Major Arcana | Calum Hood (Chapter 1)
Summary: If Az had known beforehand that a world-famous bassist was going to be checking into her hotel for six weeks, she would have done a tarot pull a lot sooner. Calum Hood (and his band) was here on retreat and supposed to find inspirations; instead, he found Az.
A romantic-poetic-comedic post 5SOS5!AU where the band enter a six-week writing retreat to find themselves, and Calum and Az spend the entire time stuck in each other's orbit, unable to leave.
Date: 31 August 2025 Pairing: Calum Hood x OFC Words: 4.2K Warnings: some swearing, jetlag + mentions of insomniac ghosts. A/N: I haven't written fanfiction in a long time but I had a very vivid dream about taking mirror selfies with Calum Hood and it turned into... this. If it finds its way to your feed, please let me know what you think! I accept any and all feedback, in fact it is deeply appreciated. Big Love xo -S
Chapter 1: Housed & Hydrated
[Az:]
All of the reviews and enquiry emails — regardless of their content — were all starting to look and sound exactly the same as the summer breeze taunted me through the open glass doors and windows. The sun poured gold through the trees outside, cicadas humming their freedom in harmony with the rhythmic swooshing of the lobby ceiling fans as the soundtrack to the laziest Sunday in history. I could smell the ocean from behind the desk, and it made my heart ache.
I opened my text thread with Roman with a scowl.
we should have played hooky. should have been us with the ocean breeze ☀️🏖️🐚
He replied, almost instantly, with a selfie of his own pout, clearly sitting in front of the washers down in the laundry as they cycled through what blurrily looked like a white load.
Roman: instead I’m bleaching questionable substances out of shower towels. this linen has seen some shit. tragic.
I smothered my giggle on principle, trying to stay true to the monotony of what was supposed to be the “peak” season, but very clearly was not. It wasn’t just the day that had been ridiculously slow; the whole summer had been. If I had to type out ‘Thank you for your enquiry, attached is a copy of our downloadable brochure with all of the services available’ one more time, I was going to projectile vomit directly up into the ceiling fan just to give myself something to do afterward.
As if the universe had heard my quiet hexes, the first person I’d seen in an hour sauntered in with undeniably demanding posture and a facial expression to match. Seemed to be in his early forties, perhaps, and his black button-down shirt looked like it had been ironed at some point but clearly not in the last 12 hours. He looked professional, and nice enough. He approached the desk politely, one hand finding the inside of the pocket of his slacks and the other coming to rest on top of the counter, wrist bearing an expensive-looking watch. I gulped, but offered the most professional smile I could muster.
‘Afternoon,’ he almost hummed. ‘Name’s Bastian, I’m here for the group booking?’
I didn’t think that he meant for his sentence to sound like a question, but it did. Deep blue eyes seemed to indicate he was under the impression that I knew what he was talking about, though.
‘Right,’ I practically hummed back, racking my brain for any memory of anyone mentioning literally anything about a group booking. It seemed like the kind of thing I should remember – and I totally would have if I’d had any recollection of it. ‘The group booking. Of course.’
I began to stall, rummaging through fake papers that may or may not have been my own doodles and haikus.
‘Do you remember who you booked in with?’ I asked over the desk, flashing my most dazzling smile – all teeth and charm, with that little flutter of my lashes that distract from the fact that I was stalling.
‘Andreas, I think, over the phone initially,’ Bastian said, ‘Delia followed up by email. I can pull up the confirmation if you want?’
‘I trust ya,’ I said, flashing another grin and making sure it reached my eyes behind the thin silver frames that circled them. ‘Typical owners, never passing on the important info.’ He smiled back at me, stress clearly beginning to ease up as I abandoned the fake papers and clicked into the computer system instead. ‘What name did you book under?’
‘Ellis?’ He offered, though a small scrunch of my nose at the empty results told him that wasn’t the case. The older man leaned inward just a touch, voice lowering in a hush as if what he was about to say was top secret. I could smell his cologne mixing in with the sea breeze as it wafted through the open doors. Definitely smelled like David Beckham.
‘It’s uh,’ he cleared his throat. Not nervously, just like he needed to. Clearly he was a man not used to such quiet diction. ‘It’s for a band I manage. Five Seconds of Summer? Long stay, Delia said she’d organised everything.’
Oh.
It probably was top secret.
Realistically my eyes only closed for a fraction of a second, but it felt like my entire teenagehood and then some had dropped into the pit of my stomach. For that fraction of a second, I was sixteen and surviving heartbreaks I’d never felt to music that seemed to know who I was before even I did.
But when my eyes met Bastian’s again, I caught the breath that threatened to give me away and offered the most collected, charming composure I think anyone had ever assembled of themselves. I tilted my head upward just a fraction, the smile curving my lips small but all-knowing.
‘Okay,’ I said simply. ‘So… four rooms then?’
Bastian leaned back again, relief flooding navy eyes in a way that I was pretty sure he didn’t realise was noticeable. His shoulders softened, nodding gently – appreciatively.
‘Correct.’ He basically breathed. I chuckled, diverting my gaze to my phone as I pulled up Delia’s thread.
‘One second,’ I said simply and Bastian nodded again, turning to his own phone. I almost winked before he turned away, but I could feel the weight in my gut that it would be layering on the flattery a little too thick. The last thing I needed was to ruin whatever this was about to be before it even started.
Dee, is there a reason you didn’t tell me about the 5SOS booking?? It’s not even in the system? HELP! ⚠️
I wasn’t sure how a woman who despised technology was always so quick to answer my texts, but for the first time in my twelve or so years of knowing her (and her son) I was thankful for it.
Delia: Sorry! I thought I CC’d you on the email!😋 Delia: Just book them a room each on level 5, open booking Delia: Love ya work x
I hid a grin behind a roll of my eyes. That woman was going to be the end of me. If it weren’t for the free lodging and decent pay, I would have quit over this. Maybe. If it were any other band, anyway. And not the family business of my best friend.
‘You wouldn’t happen to have their IDs on you, Bash?’ I asked, giving him the nickname like I’d known him longer than the five or so minutes he’d been standing here. A slight furrow of bushy brows crinkled aging skin, but the sound of footfalls on the concrete tiles outside made us both turn to watch the figure walk through the doors like a silhouette.
Sunlight spilled over his shoulders, dark curls tussling in the wind as he slid a pair of Raybans that were covering his eyes into his hairline, pushing the locks back behind his ears – save for the one that sprung back into the middle of his forehead. Oversized green hoodie had its sleeves pushed up toned, tattooed forearms, one hand holding onto a bundle of passports and drivers licenses. Even from where I sat safe behind my desk, I watched as the tiniest bead of sweat trickled from his temple to his clenched jawline.
My heart stilled for a beat, and then picked up again when he offered a curt, tired nod to Bastian as the manager stepped to the side to take a phone call, before pulling himself to a stop right in front of the counter.
[Calum: ]
My body seemed to vibrate under my hoodie, sweat already practically pooling on the back of my neck and soaking into the collar. I was not dressed for a Melbourne summer. The air conditioning of the car ride had tricked me into thinking the humidity wouldn’t be a big deal.
‘IDs,’ I almost mumbled through the fatigue, trying not to blink too much in the brightness of the open lobby considering the change of timezones still pulling on my eyelids. I slid the stack of passports and licences onto the counter toward the girl, whose eyes seemed to meet mine like magnets.
Her skin was warm, clearly having met the sun in recent days. The splash of freckles over her cheeks and nose added youth, though the nose ring and thick, wispy lashes behind the silver glasses did the opposite. Her features were soft, round; she was at ease, effortlessly tapping on her computer in a crisp, white, oversized linen shirt that found the breeze just slightly, even behind the safety of her counter. Voluminous brown hair was swept up off of her neck lazily into a claw clip, a couple of pens hiding through the middle in a way that made me think that maybe she’d forgotten they were there, and brown eyes brightened just a hint, just as she opened her mouth.
‘Amazing, thanks.’ It was like she hummed the words out, reaching out with a tattooed hand to take the stack of IDs for herself with a very subtle arch of one brow – one that I wasn’t sure she even knew she was doing. ‘You look like you might appreciate the short version of the welcome speech.’
Her tone wasn’t bent under any sort of recognition, as she typed and clicked away. She was calm, cool. Something in the lilt of her voice almost made it seem like she was teasing. Kindness, disguised in wit and polite charm. My lips quirked in the corners almost on instinct.
‘Is it that obvious?’ I asked, voice rough with exhaustion.
She smiled, still polite but softer than the crisp professionalism I was used to in hotels.
‘Breakfast buffet runs from seven to ten, but we can do in-room delivery if you think you’ll miss it. WiFi password is in the room folders, front desk on speed dial on the room phones. If you need anything – and I mean anything – I’m Az.’
She said her name like a fact, not a cue, and not part of a well-rehearsed script. My eyes flickered to the crooked nametag pinned to the pocket of her shirt. Az. Short, sweet. I liked it.
‘’Preciate it,’ I said quietly, genuinely.
‘Looks like you’re in for a while. Might as well get comfortable.’ She crooned back with another quirk of the same brow. Her eyes flickered to mine again, but they didn’t hold for long before she was back to her screen. Her tone was light in her wit, unbothered almost, and it eased the tension pulling on my shoulders.
Bastian waving out as the dark vehicle rolled past the entry way and making his way out to meet the other guys had us turning our gaze temporarily to the open doors. When I turned back to Az she was already sliding IDs back through the silence, each of our drivers licence’s tucked into the front page of the corresponding passport. Hazel eyes met mine, steady and calm.
‘Welcome to Siren’s Rest.’
My lips curved a little more at that, and for the first time in a long time, the smile didn’t feel so forced.
[Az:]
‘Just so you know,’ I leaned forward on my elbows in faux-seriousness. ‘Your floor is clear of ghost sightings, but I would be wary of level three. Don’t be alarmed if you hear her in the stairwell at night – she’s got insomnia and the cardio helps wear her out.’
His low chuckle bubbled out of his lips like he didn’t mean to let it out, and my lips twitched too as I suppressed the urge to grin triumphantly. The sound filled the lobby, making the air not feel so humid in a bad way. Relief loosened in my own chest, watching the ease slip over his face too. Good, I found myself thinking. He’s got a sense of humour.
‘Noted,’ he chuckled again, burying the stack of his band’s IDs into his hoodie pocket. ‘No touring level three.’
‘Not for free, anyway.’ I couldn’t help but snowball the bit. ‘I charge extra for the ghost tours.’
He laughed again, louder this time, and this time I couldn’t keep the smile to myself. So many celebrities seemed kind of untouchable; immune to mundane interaction. Not that I ever expected Calum Hood to be a complete asshole, but the intimidation of a screen between our lives definitely made him seem… different. Out of reach. Here in my lobby, he just looked tired. And human.
‘We have coffee, for while you wait.’ I lifted my chin casually in a gesture to a small drink station in the corner of the lobby next to the heated-looking ficus plant in a ceramic pot. ‘Or water. I recommend either, to be honest, I make sure Delia orders the good stuff.’
I watched Calum’s eyes flicker over to the station, lips still upturned with the ghost of his laughter. My chest warmed, but only a little.
‘Water’s good,’ he smiled.
Though he was probably capable of getting it himself, I used the moment as an excuse to stretch my legs. I stood from the leather seat and moseyed around the counter, my denim skirt sticking slightly to the back of my thighs and the straps of my sandals peeling away from the skin at my ankles where they’d been crossed for way too long. Condensation coated the warm glass as soon as the chilled water filled it, cool against my fingers that threatened to tremble. I took a breath, inconspicuous and deliberate, before turning back and took it carefully to The Bassist.
‘Don’t say I never do anything for you.’ I quipped, offering the beverage like a gift. His responding smile was soft, but it reached weary eyes and made them warmer, plump lips pulling up in the corners again.
[Calum:]
‘Thanks,’ I took the water without hesitation, gracefully, and allowed the coolness to ground me just a little more. ‘Really.’
Az’s wit continuously caught me off guard, although not totally in a bad way. We’d done lengthened hotel stays and Airbnb’s before – I’d been expecting polite efficiency, even a little stiffness given the length of time we’d be here. But her? It was like she walked the line between respectful and familiar as a tightrope for fun; like she did it just because she could. And she was good at it, not even just the humour but the way she let silences sit for just long enough and then filled them exactly how they needed to be.
She shrugged, standing next to me but leaning back against the counter as she waved away my gratitude. Her silver hoops glinted in the sunlight as she tilted her head, lips twitching in the corners.
‘Ah, it’s nothing. I’ve had plenty of practice keeping guests housed and hydrated.’
I almost barked my laugh out that time, shaking my head just a little as the joke softened some of the jetlag still clouding my brain. When I gazed back up over my glass, she was looking at me like she was pretending she wasn’t. She seemed pleased, even, maybe just with herself. But the look was quashed almost in an instant, quickly followed by the turn of her head when another younger looking girl hurried in tugging a cardigan off of her shoulders as she shuffled in behind the desk and dumped her things underneath.
‘Sorry, Zu. I didn’t realise it took eighty-four years to send off a parcel at the post office. I also didn’t know only dinosaurs worked there.’ The newcomer seemed to huff, sweat beaded along her blonde hairline.
I let my gaze fix quickly back to Az, noting the very subtle wave of an unnamed emotion flicker across her collected features. Zu? I redirected my sights back to her name badge, Az printed in Times New Roman. Fleeting, I tucked the thought away.
‘It does, and they don’t.’ Az noted with a half-hearted shrug before pausing for a beat. ‘Or maybe they do; we are suspiciously close to a retirement village.’ I smiled into my water at that one. The comment made the new arrival snort, too, as she sat down in the space Az had occupied just minutes before. Her eyes drifted from the stack of packets piled next to the keyboard and back to Az, a small pursed-lip smile finding her mouth.
‘You’re leaving me with a circus, aren’t you?’ The blonde seemed to sigh, not so much disheartened, but maybe nervous.
‘You got this, Char,’ Az smiled widely at her younger colleague before her eyes flicked back to me with the same almost-wit she’d been glinting with before Char (Charlotte?) had walked in. ‘You were born to wrangle monkeys.’
She was still talking to the blonde, but her eyes didn’t leave mine. I couldn’t help but smirk back, Az blinking knowingly and tilting her head just slightly enough to make her hoops knock delicately against the skin of her neck.
‘She doesn’t know the ghosts like I do, though.’
Az delivered the line almost like a whisper, and then she was turned away from me again like she’d said nothing at all. She spouted off instructions for Char about which rooms to show us to, and before I knew it, Az was swinging a small tote over her shoulder and slipping a wide pair of sunglasses atop her head of dark chocolate curls.
She turned back to me with a measured sense of ease that felt pointed, but kind.
‘Well,’ she sighed, but there was still that glint of humour in hazel eyes. ‘This is the part where I leave before I get hit with more responsibility than I want on a Sunday afternoon. Enjoy the ghost-free room, Calum.’
The way she said my name had me not so much saying “goodbye” in return but saluting her with my glass and offering a polite nod. Not that there was anything special about the way she’d said it, and that was kind of the point. We hadn’t introduced ourselves, not really. And maybe she only knew because she saw my Government-Issued ID. But it was casual and just, and there was no weight in the air that felt like I needed to be anything but tired at this moment.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, just as Az turned her back on Char and I. I pulled it from my jeans, the band thread alive.
Luke: cal r u dead? Michael: blink twice if u need help Ashton: Are you with Bash?
My thumbs were slow to respond, and I glanced out the doors to see if I could spot them on their way up. I wasn’t sure why we didn’t just bring one car.
not dead. with bash. Hurry up before the ghosts migrate to our floor.
They weren’t going to get the joke, but I did and I smirked anyway. I let my eyes shift down the hall where the girl in the denim skirt had disappeared faster than I thought. Char was left in her wake, already slightly frazzled as she cross-checked her emails and dialled a phone call to whoever.
Six weeks was a long time, and there was every chance I may barely see Az. We were here to write, anyway. Knowing my luck, a little dry humour and a dazzling smile was just a small pocket of joy after a tiresome journey.
I could hear the others’ footsteps crunching from gravel to concrete, Michael’s cackle at whatever joke Ashton had just spouted already echoing in with the wind. As chaos in golden light rounded the corner and stepped into the lobby, receptionists with hazel eyes floated back down the hallway where they belonged.
[Az:]
The walk back to my apartment was a blur; I barely remembered exiting the lobby the long way, let alone arriving at the building and taking the stairs two at a time to get to my floor. My heart had been pounding from the minute he’d walked in looking like jetlag and starlight all at once. I wasn’t breathless – but I wasn’t not breathless.
I was texting Roman before I’d even slipped my sandals off at the door.
Az: Roman, guess who the fuck checked in that your mum didn’t warn us about Roman: bridal party? Az: think famous Roman: a hemsworth??!! Az: less famous Roman: the entire 2025 line up of masterchef? Az: try calum hood and his manager 🫠 Roman: shut the fuck up Roman: ‼️Az: and the entire band Roman: ⁉️ Roman: did you pass out? did he sign your tits?! Az: no and no. I was very cool, actually. Did the whole ghost-on-the-third-floor bit. He thought I was hilarious 🤌🏼 Roman: z i s2g, if you don’t milk this for what its worth im making my parents fire you Roman: I’ll slip your poetry under their doors if that means that you can marry that fucker. Az: you’re an idiot, nepo baby. Roman: an idiot with ✨vision✨
I didn’t have to cover my hand to stop the laughter from bubbling, but I did anyway. If I laughed too loud then it might have stopped being the fever-dream this so clearly felt like. Stepping into a cold shower, however, felt like it was intensifying the buzz under my skin, though the salty stick of the air washed clean off. I thought back to the lobby, the polished version of myself that didn’t slip even once. No squealing, no loss of composure – no heartfelt and passionate declarations of love and adoration that bubbled just beneath the surface of my skin.
Just me, and my innate need to fill the silence and relieve tension in shoulders bearing more weight than they deserved.
I traded the day’s work uniform for a simple tank and a pair of satin boxers, padding my way to the balcony with dripping wet curls and a plate of budget-friendly charcuterie options. The old loveseat creaked as I sank into well-worn cushions, plate balancing on one knee and the red leather bound journal on the other. Golden hour was hushing the birds, though the cicadas still sang through rustling leaves.
I’d just been wishing literally anything would happen this summer to make things a little more interesting, and now suddenly I’d come face to face with someone I’d known for decades but who didn’t know me from any other receptionist in the entire world.
The grapes weren’t as tasty today, as I stared stubbornly at a blank page that I kind of wished would fill itself. I closed my eyes, willing the words to form on their own.
A flash of a green hoodie and half-lidded eyes flashed through my mind and my breath caught. The sentence formed.
Willing the words to form on their own – caught between an inhale and the exhale. The glass has not yet shattered but we gasp in the moment time suspends mid-air.
I am the startled bird; I know the way onward though feathered wings beat against the breeze to find it. Re-learning the rhythm of flight when the Moon changes the direction of the wind.
Pulse in my throat – has that always been there? Half laugh, half prayer; and it makes me think if fate knew the weight of the sound of breath when hazel eyes catch the colours of the horizon mid shift.
I read the poem over once, and then once again, doodling a tiny sun just underneath the last stanza like a signature. I looked up to the sky, the way the clouds were both purple and gold all at once; the way high up, above it all, the sky was navy already and speckled with stars that seemed so much bigger than I ever would be.
I took a photo, journal settled on my knee with the rim of my wine glass visible from where it sat nestled between my thighs. Not that I wanted to do anything with the picture, but it felt right. There were always moments like these that felt significant for whatever reason – celebrity bassists be damned. I didn’t post the pictures to social media, or even send them to Roman or my brothers.
I collected them, the way twilight collected the stars. I just wanted to keep hold of moments that felt bigger than me.
And it did, there was no denying it. The reality was here, checked into my workplace just meters away from my apartment block in some unhinged plot twist that the Higher Powers seemed to think was funny. I tried not to outwardly groan at the memory of Calum’s eighteen-year-old face pinned to the wall in my childhood bedroom, but it was hard when I’d now seen what his driver’s license looked like and entered his passport number into a document meant for nobody but my boss’s records.
This wasn’t like falling into a trap. I didn’t dread whatever was coming. But it was like I could feel the ground tilting under my feet, even though they were flat and bare. Like being caught staring at the ghost of who I used to be – of who I thought I was.
I let out a breath that I’d been holding in on purpose. I looked up at the stars, and not for the first time in my life, I prayed. I never knew who I was praying to, or what for. Patience, maybe, or strength. Usually, I just asked for words. And as the sounds of the not-so-distance waves chimed in with the cicadas lullaby, I dared myself to find some comfort in the curveball.
