of-tune hawks.

“Where on God’s green Earth were you?” The queen cried as she gripped onto Elena’s cheeks. 

Startled, Elena stuttered. “I was, I, um, I-” Her mother paused her panic, looking at her with a level glare that said what Elena’s mother always said for her. It’s not becoming of a young woman to stutter. “I was outside. In the garden.” Elena stepped backwards, just outside of her mother’s reach, silently praying that she couldn’t smell the cigarette smoke on her breath, on her dress, on her skin. On her mind. 

“The whole time?” Elena’s hair practically whipped as she snapped her head to the left, looking at her brother -- who looked oddly flushed. 

Her eyebrows furrowed together at the look on everyone’s faces. “What do you mean, ‘this whole time’?” Everyone in the room collectively rolled their eyes. The court had an attitude this evening, apparently. 

“Your Highness,” A guard she’d never met before started, “We haven’t seen you for four hours.” Her eyebrows skyrocketed and her jaw dropped as her eyes sought everyone else’s in the room. They weren’t lying.

“No,” She said, chuckling dryly, “No, that’s impossible.” She looked into her memory with open eyes. She had smoked in silence with her beautiful fiance for four hours. “No,”

Her mother blinked back to life as she pulled herself out of the scent of smoke and Calum’s body wash. “Where you alone all this time?” The queen asked fearfully, eyes kind.

Elena looked up, her mouth slightly parted with an unspoken truth. She looked beyond the crowd just in time to catch the beautiful prince’s dark eyes as he made his way towards the silent staircase, the sun starting to rise behind him in a beautiful glow. Not that Elena would admit it. They caught each other’s eyes just in time.

“Yes,” Elena said breathlessly, in a secret whisper. “All alone.” 

Calum had almost slipped into shadows when she caught him mouthing wordlessly. Checkmate.

 Tag List: @angelbabylu @5sosnsfw@bloodmoonashton@claredolphinbear24 @rainingcal @cal-pal-cuddles Thanks, love you <3

{💞💕 Message me if you’d like to be part of my tag list. 💕💞}{ 💞 💕 Don’t forget to send in asks and recs.💕💞 }

[newtsshelbys]

Burn Bright | Calum Hood AU

Pairing: Prince!CalumHood x Feminie!Reder AU

A/N: For the sake of this story, we pretend that australia was discovered in the middle of the 17th century instead of the 18th (in this household, we’re not going to white wash Calum Thomas Hood). Please remember that this is all fiction. I know none of the boys personally. I try my best to reflect their personalities, yet I want to bring my own twist to it. A huge part of it is how I personally imagine the boys to act and the other part is really just pure fiction. Please don’t be upset if you think I don’t portrait the boys correct or if it’s just not to your liking. Also, I try to stick to history as much as I can, but please respect, that it’s not always possible.

This fanfiction is inspired by the song Babylon by 5 Seconds of Summer.

This is only the teaser of a story I think about writing. But since I’m not fully sure yet, if I’m actually going to do this and don’t know if people would really read this, feel free to leave feedback. This would be my first, more chaptered story ever so, please be patient with me. Plus, feedback and criticism is always appreciated. Thank you.

Word count: 0.7k

Warnings: none yet (possible warnings: swearing, drinking, murder, blood, angst, fluff, light smut maybe, not sure yet)

As the news were announced, she was about to dry the last plate that was left from lunch that took place about an hour ago. She was glad that the work was almost done for the meantime and that her short but still much needed afternoon break would get her some kind of rest.

Y/N was about to put down her last plate as Amelie came rushing through the front door of the kitchen. She was out of her breath and her chest was heaving up and down pretty fast.

“The prince is returning!” she almost shouted, her voice sounding chipped.

You could practically feel everyone tensing up in the room at her words. The questioning and part time exited looks on everyone's faces were just absurd. Y/N for her part rolled her eyes at the still heavy breathing Amelie, even though that was kind of unfair, since nothing of this was her fault. She was just a chambermaid that had the luck to break the news down to them.

Y/N would be lying if she’d say that she isn’t even a little bit curious, though. She never saw the prince in person before, neither did most of the people living at the court. They got told that when he was at the age of six, he was send out into the big world to find a potential wife. His aunt, which accompanied him, returned to the a few years ago, because the prince must be nineteen by know and was able to watch out for himself. Nineteen is pretty old to not be married already when you think about it.

But the more important thing and also more annoying thing for Y/N was, that his return meant work. A lot of work. Starting with an reception buffet, preparing the dining room, cooking diner for at least two hundred people and clean the whole mess afterwards. And there goes Y/N’s afternoon break.

By every hour passing, the people got more nervous. The prince is supposed to arrive in the late afternoon. It was 3pm right now. Of course everyone was talking about it, more specifically, about him. The maids on the court went crazy. Most of them probably had multiple daydreams about the prince, which when you think about it, ridiculous. Almost every single one of them either haven’t seen him in person since he was six years old or haven’t seen him at all. They talked about how they hoped that he’d look good and fought about who was going to take over the parts as servants tonight.

All Y/N did was listen. She listen to them talking about this mysterious prince for what felt like four hours straight, when in real life, they didn’t talk and fantasized about him. They talked about the power and money he owned.

And then suddenly, the sound of the hornes resounded. Which meant it was time. Time for everyone to get in position. Within less than two minutes every important person living or visiting the court was perfectly lined up in front of the castle. They were all standing straight and ready to welcome the prince home. At the same time the kitchen maids were all pressed against the window in the bakery. It was one big scramble, because everyone wanted to be the first one seeing the prince with their own eyes. While Y/N was telling herself not to be a part of this stupid and superficial behaviour.

“He’s coming!” someone at the window shouted, making everyone just more of a mess then they already were.

“C’mon Y/N, you have to see this!” one of your mates cheered at you, his full attention on the arrival that was currently taking place outside of the window.

Y/N let out a sigh, took of her apron and placed it at the workspace infront of her. She made her way to the almost completely covered up window by the bodies of ther coworkers. As she was standing there, she still managed to catch a glimpse on the arriving carriage where the prince of england was supposed to step out of every second.