you're a work of art (calum)

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I haven't updated in a long time :(

happy belated ash&lukey I lov you my walnut and my breadstick

I FCKING SAW U2 AND FOO FIGHTERS IN CONCERT WHATHEFUVKm

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you're a work of art (calum)
* * *

it was three in the morning on 5sos' tour bus.

the crew and band members had long gone to sleep,

except for you and calum.

you had one of calum's old soccer shirts on and some pyjama shorts, no makeup and hair in its natural state.

he was in a pair of loose fitting basketball shorts with no shirt and fuck did you love when he was shirtless.

he was lying on the couch in the back room of the bus.

the room was dark, only lit by the television screen which played the very first episode of friends.

you were in your place on top of him, simply lying with no space between your bodies. nothing but love was shown in every action either of you did.

he had his hands were placed on your hips gently, as if you were the most fragile, beautiful creation in the world. as if your were a work of art, and that's how he saw you. to him, you were art.

he kissed you softly, lips barely brushing, "so perfect," he whispered.

at that moment, nothing else mattered in the world. you felt beautiful and happy. he felt a rush. something only you could make him feel, that he didn't even feel when he was on stage.

you kissed his lips, his cheek, his jaw, his neck.

you left a bruise on his collarbone, but lust wasn't something either of you felt. it was pure love.

"you're my everything, baby girl." he brushed a hair away from your face.

he loved how you looked at the moment. natural hair, no makeup, wearing his shirt.

this is when he thought you were most beautiful.

you rubbed your nose against his sweetly, "and you're my everything, cal."

his kissed you again, longer this time yet he was still so gentle. he let his tongue slip into your mouth before pulling away, nibbling at your bottom lip.

you giggled and pecked his lips one, two, three, four times.

"I love you... so much. so fucking much." he mumbled starring right into your eyes.

you moved back slightly, fitting your head where his neck met his shoulder.

you traced the mark you made on his collar bone with your tongue before kissing the redish spot.

"I'm yours," you mumbled into his neck, "and you're mine."

"forever." he promised.

you didn't need to respond, he knew you were his soulmate and you knew it too.

his hands lifted your (his) shirt every so slightly, his fingers traced the most beautiful drawings on the skin on your hip.

no piece of art could compare to the invisible drawings he drew on your bare skin with his calloused fingers.

to him, you were a work of art, but he was the one who made you feel more beautiful than any painting or sculpture in a museum.

he made you feel beautiful.

to you, he was an artist. but to him, you were a work of art.

* * *

short, fluffy and probably fUCKING BORING

double update to make up for my absence?

5sos concert in 35 days stab me

I lov luv love lohve you

-becca

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