this is a long shot but i cannot for the life of me find the fic i’m thinking of and i can’t remember who wrote it either. have you ever read a luke hemmings fic that’s about the release of want you back and how the reader feels like luke’s still in love with her ex?
okay hi sorry so I met my crush in the beginning of October because I started playing hockey in the middle of a depressive episode, and he was immediately like ah yes friend hello. he has very nice hair it’s a mullet that he gets permed to anger his conservative family and it’s v soft I touched it when we got drunk together
Note: well, hello! I have no idea when I last posted a blurb, so I know it's been a while. I don't know how many people are still reading on here, but I've gotten back into writing, so I thought I would post this! It's based on the song If You Love Her by Forest Blakk and Meghan Trainor. I've decided to turn this into a little series of blurbs, inspired by different parts of the song, and this is the first one. I would LOVE to know what you think of this, as it has been a while since I posted, so any feedback would be really appreciated!
Word count: 1,302
“Can’t sleep?”
You huff and roll onto your back, suddenly feeling like there isn’t enough air in the room and the covers are touching you just a little bit too much. Calum had feigned sleep well, you didn’t know he was awake — but your tossing and turning had prevented him from falling into his own slumber. The heavy, bleary eyes and aching head is something that’s familiar to you — having never been one to fall asleep easily. You always need several aids for sleep to find you — whether it’s the TV, a podcast, or reading a book in bed until you eventually drift off. It hadn’t changed since moving in with Calum.
“No,” You sigh and shake your head, already sitting up, planning on accepting defeat in the battle against your own active mind. Calum hums sympathetically, spotting Duke curled up at the end of the bed — at least one of us is getting some sleep, he thinks. He has no intention of falling asleep and leaving you to sit and think, alone in the dark.
“Want to get some air?” He suggests. He has no idea what time it is, but he doesn’t really care — time is irrelevant now the world is locked down, all in a period of forced stillness. When it first came into play, he had tried to maintain some sort of routine — you had integrated your routine with his — but a few months in, it didn’t seem important anymore. You nod at his suggestion, knowing there’s no point in laying next to him, just staring at the ceiling. He pats your thigh with a warm reassuring hand, gesturing for you to follow him. “C’mon, gorgeous.”
You follow Calum through the house, bare feet padding against the wooden floors. It’s silent and still. He grabs his packet of cigarettes from the table and opens the back doors, leaving it open behind him to let some air in, and so Duke can follow you out if he wants to. He sits down first on one of the chairs at the opposite end of the garden, opening his arms, waiting for you to climb into his lap.
It takes a bit of manoeuvring but you manage to settle in his lap — your legs swung over his, one strong arm around your back, keeping you there. You tuck your face against his neck, finding comfort in the warmth of his skin and the scent of his cologne buried in the fabric of the hoodie he threw on. You press your lips to the column of his throat, leaving a kiss there — there’s nothing behind it, just a simple show of affection, and appreciation that he’s there with you.
“You shouldn’t think so much,” Calum murmurs, the hand he’s not using to hold you brushing over your temple; like he’s trying to soothe the thoughts away. You don’t say anything, just glance up at his face whilst he talks — knowing in the back of your mind that he’s right. “Too caught up in your head, angel. That’s why you don’t sleep.”
You sigh, eyes focused on the pattern of his hoodie — your fingers tracing the design. You were going to stay quiet but decide on a sarcastic comment instead; murmuring a “thanks, Dr Hood,” and receiving a playful slap to the thigh in return.
“Smart arse,” He retorts, shifting you a little so he can light a cigarette. It’s a habit you know he’s tried to quit, but not something you nag him about. Somehow, a smell that was once a nuisance to you now reminds you of your kind hearted boyfriend. “Well, if you don’t need me, I’ll just go back to bed, see if I care.”
You can hear the smirk on his lips as he speaks, making sure he turns his head to blow the smoke away from you. You hum in acknowledgment, tucking your legs up closer to yourself, to retain some heat. Neither of you have checked what time it is, but it’s still completely dark — deep skies highlighted by flickers of stars, with no sign of the sun coming up any time soon. There’s a chill in the air, setting over your skin — Calum rubs his hand up and down your calf, a warm palm soothing the goosebumps that have risen. His chapped lips brush your bare shoulder between drags of the cigarette between his fingers, where his shirt has slipped down.
“Oh, but you do care,” You reply, reaching up to brush your pointer finger down his cheek, to coax him to look at you. He does, and it’s as intense as ever — you have these moments where you look at each other, really look, and it says more than any words could. “You wouldn’t leave your girl out here alone, would you?”
He chuckles a little, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, against your cheek. You know you’ve got him when he laughs like that, when he’s stumped on what sarcastic comment to make next. It’s not often he lets you win, but on this occasion, you’re right.
“I would never,” His tone is softer now — there’s no sarcasm behind it. He puts out the cigarette and pecks your lips once, then twice, the slight taste of smoke lingering on his lips. He nudges his nose against yours and kisses your cheek, staying there for a moment, before he moves to rest his cheek against the top of your head. “Can’t get enough of you, sweetheart. Even in the middle of the night, apparently.”
You don’t say anything else for the moment, just basking in the silence of the night — zoning out as you gaze at the stars, losing yourself in the feeling of Calum’s fingertips touching whatever skin he can reach. They trail up and down your thigh, and occasionally up and down your arms. His lips rest against your hairline, and he pecks kisses there every few minutes.
“As much as I love sitting here with you,” He murmurs after a little while, hand gently tapping your thigh, to get your attention. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t falling asleep in his lap, soothed by the night sky, his gestures, and just being around him in general. “I don’t think it would be very good for your posture to sleep here all night, my love. Also, I definitely have pins and needles in my arm now.”
You exhale deeply, and Calum laughs at how dramatic he thinks you are, since you only have to go inside — although he is quite comfy with you curled up in this lap.
“C‘mon, baby,” He coaxes you to stand up, warm palms sliding up your thigh. He kisses your cheek before you reluctantly pull away from him, climbing out of his lap, stretching your body as you go. He stands up after you, keeping a hand on the small of your back to guide you back into the house. “Let’s go to bed.”
Calum locks the back door behind him, and soon enough, you find yourself back in bed, except now — it’s Calum who's awake. He’s in the centre of his bed, one arm wrapped around your bare shoulders, holding you against his chest. Over the last few months he’s realised that’s your favourite way to sleep — face pressed against him, an arm over his stomach. You don’t always wake up in the same position, but as long as you’re touching each other in some way, you find yourself sleeping better. Duke, who clearly wasn’t phased by your little venture outside, is still fast asleep, his fur tickling Calum’s calf. It feels like home, he thinks; just where he should be.
Calum pulls his duvet up and over your back, covering you both, before he sets his phone down on his bedside table. He loves how the sheets smell of you and him combined now, after you’ve slept there for the past few weeks. It’s not just his bed now, it’s yours too. He brushes a kiss to your forehead, his thumb soothing over your hairline, and he takes a moment just to realise how thankful he is that you’re there with him.
“Sleep tight, baby.”
***
To be continued!
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