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valentiyne · 7 months

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𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 716 ❀ 𝗅𝗎𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌

Luke Hemmings x Fem!Reader Summary: Paper-thin walls and numerous noise complaints.

FULL BOOK: MIDNIGHT | L.R.H Warnings: None! Slight swearing if you squint hard enough Word Count: 2.8k Copyright © 2023 Valentiyne. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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Game Night was hosted every third Friday of the month. Cramped in the new tiny apartment, 7 friends and their significant others wound up on my shitty couch shouting nonsense at each other.

The living room consisted of the old couch, my TV on top of a cardboard box I hadn't quite unpacked yet, and numerous card games.

Holding the slip in my hand, I eye the timer in front of me on the makeshift coffee table My eyes scanned the paper quickly before jumping up and snapping my fingers, "Okay okay, it's born in the water but moves onto land when older."

My friends stare at me dumbfounded, their minds elsewhere as I furrow my brows and tap my feet numerous times. "Come on guys, it's what a tadpole turns into when it's older!" I'm practically yelling now, eyes darting between my friends sitting down and the tiny timer on the table.

"A baby turtle?"

"Andddd time"

I groan in annoyance, dropping the slip of paper while walking back to the spot on the couch, and plopping down with a huff.

"A baby turtle? Seriously?' I scoff, rolling my eyes at my friends who couldn't contain their laughter at my obvious annoyance.

"Okay I'll go nex-", My friend Abby was cut short by a knock on the door. It wasn't necessarily a pound, but it definitely made all of us go silent.

We all look at each other quickly, almost mentally counting everyone to make sure it wasn't an expected visitor.

I slide off the couch, my eyebrows raised for a moment before I walk towards the door. Standing on my tiptoes, I look through the peephole to see my next-door neighbor, Lucas, standing there with an annoyed expression painted on his face. I sigh and unlock the door, poking my head out with a smile.

"Are we too loud?", I ask with innocent eyes, my bottom lip tugged into my teeth as I speak quietly. Lucas gave a friendly smile, his eyebags hidden behind his eyeglasses as he turned to point at his door, "I know it's a Friday night but I'm really busy in the studio tonight... kind of hard to concentrate when there's a bunch of girls next door squealing over....?"

I finish the sentence for him, "If tadpoles are baby turtles." I rub the back of my neck shyly, laughing almost to myself.

"Right yeah, is there any way to keep it down just a tad?"

I give him a thumbs up before we part ways- him rubbing his eyes and kicking his door shut with his bare foot and me turning around and closing it softly. My friends all huddled up behind the door, eavesdropping on our conversation, and as soon as the door shut, they all squealed quietly.

"Oh my gosh! Y/n!", My friend Abby gushing, nudging me with her shoulder harshly. "You never told me you have huge chemistry with your neighbor?"

My eyes grow wide and my hands shoot up in defense, "Oh no- Lucas? He's just a neighbor"

All of my friends' eyes were on me now, and an awkward silence fell upon us. I give a mere shrug before walking back over to the coffee table to scoop up all the cards spawled across it.

"Game night at mine next time?", Abby asks from beside me, picking up the numerous cups with mysterious liquids in them with a disgusted look on her face.

I just nod in response, shoving the cards in their rightful places before sighing softly. We said our goodbyes with platonic kisses on the cheeks and dramatic waves before I was left alone in my apartment again.

It was cold, empty, and dead silent in here- completely opposite of the neighbor beside me I'd assume. My bedroom was similar to the living room- a tiny mattress rested on the floor and my toiletries were packed away in numerous boxes I was too lazy to unbox. My head hits the stiff pillow below me and I could hear Lucas in his bedroom strumming his guitar, humming to himself lowly.

It was a little after one o'clock in the morning, but he seemed to be wide awake singing.

"some things are meant to be secret and not to be heard"

It had officially been two weeks since the game night and two weeks since he came to my door. Lucas and I would occasionally make eye contact on the way to the mailboxes or even hold the elevator for one another- but not a single word was shared between us. He was always in his own world, his head bobbing to an imaginary beat inside his head.

Every night I could hear him singing to himself softly, the wall dividing our bedrooms was as thin as paper. The occasional groan and the sound of notebooks hitting the wall distracted me on nights I needed to sleep, but I never once said anything to him. He was a musician- and a very good one to say the least. I didn't want to be the annoying next-door neighbor.

I swing my door open, looking out into the hallway and scanning each door before finally averting my eyes to his own. The wrench in one hand was held on with a tight grip while the other hand carried the TV mount at my side. I could hear the sounds of various instruments being played from behind his door, his voice clearing every few moments to restart a lyric if it didn't sound right the first time.

The hand that held the wrench swung up, knocking on his door a few times before I took a step back and awkwardly looked around the hallway once again. The sounds from behind his door abruptly stopped and I could hear his heavy footsteps making their way towards the door now. Taking one more step back, I watched as Lucas opened the door and looked down at me,

"I'm sorry, am I being too loud?", He cheekily asked, a smile painted on his lips.

"No no, you're fine.", I laugh at his innocent teasing, quoting our most recent encounter. "I was actually coming over to see if you knew how to mount a TV", I poke my head around his figure and motion towards his apartment, "but seeing as you're busy-"

"I'm not busy." He corrects me, leaning inside his door to grab his keys before turning back towards me and grabbing the box from my hand. "Let me help you out, it'll take 10 minutes tops."

It didn't take 10 minutes. Hell, It didn't even take 30 minutes.

There Lucas and I both were, tools of various shapes and sizes sprawled out across my apartment floor and a cheap bottle of wine I found at the back of my fridge.

"Lucas are you sure you know how to-"

"It's Luke and yes, I know how to do this", he grumbles nonsense to himself as he flips through the instruction manual for the third time tonight. I sighed to myself slightly, trying to keep myself from laughing by taking a swig of the wine.

"Could always just use thumbtacks"

This makes Luke laugh, his eyebrows relaxing on his face and cheeks going bright red. He tosses the manual at me, and I put my hands up to defend myself.

"I'm pretty sure some thumbtacks couldnt hold a 35 pound Tv," He holds his stomach as he rolls around my floor, laughing loudly. I roll my eyes at this, groaning and tossing the screwdriver on the floor.

"Look, it's getting late. I'll just have you come over and do it another time.", I point towards the clock, which was held up with thumbtacks, that read two o'clock in the morning.

"Oh shit, sorry I totally spaced it," Luke stands up now, gathering up his tools quickly and giving me a crooked smile. "I'll swing by sometime this week to help you, I promise." I'm smiling now, shooing him out the door quickly.

"Yeah yeah see you later, rockstar", I tease and close the door abruptly, only to be stopped by a foot in the way.

"What are you doing tomorrow?", The way his eyes glimmered in the hallway light, his hair slicked back from sweat and cheeky dimples appeared as he smiled at me.

"I have finals tomorrow morning, and I'll probably be dead by the time its over- anytime after that I'm free.", I groan dramatically and push my palm into my forehead.

Luke just nods, freeing his foot from the doorway, and gives me a thumbs up, "I'll be sure to be quiet tonight so you can get your rest." I thank him kindly and give him a soft wave before closing the door behind him.

Luke was anything but quiet. I tossed and turned throughout the night, pushing the pillow closer to my ears as I heard him attempting to sing a lyric he wasn't even finished with. if there's one thing I've learned about him in the month and a half I've known him- he was a perfectionist. He sang the same things over and over countless times making sure it was absolutely perfect.

"Cause all these bodies are hoping to get addicted-"

I swing my arm up, smacking on the wall a couple times before groaning and letting it fall to my side once again. His side of the wall went silent immediately, the shuffling of papers and a small mumbled "sorry" was heard.

Luke had avoided me from that point forward: he didn't hold the elevator for me nor did he come and check his overflowing mailbox.

I found myself at his door once again, knocking in one swift movement before clearing my throat. I could hear him shuffling around his apartment, a loud thud followed by a "shit, one second!".

The door opens and a dripping-wet Luke is before me, a towel tightly wrapped around his waist. I blink a few times, holding my gaze above his shoulders out of respect.

"Why are you avoiding me", I ask in a monotone voice, cutting straight to the point. He raises his eyebrows at this now, one hand sassily on his hip.

"Who said I was avoiding you?", He chuckles lightly and opens the door wider, motioning for me to enter. My nose is filled with the smell of the oven baking something sweet mixed with his charcoal body wash. I step inside with a smile, closing the door behind me.

Luke wipes the water from his face and turns away from me, entering his bathroom for a split second, leaving me standing in his kitchen.

I glance around his living room: Pictures of his friends and family are hung up neatly on the wall, his instruments are laid out on the floor around his couch, and his bookshelf is overflowing with numerous copies of musical books.

He emerges from the bathroom once again, now clothed in a sweatshirt and basketball shorts and the towel that was once wrapped around his waist was now encased in his curls.

"I was just going to invite you over actually," He laughs again, flashing me his million-dollar smile before pointing at his dining table. It was decorated with a lace tablecloth, a small bouquet of flowers sitting in a glass-decorated vase, and a plate of steaming hot pasta was laid out. I smile to myself slightly, looking back up at him before taking my seat at the table, he rushes forward, scooting my chair in for me before taking his own seat across from me.

"What's the occasion?" I ask while picking up my fork, poking at the seafood pasta that was professionally plated. If you would've told me he hired a chef to make dinner- I would've believed you.

"I was loud on the night of your finals and I felt horrible knowing I kept you up all night", He picks up his napkin and places it neatly on his lap, "I wanted to make it up to you after I mounted your TV buttt you showed up a little early", He teases.

I take a bite of my food, groaning into the fork with a muffled giggle as my eyes look up at his. The food was amazing, and the flavor was intricately picked out to perfection.

Going back, this perfectly proved my point that Luke was a perfectionist.

We found small talk, conversing over what I was majoring in and what he was busy working on.

"So the album is almost done, I just need to finish this last song," He shrugs his shoulders and scrapes at the remains off his plate. I smile to myself, looking up now with innocent eyes, "Maybe I can help?"

He stands up abruptly, turning around and opening the oven to reveal the freshly baked brownies he had made- from scratch may I add. I groan in anticipation and rub my hands together dramatically. He grabs the brownies with oven mitts, turning around and facing me.

"If you want to help me, I'll allow it", he laughs and places the pan down gently and walks towards his living room, picking up a notebook that was previously thrown across the room.

"Here", he places it in front of me, removing my empty plate and walking

The notebook was written in barely eligible handwriting, with numerous words crossed out and mental notes scribbled on the sides.

Some things are meant to be secret and not to be heard so if I tell you, just keep it and don't say a word. when the doors are all closing.....It's bound to get ?? all these bodies are hoping to get addicted to

The rest of the page was scribbled out, lyrics that never made the cut. I snatch the pen from the metal spiral holding the pages together and click it once.

"it's bound to get.... loud?" I scribble it down next to the question marks and look up at him, scratching his chin with a nod. His cheeks were red now, the wine flushing through his body.

"What rhymes with loud?"

I look up at him now, as he scoots his chair right up next to me to the point our legs are touching.

"Cloud, hmmm,"

"Sound," we both say in unison.

Luke claps his hands together and grabs the pen from my hands, opening the notebook to a new page and scribbling down the new and improved lyrics. I watch him closely, the way his eyes twinkled and dimples poked through when he was concentrating.

I was so screwed. I was falling for my next door neighbor.

I didn't see him for another two weeks, his side of the wall seemed eerily vacant and completely silent. I even knocked a few times in hopes he'd knock back in some sort of rhythm, but there was no response.

Hearing the knock on my door shot my body out of bed, sweat dripping down my neck and sides. I groan and tap on my phone to check the time, blinding myself in the process. The pounding never stopped, not until I stumbled out of bed and opened my door. My heart skipped a beat, praying that the blonde would be on the other side with that cheeky smile I adored.

"Hello?", I ask in a groggy voice whilst rubbing my eyes and squinting up at the person who disturbed my slumber- at 2 a.m. may I add.

Instead of a person, I was met with an empty cold hallway. I avert my gaze down and towards my door mat. There, set up neatly was a bouquet of flowers with a note tied to the front with white lace.

I smile at myself and crouch down, picking up the thoughtful gift and looking down the hallway one last time before kicking my door shut.

Y/n,

I'm sorry I didn't see you before I left. Our album releases at 2:30am today and I was supposed to leave at 2... I just knew I had to leave you something on my way out. I hope you like the flowers I picked out my mom helped me.

I'd have probably sent you the link to the album by the time you finish reading this note.

I'm going to be all over the world, touring and doing what I love. I can't wait to be back home and see you again, i'll make sure to facetime every change I get.

love,

your rockstar

I could hear the familiar ringtone from my bedroom, alerting me that Luke was a man of his word. I wipe a few stray tears and make my way to the bedroom, snatching my phone up with my free hand and clicking the link he had sent me.

This is the song I spent the last 3 months working on, keeping you tossing and turning until finally you perfected it.

Mp3.ifwallscouldtalk.demo

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morningfears · 7 months

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Second Chance

rating: pg

Summary: Ashton was your first love. It was a case of right person, wrong time. But sometimes, life gives you second chances. Warnings: None, just cute and soft. Pairing: Ashton x GN!Reader (Pretty sure GN but if you catch anything, let me know and I’ll change it to the correct pairing) Word Count: 1.5k

Though nearly six years had passed since your last first date with Ashton, it felt as if nearly no time at all had elapsed as you sat across from him. That last first date, one that also spanned an entire evening, launched a two-year relationship. It found your first love and you felt a sort of deja vu as he easily recounted a new tale from tour.

This Ashton - years older, years wiser - was simultaneously familiar and so very different. He still carried himself with an ease you found comforting, armed with a bright smile and infectious laughter, but there were more layers now. Behind those hazel eyes lingered a deeper understanding of the world, an understanding of life that hadn’t been present at twenty-three and you did nothing to hide the soft smile that lifted the corners of your mouth as he gestured wildly.

“So, did Cal ever realize it was Luke hiding his shoes or does he still think it was Michael?”

Empty coffee cups lingered on the table, long since cleared of your dinner plates, as the restaurant slowly closed around you. Hours had passed, spent lost in conversation - catching up on lost time, listening to the melodic sound of his voice - and you knew you’d have to leave soon.

Still, rather than relaying that thought, you leaned forward with a grin as you waited for his answer.

“Think he realized after a few shows,” Ashton admitted, laughing as he idly wrapped a hand around an empty cup. “Wouldn’t surprise me if he’s waiting to get him back, though. Luke’ll have forgotten all about it by the time Cal attacks.”

“You know, it’s kinda comforting to know that no matter how much things change, some things stay the same.”

Both of you had grown since you last saw one another. Your early twenties were gone, replaced by true adulthood - a career, taxes, responsibilities that sometimes seemed overwhelming - and it was evident in the conversation you’d had. There’d been discussion of family, friends and their marriages and their children; there’d been talk of work, of the inability to recover the way you used to; there’d been a whole tangent about diets and playful complaints at the fact that spicy food grew harder to stomach the older you got.

But knowing that there were still those moments of levity calmed any remaining nerves lingering in the pit of your stomach. Because as different as things were, there was still a glimpse of the Ashton you fell in love with and it made you hopeful that things might be different this time.

Ashton opened his mouth to respond, words on the tip of his tongue, but before he could speak, a soft voice popped through the bubble you’d spent most of the night in.

“Sorry,” she began, politely apologetic. “Just wanted to check in. We’re closing the kitchen so, if you’d like anything else, now is the time. And if not, I’ve got the check.”

The pair of you blinked, both surprised at the time as you spared a glance around the now empty restaurant, before you grimaced apologetically. “Sorry,” Ashton laughed, “didn’t realize how late it was. We’re good.”

“Yeah, we’ll get out of here so you guys can close. Sorry,” you repeated, following suit as Ashton stood from his seat and took the bill.

In a matter of moments, you were standing outside the restaurant, glancing back as the staff turned the sign and began closing up. It reminded you of the past, of nights when you’d close down restaurants just to spend a few extra hours together after he returned from the road, and you couldn’t help but laugh as you headed for the parking lot.

“Guess some things don’t change.” He grinned, eyes bright and glittering in the city lights as he drifted closer to you. His hand bumped yours, body bleeding warmth as tipped his head to glance at you.

“Can’t believe we spent all night sitting there.” It was a quiet observation, whispered into the wind as you wandered slowly down the sidewalk. “Felt like no time at all.”

“It was always like that with us,” he reminded you - as if you’d somehow forgotten just how easy things were for most of your relationship. “Even at the end, we could talk forever and not get tired of one another.”

“I think the accent helped back then.” Ashton rolled his eyes fondly, laughing as his hand brushed yours once more, while you ducked your head. “You’ve always been easy to talk to. You’re kinda captivating, Ash.”

It was true. Ashton had always captured your attention wholly. His voice, warm and honeyed; his way with words, always so thoughtful and intriguing; his general demeanor, easy and bright - everything about him made you want to lose yourself in him and you continued to be reminded of why you’d loved him so fiercely for so long.

“You’re one to talk, sweetheart.”

There was little you could say in response, little your brain seemed to process, so you opted for the next best thing. After a moment’s hesitation, you took Ashton’s hand in your own and laced your fingers together. From the corner of your eye, you saw his grin grow wider - beaming, even in the dim moonlight - and smiled as you drew closer to the car.

The night was coming to an end, as sad as that made you, but you could see more nights like it in your future.

Conversation tapered off into comfortable silence then, neither of you compelled to speak just for the sake of it, and it was yet another reminder of what you’d missed. Things with Ashton had always held a level of ease that no one else had compared to and it was comforting to revel in the quiet, even as you climbed into the car and an old rock song began to play.

As Ashton tapped his fingers along to the song on the radio, you took the opportunity to study him. He sat bathed in the warm glow of streetlights, side profile exactly as you remembered it. There were a few minute changes - his hair had grown a little longer, facial hair covered cheeks that had grown a bit fuller - but you were reminded of why you’d always fawned over him.

There was something magnetic about him, something bright and beautiful that drew you in and kept you tethered in his orbit. He’d always been beautiful, both physically and mentally, and you were grateful for the chance to reconnect.

However, all too soon, you found yourselves parked in the lot of your building and heading up the sidewalk to your door.

“This was nice,” you conceded, smiling as you lingered near your front door. “I missed this.” With only a split second of consideration, brain working on overdrive to rid itself of any doubt, you admitted, “I missed you.”

Ashton, whose cheeks tinted pink beneath the scruff of his facial hair in a way that made your chest ache pleasantly, smiled brightly as he nodded. “I missed you, too.” His agreement was easy, ready, as he took a tentative step closer. “I’m really glad you said yes to tonight. I was afraid you wouldn’t.”

“I never considered anything other than yes.” There’d been no real thought, no other answer you could’ve given him. Though your relationship ended way back when, Ashton had always been the one that got away. Getting a second chance was more than you could’ve asked for. “I’m really glad we bumped into each other.”

It was a moment of serendipity, a coincidence that hadn’t occurred in the years you’d spent apart, and you knew Ashton was just as happy for the chance as he nodded his agreement.

Another step closer, another smile, as Ashton seemed to weigh his words. “I didn’t know if we’d see each other again,” he admitted, voice quiet as he closed the distance between you. “I always wanted to, always thought about reaching out, but I was afraid. I’m glad the universe made the decision for us.”

Ashton lifted his hand, soft and warm as it pressed to your cheek, and leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I want to do this right this time,” he declared, voice soft and washing over you as your eyes fluttered. “I don’t want to rush and fuck it all up again.”

“No one fucked it up last time,” you reminded him, tone matching his as you gripped his bicep softly. “It was just the wrong time. Things are different now, though.”

“Second time’s the charm.” His easy agreement was all you needed to close the small space between you once more, returning your lips to his in another soft kiss.

The second chance was what you both needed, another shot at a love you’d missed so dearly, and you were glad to have gotten it. No matter what happened, you were hopeful that this time, the second time would be the charm.

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Author's Note: I dunno, man. I'm just writing while my brain will let me.

#5sos imagine #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin x you #ashton irwin x reader #5sos imagines #5sos x you #5sos x reader #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin fic #5sos fanfic #5sos fics #5sos fluff #v's fics

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takemealivelh · 20 days

Text

takemealivelh’s masterlist

LUKE

1.what are you doing after this? - 2.is that for me? - 3.she’s friend-zoning you so hard - 4.what are you doing here? - 5.upstairs - 6.what are you saying? - 7.can we talk? 8.we’re not done here yet, okay? 9.what do we do then?

Bruised Knuckles *tw: racism

Don’t hog the blanket

Vinyl Magic

Who would you be today?

1. i bet you look cute *mild smut

sweetheart *smut

are you dating more people?

midnight city pt 1 *smut

you wanna get high? *smut

you want me to fuck you in your car? *smut

don’t do that

send me more pictures *smut

you win some, you lose some *smut

tidal wave *smut

easier to blame

you want a napkin with that? (part one) *smut - you wanna wait till tonight? (part two) *mild sexual content

stay out of trouble *smut

heart is gonna flatline *smut

- Concepts -

fuck me at a quarter to three + choker

MICHAEL

I Can Tell You A Secret

Raspberry Chocolate Milkshake

One Night Stand Pt. 1One Night Stand Pt. 2 One Night Stand Pt. 3 *smut

ASHTON

You’re in Trouble *smut

I think I adore you

You are a gem

I told you not to fall in love with me

Battle of the Bands Pt. 1 Battle of the Bands Pt. 2 *smut

Señorita

that doesn't mean i don't want you *smut

CALUM

Cat’s got your tongue?

Hummingbird

I really need to see you smile right now

- Concepts -

let’s fucking dance

#new masterlist drop !#recent ones are in bold :)#5sos fics #tj's masterlist #luke hemmings fic #luke hemmings smut #michael clifford fic #michael clifford smut #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin smut #calum hood fic #calum hood smut #masterlist

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irwinsblender · 24 days

Note

hi hiii could i request an ashton or luke x reader fic based on the song constellations by jade lemac?? thank youuu <33

thank you for this request!! i hadn’t heard this song before and i tried to interpret it in my own way. i’m sorry if this fic seems a little rushed, i finished it while still in a kind of writers block mode, but i hope you like it <3

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constellations

based on the song constellations by jade lemac

pairing: ashton x reader

summary: you always find it hard when ashton has to leave for tour, but you’ve found your own way to stay connected to him

warnings: none

word count: 2.3k

✩ ✩ ✩

as a teenager, you were always going to concerts. music was your life, it got you through more than your friends or family ever could. seeing your favourite musicians in person was everything.

never did you expect a few years later you’d be dating one.

ashton irwin. the drummer from 5 seconds of summer. of course you’d heard their music occasionally before you started dating, however, you wouldn’t call yourself a hardcore fan.

you’d been dating for a few years now, and every second of that time had been absolutely wonderful. well, mostly.

you got to travel the world, see places you’d never thought you’d ever see in your lifetime, all because of him. most of all, seeing him up on that stage, performing, was a big highlight for you. it was incredible.

the downside was when you couldn’t be there for certain shows. having to go home in the middle of a big tour, or not even getting to go with him at the beginning. you’d never forget the times that schedules had changed suddenly, stripping you and ashton of any sort of goodbye.

you’d been with ashton on tour for the past month, and now their tour would be heading to europe. this was your time to unfortunately say goodbye.

you, along with the band, were at a hotel at the airport last night. you would be taking a flight back home while they take a flight over seas to a whole different country.

you and ashton had experienced this before, you both knew you could deal with the distance. but it never got easier. especially with the time difference always making things difficult.

waking up today, the last morning you’d be together, you wanted to make sure to enjoy the last few moments you’ll get together.

last night was wonderful. after getting to the hotel, you ordered room service, eating on the comfort of the bed while talking about a few tour related things as well as discussing what you’d be doing at home while he’s continuing to tour the world.

you both got ready for bed, quite early at that, putting on a movie while you laid in bed together. not long after the movie started, it got forgotten about. wanting to take in this last night to make the most of each others company before you’d be apart for some time.

now, you were still in bed, snuggled up together. ashton had ended up being the little spoon, that didn’t always happen, but when it did, you loved wrapping your arms around him, hugging him close, it was comforting.

you glanced over at the clock on the desk, seeing it wasn’t long before you would have to be getting up. sighing, you tried to focus on being this close to ashton before you’d have to leave each other.

ashton laying shirtless in bed, you pressed a couple of soft kisses to the top of his back. you held him as close as you could, cheek resting against his back. today was going to be hard. you didn’t want to say goodbye. you’d both be okay, but the thought of not being together for a while was a feeling you were still taking time to get used to.

ashton woke up shortly after you, yawning as he leaned to see if you were awake. just about seeing that you were, smiling at you as you smiled back.

“morning, baby,” he took your hands in his that were resting on his stomach. “how’re you feeling?”

“same as always,” you sighed. “don’t want you to leave.”

“i don’t want to either,” ashton pulled at one of your hands, kissing the back of it softly. “wish you could come with me.”

he felt you nod, then feeling something different. you started tracing your index finger around his back, between his shoulders. he hummed quietly, liking the feeling.

you traced around his freckles, connecting the dots that were scattered across his body. they were like constellations, just like the stars were in the sky. something you both use to feel close to each other when you were actually miles apart.

he moved a while after you started, rolling onto his side to get a good look at you before you’d have to start getting ready for your departing flights.

“how long is your flight?” you asked him.

“eight hours.” he frowned. a long time for you to go without speaking. “yours is five?”

you nodded, going quiet again. ashton shuffled over to you, pulling you closer to make the most of cuddling before you couldn’t for a while.

“you’re gonna update me every day right?” you asked, as if it wasn’t the same every tour. “and call me whenever you can.”

“every day,” he promised. “i’ll figure out timezones, find a good time i can call you.”

you nodded again, looking up at him, “i’m gonna miss you.” you reached up to run a hand through his hair.

ashton went to say something, when his alarm started going off on his phone. not a wake up alarm, more a time limit alarm. meaning you’d spent as much time as you could staying in bed. neither of you moved.

“i love you.” ashton leaned down, pressing a kiss to your lips. moving to leave the bed right after.

“i love you too, ash.”

it was a rush after that. you took until the last minute to be ready. avoiding a lot of calls and texts from the guys, telling you they’d leave without you if you didn’t get out of the hotel room soon.

once ready, you were quick to make your way towards security where a few checks would be done, as well as checking a few boards to make sure both of your flights would be on time.

although a delay might have been nice.

you’d already agreed that you’d wait at the same gate as ashton, for his flight. his flight was scheduled slightly earlier than yours, so you could be with him until the second he left.

you sat next to each other in the waiting area, fingers linked together, the guys sat opposite. you didn’t speak a whole lot, this time was enough without needing to say anything.

it was only when an announcement was made that boarding would begin soon that you knew the goodbyes would be coming soon.

“can i change my mind and come with you?” you half joked. knowing you couldn’t do that.

“i wish you could, love,” ashton leaned over to you, kissing your temple. “but work just can’t cope without your expertise.”

you laughed, he was right, your job always seemed to mess things up when you were on tour with ashton instead.

and then boarding started, people standing to make their way over to the gate, tickets started being scanned before going down to the doors.

you said your goodbyes to the guys first, letting them get sorted and go ahead to get onto the plane. you and ashton always needed that extra time to make sure you’d said everything you wanted before you’d be apart.

“why does this never get easier,” you asked. trying to keep your emotions at bay. “we do this every tour and i still hate it.”

“i know, baby, i know,” ashton pulled you into his embrace, rubbing his hands up and down your back for comfort. “we’re gonna text and call all the time though, i promise.”

“gonna miss you, ash.” you looked up at him.

he cupped your cheeks, caressing his thumbs back and fourth as he leaned down to press a few love filled kisses to your lips.

“i’ll miss you more.” he smiled softly.

“don’t start,” you laughed. glancing over to the gate after the next section of the plane had been called to board. “i guess you’ll have to go now.”

he pulled his backpack onto his back, your hand in his as he pulled you towards the check in desk. the line wasn’t too long, letting him take his time. the person there scanned his ticket and checked his passport, giving him the all clear to board the plane.

“i’ll see you soon, baby.” ashton pulled you in for a final hug, holding onto each other as tight as you could. “i love you, so much.”

“i love you,” you replied, pulling back slowly before letting him go. “text me as soon as you can.”

he walked through the first gate, you followed where he was going, sticking to where the seating area is. the railings stopping you from going any further.

“i will,” he called over. “i’ll call you tomorrow.”

“please do!” you called back.

ashton gave you one final wave, disappearing around the last corner that leads to the plane, gone in the blink of an eye. like normal, you sat there, waiting until his plane left. it took you time to move after, everything felt weird once he’d gone.

it was always hard for you, boarding your plane on your own, sitting next to a stranger, knowing ashton was heading in one direction and you in another.

you’d had conversations about quitting your job so you could be with him all the time on tour. but it never got any further than light talk. going by how hard you still found it, it might be time to bring it up again.

when you got back home, it was strange. too quiet. you were alone in your house to unpack, to get back to work, to cook meals for yourself. you didn’t like it at all.

it took you at least a week to settle back in. you would text back and fourth with ashton for a little while, but it was never long. it was hard with the time difference and him having to go to rehearsals, soundchecks and the shows.

you hadn’t talked over the phone as much as you’d promised each other. you endlessly wanted to call him, but the lack of texts from him told you that he was too busy with tour. which you always understood.

it was a few weeks in when you started leaving voicemails in the early hours. late for you, the middle of the night in europe. which is because you knew he wouldn’t answer, so you could say what you wanted for him to hear when he woke up.

one day in particular, you’d missed ashton a lot. things had gone wrong at work and it had tired you out. he’d normally be here to help you through the stress, but he was on the opposite side of the world.

you thought about getting an early night, skipping dinner, and to no surprise you couldn’t sleep. when ashton was here, you’d sit outside on your back porch to feel the fresh air of the night, it always used to help. just being surrounded by peace and the stars above.

you sat there, on your swing seat. clicking on ashton’s name to call him. it was almost nine at night for you, ashton wouldn’t be up for another few hours where he is, so you hadn’t expected him to answer.

you waited for his answerphone message to start playing, instead, you were met with ashton’s tired voice.

“hey,” he answered. you were silent for a moment. “you there, love?”

“yea, sorry, i thought you’d be sleeping.” you replied.

“only slept an hour,” you could hear him sigh. “couldn’t sleep after that.”

you tucked your legs up beside you, wishing ashton was here with you, “what city are you in?” you asked. “one that i’d like?”

“paris,” he smiled. “i know you love it here, can’t stop thinking about you.”

“is it still dark there?” you questioned. “are the stars out?”

you heard shuffling on the line, followed by silence, and then what sounded like a door opening and closing. ashton let out a long breath as stepped onto his balcony, he looked up at the sky above him, it would be getting light soon, but the stars were definitely still bright.

“yea, they’re out.” he sat down on the singular chair perched to the side.

“and now we’re together,” you smiled to yourself. “for a little while at least.”

“you’re stargazing?” he sounded surprised. “wish i could stargaze with you.”

“but you are, ash,” you rubbed your eyes tiredly. “no matter where we are, the stars can bring us together.”

you were both quiet, looking up at the sky. the beautiful night sky. the stars reminded you of him, the way you both loved stargazing, loved spotting the constellations.

“i can see it,” ashton had a smile to his voice. “orien’s belt. it’s there.”

those stars stood out the most, “we’re looking at the same stars.” you smiled. “i see it too.”

orien’s belt was one of the things you always pointed out to ashton, that felt like the closest you’d get to him now, the only thing connecting you both while you sat under the stars in two different places.

you’d make shapes out of the different constellations. much like you’d trace the constellations on ashton’s body. his freckles that you love. it’s a part of him you’d always remember, even when he’s miles away. just like right now.

“baby?” ashton said quietly.

“hm.” you responded, letting him know you were still there.

“i love you.” he almost whispered. wishing he could be there with you, hands on your waist to hold you.

“i love you too, ash.” you replied in the same quietness. happy that you had this time to talk a little. “call me later?”

he didn’t answer for a moment, taking one last good look up at the stars to make him feel like he was with you before the light took over once again.

he smiled, this short conversation making him feel much better than before, “i’ll call you later.”

✩ ✩ ✩

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afatallovesong · 2 years

Note

Hewwooo:3 I was wondering if I can request a Ashton smut when it’s late and you’re asleep with him in bed and you have a lil naughty dream of him that it wakes him up and he gets alil annoyed but turns your dream into a reality but in a rough way?

Okay, you'll be glad to know, I actually kept to the request for once, hoorayyyyy

Hope you enjoy!!

Babe

An Ashton Irwin one shot

18+, Smut, NSFW

Word Count: 6512

There wasn’t a clock in your room. There never had been. For as long as he’d known you. It was just one of those sounds that grated on you no matter what time of day it was. In fact, you couldn’t stand any repetitive noises. The clicking of a pen lid, the tapping of fingers on a desk, it got to you, tickled you in an uncomfortable way. Your bedroom had to be a silent sanctuary, had to. You’d so often find yourself chasing sleep, unable to catch a single wink if there was nothing short of dead silence enveloping you.

Ashton had found it strange at first, unsettling really. It was one thing he never thought he’d be able to be on board with. He never thought you two would ever work with this sound barrier between you, but he fell hard anyway. He’d dwell in the quiet life if that’s what it took to be yours and he so desperately loved being yours.

He was partial to white noise. The waves on a shore, the light humming of traffic, birds singing outside, just soft, and subtle sounds to lull him into relaxation. Being a percussionist, it felt abnormal to be in complete silence. One time he actually panicked he may have gone deaf due to the conditions in your room. He could mostly blame his exhaustion for that scenario popping into his head, but it still freaked him out every now and then if he forgot.

It didn’t come without some advantages. It made him more sensitive to sounds and movements. It made him more perceptive of you and your routines. If he couldn’t catch any sleep, he’d lay there, waiting, hoping, trying to find something to send him away. He listened to music quite often. It was the most natural release he had. He’d lay and watch you, twisted onto your side, curled into a foetal position (you always ended up there eventually). He’d watch your form rise and fall on the mattress with each breath. He’d smile at how peaceful you’d seemed. He’d thank his lucky stars for bringing you into his life and then he’d listen to song after song until he joined you in slumber. Tonight, wasn’t going to be that easy.

He'd done his stages, he’d watched you drop into your routine, curling over, hugging your knees tight. He’d put his earphones in, picked a meditational track to try and soothe him. He’d been on the road for the last few months, so used to the engine of the tour bus or the movements of the other guys in their bunks to accompany him and rock him to sleep. It was difficult to adjust back to your silence. The tracks had helped him, they started noisily, a mixture of sounds to illustrate busyness in the environment. They died down, lessening, focusing on particularly calming vibrations. As the sounds condensed, his consciousness began to feel like it was slipping away. His breathing became deeper. His arms felt heavy. He was drifting away into his own wonderful mind. Almost in bliss.

He felt movements on the mattress. Beside him your body felt like it had dipped deeper before you shuffled back and forth back over to your side. He continued to focus on sleeping, he still felt ready to drop. Your movements subsided. He decided you were just adjusting yourself, getting more comfortable. He couldn’t blame you for that. He settled down again. Just a few breathing exercises would get him there. Breathe in. Hold for four. Breathe out. Hold for four. You moved again, backside nudging into his thigh. His eyes remain closed, his fingers start to twitch at his side with agitation and possibly sexual frustration, sharing a bed with you again after so long away definitely did things to him out of his control.

Next track. He needed to start again. He needed to repeat the process from scratch. Loud noise filled his ears again. He tries to still himself, but with your newly restless body shuffling beside him, he’s beginning to lose it. He starts tapping the bed on either side of his legs. Just slow beats drumming into the sheets. He’s still committing to his breathing exercises. You bump into him again only this time he swears you mutter as you do it. He keeps his earphones in but begins to listen out for you over the volume.

You’re mumbling. He wonders if you’re having a nightmare. If that’s why you can’t sleep in one set position. It was unusual for you to be so fidgety otherwise. He aches at the thought of you scared. He’d dive into your subconscious and protect you from your demons if he could. He wonders if he can soothe you from here, let you know he’s got you, that you’re safe. Your body stills as he thinks of it. Perhaps you’d made it out without him. He was alone once again.

You were still for a few more minutes. He’d been surrounded by the sweet sounds of the coast, sand crunching beneath footsteps, water washing over the shore, birds singing overhead as they flew. He was sinking. He was so close. He takes deeper breaths, mouth parting beyond his control. He starts to picture things in his mind, nothing that made sense, just images, colours, and shapes it would take hours to decipher the meaning of. It’s pretty, its bright and it’s so him. He’s so light, he’s weightless, floating away and- fuck. You made the strangest sound.

He removes his left earphone to see if you make it again. Nothing comes from you. Perhaps his own mind was playing tricks on him, keeping him awake as some kind of special torture created just for him. He definitely heard something. He swears it. There! You’re humming, almost whining. Your body shuffles a little. You’d left your ball of comfort, instead you lay on your side, one leg straight, the other bent on top of it.

He rolls onto his side now abandoning both earphones to focus his attention on you. He doesn’t reach out, doesn’t try to touch you. He just watches you. You seem peaceful enough. You were moving. You were rocking, sort of. He couldn’t find a better way to describe it. You were in motion, as if you were trying to get somewhere without ever really going. You huffed and sighed. It seemed like you were frustrated. He decided you could be stressed. Work had been hectic on both of your ends. You could just be tackling your problems in your sleep. He wasn’t sure. He wanted to help though.

He strokes over your back silently. He expects a reaction from you. He’s not sure what exactly, but something. You were well and truly, fast asleep. You continue your shuffling. He decides he may as well keep attempting to soothe you. It’s not as if he had anything better to do. He’d abandoned the idea of sleeping all together. If it happened later on then so be it but for now, all eyes were on you.

He swears your whines were getting louder. They were fewer and farther between. When they did appear, you were clear as day. He’d be lying if his attraction earlier in the night hadn’t crept back up on him again. He was rock solid, much against his will he thought. But then you moaned. You moaned his name. It was so sweet, so intoxicating. He thought he’d hallucinated. His eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. His hand dropped from your back. He waited for another. “Ash.” He held his breath. You weren’t having a nightmare, no, far from it. You were having a dream. A sweet like sugar, dripping with honey, sex dream. He’d never felt pride like it.

He thought about waking you. Even with the realisation that you were just as hot for him as he was for you, it didn’t feel right to purposefully stir you. He instead opted for sliding in closer behind you. He threw an arm around your waist. He buried his face in your hair and he held you. He held you closely into his chest. He just hugged you to him. The time for your shuffling was over. You’d leant back into him. You’d accepted his touch. It was as if he’d answered your prayers and given you what you needed unintentionally. He might have been slightly disappointed that all you wanted was a cuddle. He still wouldn’t say he didn’t love that. He did. He loved that you were needy for his closeness even in slumber.

“Ash.” You call. It’s quiet. It’s above a whisper but just barely. He wants to respond. He’s not sure if you’re sleep talking once more. “Ash.” You whisper it again. He kisses your shoulder to alert you he was there; he was with you. “You okay?” He chuckles into your skin, kissing you again. He wants to smother you in kisses. An appreciation. “I’m good, how are you?” He decides to do it. He litters the top of your spine, the tops of your shoulders. “I’m okay.” Your breath hitches as his kisses wander. “What you dreamin about?” You blush, he can’t see you, but you still blush. “You.”

He smirks into your skin. The blood is running straight between his legs. “Wondered what you were doing.” He begins his affections again. You shudder under the warmth of him. “Did I wake you?” Your breath is still shaky. “That would imply I slept at all.” He sucks a kiss into your left shoulder. “Which I haven’t quite managed.” You felt guilt. “It’s not your fault.” He adds, answering your thought. “So tired I’m not tired at all, you know?” You did. You knew it all too well. If you hadn’t been prescribed sleeping medication in the last year you don’t know where you’d be. Exhausted in a hole somewhere, was that too dramatic to imagine?

“Can I help?” You turn your face slightly. You try to catch a glimpse of him even if it hurts your neck to chase the idea. “I don’t know, can you?” You roll your eyes instinctively. He takes a bold step. He nudges your thighs, you separate them without question, allowing his knee to slot between them. He presses his leg right against your cotton clad cunt. You’re embarrassed at how wet you’d been. “I think I can help you though.” He rocks his leg torturously slowly over your pants. You don’t dare to fight the urge to grind down onto him.

He laughs a breathy chuckle over your neck. “Tell me about your dream.” You want to curl up and hide. You found it mortifying. You didn’t want to confess. You knew he’d never judge you. He never had. It still felt like this was something too personal. The inner workings of your mind. They were inner workings for a reason. “Come on, don’t be shy.” His leg switched pace. His hands grip onto your hips, burrowing into the thick flesh of them. He’s pulling you down onto him. You’re meeting his thigh, bouncing almost. You gasp, pussy clenching for something he hadn’t yet provided. “Tell me baby.” He nips your earlobe, and you lose it.

“Just you, you coming home, fucking me.” He gathered that much already. “That’s what got you all restless and rutting in your sleep.” He digs his fingers deeper, in a way that hurt, but a way that you’d begged for before. “Why don’t I believe you?” You bite down on your bottom lip as the heat pools between your legs. There was something so dangerous about the situation. You withholding information could lead to all kinds of punishment. Your pussy was drenched with your anticipation.

“I could stop. Let you go back to your dream; you liked me there.” You huff. “You’d really stop.” He hears the sadness in your tone, and he’s glad it’s there. “If you can’t be honest with me, how can I give you what you need?” You think about it but not for too long. You lean your head back, neck stretching, beckoning his lips to latch onto it. He does as he assumes you want. He attaches his teeth just below a vein pumping away.

“You fuck me everywhere. Every room. You just don’t stop. Say you missed me so much.” He’s humming with contentment at your words. “God, like a feral animal or something.” He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. “I loved it, Ash I need it. Need it like that.” He’s stirring from your words. He’s rocking his pelvis as well as his thigh. Shit. “You fucked me on the couch. Sat back and watched me ride you. Said you missed the way I wrapped around you.” He’s letting his hands wander, encouraging your words, drawing them from within. “You choked me.” Nothing new to him there. “Said you wanted to taste me.” This all seemed so normal. He retreats from you. “No, no please.”

He sighs. “Why do I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me?” He doesn’t limit his hips, or his thigh moving. He just refuses to kiss you until you spit it out. “You wanted to cum in me. You needed to.” He felt his cock twitch at the thought of it. He never tired of filling you, didn’t suppose he ever would. “You said you wanted to taste it, Ash.” You start to grind down desperately onto his thigh. He realises just how close you were from sputtering your secrets. His mouth parts, jaw going slack. “Taste you.” He repeats. You nod quickly. You’re chasing your orgasm and he’s in slow motion processing your words. “You cum in me and you beg for a taste.” You groan.

Ash doesn’t think about his next move. He just does it. He’s sliding away from you. He’s standing from his side of the bed and he’s walking to the door. You’re panicking. Your chest is tightening, and you feel like you might cry. You were scared. He’d forced it out of you, and he’d left you upon hearing it. You pull yourself into a sitting position, eyes fixating on the wooden panels that line your bedroom. “Living room, now.” He orders. Your head snaps into the direction of the door. You choke on air.

You scramble out of your bedroom. You run down the hall faster than a kid on Christmas morning. When you reach the living room he’s seated on the sofa, thighs spread, hands tapping into them with impatience. You walk over to him, not seductively nor confidently. You were too timid for that. Your teeth had been tucked away into your bottom lip so deep you tasted the metallic flavouring of blood. “You take all that time and don’t even have the decency to remove your panties.”

He's pulling you in by the hips. He’s looking up at you, chin resting just above the lining of your underwear. Your fingers tuck themselves into his hair. You couldn’t have loved him more. He thinks the same. Looking up at you, the light around your head pronouncing you as some kind of angel. You were more than that, to him you were far more.

His fingers start to shift the thin fabric separating you. You don’t speak as he removes it. You just watch him. He slides them effortlessly down your thighs and he kisses you every now and again. He gives into his temptations, and he showers you in his love. “Gonna make your dreams come true.” He prods your calf, alerting you to lift your leg to step out of your underwear. “Yeah?” He laughs. Why is he always laughing? Everything was so damn amusing to him. “If it gets you that worked up-“he jolts your body into him and you take the warning to sit, knees sliding on either side of his thighs. “I need to see what all the hype is about hmm.”

You’re stood on your knees, breasts just before his face. He doesn’t let his eyes drop to them even once. He’s so focused on your eyes, so present and in the moment with you. “Want me?” You whine at it. “Need you.” You lower your face to kiss him. Your breasts bump into his chest as your bodies meet. He’s sighing into your lips, arms wrapping around you, pulling you down onto his lap. You’d not realised how perfectly lined up you had been until he slipped inside of you within a moment.

You surge forward even more. Your kiss rough on his lips. He’s devouring you. You’re the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, and he’d be lying if he didn’t accept that as an addiction because that’s what you were to him, an inescapable feeling, a drug, he was endlessly begging to be prescribed. “Fuck.” You breathe over his lips. “You’re soaking me.” His nose brushes against your own. “You complaining?” He pulls your hair, your neck tilting all the way back. “Don’t forget your place.” You clench down on him and he smirks. “Pussy knows who you belong to so why don’t you.” You’re shuddering at his words.

He brings his lips to yours as his hands lower. Your stomach flutters as his rough fingers skim over you on their path down to your throbbing clit. “You feel close.” He mutters. You nod. His gentle touch just above your clit sends you mad. He was doing it on purpose. “Just can’t seem to find it.” He rubs another portion of you, and you whimper. “You’re horrible.” He reaches it and you gasp. “Ahh, there she is.” You fasten your lips on his, tired of his teasing when you’re aching for a release. You’d known you were hot, known you’d been horny, but this was frantic. This was pathetic. You felt like you would have died if he hadn’t given himself to you. Maybe you would have. You’re glad you didn’t have to find out.

“Gonna cum.” You tear away from his lips to warn him. He’s grinning. He’s surprised, you’d never finished this fast. He was so pleased you were going to. He couldn’t claim it as entirely his doing, but he wouldn’t dare tell you that. He was going to own it, to own you and he was going to cum. His cock had been teetering on the edge of bliss since the moment your ass brushed his thigh accidentally.

“Give it to me.” He starts thrusting upwards from beneath you. “Come on.” He’s pulling you in. You’re almost there. Just a few more strokes. Just a few more bites of his fingernails into your hips and you’re spilling over. You’re crashing around him. “Oh god, oh fuck.” He’s cumming. He couldn’t handle it. The moment you tightened around his length he was a goner. He’s fastening his lips around your breast. Your nipple slotted between his teeth, pinching it, aiding your release. You were shaking. You’d felt so much and all at once. His teeth, what was he doing to you? You felt so light, so unreal. You weren’t even here in the room.

Your lap sinks down eventually, ass sitting comfortably on his thighs allowing you to catch a much-needed breath. He fastens his arms tightly around your waist, surging your body forward to capture your lips as if he’d been away from you for far too long. You’re panting into each other. He kisses you with an astonishing vigour despite the exhaustion washing over the both of you, the sleeplessness. Its only seconds before your tongue is back in his mouth, hands wrapped in his locks just like they had been before. His cock twitches ecstatically inside of you, still deep and leaking his arousal into you. He shocks you, lifting his lap, rotating you along with his knees, left towards the rest of the couch. You panic at the shift, not even the action itself. With a quick motion he’s lifting, cock nearly slipping from you entirely.

“Don’t, I’ll make a mess.” He wants to smirk and provide a proud “Yes you will.” But he fights the urge. You felt him leaking from you, it was only a matter of time before the mixture of your finishes were staining the couch beneath you. This is it; you think. He’d going to do it. He’s going to taste. He pushes you onto your back with a huff, bodies still tangled, cock still firm within you. “No, no baby.” He coos. He kneels between your legs, chest pressed to yours, eyes looking down between you both to your connected state that he’d managed to keep. “Cause you’re going to fucking keep it inside of you.” If you could do anything but moan, you don’t even think you would.

He brushes a gentle finger across your clit to accompany his words, your pelvis reacts, lifting into him, needily humping at him. He drops his mouth into a little “o.” Deep down he wasn’t surprised, you had always been desperate for him, even if you fought it, but he didn’t need you to know that. “Still sensitive.” You want to whimper; you suspect you may have. “Bucking your hips for me.” He observed. His knack for noticing even your most disguised form of pleasure taking had always gotten on your nerves. There was no surprising him, he was far too intelligent and in tune with your reactions to let an action like that go unnoticed. He tuts. “Still hard for you.” He laughs, his own hips rocking. Is that why he hadn’t moved yet?

“Feel it?” You nod. “Yeah?” He’d have liked words, words were always better than glances or pathetic shakes of your head, but you were so worn out, you’d done so well, and he was so proud of you, but your job just wasn’t done. “Want me to use you? Make it go away.” It was never what you intended but you weren’t upset. You nod more, pouting your lips for some kind of pity from him, any kind. “You want a kiss?” He cups your face in his hand. His fingers stroke over your tear-stained cheek. It wasn’t a terrible thing to find the dampness there. He knew he hadn’t pushed too far, knew he hadn’t hurt you, because he never would, and even if he had by some form of accident, you’d have told him. You instead cried from frustration and then more so for release. An orgasm you’d worked too hard for, held for so long and then finally on his commands you were elated to be granted it. So euphoric that you’d cried with joy.

“Maybe you should make me cum first. Since this whole thing was your idea and you dragged me into it.” He toys with the idea in his mind. You’d tantrum if he did it. Which would have been a hindrance if it didn’t result in some kind of punishment, he quite enjoyed the idea of giving. You hadn’t misbehaved in so long he was starting to worry that he hadn’t corrupted you as much as he’d been bragging about to his friends. On the other hand, you were so good for him recently, it would be fair to give you what you need, while he takes what he needs, and he could be fair. Choices, choices. Your lips were just there, so plump, swollen from his kiss already. “Fuck, you know you always get a kiss.”

He leans into you, his nose slots neatly beside yours, head tilting to glide his lips over your own. You release all of the tensions in your body, drowning in the sofa and his love. You give yourself over to him. A kiss with him was all you’d ever needed; you’d give your life for another if the occasion was ever there. He enjoys it too, just as much, if not more. He wanders back to the thought of you around him though, your tongue slipping into his mouth not as distracting as it usually was. Of course, he’s not usually inside of you for this long, never warms himself inside your wetness in this way and my God, you are so wet. You’re dripping.

Your mixed juices almost unbearable to contain. Even with a mesmerising kiss such as this, he found it nearly impossible to act as if he wasn’t enjoying the feeling of you. You’d ruined your couch, there was no doubt in your mind or his, about that. He felt bad, sure, but not enough for him to stop. Couch be damned, he thought. He could buy you a new one if it didn’t clean well enough, God knows he already built you a new bed after cracking the last one. It was an investment at this point, the use it would have. He may as well make the most of you now the damage was done, waste not, want not, just imagine it being sexier.

His hips pistol into you, skin slapping yours, the noise echoing through the living room just the way you liked it. You’re no longer a tight glove fixed around him, you’re instead just a wet hole, filled to the brim with him. You’re something he can ram into, no concern for the stretch, for the potential pain of his first thrust. He wished he had the stamina to do this more often. To take you like this. Your tightness over his cock was his weakness but this, this was just divine. The promise of your pleasure and the wetness of your orgasm had given him such a high level of satisfaction that you may as well have ruined sex for him for the rest of his life. This is what it means to make love, this is how good it feels.

“Fuck, so fucking good.” You mutter, tears forming again out of your control. “Say it again, tell me how good it is.” He latches his teeth onto your shoulder, hands kneading your ass, pulling you up from the cushions, allowing him to drive into you deeper. You’re melting under the intensity, and he knows it but it’s just too good, you’re too good. He feels like if he didn’t communicate it, didn’t run it by you, then he wasn’t doing it right. He needed you, your tone, your moans, your tears. “Fuck me so good. Use me like I’m nothing.”

He wants to roll his eyes with pleasure, you were so fucked out and still you knew the right words to say. You were stirring him in a way that only you could. “Not nothing baby, you’re not nothing.” You were fucking everything. He’d tell you if he wasn’t so pent up. He mumbles, shaking his head to focus on his cock, its sensitivity inside your slick cunt. “Best fucking pussy.” He’d be more romantic, but he didn’t have it in him. He wants to cry. You clench around him, and he wants to fucking cry.

Your eyes flutter closed, his lips find yours and you gratefully litter his soft lips with as many kisses as you can muster to encompass his moans. You wanted to help him so badly. “Fuck, fuck, I’m so close.” He’s whiny and desperate. He sounds like such a little bitch, and he knows it, worries about it, but he can’t stop. You’d wrecked him. He wasn’t strong enough, wasn’t capable of holding on, pretending he had it together. He was falling apart at the seams. He was succumbing to your hold on him. You had weakened him into a needy state he’d never once imagined he’d be adept to and there was no more holding off.

“Come on, sweet boy, cum for me.” You play with his chain, fingers grasping the metal, his eyes rocketing down to your fingers. “Doing so good for me.” He lets out a huff of air, before another small wail. He’s so close, he’s hellbent on fighting it. He wants more, wants you to finish too. He knew it was too ambitious. There was no way he’d last through it. He was so disappointed in himself. “Give it to me.” You push, hoping to awaken his dominant side. It was okay to take what he wanted from you. “Give me everything.”

You can’t describe the sound he made accurately enough. It was a gut-wrenching desperation. You felt so bad for him, fighting for his finish, holding himself back, sweet boy. “Want my cum?” His eyes are soft when they look to yours. You see water pooling at his lower lash line and your heart hurt to see it. You want to reach out and tell him it’s okay, so unused to seeing him this way. This was usually a reaction shown on your own face not his.

“Yes, yes please.” You moan melodically to coax him closer. You caress his cheek with the back of your hand and his lips slip down to your wrist to place a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss there. “Say it baby please.” He wants to be demanding and strong but he’s on the brink of utter despair. “Say you want my cum, please fucking say you want it.” He’s fucking into you so erratically, so harshly. He barely maintains eye contact, your precious gaze too much for him to bear. Your heart breaks for him. “Need it Ash, need your cum, want to feel it.” You kiss him between sentences. “Want all of it, give it to me, cum in me.”

He lets out a strangulated groan as his cock pulses and leaks into you drop by drop. His eyes snap shut, his lips twitching and contorting involuntarily. He’s overcome by an ethereal bliss he’d never known before. He felt rather invincible. He thought he came hard the first time but now saw that he was entirely wrong, never been more wrong actually. “Fuck, fuck Ash, oh it feels-“he cuts you off with ease, “like fuckin heaven.” He admits. “Exactly like heaven.” You confirm as his forehead pushes to rest on your own, his face is turning subtly as he comprehends the power of the emotion wracking his body. “You’re my heaven, you know that?”

He meets your eyes. You take heavy breaths together. Your eyes transfixed on one another. There was a connection between you so strong in this moment that it felt like you were the only two people in existence. No one else had ever come close. There were never two souls more meant for each other than you and him. Shaking breaths and the thudding of hearts against your two chests had envisioned that.

Water gathers, clumping your lower lashes together. He’d wipe them dry with his thumb only he can’t take his eyes away from them long enough to move. The small pearls of tears forming before beginning their journey of sliding down your pretty cheeks. How lucky they were to touch you in such a way. He wanted them to evaporate before they had the opportunity to fall but there was just something so touching about the way you empathised with him. Crying at the sign of his finish, so deeply grateful that he had the chance to, enough to stir you into a reaction like this.

He wants to stay. He wants to live in your warmth for eternity, but he still has a job to do. He has to make your dream come true. God help him he’d thought of nothing else since you uttered it. “Gonna pull out.” He pecks your lip. “Give you what you wanted.” You’re throbbing again. How was it that you were throbbing?

He’ll admit he wasn’t turned on by the idea of the taste. He’d never been curious. He hadn’t wanted to know. It was the way you had wanted it that caught him off guard. You were the only reason he’d ever attempt something like this. That’s what he thought at first. Then his tongue lapped up the waterfall cascading from you. He cleaned up the liquid you’d leaked. You pushed your pelvis into him and suddenly he was thirsty. He was dehydrated. He was parched.

He hooked his arms under your thighs bringing you ever closer to him and he buried his tongue inside of you. He only meant to try it. He only meant to lick a little, gather the taste on his lips before bringing them back to yours to share the flavour. He couldn’t pull himself away. He wanted more. He wanted every last drop. You were moaning so loud, even over the noises of him lapping away at your shared juices, he heard your moans. “Fuck, Ash.” He was so hungry. You were going to cum again from the determined look in his eyes alone.

He never stopped. Even when he felt the warm fluids dripping from his lips, down his chin and onto the cushion beneath him, he didn’t stop. You were cumming again, your hips were jittering, twitching into his mouth. He was like a man possessed. “Too much, oh my god, fuck Ash.” Your hands were in his hair, trying to pull him away and despite him wanting to fight you on it, he withdrew himself. You stared at him bewildered. He may have looked the same, wiping his chin with the back of his hands as he sat back on his knees. “I gotta lock you down.”

He leans to kiss your lips, but you let out and exhausted laugh before he can, just missing him by an inch. “Don’t know what’s so funny.” He feigns offence all while smiling, as if he hadn’t just done what he just did. As if it hadn’t phased him. He didn’t think he cared. He chases your kiss a second time, you escape him with an intangible ease again. He sighs with annoyance before trapping your face, his thumb on one cheek the rest of his fingers on the other, stationing you in place. He kisses your pouting lips, you let your eyes roll back as you taste yourself on his mouth. It was far greater than you ever thought it would be and you weren’t too wrecked to acknowledge it. He pulls away finally before releasing you to continue speaking. You were lucky you were cute.

“As I was saying.” You roll your eyes at his persistence rather than eroticism. “Don’t give me that. Where’s this attitude coming from?" He’s mocking you and you love that; he’d flipped the switch immediately back to sweet boyfriend mode. You loved it, but he also sounds demeaning and if you were brutally honest, quite parental in the way he scolded you. You knew a blush had coated your cheeks at the realisation. You wonder if this was the only time, he’d exhibited that authority or if it was just the only time, you’d caught it. “Just made you cum twice is all, think I get a little credit.” He nods his head, but you know it’s not in agreement it’s in consideration of your case. “Think you make the rules cause your pussy can’t keep away from me.” You sure hoped you didn’t, you wanted a telling off.

You try so hard not to laugh when he speaks again. “I’m just a big joke to you hmm.” He’s in a borderline tantrum state, ready to lecture you jokingly until you behaved. If it wasn’t for the pending pout, you’d continue to push him into retaliation. You instead kiss him sweetly to soften him, but his features remain depleted. “I’m not mad, baby, just disappointed.”

You can’t fight it anymore. “You’re so fucking weird.” You nearly snort, ruining any chances of being sexy ever again. He really was acing this paternal disapproval. He’d heard that line many times in his life. He grins back, he knew he was being ridiculous, but it was too fun to stop now. It was late, you were so exhausted, but you were hit with such a pleasant come down that you’d feared you’d be awake for the next 24 hours just to enjoy this euphoria with him. This level of giddiness and goofiness that had you quickly grasping the idea that he just might be the only other person on earth who understood you.

“You’re so right, and so fucking rude at the same time. I just ate your pussy so hard, and you’re sat here laughing at me. Got me tasting my own cum because you begged and you’re mocking me. Hurts baby. Remind me why I like you.” He arches a brow as if he didn’t know the million reasons inside and out. You try something, a gentle reminder, a simplistic action. You watch his face to see if it has any affect. You clamped your hand down on him, squeezing his softening length while tangling the fingers of your spare hand in his hair. You felt him twitch and almost think he’d hardened again from it. “Yeah, you’re right.” He sighs into your neck that he now buries his face in briefly. You smile with a satisfaction money can’t buy, not even his.

“Can’t just squeeze me like that to get a win.” He pouts against your throat. “It’s all I got baby.” You stroke his hair, taming his locks albeit aimlessly considering it was practically sentient with a life form of its own bouncing it back into its previous position. “Think you got more going for you than that.” Ever the sweetheart he beams at you. “That’s probably one of your finer skills though.” You take it back; he’s a dick and you hate him. “But you do it so well.” He patronises and strings out the Ls. “Thanks babe.” You scoff. “You’re so welcome babe.” He always needed the last word. “Love you babe.” You combat. He smirks before he speaks again. “Eh, you’re alright.”

He earns a swift smack to the side of his head, you didn’t apply much force, but you suspected that even if you had, that indestructible barrier of hair would have softened the blow anyway. “Love you sooooooo much.” He pecks your lip. “Babe.” You’d always hated the word but coming from his tongue, you loved the way it sounded. “Still gonna to lock you down.” You groan, writhing beneath him as if to escape the coming monologue despite knowing you were well and truly trapped beneath him. “Make you no good for anyone else hmm.” He pins your wrists like it’s nothing. “You’re hot.” He really was. “You’re also relentless.” He resents that, even if it is the truth. “Yeah, well if I annoyed you that much you wouldn’t be dreaming bout my dick.” He had several other points to add but he felt it best to with withdraw from the argument. “You love me though, right?” He couldn’t tell if he was playing or genuinely vulnerable enough to need it said. “Of course.” You kiss him, he let out a sigh of relief. “Dream Ash anyway.”

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #5sos one shot #5sos smut #5sos ashton #5sos ashton smut #5sos ashton fic #5sos ashton irwin #ashton 5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer ashton #ashton irwin smut #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin fic

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 7 months

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Hi there...I understand you're taking requests 👀. Could I please get an Ashton Irwin x reader friends to lovers? Maybe he confesses his feelings to reader who feels the same but doesn't think they should be together because he has to go on tour (distance). But they end up together with some smut. I hope you can write this one, if not I understand. Thanks so much 😊

Hi, thanks for dropping a request. I hope you enjoy it doesn't get steamy, if I'm honest. I hope that's okay. If it's a problem, please let me know!

Requests are open briefly until the 24th. Any NSFW content (smut, etc) must be requested off anon to ensure no minors (those 17 and below) are requesting the content.

Feel free to look through my masterlist for more. You can submit a request through my asks.

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It’s a tradition, one that you’d personally be damned in trying to pinpoint when it had grown into such. But lack of clarity on its inception doesn’t undermine the tradition that brings you here, two nights before the tour sitting across from Ashton. He’s giggling at his own story, napkin clutched into one of his hands. Your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been smiling and laughing at it as well. You and Ashton are always here two nights before any tour with dinner. Whether he cooks, or you cook, or you eat out--it doesn’t matter. The two of you make sure to set time aside for each other regardless.

“I’m so serious,” Ashton giggles. “Guy straight up offered fifty bucks for the t-shirt I was literally wearing. Right off my back.”

“The real question,” you start, setting your bottle down after your sip, “is did you actually give this rando your shirt off your back for fifty bucks?”

Ashton’s smile changes, the bright honey curve of his lips morphs into something softer and more mischievous. “I got a good lunch afterwards though.”

“Ashton!” you scold, tufts of laughter bubbling from your chest. You know the possibility always exists with Ashton. It would be hard to imagine that he wouldn’t do something just for the story of it.

“I didn’t take the cash! But he treated me to lunch, since I did sort of give him the shirt off my back.”

“You didn’t sort of do anything,” you huff, finishing off the last pieces of your food. Ashton’s plate sits with just another bite or two of the pasta. Somehow the food’s gone faster than you two have even calculated for, but that won’t stop you. With the settling evening, Ashton’s backyard is a comfortable solace, a nice place to rest for a little.

“Guilty as charged,” Ashton returns. He scrapes up the last of his food as the conversation lulls for a moment. He watches though, the way you stare up and behind him, like your mind’s taken you to places behind the court of his house. “But how’s work? For you?”

You’d asked Ashton how his life was going and it sent him spiraling. He can go a mile a minute but he’s never far from always checking in on you. You shrug at Ashton’s question. Your life has fallen a little mundane though your work is anything but.

You’d fallen into Ashton’s world when he frequented the record shop you worked out in the last year of your master’s program. You needed the cash on the side. Though the days were long between school, work, and homework, you found a little slice of quiet in that shop. It was a local gem, hidden in the debris of a crumbling shopping center. But locals knew the record shop well and would take the hike to unearth the treasure.

Ashton was one of those locals. He spotted you as you placed prices on new arrivals and asked if anything specific came in worth looking for. You shrugged in response, but lifted out some limited edition vinyls with a yawn. You’re not sure what joke you made specifically, but it was enough. Ashton laughed like his life depended on it and more and more he came into the shop. You two exchanged names, then numbers, growing closer and closer as time passed. In just a year, you could tell that Ashton was going to be someone important in your life. You’d never imagine the scale, and still can’t. But you told yourself even if Ashton was there for a season it would be spring and bring forth all sorts of new life.

Now, you’re four and half years into your friendship and it still grows and grows. You’ve left the record shop, settling into talent management and running in leagues adjacent to Ashton’s. It’s not the most glamorous job on the planet, but it pays the bills. The only downside to the field is that drama from others becomes your drama just by association. You have to get in the dirt sometimes as much as you definitely didn’t want to. And Ashton knows how much you dislike some of the aspects of your job.

“Is that a shrug that means same old, same old? Or is that a shrug that means big shit?” Ashton questions. “I’d hazard a guess closer to the latter.”

“You win another year of friendship,” you laugh, finally focusing your gaze back on Ashton. His honey eyes are melting with concern as he gazes up at you. It makes your stomach flutter and you hate the feeling. Hate that the two of you were always dancing.

“I wasn’t worried for a second about that. You’re stuck with me. It’s in the contract.”

“I signed no such thing,” you tease. “I need to see that one.”

“It’s written in invisible ink,” Ashton snorts. “But seriously, what’s wrong? Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s just a mess.” You’re not supposed to get into specifics, but it’s never once stopped you when it came to Ashton. “It’s sensitive information really and not something I want to spread around even if it’s to safe ears.”

Ashton nods. “I’m sure you see and hear a lot of shit.” He knows you’re working specifically with someone up and coming. They’re young and if Ashton knows anything from his younger years, it’s that trouble comes with freedom and excitement. Some mistakes though just need to be learned the hard way. So Ashton assumes it’s something big for you to even keep it quiet.

“Too much shit. We’re talking with lawyers,” you divulge.

Ashton whistles. He’s no stranger to lawyers but he knows that when they get into the mix it gets messy fast. But they aren’t there for no reason, no little reason that is. “Fuck. Is this like…criminal?”

You shake your head. “It’s technically a civil matter but it could easily get criminal with my client’s hothead.”

“You’ve mentioned that before,” Ashton comments. Once before the two of you were catching up over lunch and your phone rang. Not the first time Ashton’s been inside a police station but it is the first time he’s been in one where he thought a crime might happen right next to an officer. To say he thought you could spit fire that day is not eloquent enough for your rage. “Well, I hope it doesn't get criminal. I know it’s gotta be a nightmare for you though. You’ve only been working with them for what? 6 months?”

“Eight,” you correct, “but it’s not long enough to be dealing with lawyers on a first name basis.”

Ashton reclines into his seat, arms folded over his chest. You rest your cheek against the flat of your knuckles, elbows resting on the table. Though you’re smiling, Ashton knows just how unamused you are at the situation. “How long have you been dealing with this situation?”

“Two months? Maybe a little less, but like we’re about to get the two month mark.”

“God damn.”

You can only nod, a hum leaving your throat. “Yeah, but that’s boring and a buzzkill.”

Ashton doesn’t miss the way you spin the bottle of alcohol free beer in a circle. He laughs but nods. “Fine, fine. Want another?”

“No, no, I’m good. You excited for this tour?” Ashton hadn’t talked it about in the same way he had the others. He adored what he was doing. He spoke passionately about the tour. But you were fuzzy on some details. Normally, he was brimming with every twist and turn the tour had. He’d trip over himself to tell you. You hate to think it was somehow a sign--that maybe Ashton’s retracting.

Ashton’s nod is fast and hard. You watch him, eyes dropping from you to the green glass bottle in his hands. “I’m very excited. But I don’t want to spoil it,” he offers. It’s soft and you think that the words are somehow going to crumble onto his lap.

“What do you mean spoil it?” you question. You don’t want to start pointing fingers and claiming that he’s not telling you things like before. You don’t want Ashton to go onto the defense.

“I-it’s so silly,” he laughs.

“No, I’m sure it’s not silly,” you offer.

“But it is. I just-I kind of want you just to see it without me telling you anything about it beforehand. I know I normally tell you everything but this time I just want this to be a surprise.”

“Want me to go in blind, Irwin? Trying to give me a heart attack? I’m supposed to have insider knowledge, you know?”

He smiles again. For that, you’re grateful. “No, you do. I’m sure you have more than enough insider knowledge. I just--” His words fall short. He loves telling you everything. God, Ashton loves sharing his world with you. It makes him smile to see you smile. He wants to be there, when he can be, for you. When he can’t be, he wants to know that he’s still one of the first people you call even through the distance. And he does know it. When you got offered a position with the management company, you called Ashton mere minutes after the email came through. When Ashton nailed a drumline, he’d ensure you got to hear the initial take or two.

But there’s something different about this--he wants to watch you when everything comes unraveled. It’s unlike anything else they’ve done. He wants the show to keep some of its magic. That and he wants to keep an excuse to see you again. You visit during the hometown shown normally and you still plan to this time. But he’s hoping to convince you to visit at least one other show too. Because no two shows are exactly alike.

“Are you sure you can only make it to the LA show?” Ashton questions, finally looking up at you.

You pause, nails picking at the label and the label scrunches just a little with your work. “I might be in Dallas too.”

“Really? You mean that, no bullshit?”

You shrug, your own lips failing to hold back your smile. Ashton catches on though and pushes up in his seat. His plate scratches over the top of the table as his forearms move it to the side. Your skin warms. It’s not embarrassment, it’s not even fear or shyness. You just feel alive in a way that only Ashton seems to make possible. You hold up your hands to slow his roll before it’s begun. “I’m supposed to be working the night before but I extended my stay by a couple days.”

“I’ll take it. I’ll take it easily.” Ashton reaches for your hands. Your palms are softer to the touch and it’s not lost on Ashton how the hairs on his arm stand up at your touch--electric in ways that he’s sure he can’t be alone in. When he looks up through his lashes, your gaze is dropped down to your intertwined fingers. Your fingers stroke gently over the top of his hands, over his knuckles.

“You’re such a sap,” you tease softly.

“I’ll have you know that I don’t care,” Ashton hums. His bones are melting at your touch.

“You all packed up yet?” Ashton’s not necessarily a last minute packer, but he does occasionally cut it down to the wire. More than one of your pre-tour dinners has ended with Ashton needing to pack up his suitcase. It almost feels like it wouldn’t be a tradition without that fact.

Ashton shakes his head, tracing the veins on the top of your hands now. It’s a dance, your hands trading who leads and who waits. “Stylist got the show outfits last week. Everything else is sitting around the suitcase waiting for your magic touch.”

“Oh, c’mon,” you laugh. “You taught me how to pack!”

“And I must say I may be one heck of a teacher, but I swear I almost miss something without you.” He pouts at you, lower lip rolling out.

You roll your eyes but tap at Ashton’s forearms. “You clean up the dishes and get me another beer and I’ll get started.” You’d cooked over at Ashton’s place. Your apartment doesn't have the appropriate kitchen space and you hate how cramped it can feel, so Ashton offered up his place.

Ashton squeezes at your forearms in response, “Thank you. Dishes will be squeaky clean.”

It’s all the two of you need before you push away from the table, plates and bottles in hand, and carry on back inside of the house. The floors are cool against your feet and the house echoes in a way that lets you know all is silent. Ashton most often keeps music playing, saying it makes the place feel lived in. You’re not sure how it can’t feel lived in. Ashton’s couch is covered in blankets, walls lined with plaques and photographs. The living room is a bit echoey as it opens up into the kitchen more directly, but there’s plenty of life, if anyone was to ask you.

You set your dishes on the counter next to the sink, listening to the click of the ceramic meeting the marble. “One of these days you’re going to have to pack yourself,” you tease.

Ashton closes the door to the fridge with his hip, holding two bottles in hand. “Don’t you dare say that. You’ll always be my pack checker.” He wants to say more, wants to say the reason you’ll always be there is because you’ll be with him. Forever might be a scary concept, but he wants to see what that could look like with you. Though if Ashton puts anything more than friends out there and you shoot him down, it’ll shatter him.

He’d recover, he knows. But it’s selfish. He’d rather not have to lose you or hurt himself like that.

“Hmm, my tax might get higher,” you tease, sliding the bottle opener off the counter.

“I’d pay it in a heartbeat,” Ashton huffs. And as the two of you get closer, you reaching for the bottle, Ashton wishes he’d just be more direct. He really ought too. He wants to tell you but also worries that it might break everything.

You work loose the top to both bottles. “That’s a lot of game, Irwin. Let’s see if you can back it up.”

“Promise, I can.”

Only a hum leaves your throat before your sip pauses you. “I’ll be upstairs packing your suitcase.”

“Thank you!” he calls out as you push towards the stairs.

“Yeah, yeah, just pay up, Irwin.”

Ashton watches your exit, the stairs taking you further and further from sight. It feels like it’s bubbling up his chest. All the words he’s held onto for years. But if he’s going to be honest, this might be the most selfish thing he’s going to embark on.

You sigh as you enter Ashton’s bedroom. His closet door is open, suitcase splayed on the floor. Inside of the case, you can see his toiletry bag, clothes stacked neatly inside and a couple pairs of shoes on the floor outside the cas. You assume this is all the stuff he’s taking with him on tour. It’s a scene you're familiar with, having grown fond of the ritual as well.

You can’t shake the soft echo of Ashton’s voice earlier, I’ll take it.

It’s eating away at your tongue. What will Ashton take? It certainly couldn’t be just one extra show you’d catch. It certainly wasn’t that. But there was something desperate and earnest in his voice. You think it might mean more. You want it to mean more. The crush on Ashton started slow, so slow you almost can’t pinpoint when it surfaced. But you know it had surfaced.

You longed for his touch and when he was around, you felt like everything made sense. Even if it didn’t actually make sense, there’s a sense of comfort in his presence that slows your racing mind. You don’t have butterflies, but it’s a warm feeling buzzing beneath your skin. A kind of calm that cuts through the noise.

Ashton could have his pick of whomever. It’s a fact made possible by his occupation and his good looks help too. Yet, you’ve noticed a decreasing lack of conversation surrounding relationships. You weren’t sure if he was looking less for them or if he was just keeping that information from you out of respect. You never hated that he talked about other women. You’d sort of grown accustomed to that topic, having talked Ashton off many ledges about love in the midst of drama, familial trauma with relationships, and his own stubbornness.

You’re not less of a suspect about the topic either. You stopped talking so much about your own love life with Ashton as well. Part of it due to its slow death. With work and your crush on Ashton you sort of resigned yourself to a state of limbo--temporarily at least. You know you can’t linger on this crush and unknown forever. But you hadn’t been so bold as to bring it up before.

Perhaps, it was time to breach that line again.

The clack of Ashton’s slippers on his floors lets you know he’s moving up the stairs and closer to the bedroom. You keep your focus on the tuck of his jeans into the bottom of the suitcase. Your heart races though, the closer and closer Ashton gets.

Would you really bring up this conversation now? Two days before tour? It was beyond shitty timing. Yet, opportunity feels like it’s slipping through your fingers if you don’t make a move now. Like if you don’t say something now you won’t say something ever. You’ll resign yourself to swallowing back down everything you’ve been brewing over in the ten minutes you’ve had apart from Ashton.

“What’s the diagnosis, doc?” Ashton teases, slipping out of his house shoes. His descent beside you on the floor is a little slow and he groans just a hair as he gets down.

“Bad knees,” you return with a laugh, taking a shirt from the pile to fold and roll.

“You’re a fucking comedian,” Ashton huffs. He takes another one of his shirts and is acutely aware that he should probably handle his undergarments to spare you.

It falls quiet around the two of you. You’re focused now on folding, rolling, tucking into luggage. You run your fingers over the items. “Got enough bottoms? I’m not sure how often you’ll be near a washer and dryer.”

“We find ways,” Ashton laughs. “Also I’m counting the pants I’m wearing on the first flight, so yeah, I’m good.”

“PJ’s?”

“A couple sets to swap out,” Ashton answers, lifting up to display some shorts and t-shirts beneath his normal attire.

“Space for souvenirs?”

Ashton laughs. “Take me for a rookie, baby?”

“I don’t know, maybe.” It falls quiet again. The scruff’s grown thicker and now might be enough to constitute a beard. “Going to let the beard grow out or shave it?”

Ashton shrugs. “I’ve got some shaving stuff packed just in case I choose otherwise. It’ll only need a couple days to grow back,” he laughs.

Now, as the two of you lock gazes, you see something swimming in Ashton’s eyes. His brows are pulled together. “Everything okay?” you ask. Though the two of you are separated by a suitcase, you still inch closer.

“Can-can I ask you something?”

You nod. “Anything.” And it’s so easy to say that. Because you mean it. Ashton can ask you anything and you’ll answer it. But you’re not even thinking what that might mean to someone else until Ashton’s stumbling over his own words. A man normally so confident, worrying his lips over and over with his teeth.

“I just--I know we’ve been friends for a while and with the tour coming up so soon, I’m not sure this is even fair to ask now.” Ashton pauses. He wants to take the knot of your brows as rejection but he watches for a moment longer and the pieces are clicking. Your eyes narrow, then widen like the bulb might’ve just gone off even before he’s gotten all the words out. “I don’t-I don’t want to ruin anything! I just need to ask.”

The possibility you hadn’t fully wanted to let yourself consider seems to be crash landing into your lip. If you’d conjured up this moment, you were afraid that you’d give it too much weight and care about it a bit too much. You worried that if you did open the door it would slam close, so you let yourself just think, but never dream.

“Ashton, I’m going to ask this because I just need it explicit. What are you asking?”

A beat. Then two.

Ashton moves the suitcase top up and over to shut the half packed suitcase close. He moves closer to you, taking your hands. “I want to ask if I should ask for a romantic relationship with you if the answer might be yes? I-I know we have a lot to work out and I’m gone for 4 months in two days. But, god, I had to ask. I have to ask.”

There’s a lot of unknowns. It’s jumping off the deep end. But the things you do know is that you and Ashton have had years. That surely had to count for something. “It-it could be.” The words make your own teeth chatter for a second. Your guts hurt at the thought that you might even be inching closer to something.

Ashton’s palm is large--it swallows your cheek as he brings your face up closer. Your foreheads brush and you can smell the garlic from your food and the subsequent mint you’re sure Ashton snuck on the way up here.

His smile radiates over his entire face. You can feel the heat of it ghosting over your face and you smile too. “It could be?”

“It could be. I like you. A lot. You make me feel safe. But you’re leaving so soon and I don’t know if right now I can say anything definitely.”

Ashton’s lips brush over the tip of your nose. “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t ask anything sooner. But please know I’m happy at the possibility. We’ll talk. I promise.”

As Ashton draws back, you surge forward, locking him in with a hand on the back of his neck. Ashton had asked but still you need the words. “Promise me we’ll talk at least weekly while you’re on tour? Promise me that there’s a possibility back?”

“I promise there’s a possibility. I mean, more than that too. But it’s--it’s not something you just waltz into. We’ll talk. Weekly at the absolutely least.”

Ashton swears his chest is going to burst when you kiss the tip of his nose. His fingers curl and he wants to do nothing more than to take your waist into his hands, kiss you until his lungs burn. But he won’t do that. The two of you had only promised an exploration, something to talk about more in depth, nothing full fledged. Ashton can’t lie that he doesn’t take that promise to bed like treasure. He can’t lie that he doesn’t lets it bury into his chest. He can’t lie that his dreams don’t water that hope.

He can’t lie that when he wakes to a text from you, Take care of yourself today, with a red heart instead of the pink ones that something ike joy, or maybe just a stronger hope, blossoms.

Your phone shakes and you pull the glasses off your face with a huff. You’d been buried into your laptop trying to read over the headlines about your client and you already know it’s going to be a mess, yet this is all you have just a mess.

Ashton’s name greets you on the screen and your bubble of frustration shrinks. “Long time, no see, stranger,” you tease, taking in the shaky and choppy picture of Ashton.

“Hey, stranger,” he teases. You can tell by the way his hair sticks to his forehead he’s recently either gotten down with a show. “What’s it like on the west coast?” he asks.

“Sunny and on the verge of collapse.”

“Verge of collapse? Your client?” Ashton questions.

“Isn’t it always? I’ll figure it out, I know. Just buried right now in tabloid bullshit. How was the show over there? How’s the east coast?”

“It’s a little cloudy. Heard some stuff about potential hurricanes. I’ll be glad to be further west next week.”

You nod, scotting down a little in your chair. “This time of year is hurricane season. Must be an active year though if you’re catching wind of it.”

“Our tour manager said the same thing. We’ll be getting out just in the knick of time. Just worried about the folks who live out here. Hurricanes don’t sound fun.”

You shake your head. “Mother Nature is always to be feared--fires to hurricanes.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

“How are the shows though?” you ask, knowing that you may not get all the time you want with Ashton on the phone so you try to get the best of it you can.

“They’re fucking phenomenal. Amazing. Not quite the same as when you’re around, but they’re going really well.”

“And you’re taking care of yourself? If I ever get another text from you about being in a fucking hospital, I swear to God.”

Ashton laughs, a kind of laugh that you know is a bit uncomfortable, but he’s hearing you. “No, no, you won’t. Promise.”

“Good, I do not need a repeat.”

“No repeats. But question, is one of your dream dates still to get dressed up to go visit a museum?”

You give a pause, trying to assess with the somewhat clear picture of Ashton on your phone. You know you’d briefly mentioned it once, maybe twice. But you didn’t think it was enough for Ashton to still carry around the knowledge. You nod though at the question. “It is.”

“Why’d you say it like that? Are you getting suspicious of me?” Ashton teases.

“Maybe just a little. Can I ask why you’re asking?”

“If you must know,” Ashton starts, accent morphing into an almost decent English accent, “I am attempting to court you. Dates are a part of such activities.”

Your laughter falls easily, cheeks heating at the thought. “You do not have to say it like that,” you huff with a smile. “Is your dream date still a picnic and painting?”

“And if it is?” Ashton questions, a bit of a tease lilting his voice.

“Then I’m buying paints, good sir. As simple as that.”

“I can’t argue with that. Okay, two good things about your day? Yeah?” It’s a thing--whenever you talk to Ashton now you two share two good things about your day. It’s a nice way to break up the conversation, spin the frustration of the day into something positive. You recline into the cushion of your couch contemplating your day. After you share the good things you ask Ashton about his. Of course he mentions the show.

Conversation winds through dreams--literal and things about that you want out of life. It’s nice to just let the conversation go where it wants. Ashton mentions being inspired on tour for new scents for his candle company and you let that take you to conversations about the smells of your childhood home. Ashton teases that he’ll have to make that another scent. When you ask about the smells of Ashton’s childhood, you notice he gets a little quiet. It’s a slow answer and when it comes, you listen to all the weight he gives the words.

“Mum--she did the best she could you know. I think if I had to describe the smell of my childhood home it’d be a bit of vanilla, grass because god the house was always brimming with our ruckus.”

“Grass after it rains is a nice smell,” you offer after Ashton’s bout of silence. “We don’t have to push it. I appreciate you sharing what you did.”

“No, no, I don’t mind. Just hard sometimes.”

“I get it. It can be hard sometimes. But I appreciate you listening. It means a lot, you know? That you’re willing to let me work through it at my own pace.”

“Life’s hard enough,” you concede. “No need for me to make it harder.”

“But we have Dallas to look forward too.”

You nod. “Yes, we do have Dallas. I’m excited.”

“Good, me too.” Voices echo from further down and Ashton bids his goodbyes, sad and quiet but you ensure to send a message as follow up, I’m here, when you need to call or text or vent. Got plenty of space. You attach a picture of your bed you splayed across the queen sized mattress.

Ashton’s response comes about twenty minutes later, God, that looks comfy as hell. Thank you. A red heart is attached too.

Ashton’s not one to freak--he’s done plenty of it on his own and knows it’ll get him nowhere. But the night before the Dallas show, his phone shakes. Your name lights up across the screen. He thinks it’s just about tomorrow. Maybe an inner monologue about you trying to decide what to wear. But when the message starts with, I’m so sorry, Ashton knows it’s bad.

He doesn't even read the full thing, pushes back from the bar counter and presses to call your number. It rings, and rings, and rings in his ear. “Please pick up,” he mutters to himself.

“Hi, I’m sorry I can’t answer the phone right now. Please leave a message with your name and number and I’ll be sure to return your call,” your voicemail greets Ashton.

He listens for the beep before speaking, “Hey, it’s me, Ashton. I-I admittedly only read like two percent of your text, but I wanted to call, to see if everything is okay. Please give me a call back when you can. Please. I’m worried.”

There’s so much more to say but Ashton can’t get his tongue to cooperate so he leaves it at that and hangs up. Pushing the hair off his forehead with one hand, Ashton swipes back to your text. I’m so sorry about this. Currently at the ER and will probably be on crutches tomorrow thanks to an ill placed step on some gravel. I’ll be sure to update you and call as soon as I know for certain.

You’re hurt, but not terribly so and that’s a win. It’s not enough to quiet the thunder of Ashton’s heart. What had you done? Where had you been? He can only think to type out, Which hospital are you at? Are you going to be okay?

“Hey, Ash, everything alright?” Calum asks. His voice is soft as his question falls. Ashton’s not sure how he even catches Calum speaking if he’s honest, even as he gives a head shake no to the question. “What happened?”

“Just-I need them to text me back. Figure out how far the hospital is from here. I can think then.”

“Yeah, of course. But it sounds bad? Who’s hurt? When you get the name, I’ll see how quick we can get an Uber.”

Panic does no one any good, but Ashton’s not going to talk himself off the ledge of panic when it comes to you. He waits and waits and Calum waits with him, finally getting the pieces of your text in relation to a potential fall. The two men hover in the lobby of the hotel, drinks long forgotten by now. Though Ashton felt the waning of adrenaline leaving his body from the show just a couple hours before, he feels wired. He watches and watches his screen for it to only come alive by the shake of his hands.

I’m sure you just got done with the houston show and would probably prefer some rest. It’s a pretty bad sprain, I’ll be okay, reads the text after a long 45 minutes.

His fingers shake and he nearly can’t get a steady enough press to dial your number. The phone rings--once, then twice. Your voice is the sweetest sound he could ever hear as it floats in through the receiver, “Hi, Ashton. I’m sorry to give you such a scare, I know.”

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Nasty fall. Really bad sprain. It’ll be annoying for the next couple of days. But I’m not dead.”

“Which hospital are you at?”

“Uh, Baylor something or another. I’m getting discharged now actually. I thought I’d be able to call after the initial run of test but they diagnosed it fast. And a lot sort of happened before I could get my hands on the phone again.”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re okay. Do you have someone that can get you back to your hotel safely?” He needs that answer to be yes. He’s not sure where you are though and that’s the thing that’s killing him. Ashton does have the name of the hotel you’re staying at, as you shared your itinerary with him earlier in the week to see if you’d be at the same hotel. Your hotel is about 10 minutes or so from his. Happenstance you both knew but right now it feels like a godsend.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got someone that can drive me.”

“I’m going to meet you there okay?” You start to protest but Ashton’s quicker. “I know you probably don’t need me. But please, just let me get eyes on you so I know you’re not going to keel over, okay?”

You sigh. “Fine, Irwin. But you better be there before me.”

A smile lifts his cheeks. “I will be. Promise.”

“Are they at Baylor University still? I got the address,” Calum offers when Ashton hangs up. “And yes, yes I was eavesdropping,” he laughs at the pull of Ashton’s brow.

Though Ashton won’t admit this, he’s glad for Calum’s care. “Nah, no, they’re about to head back to their hotel. Getting discharged now. I’m-I’m going to go there and I’ll meet up with you guys for the truck in the afternoon before it leaves for the venue.”

“Sounds good. Keep us updated though? Should anything else happen?”

“Of course, man. Of course.”

Ashton’s quick back to his room to grab his bags. They’re not many, thankfully. All the while he tracks his drivers approach on his phone as he waits at the elevator door. It’s a slow descent, or at least it feels that way but the doors open and Ashton’s back into the lobby. Just as his feet hit the concrete of the sidewalk a car eases to a stop.

“Picking up for Ashton?” the driver asks through the passenger side window.

It’s a quick ride and Ashton thanks the driver before climbing back out into the thick humid Texas air. It’s heavy on his skin but all Ashton continues to think about is getting into that lobby before you. The glass doors are heavy but they reveal a mostly quiet lobby. No one at the front desk and he settles off to the side. Ashton halfway considers calling you to see how far you are, but before the thought can blossom anymore than a hair, the doors open again.

Someone holds open the door and there’s a click and clack that’s distinctly hollow. “Thanks,” you state, working the crutches up and forward.

Not what Ashton expected but you’re whole--together, in front of him. A wrap on your left ankle. “You’re late,” Ashton huffs, a faux annoyance. But it’s all you need to grin. The ache in his ribs eases.

“I’m moving a little slower than normal.” The two of you meet in the middle, or maybe less than that as Ashton does cover more ground than you. But it’s not like you care. Though you are mindful that you are still sort of on the clock. And Ashton catches on too, when you don’t lean in for a hug or more.

“Do-do you have any bags you need me to carry?” he asks.

“Personal effects,” you tease, throwing a look over to Savannah who’s got your shoe in a plastic bag from the hospital. You take the moment though to introduce the small group you’re with--mostly other staff on the team. “Everyone, Ashton,” you conclude with a nod of your head. It’s a quick conversation to ensure you’re all okay and set to go. Once you confirm that you’re good and that Ashton won’t let you do anything to further hurt yourself, the group slowly thins.

You and Ashton remain as the others move towards either the hotel bar or the elevators. You wait, trying to ensure that the group is gone before you sigh, shoulders rounding with the action. “I hope your heart will be able to withstand the show tomorrow,” you tease.

“Oh, quit it. I’m not that old.”

“I don’t know you told you were old anyway.”

“Oh, society says it everyday. Aren’t you listening?:

“Absolutely the fuck not,” you laugh.

Ashton’s glad to hear the sound. “Yeah, I thought you might say that, let’s get you to your room yeah.”

It’s a hobble, still unsteady on the crutches a little but thankfully once you’re inside the elevator, you know it’s a quick walk to your room. Ashton retrieves the keycard from your wallet for you and holds the door open. The room is cool--like all hotel rooms seem to be as they surely must double for freezers with the temperatures they are set at. But it’s clear that maybe you hadn’t been planning to be out--your laptop’s still on the bed. Your bag rest on the lounge chair open, clothes peeking out from the depths of it.

Ashton drops his bag next to yours.

“So what happened?” he asks.

“We got back around 8 or so, a much too early night if I’m honest. So, I did a little work to pass the time. Then around 9 Devin, the stylist, asks if I want to go out and grab a couple drinks. I say yes, we’re sort of bar hopping to find the right vibe. I had like two drinks max at the bars we’d found. But on the way to another bar, coming down off the sidewalk, I just misjudged the distance or something. All I know is that I was up one minute then I was down.”

Ashton’s gentle as he kneels, taking a quiet moment to inspect your foot. “You ought to be elevating it,” he offers.

“I sort of want to change, but I need to shower too. And that’s just awkward all the way around,” you laugh. “Haven’t even taken me on a date yet and I’m already on the verge of having to ask you to help me undress because of my stupid ankle.”

“They don’t mean that,” Ashton directs to your injured joint. “And I am working on that date, you just need to give me a few months.” Though Ashton hopes he can do it sooner. Though with this injury he’s not sure if his plans of stealing you away one day during the break will pan out still.

You know you should be responding. Ashton’s gazing up at you from practically between your legs as if waiting for an instruction, but you’re too caught up in the way his face holds his beard, honey eyes dripping still as they look at you. “You’re handsome, anyone ever tell you that?”

“Some might say you just did.”

“Well, you are,” you return more confident. “You’re very handsome.” Maybe it’s just easier now. You can freely admit to such attraction because you know the possibility exist that you and Ashton have more. You know the tour is just a temporary thing, but it gives you two something to work from. Rather than just the comfort of ease and accessibility, you and Ashton have to make conscious efforts to communicate while he’s away. The discomfort makes you work. It reminds you that nothing worth having has always been easy.

Your fingers trace the line of Ashton’s jaw, from the bottom of his ear to his chin. Feels like his body is melting but he remains frozen, kneeling on the thin carpeted floor of this hotel room. It’s a sort of limbo that if Ashton were to ever work through a metaphor, he might call it the seconds in a summer blaze with ice cream. You know the ice cream won’t stay solid forever, but in the first few moments, everything is as it always will be. The ice cream will still have a shape and the sun will still have a ray, but those paths had not crossed just yet--not long enough to have an effect. Yet, Ashton knows that while he holds still now, while he waits to see if you say or do something more, he is the sun ray. He will cause an effect.

“You, however, sweetheart, are so incredibly dangerous,” Ashton whispers.

“I haven’t done anything.”

“Besides absolutely wiping out and being a danger to your literal self, I do have to say that you are dangerous because if you keep scratching at my beard like this you are going to open a whole new can of worms that we will not be able to get back inside.”

You know it’s a warning. You don’t think you want to heed it though. “Just a kiss?” you ask.

Will it ever be just a kiss, Ashton does not know. “You speak of me undressing you to shower and change and rest your ankle that is still injured by the way, and ask for just a kiss?”

You nod. “Yeah, just a kiss.”

Ashton pushes up, hand capturing your cheek as his lips capture yours. Your lips taste a bit sour, maybe the drink or two you’d mentioned before. But Ashton thinks he could swallow the taste and tattoo it into his lungs. He would tattoo it into his lungs if such a thing were possible.

You swear you’ve never been held in such a more confident and gentle way as Ashton pulls up closer into your body. His hands find your waist, a grip that pushes into the flesh of you that makes you whimper. It’s a pathetic sound and you can’t help but laugh at yourself, interrupting the kiss. Your kiss ends with an echoing pant between the two of you, nose to nose as you hold his face between your palms.

“You can make fun of me for that later, understand?” you huff.

Ashton’s laughter falls out more like a groan when you brush your hands down his chest. “I don’t really think I have ground to talk, so.” Ashton presses another kiss, lighter, but still long against your lips. “I just--I’m a little ill prepared to go any further tonight.”

“Are you, Ashton Irwin, rockstar and drummer for the hottest band, 5 Seconds of Summer, telling me that you do not have condoms?” you snort.

“It may be that. In all fairness, the spare I had I had to end up passing along to a couple of the other guys so, it’s not that I didn’t have them.”

“You just don’t have anymore,” you conclude for him.

“Exactly.”

“No worries. My spare expired, so same boat. Besides, I did ask only for a kiss.”

“That you surely did. And I think this is our last stop on this train lest we decide to risk it tonight.”

You giggle, fingers playing just a little at the hair at the nape of Ashton’s neck. “I think this is my stop anyway.”

“Can I ask for one more kiss though?” Ashton’s grin is small and sheepish, like he knows he’s asking for something he shouldn’t. But you can’t say no as you capture his lips one last time. It’s softer now, rather than holding for fear of life lost, now you know you can taste and taste without worrying about losing your chance.

Though it should be awkward to get yourself changed and cleaned up, you find that it’s easy. Undoubtedly, it’s intimate to have Ashton help you get your pants on and off, but it’s easy to laugh and converse around your work. By the time you’re both settled in for the night, your leg slightly elevated thanks to some of the spare pillows, the blue hue of the TV screen is just an accent to you and Ashton’s laughter,

“You had to have a crush on at least one cartoon character,” you huff.

“No, I’m normal.”

“Ashton, you are anything but normal. So just fess up. Was it Lola Bunny?”

Ashton laughs. “No, it was not Lola Bunny. Who even is that?”

You ignore Ashton’s question and pry for an answer listing Roxanne from A Goofy Movie as another potential. It gets shot down immediately. “C’mon, Irwin! Just give me an answer.”

Your response is only Ashton pressing a kiss to your cheek with an adamant but giggled filled, “Goodnight.”

It’s not what you imagined how the first time you shared a bed Ashton would go, but you can’t think to change anything about it now. It’d always be a story to tell, one to hold close to your heart in the future. You reach over, finding Ashton’s hand easily under the cover. His response is immediate as he threads his fingers through yours.

The TV remains on, a quiet hum and over the soft music of some commercial you’re sure you catch the rumble of a snore. “Thanks, for being here,” you offer. Even if Ashton is still asleep you need to say it.

“You’re more than welcome.”

#ashton irwin #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin blurb #ashton irwin imagine #5sos #5 seconds of summer #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos blurb #5 seconds of summer blurb #5 seconds of summer imagine #calum hood #michael clifford #luke hemmings

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writersdare · 1 year

Text

Keep It Quiet | Ashton Irwin

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Ashton and Y/N kept their relationship a secret for a while, but one interview made the things a little complicated.

Warning: none

Word Count: 1 819

Author’s Note: I figured I'd write a little piece about Ash, so this came to my mind. I hope you'll enjoy reading it. Maybe I should write the 2nd part? Let me now. Requests are open ♡

It’s been few months since Ashton and Y/N kept their relationship a secret. Obviously, the friends and close people knew, but for others it was still unknown, even though, fans were guessing everything right from the very beginning. To be fair, they started to talk about these two a year ago, when Ashton and Y/N only met. They were good friends at first, yet, people were constantly asking if they were dating. Perhaps, it was just too noticeable they were always drawn to each other.

In any case, no one had a desire to scream about the romance just yet. Ash and Y/N wanted to keep it private before sharing their little secret to the world. Three months felt more like a year, though, as that’s for how long their feelings were blooming. They moved in together rather quickly, it happened almost naturally and no one even thought it was a rushed decision. Maybe because Y/N was used to stay at his place anyway, before they became a thing.

They met at work, so it was double awkward at first. Y/N was responsible for a creative part of the band’s new album, no one obviously planned to become that close. She preferred to keep her personal life and the job separate, and the guys were always like that, too. After all they were professionals. Ashton was taking it even more seriously than others, that’s why it was so hard for him to make the first move. It was a totally relief, though, when the work was done, and Y/N became more of a friend for everyone. They were constantly going out all together, and that’s when Ashton figured it was the right time to act.

“How about this one?” he entered their bedroom in a black patterned shirt and dark jeans. The guy looked at Y/N in the mirror, while she was doing her hair.

The album just came out, and the weeks were busy with the press. Apart from music, the band put a lot of effort into a visual part, and as a creative director, Y/N was attending some interviews with the guys to explain the whole art concept behind the album.

The girl looked at her boyfriend in the mirror, but then turned to Ash and made a short step back to see his outfit fully. The musician was staring at Y/N, waiting for her verdict.

“Uh… I like the first variant better.”

“Really?!” he sighed and threw up the hands in the air, being annoyed he had to change again.

“You look good in this one, too, babe. I just like you in that velvet jacket better,” Y/N shrugged and came back to her hair.

“No, I guess you’re right,” he mumbled, looking at himself in the mirror. “Plus, if I put on a black shirt, it’d be better with the velvet,” Ashton concluded and glanced at Y/N, hoping to hear her opinion again. He was always like that, if the guy was unsure about something, he’d prefer people to tell him the same thing few times. As if he was checking if they were certain.

But Y/N only nodded, focusing on the curling iron.

“Are you nervous?” Ashton sensed her mood immediately and touched the girl’s shoulder. She looked amazing, and the musician made sure she knew that.

“Just a bit,” Y/N said honestly.

“It’ll be alright, sweetheart,” Ashton gently kissed her temple and smiled a bit, looking at her in the mirror. The girl gave him the same warm smile.

It was getting harder to keep everything private, as on the interviews they’d be asked about their relationship all the time, and it was annoying. Of course, managers were giving a set of questions hosts were not allowed to touch, but they couldn’t put them two on the list, otherwise it’d be too obvious.

“When is your car coming?” Y/N asked, when Ash went to the bathroom to change the outfit again.

“In twenty minutes. Yours will be in half an hour. Will you make it?” she heard his voice through the wall.

“Yeah, I’m almost done,” Y/N nodded.

Maybe it was a bit ridiculous, but rather necessary — they were going to the radio station separately to avoid too many questions.

Ashton left home earlier, and Y/N arrived shortly after the band. Introducing each other, the sign “on air” lit up, and the interview has begun. The program was going live on YouTube as well, so the lovebirds were sitting purposely away from each other. Ash was sitting in the end of the couch with Calum, Michael was in the middle, and Y/N was sitting in the corner with Luke. The interview shouldn’t have taken too long, it usually lasted about twenty minutes, so doubtfully anything bad could happen. Y/N sill felt like she was on the edge, but the presence of a friend next to the girl was calming her down. Asking the band few questions, the host drew his attention to her.

“So, Y/N, tell me how was it working with the guys, how the process looked like? Where did the initiative come from? I know you’ve been working with some amazing musicians in the past, Coldplay, Harry Styles, the list goes on and on. Is the working process always different?”

“Um, yeah,” she smiled and nodded, relaxing a bit, as the question was familiar. The boys turned heads to her, so Ashton thought it was an okay time for him to stare, too. “I was really happy the guys reached out to me, it was exciting. The process is always very different, I mean a lot depends on the music and if, um, an artist already knows in what direction they want to go to, if the music is somewhat ready. With these guys it all went almost naturally,” the boys nodded. “I feel like when we first met, we already got plenty of ideas,” Y/N glanced at Luke, as he was sitting next to her.

“Yeah, that’s true,” he nodded. “I think it was clear from the very begging that we understood each other, you know.”

“Yeah. It was also helpful the guys knew what they wanted to see. It’s harder when someone reaches out to you with no idea or concept. Surely, it’s my job, too, but if someone has no clue, no matter what we start to do, everything would seem wrong.”

“Did you have such experience in the past?” the host continued the conversation. “When the artist would contact you, but have no idea what they wanted from you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Y/N nodded.

“Can you give a name?” everyone started laughing, Y/N shook her head, smiling.

“No… But to be fair, it still can work out in the end. It’s always fun to try different ideas, I feel like we also had really a lot, before sticking to the final visual concept.”

“Yeah, that’s for sure, we tried to be as open as it was possible to the new ideas,” Michael agreed, actively gesticulating like he always did.

“Now, Y/N, we all know what’s happening on the Internet, so I just have to ask you and Ash if there is something going on between you, guys?” the host was smiling wide, clearly trying to get the truth from them, and Y/N only hoped she wasn’t blushing.

“I’m as single as it can be,” Ashton joked and smiled, being obviously annoyed.

“Alright, you heard this first on the radio! Y/N? Do you have someone special in your life?”

Y/N had no idea how these questions were related to 5SOS and the album, but she only smiled, ignoring a little sting she got when Ash answered the question first.

“I’m single, too. I know it’s a rather boring answer, but I’m currently focusing on my projects and, well, love comes when it comes,” she nodded with a smile, and the girl could swear she felt a tension that was growing between her and Ash running through poor Luke and Michael in the middle. To be fair, Ashton was first, who answered in a particular way. He could just say they were friends. But she was also certain that they both hated to lie. They just had to. Y/N continued. “We’re all good friends, we care about each other and, I guess, maybe someone just got a wrong idea because of that,” she shrugged.

“Alright, just friends then,” the host nodded and continued the interview, which all of a sudden became more of torture.

As about five minutes left, they started to play a game “who is more likely to”. The questions were quite innocent and simple, so everyone finally relaxed and were answering openly, fooling around time to time.

“Okay, next question,” the host said, smiling. “Who is more of a mom in your group?”

“Ashton,” Michael said right away.

“Yeah, Ashton…” Calum mumbled, thinking. “Although, I’d say Y/N was taking his place– “

“Yeah, I actually agree,” Luke giggled. “Y/N is more caring, would always bring snacks or ask if we drink enough water...”

Ash chuckled and nodded, remembering a story he actually did not need to tell on the radio.

“That’s definitely Y/N,” he looked at her, smiling and trying to hold giggles. “Remember, when we just woke up the other day and…”

Everything happened as if in a slow motion. Y/N kept smiling, trying to hide the horror on her face. Calum’s eyes widened, and Michael glanced at Ash to give him a hint to shut up. Luke hurried up to interrupt and save the day.

“Oh, yes, we were renting that house for a while to isolate ourselves from the civilization and just focus on music and art, and the other morning we went downstairs, Y/N was already there, making breakfast for everyone. That was rather sweet.”

Y/N nodded with a smile, deciding to go with that story, even though it had never happened. It still wasn’t too far from the reality, she was caring by her nature, indeed. And the girl definitely was coming to the studio with some snacks for everyone before.

“Yeah, that was sweet,” Calum nodded, supporting a lie. Ashton just kept smiling and nodding, feeling like an idiot. Until the end of the interview he preferred to stay silent and answer only when he was asked directly.

“Well, that was really close,” Calum commented, taking a seat in a car next to others. They were going to have another interview, so Y/N was coming with them.

“I know,” Ashton sighed. “Thanks a lot, mate,” he glanced at Luke.

“That’s alright, I think it all worked in the end,” the guy nodded with a supportive smile.

Everyone agreed with him, having no idea that meanwhile the fans were analyzing the video from the live interview and talking about Ashton’s and everyone else’s reaction when he almost told a story about him and Y/N waking up together.

– gifs aren’t mine and belong to the rightful owner – saw them here @uservalentine

All stories are original and written by me. Do not copy, trace and post anywhere without permission and credit. The stories are fictional, they do not correspond to reality and written just for fun ♡

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suchalonelysunflower · 11 months

Text

Happier Than Ever (Stay) (A.I)

Pairing: Ashton Irwin x Fem!Singer! Reader

Summary: Based on the songs Happier than Ever by Billie Eilish and Stay by Post Malone. pt 2 of YOYOK. You go back to L.A and old friends open old wounds

Warnings: ANGST. This is very, very based on my own experience so this is my therapy session with you guys, sorry. Mentions of abuse, death, melancholia, psychological abuse, sad times, curse words. And grammar errors (I didn't even check twice, I'm sorry)

Word Count: 8.7 k

Author's Note: Hey, I'm back because I've missed you and I needed to get this fit out of my chest and survive it. Please, if you like it reblog it and comment, I love to know your thoughts. SUPPORT YOUR WRITERS THAT WE'RE GETTING FEWER AND FEWER HERE. Thank you. Hope you like it and happy reading

YOYOK / Masterlist

“Hey,… I know it’s been a long time since we last saw each other. I’ve heard the new album is coming along great, I’m so happy for you. You… You seem happy, or at least that’s what I can see on social media. I just- I heard you were coming back home- I mean, L.A for some time and well, I was wondering if we could catch up? If you don’t have a place to stay maybe you could crash into mine, like the old times. But you probably already… Anyhow, just call me or text me if you want to. I would really love to-”

When I'm away from you, I'm happier than ever Wish I could explain it better I wish it wasn't true

You love the feeling of being above the clouds. So close to the sky that you marveled on the technological advances that allowed you to feel free.

“Mom, look!” You thought “I’m in the clouds, so high above. Is this the feeling you were always dreaming about?”

A pang of nostalgia stabbed your heart, wishing your mom could be there with you experiencing all of this. But she was back at home, safe and sound on the surface. You knew it was for the best, that you could miss her a little bit more before your heart begged you to go and visit, even when your mind knew better than to believe those rose colored glasses of memory.

Was it the feeling of familiarity that made you feel safe even when it hurt? Maybe. Still, you wish you could’ve shown the world to her, give her everything on a silver platter and say “Mom, I did it. I can take care of you now”

What would she say?

You know she’s proud and she’s thankful for everything you’ve done for her. Still, it doesn’t feel like enough. Her eyes just won’t shine the same way; her smile would change; and the hug won’t ever feel as comforting as you’d expected. Your heart would tell you that she loves you, but your mind would always go back to those moments where you doubted it could ever be unconditional. So you’ve learned to miss her a little bit longer each time. Longer until you learn to miss her for the rest of your life.

It was not a foreign feeling, but it was one that you learned to feel and apply to your life. With time you’ve known the patterns, you’ve learned to grow and let go because that’s not the energy you need to spend even a bit of your mind over. You could miss the happy moments but know that they don’t fit anywhere with the person you want to be most. For your own good, you needed to learn how to let go.

The path was not easy - having to teach your heart not to bleed itself dry for the memory of past times. All the tears and the hurt, it was all part of healing what other people broke. So, the beauty of the cracks made you see just how worthy you are. Even if sometimes the water leaks and your mind starts a whirlwind of doubt, you would never come back to the person you used to be when the people that you loved most didn’t love you as you deserved.

Since then, you found yourself thriving. Not only in your career as a musician, with your lyrics that resonated with a lot of people and even made you gain a considerable number of new fans; but, also with yourself. You started loving more freely, more authentically. you saw yourself in a better light and wished people from your past could see just how much better you are without them. Not to be mean or to gloat, but for them to know that you didn’t cave, that life was meant to be lived and you will be doing just that even if they’re not part of it anymore. You wanted them to be happy for you, just as happy as you are for them.

Still, it scared you to go back to L.A, a place that has seen you at your worst and was the cause of your declining mental health. Even if it was for a short period of time, you knew you couldn’t stay there. Your place, the place that you belong was somewhere across the sea; far from anything and anyone that could make you feel like you once did. Like you didn’t matter.

Yet, no process of healing is ever complete until the cycle of hurt is broken. There were some things in your chest that begged for you to say them. Now it was time to let them out. And, if you were honest, a tiny bit of curiosity tied itself to that feeling. There were just too many unanswered questions still left hanging in thin air. The problem was that you didn’t know if you’d like the answers.

“Hey, Y/N” Your agent called your attention as she sat next to you “I need to confirm the last dates for your airbnb, are you sure you want to shorten your stay?”

You smiled softly at her “Yeah, I will be staying with some friends after”

“Okay, but are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. There’s a lot of things we need to catch up”

Every time we make-up, the truth is fading' Everybody's blind when the view's amazing'

It was weird to feel foreign in a place that helped shape you into the person you are now. But, then again, L.A never felt like home. Australia didn’t either, even though that’s what you’ve been saying in all the interviews when they asked what’d you miss more from home. “My family, the sweets, my friends, the sun…” But the sun did shine in other places; your family, you realized, never made any difference; the sweets could be ordered online; and your friends… Your friends changed. In the end, home never felt like home because you could create it everywhere you’d go.

There just places you’ve been. Home is something else, something you haven’t found yet.

Still, if you had to admit something is that the sun in L.A shines differently than in other places. It always seemed like you were entering a strange dimension, always playing “Something about the sunshine” on loop inside your mind.

You’ve been there a month and so. Enough time to have meetings and writing retreats that lasted a weekend. You’ve been to social required events, just as you do every couple of months to show your agency that you do know just how lucky you are. You’ve been to concerts, gave concerts, left concerts early to go and drink some wine curled up with a book in your bathtub in the hotel room. A small holiday mixed with a little bit of work, you’d say.

But you were leaving in a week, and there are still some things left on the schedule.

You sighed as you grabbed your bag from the sidewalk. The driver was kind enough to offer his assistance, but you would much rather face this by yourself first. During the drive you’ve imagined what it would feel like. Seeing him again. You wondered if your heart was beating faster than usual because of excitement or anxiety. In all honesty you didn’t know what to expect or even if you should be expecting something out of this experience.

Yet, you made up your mind to try and heal this. Get the answers that you longed for and be able to move on completely free. So, once the car drove away, you walked up to the door you’ve only seen in pictures before, and rang the bell.

For a moment you wondered if he remembered. Hoping that, in the end, his proposal of having you as his guest wasn’t just a passing comment he made. After all, you didn’t know when you’ll be back in the city or if your schedule would ever be as free in L.A as it is now. And even if he forgot and didn’t expect you, well, you can’t say you’d be surprised. Thank goodness for back-up plans.

“Coming!” You heard moments before the door opened, barely giving you time to prepare.

There he was. His hair was longer, somewhat a few tones lighter than the last time you saw him. His eyes took a couple of blinks to recognize you, changing the gleam in that hazel color you used to share so many secrets with. He smiled at you, the ghost of a laugh hidden in the dimples you used to poke at lunchtime, claiming that it wasn’t fair that he got to be the pretty one of the two of you. And for a moment, the man standing in front of you was the same kid you met all those years back, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Hey!” Ashton sang with a laugh, stepping closer into your space and hugging you with one arm as the other took your bag out of your hands “I’m so glad to see you! It’s been so long”

“Yeah,” You softly said, pulling back just enough to analyze his face “Thanks for the invite, Ash”

“Of course! I know you’re not a big fan of hotels anyway and, you know, it’s good to have you back. You’re always welcome to stay here when you’re in town”

He opened his arm toward the door and invited you in. You tried not to think about the fact that this was the first time you stepped foot into his house ever since he moved to L.A. He invited you before when you first moved, but schedules were complicated back then and after a while he stopped offering.

It was hard to think that once you used to live at his house back in Australia. Always trying to escape whatever nonsense was happening over at yours. At some point, you lost count how many times you ended up napping on his bed while he played some dumb internet game on his computer or watched a really dumb movie because “You don’t understand, Y/N, Seth Rogen is a genius” And you didn’t understand because even then you thought Seth Rogen was a creep, but it didn’t matter. You were in your safe space. You were with him. And he probably didn’t even know just how much that meant to you.

Now as you look around, you couldn’t help but search for that same feeling. A sign telling you it’ll be okay.

“Sorry, I know the living room is a little messy”

You turned to watch him look around the place with a slight blush on his cheeks. You smiled kindly at him.

“It’s okay, I’m not one to talk either” You turned back to the room “This place… suits you. It’s a lot like I imagined. Very artsy, very you”

He looked at you confused for a while “Yeah, I haven’t changed it much since -” He caught himself before he could continue and tried to cover his realization with a cough “No, yeah. Thanks! Come, your room is over here”

Once he settled your bag on the bed you went and sat next to it. Silence falling over the two of you as he stood awkwardly at the door.

“I hope everything is-”

“Everything is lovely, Ash” You smiled “Thank you”

He nodded and looked away. Hands hid inside of his pockets as he thought of the right thing to say. But nothing seemed to come to mind.

Suddenly, you felt out of place. Incredibly conscious that maybe you were an inconvenience now that you were there. Maybe, after all, he didn't want you there. You wanted to take this chance to meet him and talk, knowing you couldn’t just pretend that the years of separation and the strangeness you now felt toward each other didn’t exist. Yet, judging by his stand, there might not be a chance to bring those old moments back.

“So, how long are you staying in L.A for?” He asked. And he must’ve seen the way your face fell in disappointment for he quickly followed by saying “Not that I’m not happy that you’re here, of course, I invited you. Just wondering because that bag is just-”

“Oh. Yeah, no. My other bags are still at the hotel”

“The hotel?”

“Yeah, I just asked my team if I could leave them there since we leave in a week and I don’t need much to get by while I’m here and so…”

“Wait,” Ashton shook his head “You’ve been in L.A for a while now?”

“A month or so”

“And you didn’t tell me? Y/N, I offered you a place to stay for a reason”

You frowned “Ash, I did tell you. Last time we texted to see when I was arriving, I told you I was already here”

“No, you said-” He protested as he took out his phone and you watched him scroll down to your conversation. His words got caught up once he read those messages again “I- I though-”

“I have been incredibly busy these past few days, hence why I didn’t want to inconvenience you with my crazy schedule and all. This last week is all I have to relax and so I thought that we could catch up this week before I leave?”

“No, no, no yeah, you’re totally right.” He said, running a hand through his face, embarrassedly “I’m just an idiot”

You looked at him quizzically.

“Everything okay, Ash?”

“I thought we had more time, that’s all” He smiled softly at you “Anyway, ready for tonight?”

“Tonight?” You asked, a small smile forming in your face.

“Yeah! I’m taking you to dinner to celebrate your new album!”

Ashton started to dance awkwardly, making you laugh as you shook your head at him.

“You really don’t have to do that, you know?”

“I want to!” He said “You’ll see, just be ready by seven”

He clapped his hands and left the room. A warm feeling spread through your chest on the fact that he wanted to celebrate you and your success. It finally felt like he cared, like he hasn’t forgotten about you. This really was a chance to put all bad things in the past and start anew.

Or at least, that’s what you hoped.

You scared me to death, but I'm wasting my breath 'Cause you only listen to your fucking friends

Fuck off and pour another drink And tell me what you think You know that I'm too drunk to talk right now

You knocked on his door at fifteen past seven. You decided to wear your favorite light blue top with black, wide leg pants and some low heels. You didn’t really know where he was supposed to take you or how you should dress, so you went with the most comfortable but chic thing you could find given that you didn’t plan to go out as much.

When Ashton opened his door you took a step back to look at him. He was wearing jeans and a wide, white shirt. You could feel your cheeks blush, and had to look down to hide it. It was an awful familiar feeling that you thought you could leave behind knowing that it was extremely pointless to feel the way you once did.

And just like all those years back, he didn’t notice. But for the first time you were glad he didn’t.

“Sorry I made you wait” He said with a smile, closing the door behind him.

“It’s okay,” You said, looking up with a shy smile.

Ashton walked past you to grab his keys, the path he created with his cologne left you dumbfounded for a minute. It was a different smell, one that you weren’t familiar with.

“Why do you have so many colognes?” You asked him once, walking over to his small desk while he wrote what was left of his assignment. Ashton looked up and chuckled when he saw you puffing them into the air to smell them and making faces at each one “They’re mostly presents from my family. I think my aunts were trying to tell me something last year”

“Well, at least they have good taste” You said, trying on the one that had a clear, almost orangy color bottle “Yeah, I’m taking this one home”

“No the hell you’re not!” He got up and took the bottle away from you, raising his arm over his head so that you couldn't catch it. It was his favorite pastime to remind you just how short you were back then “This is my favorite one!”

“You never use it!”

“I will!”

After a couple more tries to grab it from his hands you saw yourself surrender and falling onto his bed again “If you don’t wear it at least five times a week, I’ll take it”

“Deal” He said with a smile, throwing one of his hoodies at you from the floor “And then you will hate it so much because it’ll remind you too much of me that you won’t even want it afterward”

You never told him that it would be the opposite.

Next thing you know, Ashton has parked and was getting out of the car. You looked around and you were surrounded by nice streets and expensive houses. You opened the door and looked over at Ashton who was nodding his head toward one of the houses.

“C’mon” He said with a smile.

“Where are we? Is this a new restaurant I haven’t heard about or…?” “What? No,” He chuckled, ringing the doorbell “Is my friend Andrew’s home. He invited us over for dinner to celebrate that he came back from tour as well”

You were at a loss for words, “He invited us?”

“Yeah, I told him you were coming. Why, what’s wrong?”

A lot. You wanted to tell him. A lot was wrong. How could he not see what he was doing? If he had told you that you were just going to a friend’s house then you wouldn’t have looked so out of place, or feel like a fish out of water. You didn’t know who this Andrew was, you didn’t even know if Ash had actually told them that you were coming or if you’re just going to turn up at this reunion/party for his friend. He said it was to celebrate you.

But before you could voice your concerns to him, the door opened and a guy with a big mop of hair jumped in to hug him.

“Dude! I’m so happy you could make it!” He - Andrew, apparently - smiled widely at Ash, chatting with him for a minute before he noticed you standing beside him “Oh, hi!”

“Hi,” You smiled shyly, extending your hand in greeting knowing Ashton was not going to introduce you judging by the face he just made, seemingly embarrassed of that fact “I’m Y/N”

“Of course!” Said Andrew, shaking your hand and pulling you in for a kiss on the cheek that you weren’t expecting “I heard so much about you, I didn’t know you were friends with this guy here”

“Yeah! We’re friends since the old Australian days” Ashton said, smiling at you “Y/N here dropped by for a visit since she’s doing a lil business around L.A”

You smiled tensely during that small exchange. Wanting nothing more than to crawl back into the car and wait for everything to be over.

One of the reasons you left L.A was because nothing ever felt right. For years you tried to fit in into the scene, going to parties and hosting them with a bunch of people who didn’t even know your last name. You were never good at making new friends, that is to say once you’ve established a relationship with someone then friendship would just roll around the corner. But everyone here was moving so fast it was almost impossible to even wish for a deeper connection with someone.

When you first moved, you thought it would be like a great new beginning. Yet you’ve never felt more alone. The only people you knew were from your team and from Ashton’s band, but even then they turned into more acquaintances given just how little time they seemed to spend in the city.

And maybe Ashton knew that. Maybe he was trying to fix that and give you some opportunities to mix with his group of friends; something you’ve been wanting to do since you moved here all those years ago. Still, something fell… off about all of this.

After the guys talked a little bit more, finally Andrew invited you in. There, you found a group of people you’ve never met hanging around the living room. Plastic cups and ashtrays were scattered around the room as a tinted, light smoke served to decorate the place and give you just an idea of the state of most attendees.

As you walked by, people started to come up to Ash, greeting him and spending a few minutes catching up. Not one of them turned to look at you for more than a second or even gave you the courtesy to say hi. Ashton didn’t seem to notice it at first, but there would come the rare occasion that he would introduce you to some of the groups that started forming around him.

It was not a rare sight for you. Back in school he was the popular one, always friendly with countless people you didn’t even see around school that often.

“This is Y/N, she’s here promoting her new album!” He’d say.

“Wait, I know you!” One of the strangers said, their smile totally welcoming “Taylor Swift gave you a few shout-outs recently, didn’t she?”

You smiled “Yeah! I had a chat with her at a label party a few days back. She’s amazing. We talked about collabing soon, maybe a writing session next time she flies out to the U.K”

“Damn, that’s awesome! I’m Laura, by the way” They said, extending her hand toward you “Ash, why didn’t you bring her along on one of our trips?”

Ashton chuckled “C’mon L, well…”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s our style. No offense” A guy next to them said. You frowned

“What do you mean?” You smiled awkwardly “Have you heard my songs before or-?”

“Nah, it ain’t that. It’s just- We don’t go Taylor Swift’s style”

You could feel your heart beating loudly inside your chest as you looked between Ashton and the other guy, hoping that Ash would intervene “But I’m not Taylor”

Once again you looked toward Ash, but his eyes were cast down to the bottle of beer that he held in his hands. You couldn’t help the disappointment that came over you then.

“Hey man, not cool” Laura said, locking your arms together as they pulled you away “Don’t mind him, he’s high out his mind right now. C’mon, let’s get a bit drunk”

They took you to the main couches and sat next to you. Your cheeks were a bit red from the humiliation. How could you have expected Ashton to defend you? He said it before that your music didn’t go with his vibes and that it was not really his thing, so why would he help you now?

“Those guys can be assholes sometimes. I love them, but they’re so…” Laura trailed off, looking over at you “But hey, forget about them. Tell me a little bit about yourself, how do you know Ash?”

You ended up telling them your whole story. About how you met when you were kids and how he was your best friend. How lonely you felt when he moved away the first time. And how excited you were to see him again after your big break, but that life got in the way. You probably told them more than you should’ve, but the drinks were soft and the room was crowded. And for the first time in the evening someone was actually willing to listen, curious to know you rather than know about you.

“That seems like a whole adventure” They smiled, “And when was the last time you saw Ash before deciding to come and stay with him?”

It wasn’t that long ago, a year or so earlier, when you gave a secret concert in London when you released your last album. He was standing in the corner, smiling at you as you sang. It was the first time since you told him you were moving a couple of years prior. You both kept following each other on social media, but that was pretty much it when it came to your relationship. And you were good with it.

You knew they were in the U.K for their tour, Michael and Crystal had asked you for drinks during that same week and you had a great time catching up. So, against your mind’s warning, you started to hope you would run to him soon enough. And when he appeared at the concert, you couldn’t help but smile back.

Afterwards, when you were back in the green room, you asked if he was still out there and to invite him over to chat. But no one from your team saw him; apparently he was already gone by the time you went off the stage. You remember waiting until you went home to allow yourself to cry, even for just a few minutes. That small interaction that seemingly never happened opened the wound back again. And, if you were honest with yourself, that was one of the main reasons why you decided to take on his offer to stay with him. But you didn’t say that.

“I don’t know,” You told them instead, as your eyes landed on Ashton standing a few feet away from you, a lighted joint between his lips as he laughed with people that you haven’t seen before “Since I moved to Scotland, I think. A while before, probably”

If Laura saw the sadness in your eyes, they never mentioned it. They just said “Okay, I think you should be a little bit drunker, my friend”

Hours later you were alone and tipsy sitting at the front porch of Andrew’s home, nursing a cigarette between your fingers.

“I didn’t know you smoked” A voice came from behind you.

You sighed, putting the filter in between your lips and taking a long hit before you let the smoke get lost into the night.

“You’re mad.” Ashton said, sitting next to you

“And you’re high”

“So we’re both telling the truth tonight” He chuckled, you didn’t “When did you pick up this habit?”

“I don’t know,” You answer honestly. “It was better than drinking myself to death back in Australia. It helps with my anxiety”

“What do you-”

“Alcohol makes you fat.” You deadpanned as you took another hit “I didn’t want my mom to have yet another reason for her nagging”

“Y/N-”

“But she’s not here so,” You passed him your empty cup, still not looking at him “Bring me another one, please?”

Ashton sighed “I think you had enough,”

“You will just never stop making decisions for me, are you?” You stood up, killing the cigarette after one last blow “I know what I’m doing, Ash. I’m a fucking adult, if you haven’t realized. I don’t need you to tell me what to do”

His eyes widened. He parted his lips as if to say something, looking over his shoulder back at the party. You rolled your eyes.

“Don’t worry, your friends can’t listen to what I’m saying. Your reputation will still be intact and they will still love everything that comes out of your mouth”

“Hey,” Ashton said with a bit of a bark “Don’t talk about them like that”

You pressed your lips on a tight smile, looking at him as your eyes filled with tears. You couldn’t believe that he was defending them like that from just a simple comment, but left you completely alone when they were making worse comments at you.

“Fuck, Y/N” He said, frustrated “I’m trying here, you know? It’s like I don’t even know you anymore! You don’t want to talk to me, you moved across the world. You still talk to the guys-”

“They’re my friends,”

“I was your friend too!” He shouted, surprising you “And I want this to work. I want you here, with me. But if you don’t want to be here and go back to your fucking hotel- I want us to work!”

“Why am I here, Ash?”

“C’mon, don’t be like that! I just wanted you to meet a few people, celebrate your new album-”

“Yet none of them cared to get to know me, nor you to introduce me and actually wanting to celebrate with me” You took a deep breath and sighed “Give me the keys to the house, I want to leave”

Ashton shook his head.

“You’re angry. I get that”

“No, Ash. I’m tired and I want to go to bed” You said more firmly this time “Give me the keys and I’ll call an Uber”

“I’ll take you!”

“The fuck you aren’t” You laughed, not a hint of humor in your voice “You’re high with more than just weed apparently. I’m drunk. I would rather not fucking die tonight, thank you”

“I’m not going to-”

“I don’t want you to! Okay? Fuck, Ash! I don’t feel safe around you!”

You saw the ways his eyes changed, how hurt they looked so suddenly at your words. You knew you wounded him, but it was how you felt. You didn’t trust him, not tonight.

“Y/N…” He said, getting up and walking over to you but you took a step back. He sighed, roaming around his pockets before he found his keys and gave them to you “Text me when you get there, leave the keys by the potted tree”

You answered him with a nod and a small thank you. You didn’t watch him as he turned away and walked by to the house. You didn’t hear Laura, who was watching over from the window, tell him:

“I don’t know what you did, man. But I’ve never seen anyone with such sadness in her eyes”

Damn, who are we right now? Can we have a little conversation? Figure it out with no intoxication We carry on, what is our motivation?

You woke up when you heard footsteps outside of your door. You knew it was him waiting outside, probably debating on whether or not to knock on your door, wanting to talk. There were times in the past where he would just open the door to your room and sit down on the floor next to your bed, waiting for you to start talking or acknowledge him so that he could apologize or talk things through. Sometimes you didn’t need to say anything, you just understood each other. And as he walked away without a word, you wondered where did all those times go?

Where was the friend that would go out with you and wait on the street for a cab to take you home, no matter whom he was with or what you were doing. Where was the friend that when you snuck out to your first concert, he held you close by the waist and covered your body so that none of the beer that people were throwing around got into your clothes or hair. What happened to the friend that would stay awake chatting with you on the phone even though you had an exam early the next morning, all because the guy you liked broke your heart.

Tears rolled down your face as you tossed and turned on the bed. It wasn’t fair, your heart kept begging your brain to understand. It wasn’t fair that you had to lose it all without a warning.

Once upon a time, you thought you had it all as long as Ashton was there. Now, you begin to miss the times where he wasn’t. Times where you learned to be happy without him, where you didn’t need him or his approval. Times where you felt complete even though your best friend was not around anymore. You were better off without him, and learned to live without him. You knew that to be the truth. But one just can’t ignore the past and the mystery of how the person that makes you feel such horrible things about yourself once promised to give you the world and its stars and meant it.

You just couldn’t figure it out. So you just forced yourself to go back to sleep.

When you woke up again a few hours later and made your way to the kitchen, you found freshly made coffee and bagels waiting for you on the counter with a little note next to them:

“I’m sorry, can we talk about it later? XX Ash”

You sighed as you wiped out the tears that clung to your eyelashes. You took a sip of the coffee and found comfort in the heat of the mug.

On the other side of town, Ashton was doing the same thing. His eyes were covered behind dark sunglasses as he thought of what to say once he got home. In front of him, Calum can’t say that he’s impressed from what he’s heard.

“What’s your deal?” He asked his friend.

“I- I don’t know” Ashton answered, biting the inside of his cheek “I thought she would have a good time. She was always cool at coming to those types of parties with me back home, we used to have fun”

“You and I both know she hates parties, and back home she had you. The normal, probably tipsy you, to keep her company” Calum said, taking a bite out of his sandwich “Last week I found her sitting alone while the rest of the world was having a conversation around her. We talked and it was nice, she’s not normally that outgoing on the get-go. She never was”

“You saw her last week?”

“We were invited to Gabriel’s cocktail party. You didn’t want to go, as usual”

“You never told me that-”

“What? That we’re still in contact? Dude, we all talk to her from time to time. We mention her in our conversations every now and then. She’s still our friend”

Ashton sighed, “So she just hates me for no reason?”

“You truly think that Y/N L/N could hate you?” Calum chuckled, “That girl would’ve followed you straight to the end of the world back in Aus. As far as I know, there’s only one person she truly hated”

“Who?” Ashton scoffed “I’m pretty sure our politics teacher was not so bad”

“What? No, Ash-” Calum shook his head “Remember when-” His face went blank “Oh shit,”

“What?”

“You didn’t know?”

Tell me that it's all okay You ruined everything good I've been waitin' on this all damn day Always said you were misunderstood Call me in the morning', tell me how last night went I'm here, but don't count on me to Just fucking leave me alone

He found you sitting outside in one of his garden chairs. A cigarette was hanging from your fingertips as the ashes fell on the floor in a small pile. You didn’t look back at him, for your eyes were staring at the moon that decorated the sky with its beauty.

You felt him come outside and sit on the chair next to you. The sound of a lighter made you blink, and you sighed at his exhale. There was no way he was doing this sober, and you couldn’t blame him. Yet…

“I was hoping we could talk without any of that” You said. “You have your ways and I have mines”

Silence fell over the two of you once again. You could feel his eyes burning holes into your profile, but you didn’t have the courage to look at him just yet.

“When did I stop being your best friend?” He asked.

Tears quickly covered your eyes and you hated that. “Probably around the time when you stopped being mine”

“Y/N-”

“You held me, once. Not the usual hugs that we gave each other, no. This one was different. We were at school, an overnight vigil that the nuns made us do every year”

“Those were fun,” He commented “A huge sleepover at school”

“The theme was about lost ones, remember? I had just lost my grandma that past week”

“I wasn’t at the funeral, I was away on a trip to the city. She was the one that taught you how to bake”

“Yeah,” You chuckled. “Though, I was never good at it once she passed. Anyway, of course I started crying. I’ve already lost so many people back then, and I was barely hanging on. But then - then you held me, so tightly. And my tears left a damp stamp on your shirt. You cradled me and brushed my hair with your fingers and whispered “It’ll be okay, you can cry. It’s okay” and kissed my head as they started to sing. You sang as well and never said a thing about it afterwards. That was the moment I knew I couldn’t have loved you more”

The sound of a cricket broke your monologue, and you allowed yourselves to be fed into the sounds of nature for a while. You knew there were still things left unsaid, so you better get over with it now rather than later. You didn’t want to stay for the aftermath.

“Remember the first time you came back to Australia? I was still living there in the house we grew up in. I was having a shitty day at work, so I went to grab a coffee at our favorite coffee shop with other coworkers when a few of our old friends and classmates came through the door. We said our hellos and caught up, it was nice. Then they had to go. “Who’s coming with me to Ash’s house?” One of them said. I remember asking about it as they argued over who had to take the bus or a cab. They told me you were coming back that day and have invited people over to celebrate”

“Y/N,”

“You invited them. Even people I didn’t know that well and that I know for a fact didn’t know you as well. And don’t try to tell me it was a guys thing, cause you invited girl classmates as well”

Ashton opened his mouth to say something, yet nothing came out. “I was numb as I took a taxi home. I still remember that the radio played “Waiting for Superman” as I tried my hardest not to cry. But when I got into the kitchen, I just couldn’t stop. I cried myself to sleep that night knowing that you were just a door away but didn’t want me there”

“Y/N, I wanted you there” He said, putting his hand on your arm as he leaned closer “I - I know I can’t say anything to fix it now but- I missed you, too”

“It didn’t seem like it” You told him “Every time I learned something about you back then was through a story or a tweet. I learned through the paparazzi who you were with and in which city you were going to sleep next. I saw you living your best life with your friends away from home. And, I get it, we both resented that place and all that we suffered while we were there. I just - I just hoped that my memory was something worth saving, cause my memory of you always was and will always be the best thing that’s happened to me while we were there”

You turned to him and looked him in the eyes “It just hurt to know that while I put you on a pedestal, I was already out of your sight”

“Baby, you know that’s not true” You scoffed “I swear! In my memory, you were always there! Front of the line!”

“Then why-?”

“I was scared, okay?!” He shouted, lowering his eyes in shame “So fucking scared and it’s so stupid!”

“Scared of what?!” You shouted back, willing for him to look you in the eyes “Ashton, for god’s sake just tell me!”

“They told me that you liked me!”

For a moment time stood still. You backed away from him as his words started to make sense. You pulled away your arm, letting his hand grasp the space that you left between the two of you.

“What?”

“People started whispering,” He said, his voice broken as if he were crying “Telling me how good of a couple we could be. How happy you were with me and how in love you looked”

“When was it?”

“At the beginning of our senior year” Ashton admitted, ashamed “I- I already knew that I wanted to get out of Australia. I knew that with the guys we could take the band somewhere massive. So I put my whole soul into it, trying to escape the feelings that would pull me back”

“You thought I was pulling you back” You stated, betrayed.

“No! I was pulling myself back by thinking about it!” Ashton said, finally looking at you and hating the way you were looking at him “I couldn’t risk it”

“Couldn’t risk what?! That I could have feelings for you?!” You stood up “You’re unbelievable! You could’ve asked me! Come to me instead of running away and make me lose part of myself in the process. Parts that I can’t take back, that I can’t love back because of you”

“Y/N!” He tried reaching out to you, but you took a step back.

“No!”

“Y/N, please! Just-!”

He grabbed you by the elbow and pulled you to him. The movement made you lose your balance, tripping over your feet as Ashton maneuvered you to land on top of his lap, holding you by your waist.

The sudden proximity made you lose all the air inside your lungs as you looked at him and his hazel eyes surrounded by red. He looked desperate, pleading with his eyes for something you couldn’t understand. He was breathing hard, his chest colliding against yours where your heartbeats were going as fast as your thoughts. Almost impossible to catch up.

Then, almost without thinking, Ashton launched himself forward and pressed his lips on yours.

The softness of the kiss contrasted the chills that ran up and down your bodies. As you gasped for air, his hand came to tangle itself on your hair, pulling you closer to him as you allowed him to deepen the kiss. He sat back on the chair and pulled you with him, making your legs spread at either side of his hips; never once letting you go as he kissed you over and over again, like a man deprived of something more.

“Y/N,” He whimpered against your lips, making you sigh as his hands roamed your body until they landed on your hips, moving them against lower half “Y/N, please”

Your mind was clouded in smoke, feeling the heat of his kiss along the length of your neck. His words whispered your name, as his movements on your hips became erratic, letting you feel all of him under you.

“Please, please Y/N” He said, kissing and kissing and kissing every part he could find “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry”

Suddenly, you opened your eyes as you jumped back to reality. Putting a hand on his chest and pulling away from him. Both of you were left panting, as your skin tingled from the contact.

Ashton’s eyes were desperate, looking at you in fear of what you might do. His lips - you imagined - were a mirror of yours, plumb and beat red as your name escaped him in the form of a question. You closed your eyes and let a tear fall across your cheek as you shook your head.

“You don’t get to do this to me” Your voice, a whisper.

“What?” He asked, almost out of breath. But you were already getting off him and turning your step back to the house.

“You don’t get to do this to me!” You yelled through the tears “You don’t get to confuse me all over again. You don’t get to have a half-ass apology followed by a kiss that would make it all better!” You turned to him, poking a finger on his chest “You don’t get to make me hate myself all over again for loving you when you didn’t think it was convenient for you!”

“Y/N!” Ashton pleaded, taking your hand in his before you yanked it away “I’m sorry! I wasn’t thinking-!”

“Exactly! You weren’t thinking! You never, not once, thought of me during all of this. Fucking admit it! Trying to get me to come here to patch things up was just such bullshit! You just wanted to make sure that I was still available for you any time you wanted! And don’t say it isn’t fair cause you were not aware of how miserable you made me!”

“That’s not true-”

“Was this just a plot to get me to bed?! Is that what you think of me now?!”

“It’s not true!” Ashton yelled “I know I made a mistake and I’m so fucking sorry! I should’ve never-! Look, I want to patch things up. You were right, goddammit, Y/N, you were right! It took me a long time to realize and fuck! After you moved away I was fucking miserable as well! I- I failed you”

You stood there in front of him, crying silently as he paced desperately.

“Ashton,” You called to him “Ashton, why am I here?”

Suddenly, he stopped and looked at you “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

“About what?”

“For fuck’s- About the fact that you were abused, Y/N!” He yelled, leaving you speechless “Right after I left! Why didn’t you say anything?!”

You swallowed hard “It was none of your business-”

“You told Calum” He accused “You told Calum and you never told me. Why? Maybe it was not just me who was a shitty friend to you, after all, if you were going to keep things like that from me”

“How fucking dare you, Ashton Irwin. How fucking dare you?” You pushed him away “I told Calum by mistake! I didn’t mean to do it and it was years after it happened. And because I didn’t think you would care!”

“What?” He broke down, putting his hands on his knees for balance as he looked at you in tears “How- Why would you think that?”

“Because it’s the truth,” You cried “Just like you said, you had big dreams and a massive opportunity and I was just going to pull you back. Ashton, you just justified everything I thought it was true with that sentence”

“Y/N-”

“Do you think I had a good time? Knowing that my best friend, the only person I cared about in the world didn’t give a fuck about me to even ask how I was doing? So if you really wanna know… I don’t relate to you anymore. I don’t. I don’t want to think about what we had anymore because it just makes me fucking sad. I thought the world of you. Ash, you were my everything. I loved you, as a friend. I loved you, as the sun loves the moon even when it’s gone. I loved you with every prayer, every pleading, every move I made was for that one day I could be with you again, anyway that you would have me. I would’ve died a thousand times next to you, just as long as you kept me company. I didn’t care about what could happen to me. And when something happened, I tried to spare you from it, even when you never once asked. Fuck! I moved to L.A and this is the first time I’ve been in your house!”

“That’s-”

“I wish I could explain it better, I wish it wasn’t true. I wish we could’ve resolved this somehow, but let’s be honest. There is no bridge to burn when we're already so far away. And those memories? From all those years back? Now it all feels like a lie and don’t you dare say otherwise. You’re not the person I once knew, Ash. The person I once knew would’ve never invited me here to leave me alone at a party with people I don’t know, saying a cute lie about how it was for me when in reality it was to make you look a certain way. The person I once knew would’ve never made me feel like nothing every time we were at an event together and you couldn’t even say hi. The person I once knew would’ve never let their “friends” disrespect me in any way. The Ashton I knew wouldn’t have tried to make me feel sad. He wouldn’t have made me so miserable to be in my own skin because they’re not brave enough to face the music he so highly speaks about. You never once showed support for what I do once I became my own person. You never once called to ask how I was. You never once believed in me as much as I believed in you. You made me hate this city. But even more, you made me hate everything I used to love about us. Now I meet someone new and wondered if it’ll be like what we had. You ruined me, Ash. And you never apologized for it”

Ashton was shaking his head, crying as he listened to what you had to say.

After you had your feelings heard, you didn’t walk away or ran through the door so that you could escape the aftermath like you did back in December all those years ago. You were not going to run away again. Not when your heart finally felt light from all the things you’ve been carrying.

You and Ashton cried in silence, each one at one side of the room.

The two of you couldn’t help but wonder what had happened and why did it end up like this? You could play the blaming game; pretend this never happened; you could walk out and never see each other again; or, you could just stand there, waiting, digesting the sour words that fell from both your lips and think, think of anything that could be saved.

“What are we going to do?” Ashton finally asked, voice hoarse from the crying.

“I don’t know,” You answered in all honesty “It’s like we only play to lose”

“Every time,” He said, looking at you and giving a small chuckle. “Every time I see you it just hurts. Not for anything you’ve done, but for everything that I could’ve done but didn’t”

“Maybe it was for the best to have it end this way”

“But… I don’t want it to.” Ashton admitted in a whisper “Now that you’re here… I kept on failing cause I wanted to prove to myself that I still knew you”

You laughed “Who are we, Ash?” you asked “A girl that chases over the past and a boy with the excuse?”

“How the hell we’re going to make it?”

“Maybe we don’t” You shrugged “Maybe we’re just meant to be passing figures on the street. People we once knew. We can’t go back from this, Ash, and you know it. We’re just going to keep hurting each other”

Ashton nodded, walking over to you as you let yourself be embraced by a hug.

“I love you, Y/N. I will always love you”

“Terribly” You murmured against his chest “I will love you all my life, Ash. And I’ll miss you forever”

“Tell me that it’ll be okay? Please?”

You smiled and placed a small kiss on his chest, and held him tighter. And he knew.

He knew.

tags: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @mystic-232 @talksoprettyjjx @theshyspy @hoodhoran @hoodharlow @littledrummeraussie @irwin-fletcher-ash @wiiildflowerrr @another-lonely-heart @aabc5sauce @in-superbloom @sadcupofcoffee @personalmuyverypersonal @as-hs-blog @himbohood @sofiaaraee @irwindoll @weasleytwinscumslut @fairytrice @colourfulcal @nibin0912 @youneedtocalumdown @heyitskelseaj @ashtonsunflower @calumspupils@secretsicanthideanymore @alltimesos @wontlastimokwiththat @whywontyoulovemecami @theimpossiblehologramtree @perriexed @abiancajg @rewmuslupin @icelily13 @bookthingz @gracieboogirl @fastandtheformula1 @lendeluxe

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nicksbestie · 7 months

Note

hello! I don’t know if your requests are open right now, but I would like to ask for a blurb/imagine where y/n feels left out of her friend group and is in a moment of her life where she’s trying to make sense of her path, and one of the boys helps her deal with all of those emotions. lots of crying from her part since I’m a huge #crybaby and zodiac cancer rising

i'm sorry this is so short!!! i've been struggling lately with burnout and my motivation hasn't really been there. I hope you still enjoy it!

word count : 600

warnings : none

There were many points in your life where you felt out of sorts, like you were sitting on the outside of a glass house, the inside being your life, watching everybody you’ve ever met interact with each other.

It was like disassociation to the tenth degree, uncomfortable in every way. Some of these moments happened when you were leaving high school and entering college, or during other awkward transition phases in your life. It fueled your depression heavily, feeling like an outcast. You hated it every time it happened, and unfortunately, it was happening again.

You had been feeling extremely ostracized from your friend group lately. All of them had begun to prioritize each other over you, and you really didn’t know how to handle the change. You didn’t know what you had done wrong, what you could’ve possibly caused for them to begin to distance themselves, but it was tearing you apart. You were feeling so alone, mind drifting into that dark place once more, wanting to just hole up in bed and cry for hours. So, that was exactly what you did.

Your boyfriend found you like that, three hours later. He’d been gone all day, working, and when he got home, you had fallen asleep, the mental pain exhausting you. He peeked into your shared room to see you asleep, and because he didn’t look any closer, he slipped into the bathroom to shower off before coming to lay down next to you. However, by the time that he got into bed with you, you were slightly stirring awake, and he could see how bloodshot your eyes were and the dried tear tracks running down your face.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his thumb gently wiping away some of the smeared mascara you’d put on that morning, before you knew that your day was going to end badly. You were not yet fully awake, but your brain was conscious enough for you to realize that your boyfriend was finally home, and was there with you. This caused you to wake up a bit more, and the exhaustion of the day and the heaviness of your emotions were weighing on you, and the tears began to fall again.

You’d been teased as a child for being a crybaby, and while you hated to admit it, it was kind of true. You were just naturally sensitive, and you couldn’t help that the little things made you really emotional. It wasn’t your fault, it was just the way you were, and while you didn’t always like it, you couldn’t really do anything about it. But, with Ashton being there to hold you, it was a little bit better. So, you cried, hugging him tightly. He didn’t press you to talk to him, knowing that sometimes you just needed some time to release your emotions before you wanted to speak about them, so he calmly waited, comforting you in any way he could before softly whispering the question.

“What happened, my love?”

You’d been having quite a few days like this recently, and it was nearly always the same answer, but he still asked as if he had no idea what the issue was, giving you a fresh slate every day to talk to him about whatever was bothering you, should it be something different. You just shook your head, not feeling up to answering it. You’d talk to him about it later, but right now, all that mattered was that he was there, and that you knew he always would be, and everything else could wait until later.

#5sos fic #5sos fluff #5sos angst #5sos #5sos x reader #5sosfam #ashton irwin 5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton irwin #ashton irwin angst #ashton irwin x reader #boyfriend ashton irwin

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prettytoxicrevolver · 11 months

Text

5 Seconds of Summer

How to Navigate:

❤ Heart = Fluff ★ Star = Taylor Swift Song Fic ⬥ Diamond = My Favorite

Luke Hemmings

Better Man ❤ ⬥

Ashton Irwin

Hate

Shop

Why Won’t You Love Me ⬥

I Love You

Nails ❤

Insecure

Moving Along

Calum Hood

Dad ❤

Shut Up

Heather

Michael Clifford

Hair Dye ❤

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valentiyne · 7 months

Text

𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗉𝗈𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇? ꕥ 𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗍𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗋𝗐𝗂𝗇

Ashton Irwin x Fem!Reader Summary: Getting randomly selected as a seat filler for an award show can't be as boring as it seems. Warnings: None Word Count: 1.3k Copyright © 2023 Valentiyne. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·..·:*¨༺ ༻

Confirmation Code #AI0771994

Hello Y/n!

We received your request form for the annual MTV VMA's seat filler position. Your ticket was randomly selected and we are sending this email as a confirmation of your acceptance.

We hope to see you there!

The MTV Video Music Awards is an award show to honor the best in the music video medium. Of course, I had stumbled upon the application as an ad while scrolling through Instagram- thinking nothing of it when I filled it out months ago.

When I woke up to the confirmation email this morning, I flew out of bed and began picking out an outfit- regardless if I was five hours early. I spent most of the afternoon practicing my best smiles and poses, making sure I wasn't caught on live TV with an embarrassing face.

I stumbled down the steps, constantly checking the time over and over again. It was enough to send chills down my spine- wondering who I would get the honor to sit next to. Justin Bieber? Or even Taylor Swift? A girl can only dream it's someone she adores.

"Ticket please", The man at the front asked in a husk voice, holding up his scanner toward my phone as I showed him the confirmation email instead. His eyes scan it, using his pinky finger to scroll across the email.

"Seat filler..", He scratches his chin for a moment before turning around to speak into his earpiece, leaving me to anxiously bounce between my feet. He snaps back around, pointing behind him before leaning in,

"You're going to go straight down the hall, into the auditorium and find the next open seat. Do not scream or squeal if you're placed by a huge celebrity- it's against your policy and you will be thrown out", He hands me a wristband and I slap it around my wrist, giving him a quick 'thanks' before darting down the hall.

The auditorium was filled to the brim, the loud bickering of voices filled my ears as I tried to focus my eyes at the empty seats. There were limited seats that weren't preoccupied so I found myself circling the same corner until I spotted one in the back. I scooted through peoples legs before plopping down in a vacant seat- or so I thought.

"Excuse me ma'am? You're in my seat", I snap my eyes up and give a faint smile before clutching my purse and brushing past the lady that stood before me. I looked around once more before finding another seat a few rows up.

"Excuse me, Is this seat taken?", I leaned down to ask the man who was busy talking to the brown-haired boy on his right. He averts his gaze over to me before shaking his head and grabbing his water bottle from the seat,

"No not at all, help yourself."

I give him a thankful smile before plopping down beside him, my elbow brushing his as I propped it up on the armrest.

I started at the people seated in front of me, taking numerous selfies of themselves so I awkwardly looked to the right only to be met with hazel eyes staring back at me. He was dressed in almost casual clothes, with the exception of a leather jacket and freshly polished dress shoes. His cologne smelled like it cost more than my apartment's rent and I took note of the fact he may be a celebrity I didn't know.

"Are you a seat filler?", His voice chirps up after a few moments of awkward silence of the self-challenged staring contest. His eyes glance between my eyes and my tight black dress,

"Yeah, are you?", I shift now, turning ever so slightly to the right to fully face him with my purse on my lap.

He gives me a warm smile, flashing his dimples for a mere second before nodding. The announcer, some celebrity who's name I couldn't pronounce, introduces themselves before notifying us that the show was starting. I switch my phone on silent and slide it into my dress' pocket, taking note of the hazel eyed man next to me copying my actions.

A few big named artists preform on the stage in front of me, confetti falling occasionally. I couldn't help but glance over to the boy next to me hunched over to his right with his back towards me. I blow air into my cheeks and begin bouncing my leg nervously. A tap on my arm snapped me from my train of thought and I immediate look down to see a piece of paper at the edge of my elbow.

"This is lame"

I stifle a laugh and look up at him, reaching across to snag the pen from his hand.

"You chose to be here silly"

He leans in closer to read my tiny handwriting before gently taking the pen back,

"Something like that"

He gives a crooked smile and I roll my eyes at him causing him to pass the pen back to me,

"I'm Y/n"

"Ashton"

I whisper his name in my head, trying to put his face to a name before smiling up at him.

"We should do something after this?"

Oh he's bold.

"We could ditch now" I look up hopefully, only to find him shaking his head with a frown.

"Cant" Is all he writes before stuffing the pen back into his blazer and facing his attention to the stage.

I turn my gaze back to the front, subconsciously looking at Ashton through my peripheral vision. He doesn't move an inch nor advert his eyes in my direction for a whole hour.

The announcer walks back on stage, adjusting their hair before speaking.

"As we all know, Song of the Summer is one of the biggest awards to be given out tonight-" They start, toying with the envelope in their hand. "It is voted by fans across the globe and tonight, I'm here to announce who gets the honor to take home this award"

The audience goes silent, my eyes averting back to Ashton whose jaw was now clenched and I could've sworn I saw his eyes watering.

"And the winner for Song of the Summer goes to", the announcer unfolds the tiny envelope in front of them and smiles into the crowd. It was the last award to be given out tonight, and I could see Ashton rubbing his knees with both hands.

"5 seconds of summer!"

Ashton and the men seated next to him shoot up, hands in the air as they start shouting and jumping. The bright spotlight hits my face and I cover my eyes before a rough tug on my arm sends me up from my seat. I'm pulled into a tight embrace, large arms covering my figure as I adjust my head to look up. Ashton was hugging me, jumping up in down with me in his arms.

A song begins playing over the loud speakers and he lets go of me, patting my head before handing me the slip of paper from before.

"See you soon", he shoots me a toothy grin and follows after his friends up towards the stage. I was in disbelief, one second someone is telling you their a seat filler and the next they are a rockstar in sheep's clothing. I turn my gaze to see four pieces of paper taped to the seats that were once occupied by them,

Reserved for: Michael, Luke, Calum and Ashton

I blink a few times before sitting down to read the note that Ashton had handed me.

Hi, sorry for lying. here's my number incase you still wanted to grab a bite to eat?

###-###-####

-Ash Xx

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morningfears · 7 months

Text

Dark Cloud

Rating: PG

Summary: Ashton is there in a difficult time. (AKA my dad passed a few weeks ago and it's been difficult to understand my emotions so I'm doing what I do best and write about it) Warnings: Death of a parent, bad relationship with parents, abusive parent, self-deprecation, general anxiety, grief, feelings, etc. (Anything else and I'll tag it.) Pairing: Ashton x GN!Reader (Pretty sure GN but if you catch anything, let me know and I'll change it to the correct pairing) Word Count: 3k (not much has changed, honestly)

Though Ashton was not known for his prolonged silence, he had moments of relative quiet.

There were moments of quiet reflection, peaceful bouts of silence where he ruminated on the things he’d accomplished - the things he grew prouder of with each passing day, the things he had yet to achieve but knew were within his reach. There were moments of bliss, comfortable stretches of time where no words were needed as you allowed yourselves to disappear into your own little world, surrounded by love and light. There were moments of discontent, seconds that felt like hours passing in an uncomfortable lull that only amplified the insecurities or worries or sorrows either of you felt.

Some of those moments stretched on endlessly; the blissful quiet and the peaceful contentment. Others never lingered very long and grew fewer and farther in between the longer you spent together. But as you sat in a deckchair almost as old as you in a backyard you’d spent a different lifetime in, one of those moments you hoped would disappear just as quickly as it began enveloped you.

This moment was not one driven by any need of his. There was no rumination on his life, no bliss or discontent. There was no worry about the future or grief for the past. This moment was one he held entirely for you.

Three days had been spent in a heavy hush, a silence that pressed on your chest and left Ashton quieter than you’d ever seen him. He’d been rendered speechless after a quiet midnight phone call from your mother and chose his words carefully in the days leading up to the moment you found yourself desperate to run from.

Though his presence gave you comfort, eased some of the ache in your chest and made the tingling in the tips of your fingers more bearable, his silence only made the overwhelming noise of your thoughts that much harder to withstand.

Unlike nearly everyone that surrounded you, Ashton knew you well. He knew that you’d spent the three days struggling to rationalize feelings that were complicated at best. He knew when you needed guided, when you needed him to ask questions and help cataloguing what you felt. He knew when you needed him to distract you, offering stories from the road to pull you away from the heaviness at hand. But, most important of all, he knew when you needed space.

The moment that enveloped you, the quiet he’d given you in the three days since receiving that phone call, was meant to be comforting. It was meant to give you space to decompress, space to be uncertain, and you appreciated the thought behind it. You were grateful he wasn’t pushing, grateful he hadn’t joined your mother or other well-meaning friends and family members asking how you were doing, but you’d grown tired of the quiet as the still of the backyard surrounded you.

Orange light from the setting sun lit the world aflame and burned nearly as warm as the flurry of emotion churning in the pit of your stomach. It was difficult to catalogue what exactly you felt - mentally, physically; all of it blurred together in one overwhelming ache - and you weren’t quite sure how to articulate that.

Very little about the few days you’d experienced made sense, least of all your emotions, but you knew that if anyone could string together meaning from you stream of consciousness, it would be Ashton.

With a sigh, you slumped deeper into your chair and blinked back the sting of tears threatening to fall.

Every single person you’d interacted with for the better part of two days began every conversation with a barrage of questions; how are you? How are you feeling? What can I do? They all declared how tough it must be, some even claimed to understand exactly what you were feeling. It must be so hard, they cooed, before promising they were there if you needed them.

It was all superficial, at best, but you took the question as a base to begin a conversation you’d been dreading.

“I’m fine, Ash.” There was little chance he didn’t notice the quiver in your voice, even less of a chance he didn’t notice the clench of your jaw and the heavy exhale you released, but he nodded, just the same.

“I believe you.”

Ashton knew that you weren’t fine - not really, not entirely - but he also knew that what you were feeling was more complicated than grief.

Losing a parent was always going to be a difficult experience but losing a parent you’d gone no contact with for reasons out of your control only complicated things.There was no easy explanation for the multitude of emotions clouding your brain and he understood that. Ashton understood complicated relationships with parents just as he understood how difficult it was to grieve someone long before they died.

Everything you felt, every complicated emotion and messy blur of feelings, you knew he would understand. Regardless, it still felt nearly impossible to articulate as you blinked against the sun’s harsh glow.

Few others had seen the toll your mother’s misguided attempts at encouraging a reconciliation between you and your father had taken. It was well-intentioned, you were sure, but ended in an anxiety you hadn’t felt since your teenage years.

From the safety of your shared home, Ashton had witnessed a handful of tense phone conversations. He’d listened as your father threw insults thinly disguised as questions or compliments and belittled you in ways that made his blood boil. He’d watched as you slumped on the couch and gave one-word answers as you willed the conversations to be over. He’d held you after as angry tears tracked down your cheeks and you wondered just what you’d done to deserve this kind of treatment from someone who was supposed to love you.

It made sense, then, why he’d remained so quiet at your side. And instead of pressing for an answer, asking questions that would only make the process harder for you, he waited. He sat quietly, hazel eyes flickering between you and the trees in the distance as he waited for you to gather your thoughts.

“None of this is for me.”

The declaration felt bitter, dripping acid as it fell from your lips, but it was honest in a way you couldn’t be with anyone else. No one else understood, no one else saw you - really, truly, completely saw you - in the way that Ashton did. Though you felt overwhelmed, anxious and upset, you felt hopeful that he’d get it.

“Funerals are… hard,” you settled on, blinking hard against the tears you willed away. “They’re supposed to be for people you love, people that meant something to you. They’re supposed to give you closure. It’s a final send-off, something that just… marks the end, I guess. You mourn someone that meant something to you but all he was to me was a nightmare. I didn’t lose my dad on Sunday. I lost him when I was old enough to realize what kind of person he was.”

Anger, heavy and encompassing, made it easier for you barrel through the feelings you’d been bottling up. And Ashton, who had been waiting for the storm, sighed. It was heavy with an emotion neither of you intended to explore in that moment but accompanied by him reaching out to take your hand in his own. The weight of it, the heat of his palm pressed to yours, tethered you to the moment. A gentle squeeze helped you remain present as you swallowed the emotion clumping in your throat.

“Everyone here thinks I’m the problem. They think I just up and abandoned my dad. They think I’m a bad person because I haven’t had a relationship with him in over a decade but no one asks why. No one asks what happened to make me leave home and not come back. No one asks why I went nearly fifteen years without speaking to him. No one puts any of the blame on him. No one asks why I went nearly fifteen years without speaking to him. They just asks why I didn’t try harder. But why was it my reasonability? I’m the child here. He was supposed to be my dad. He was supposed to care, to love me, to make me a priority. I was supposed to be important to him but he made my life a living hell. He made me believe no one would ever love me. He made me believe I was worthless. He was a miserable, abusive, narcissistic, son of a bitch but no one acknowledges any of that.”

Breathing grew more difficult with every word you spoke. The weight of every emotion you’d felt in relation to your father pressed on your chest, leaving a dull ache between your ribs as you took a moment to grit your teeth.

Ashton knew what happened. The beginning of your relationship had proven difficult because of it. He had his own issues - his own insecurities and traumas to work through - and had taken yours in stride. But he’d also been instrumental in encouraging you to find yourself. Therapy, both individual and couple’s, was something he’d inspired you to take on and you could see the hurt in his eyes as you felt yourself falling back into an old way of thinking.

However, it seemed that no mater how hard you tried - no matter how much progress you’d made, you felt yourself spiraling as you struggled to come to terms with what you were feeling.

“He told everyone how proud he was of me, that I lived in California and had a good life. But he didn’t know anything about me. He had no idea what I do for work. He didn’t know your name, he didn’t even know we were engaged. He didn’t know anything but he had everyone convinced I was the problem. And I just… it’s not fair. Why did he get to have friends and so many people to defend him? Why did he get to spend his life existing, happy, when I spent years wondering if anyone would ever be able to love me?”

Ashton squeezed your hand gently and you could feel the weight of that single gesture, of his warm gaze burning into the side of your face, but you knew that sparing him a glance would only end with you dissolving into tears. You were on a roll, speaking the thoughts you knew made little sense but had been plaguing you since you received your mother’s phone call, and stopping didn’t feel like an option.

“Sometimes, I wonder if all of this was my fault.” The admission was quiet, your voice dropping to a near whisper and thick with emotion as you laughed quietly, self-deprecatingly. “I remember being so happy when I was little. I remember going out and doing stuff, getting dinner and seeing movies and going to the roller rink. I remember feeling loved. I remember him coming to my softball games and my spelling bees. But then I also remember being ten and wondering if everyone had a dad who yelled at them and threw things at them and made them cry. And I don’t know if I just got older and he got meaner or if I, I don’t know, gained consciousness and realized he was always mean.”

Faint sounds of life began to bleed into the backyard - the noise of your mother and step-father and various family members who’d dropped by with food and well-wishes milling about - but you ignored them all as you inhaled a shaking breath.

“My mom doesn’t remember it but we had an argument when I was, like, fourteen. I have no clue what it was about but I remember her saying that I was more and more like my dad every day. Nothing anyone has ever said to me has hurt that bad. I think about her saying that all the time and I try so hard to prove that it’s not true but it feels like no matter what I do, no matter how hard I work to be a good person, I keep seeing more and more of my dad in myself.”

With another harsh breath, this one a desperate attempt to clear your throat of the emotion threatening to choke you, you wiped harshly at the tears that had started falling. Somewhere in the midst of your inner turmoil, there was an anger that you allowed yourself to cry. None of this was worth your anger, your sadness, your energy, but it felt impossible to do anything more than continue spouting a stream of consciousness that you only hoped Ashton could follow.

“While you were on tour, I went to the bar with some friends after a bad day. I wasn’t really in the mood but I ended up having fun,” you admitted, shrugging lightly as you dropped your gaze to where your intertwined hands rested on your thigh. “At the end of the night, though, it was just me and Blake on the patio and we were talking about all the stupid shit that was happening at work. I made a joke about trying to be more positive and he laughed. He said it was no use because I’ve always been a ‘dark fucking cloud’ and that was just who I was. It was a joke,” you conceded, lifting your hand to trace a nonsensical pattern across the back of Ashton’s hand. “But it really was’t. He’s right. I’ve always been a dark cloud and I’ve always been miserable and bitter and angry.”

A quiet laugh, devoid of any humor and sounding just as defeated as you felt, escaped as you shook your head. “All the worst parts of me, all the things I wish I could change, all the things I know make it difficult for people to like me, let alone love me, are parts of my dad. And I just wonder, what happens if I can’t fix those parts? What happens if I spend the rest of my life as this dark cloud? What happens if one day, all my friends realize how miserable I make them? What happens if, one day, you realize that you could do better? You’re such a bright light, Ash, and you could so easily find someone who loves you that’s bright and happy and warm and matches your energy. I worry that I’m going to die alone and miserable and forgotten, just because I’m me; this dark fucking cloud that pushed everyone away.”

Ashton allowed the silence to linger for just a moment, giving you a second to catch your breath and decide you were finished speaking, before reaching out to carefully brush away the tears tracking down your cheeks. From the corner of your eye, you caught the look on his face - a deep sadness you’d never seen from him before, complete with shiny eyes and a frown - and felt a fresh wave of tears stinging at your eyes.

Though you tried blinking them away, Ashton shook his head. “Oh, honey.” He slid his chair a touch closer, his knee knocking into yours as he lifted his free hand to your cheek. “I wish I knew what to say to make you feel better,” he began, quiet but as serious as you’d ever heard him. “I don’t, but I can tell you what I do know.” With gentle fingers, Ashton tilted your head to meet his eyes and, despite the urge to glance away, you held his gaze.

“You are not a dark cloud.” His conviction was clear, certain and strong as he searched your face. “Even when you don’t want to, you try to see the best in people. It doesn’t matter how bad your day is, you always try to encourage the people in your life. You’re the most supportive person I’ve ever met. Anyone who asks you to show up for them, you’re there and cheering the loudest. You push people to be the best versions of themselves. When I’m in my head, you’re the person to bring me back. Despite everything, you’re a good person. You try so hard and everyone can see it. You’re not difficult to like and you’re really not difficult to love. You match my energy, you make me happy, and I’m lucky I get the chance to love you.”

With another gentle squeeze to your hand, Ashton sighed. “None of this is your fault. You were a kid, honey,” he reminded you, careful to avoid irritating your skin further as he brushed away the few tears that continued to fall. “I know all of this is hard. I know you loved him when you were a kid. I know it still hurts, even though he hasn’t been in your life and he hurt you so bad. And I know none of it makes any sense. I can’t tell you not to worry about any of this but I can promise that I’ll be here to remind you of just who you are. I’ll be here to remind you just how loved you are. You’re a good person, honey, and I do love you. On the good days, on the bad days, on every other day; I love you and I’m not the only one. You mean so much to so many people.”

As the tears fell faster, Ashton stood from his seat and tugged you up after him. He pulled you into an embrace, arms wrapped tightly around your body, and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head. He allowed you to squeeze him tight, body pressed close to his, and hummed soothingly as he waited for you to calm.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice carrying through the still of the night as he shifted to meet your eyes once more.

“Thank you.” With another soft squeeze to Ashton’s middle, you nodded. “I love you, too.”

“Alright, what d’you want to eat? You haven’t eaten anything all day. And if you tell me you’re not hungry, I’m calling Michael and letting him explain Rocket League, in detail,” he teased, waiting to see if his joke would earn him a smile.

“You decide,” you offered, smiling lightly as you nodded. “I don’t want to make any decisions. I’ll have whatever you get.”

“Okay,” he relented, appeased by the agreement as he wrapped an arm around your waist and began guiding you back to the house. “C’mon, we’ll get you some water and figure it out.”

There was no resolution, no easy answer for the messy feelings you still felt roiling in the pit of your stomach, but you felt a little more at peace. It wouldn’t be a straightforward path, not one you’d be able to navigate easily, but you felt hopeful that you could see a rainbow through the dark clouds with Ashton by your side.

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Author's Note: Honestly, I wasn't sure I should post. But I realized this blog has been here for me in some of my worst moments. Best of times, worst of times, I've written. For 5sos, here on this blog. So, here it is. September was a difficult month. It started beautifully with my 5sos show but got worse. But I'm still grateful for the opportunity to have seen the boys. I do have a fluffy Ash fic I'm working on. Funny how I always return to them when things get rough. Anyway, hope y'all are well!

#5sos imagines #5sos imagine #ashton irwin fic #ashton irwin imagine #ashton irwin imagines #ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin x you #5sos x you #5sos x reader #5sos fics #v’s fics

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harrysloveboat · 6 months

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divider credits to @silkholland , banner credits to myself

❥ Ashton Irwin coming soon

❥ Michael Clifford coming soon

❥ Luke Hemmings

❥ Calum Hood

#5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #5sos masterlist #harrysloveboatmasterlist #5sos fic #ashton irwin #michael clifford #luke hemmings #calum hood #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin fic #michael clifford fic

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irwinsblender · 2 days

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inner demons

a/n: i’ve written this over the span of a few weeks bc my mental health has been down the drain recently and i needed an outlet. i wasn’t sure about uploading this, but here it is anyway

also used these pictures of ashton bc that’s how i imagine he’d look when listening to you rant about how you’re feeling

pairing: ashton x reader

summary: your mental health has been getting worse again and ashton is there to try and help you through it

warnings: depression, self harm, reference to suicide - and please, if you find any of these triggering, don’t read this fic

word count: 3k

✩ ✩ ✩

winter was one of the worst times of year for you. specifically, for your mental health. the dreary, rainy and cloudy weather, days becoming dark hours earlier than in the summer was always hard on you.

your mental health was bad already. you’d been suffering with depression for quite a long time now. it first started at school when you couldn’t deal with exams along with certain horrible people in your classes, that seemed to linger for a few years after you graduated.

just when you thought things were getting better, the pandemic hit, causing you to relapse and become worse than before. you didn’t know how to deal with all of the terrible thoughts that were constantly going around your head, including thoughts telling you to hurt yourself.

and you did, you turned to that to help you cope with feeling so exhausted. in the end, it didn’t really help. but you had nothing else to help you.

until you met ashton irwin. your now boyfriend.

you’d never met anyone as caring as him. he always listened to anything you had to say, he was there for you when you needed to rant; most of all, he didn’t leave after you told him about your struggles.

in fact, he empathised with you. telling you about his struggles and ways he tried to get through them. he promised then and there that he would always be there to support you and would never judge you for any of your thoughts or emotions.

you always appreciated ashton, but you found it hard to tell him when you were beginning to struggle more again. you felt pathetic not being able to cope on your own, you felt like a burden in his life every time you had to involve him in your problems.

this was one of those times.

it had been a long day, or at least it felt like it had been. it was raining all day, something you hated. you hadn’t been able to get out of bed, you hadn’t eaten, only had a drink of water which ashton brought to you before he left the house earlier in the day.

you’d been sitting in the bathroom for the past hour with the door locked. you’d told ashton you were going to have a shower, but, you never got that far. ashton would’ve noticed that the noise of the shower never started, but he’s always been respectful to leave you to whatever you need to do.

it was different this time though. it was too quiet. he was sat in the living room, planning on cooking you both a nice dinner. however, you’d been acting different today. you’d been quiet, not as cheerful as usual when he arrived home from being elsewhere.

you were sat on the closed toilet, leaning against the counter as tears fell down your face. deciding if you were going to do what your mind had been telling you to do. you didn’t want to hurt yourself again, but what choice did you have? nothing else helped. it was practically staring you in the face from where you’d placed the sharp object on the counter.

you looked down at your arms, marks from a couple of weeks ago that were starting to heal properly. marks you hadn’t told ashton about. ashton knew you struggled more at this time of year; he’d been busy recently with work, he hadn’t had time to notice things going even more downhill.

while you were contemplating your choices, ashton had been making his way upstairs. he decided that maybe you needed some company with showering. you told him previously that you find it comforting showering together, so that’s what he’d do.

he entered the bedroom, still hearing no movement. he tried to go into the bathroom, met with the door not budging. just the handle twisting. he couldn’t open the door. you’d locked it.

“sweetheart?” he called out, sudden worry washing over him. “you okay in there?”

you’d jumped at the sound of him trying to open the door, you don’t usually lock it, but it was necessary this time. you didn’t answer him, trying to muffle your cries.

“baby? please answer me,” you could hear the frustration and fear in his tone. “i’m here for you, i’m not going anywhere.”

“i’m fine, ash,” you sniffled. “just leave me alone.”

it came out harsher than you meant it to. your emotions playing a part. you never ask him to leave you alone. that only happened when you were in this kind of situation.

“i’m not leaving,” ashton replied. “talk to me, please, i’m here, whatever you need.”

you let out an accidental loud cry, placing your head in your hands as you couldn’t hold back your cries any longer. you were in so much pain it was hard to handle.

ashton’s heart broke hearing the way you were crying. why hadn’t he noticed you weren’t as happy as normal, why hadn’t he noticed your depression taking a toll again. he should’ve noticed.

“can you open the door, baby?” he asked, trying his luck before he’d have to figure something else out.

“no,” you said with a gasp, your crying almost uncontrollable as you moved to pick the object up from the counter.

your shaky hands weren’t helping, causing you to drop it, making a clanging noise as it hit the floor. you knew ashton would’ve heard it, he would’ve put two and two together. you couldn’t pick it up, crying even harder.

ashton was going through his nightstand already, trying to find the outside key for the bathroom door. he was panicking by now, frantically trying to find it, worried when he didn’t come upon it instantly. until, a light caught his eye on the dresser.

the light reflecting on the key, he quickly picked it up, going back to the bathroom door. he slid the key into the lock, twisting it two times until he heard it click.

he pushed it open, causing you to quickly try and turn away, rushing to pull the sleeves of your hoodie down before he could see anything. you wiped your eyes on your sleeves instead, only glancing over to him for a second.

ashton looked to you first, he couldn’t miss the way you pulled at your sleeves, he looked to the ground, seeing the razor there, but it was clean which gave him slight relief.

he moved it out of the way, walking to you slowly, crouching down beside you. he placed one hand on your knee, caressing his thumb back and fourth, the other on your waist.

“i’m here, baby, i’m here now,” he tried to reassure. “what do you need?”

you shook your head, you couldn’t even look at him. you felt pathetic, like a disgrace. you couldn’t look your own boyfriend in the eye because you were embarrassed about how badly you were handling things.

ashton saw the expression on your face, it was too familiar. the same a couple of years ago, when you were struggling, when you had been harming yourself. he knew what was going on now.

“it’s okay if you’re not doing okay, love,” he said, cupping your cheek in one of his hands, wiping away your tears.

“i’m fine,” you bluntly responded. “i’m always fine, everything is always just fine.”

your hurt started turning into slight anger. angry with yourself, angry with the way you kept going around in circles with your mental health. you got a little better, and then things always became worse. it’s the same thing over and over and over.

“baby—“

“just leave me alone,” you folded your arms, pushing his hands away from you. not thinking straight with the other thoughts clouding your mind.

“i don’t want you to be alone,” ashton softly replied, trying to keep calm in this situation. “you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“i’m handling it,” you tried to get a subtle look behind ashton, trying to find where the razor was. if you could just get him to leave—

“angel,” he got your attention. knowing that nickname would stop you from whatever else you’re thinking about. “you know it’s okay if you aren’t doing good, this isn’t something that will instantly go away, there are ups and downs and that’s okay. wherever you’re at now, i’m here to help you through it.”

you cried harder at that. everything was hurting. you were exhausted with life. you didn’t want to keep living like this.

“i’m sorry,” you cried, holding your hands over your face. “i’m so sorry.”

“hey, hey, it’s okay, why are you sorry?” ashton asked, standing himself up as he took your hands in his.

“i— i did it again,” you blubbered. taking a breath to try and control your crying. ashton didn’t know what you were talking about. “i know i said i’d talk to you if i felt that bad again, but i just— i couldn’t bring myself to tell you.”

then it clicked. he knew what you meant. locking yourself in the bathroom, the razor you’d dropped on the floor. you’d been self harming again.

“you don’t have to apologise for that, baby,” he sighed. “it’s not something easy to talk about, please don’t feel like you need to say sorry to me.”

you were quiet after he said that. trying not to keep crying the way you were while also trying to figure out what to say next. his hands were still in yours, not planning on letting go any time soon.

“i thought things were getting better,” you complained honestly. “i was happy travelling with you the last two months, and as soon as we got home everything started crashing down on me.”

“being on tour was a big distraction for you, a new city every night, seeing places you’ve never been before, you didn’t have time to think about anything else,” ashton reminded. “now we’re home, there’s days where we have nothing going on, it gives your mind time to overthink and for those bad thoughts to come back.”

you didn’t say anything after that, ashton could tell it wasn’t helping with you sitting in the bathroom, the razor behind him on the floor. he pulled at your hands softly, urging you to stand with him. thankfully you did, walking with him as he lead you through to the bedroom. he took you over to the bed, only letting go of your hands so he could sit back against the headboard.

“come here, love,” he held one arm out, waiting for you to get comfortable.

you sat down, shuffling over to him. your head resting against his shoulder, his arm around you to keep you close. he pressed a delicate kiss to your cheek, causing you to look up at him.

“i don’t know what to do,” you suddenly spoke. ashton allowing you to get your thoughts out. “this feels never ending, it feels like there’s no way out apart from—“

“baby,” he cut you off before you could finish your sentence. he knew what you were going to say, but he didn’t want to hear it come out of your mouth. “i know it’s hard, and i hate that you’re feeling like this again. you deserve so much happiness and i wish there was more i could do to take your pain away.”

“it hurts, ash,” you started to cry again, tears dropping down your cheeks continuously. “everything hurts so bad.”

he pulled you tighter against his chest, one hand on the back of your head, slowly running through your hair. he pressed soft kisses to your forehead every few moments, trying to let you know how much he loved you and that he was right there with you through this.

as your crying started to calm down, ashton took one of your hands in his, stretching out your arm slightly. you looked up at him, wondering what he was doing.

“can i see?” he asked.

you weren’t sure at first, but eventually nodded your head. he gently pulled up your sleeve, each mark, scar and any new cuts revealing themselves to him. you sighed seeing the upset look on his face.

“they’re horrible,” you sniffled. tugging your arm away from him. “i’m sorry.”

“they aren’t horrible, baby,” ashton held your hand. he ran his thumb over a couple of old scars, then he lifted your arm up, pressing kisses along the length of it. “they show strength. it shows you’ve been strong enough to fight to stay in this world.”

you didn’t know how he could see it like that. in your own head, it showed how weak you were, how bad you were at coping with life.

“you’re the strongest person i know,” ashton continued, pulling your sleeve back down as he kept your hand in his. “it takes strength to admit you aren’t doing good, so i’m proud of you for telling me.”

“i don’t know what to do, ash,” you slouched further into his grip, cheek pressed against his chest. “nothing’s getting better, i don’t know what to do to get better. this cycle is becoming too much to deal with.”

ashton could’ve cried hearing you say that. knowing the person he loved is feeling so defeated broke his heart. he would do anything it takes to make you feel better, to try and help you.

“i’m here for you, baby,” he stroked his hand softly through your hair. “anything you need me to do, just say the word, i promise i will always be here for you.”

“i don’t know what else will help,” you sniffled. “therapy didn’t work, the meds made me feel worse, there’s nothing else. i have nothing else.”

“you have me,” ashton cupped your cheek in his hand, lifting your head to look at him. “if you want me to listen, if you need advice, if you want me to distract you, or if you just want me to hold you while you cry, i'll be here. no matter what.”

he leaned down, kissing your forehead before pecking your lips a few times in a row. finally getting a small smile out of you. if he could see your smile every day, his life would be complete. that’s all he wanted. for you to be happy.

“i’m sorry for being like this again,” you sighed. not holding eye contact. “i don’t know how you put up with me.”

“i’m not putting up with this,” ashton shook his head. “i care about you, more than anything, i’ll do whatever it takes to make this a little easier for you to get through, because you can get through it.”

you shuffle down, your head resting on his stomach as you close your eyes. tired out from the chaos of your own mind.

“we could take a few trips,” ashton suggested. “you love travelling. i know you still have that list of places you want to visit.”

“i do, but…” you paused, opening your eyes as you squeezed ashton’s hand in yours. “what happens when we come home? i’ll just be like this again.”

“we’ll try and find other things for you to enjoy,” ashton was determined to stay positive in this situation. “you love to draw, you love to create art, and i’ve seen the way you watch me play the drums and guitar. i could teach you, give you something else to put your mind to.”

you thought for a moment, wiping your sleeves over your eyes one last time. you couldn’t believe ashton still wanted to bother with trying after how difficult and negative you always were in this situation.

“okay,” you mumbled. ashton was surprised to hear that you’ll do this. “i don’t know if it’ll help, but i’ll try.”

“that’s a start,” ashton smiled. “the best thing you can do is try. even if it takes time.”

you nodded. finally looking up at him. you shuffled yourself upwards, capturing his lips in a unexpected but loving kiss. placing your hand on his cheek softly as you pull away.

“how would you feel about getting a guitar?” he asked, hands on your waist pulling you to straddle him. “i know how much you love painting, we could buy some paint for it so you can make it your own.”

“i could paint little flowers on it,” you excitedly suggested. “and maybe some butterflies too, that would look pretty.”

ashton nodded in agreement, just happy that you were willing to do this to see if it’ll help having your mind preoccupied with something like learning how to play an instrument. he hoped this would help, hating seeing you hurting like this.

“well, the band has no plans on making new music just yet,” ashton tucked your hair behind your ears. “we could take a trip soon… italy maybe?”

“really? you want go to italy before going back to australia?” you asked, one of your bucket list places, knowing how much he wanted to head back to australia after tour ended.

“australia can wait, i want to make sure you’re okay first.”

you let out a long breath, leaning towards him to wrap your arms around his neck, his arms around your back as he hugged you as close to him as he could get you. he kissed your cheek, making sure you knew he would always be there for moments like this.

“i love you,” he said quietly. “remember i’ll always be here, for anything you need. you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“i don’t know what i’d do without you,” you held him tighter. “i love you, ash.”

a few more tears threatened to leave your eyes as you hugged. you truly didn’t think you’d be here anymore if ashton hadn’t come into your life when he did. and now he can be your anchor that grounds you and gives you a reason to try and live this life, no matter how tough it might be.

✩ ✩ ✩

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talkfastromance4 · 11 months

Text

Emotions--Ashton Irwin oneshot

very self-indulgent fic and this song always makes me feel some type of way when I'm feeling all the feelings.

warnings: drug use, drug mention, gummies, weed and smoking mention, lots of feelings, underlying anger

Masterlist

word count: 2k

Feedback is always welcome and reblogs help spread my work!

Enjoy!

*****

She doesn’t like feeling this way, like a ticking time bomb waiting to implode but when it’s one thing after another after another after another–she feels the breakdown quaking in her bones. It could be something small that finally sets her off or something very grand that will make the destruction worse.

All she wants is someone to know when she’s in this danger zone and help her out, her defense mechanism will be to deny any help but that extra push will do it. Force her to open up. Pop the cork and let her spill everything she’s been feeling–or not feeling–out in the open.

She hates feeling broken and not knowing why then on the other hand she hates knowing why she feels broken but doesn’t know exactly how to fix it. She sits in her emotions trying to focus on one but they’re on a constant carousel that just keeps spinning and shows no sign of stopping. It makes her dizzy, all of these emotions, but no one seems to notice.

Except Ashton. He notices everything.

So that’s why on Friday when she walks in the room he can tell she’s on edge, she’s buzzing with it, her eyes are wide and bright with the edge she’s trying so hard not to fall from. She masks it well with a smile as she says hello to others. It’s damn near camouflage from the jokes she tells and invisible in her laugh.

But not to him.

So when he finally heads her way by the drink table, he ducks down by her ear to say,

“I know you’re feeling some type of way, so when you’re ready, come find me, yeah?”

She turns to look up at him, eyes wide and mouth open in shock.

“What? How do you know–?”

“I can tell,” he takes her drink bottle and twists it open, the fizz hissing on them both. “You don’t have to go through it alone. Just find me.”

He hands her her drink then walks away, his boots clicking on the concrete and she stares after him. What did he mean he could tell? No one could tell. She’s perfected this mask for so long there’s no way someone would be able to see past it.

It’s Sunday when they’re together again and now she has a vacant look in her eyes. Something else has triggered her and it makes Ashton nervous to see her so visibly shook by it. She’s not paying attention to those around her, staring off into space and it isn’t until he gets closer that he sees how blown her pupils are.

Not being shy of smoking weed himself, he has no judgment, they’ve even gotten high a few times together but this time is different. Usually she’s more giggly and sleepy when she smokes but this…this is making her all wrong.

He sees it before it’s about to happen but he’s too late to offer any aid when she bumps into the table and knocks over the punch bowl. The red liquid splashes onto her legs and shoes turning her white shoes pink. There’s a stunned silence and she just stares down at the chaos she caused before running away and slamming right into Ashton.

“It’s okay, come with me,” he says in her hair. His arms are tight around her as he lifts her effortlessly off the ground and carries her inside.

The chatter starts up again outside and she’s shaking like a leaf against him, her fingers pinching his biceps through his shirt. They’re in the kitchen, far enough away from the crowd outside and he sets her down on the counter, she curves into herself with her hands hiding herself away from Ashton’s eyes.

“y/n, look at me,” he murmurs trying to pry her hands from her face. She shakes her head vehemently and he can see some punch is on her fingers. “y/n, it’s okay it was an accident. Let me take your shoes off so you’re not so sticky.”

He bends down to peel off her sneakers then sees her toes are painted a pretty pink. He unravels the roll of paper towel, runs a portion of it under the sink then starts to clean up her legs. The punch splattered up her shins and knees, even a few splotches on her thighs.

“I ruined everything,” she whispers.

“You didn’t ruin a thing,” he shakes his head then glances at her sneakers, “well, except your sneakers.”

That earns a small chuckle from her, the sound is so sweet and broken Ashton turns to the noise but she’s still hidden behind her hands. He uses the opposite end of the towel clump to dry her off.

“How much did you smoke before you got here?” he asks.

“How do you know?”

“Your eyes.”

“I didn’t smoke it…”

“A gummy?” he inquires nonchalantly. He doesn’t want you to think he’s judging because that might make you paranoid and scared.

“Yeah. A full one. I don’t know the dosage.”

“Was it from Gage?” he asks and she nods peeking through his fingers. “Then it was a lot. And you drove here?”

“I’m so stupid–”

“Stop it,” he tosses the towels in the garbage then leans on the counter over her. He tries to move her hands away and this time she lets him. Her mascara is smudged, the whites of her eyes are bloodshot. “I’ll drive you home, where are your keys?”

“My bag is outside,” she sniffs.

“I’ll be right back. Stay put,” he squeezes her knee then heads back outside. He’s swarmed by people asking if she’s okay and he simply says he’s taking her home. When he comes back inside she’s slumped against the cabinets, her cheeks framed by her hands as she stares unblinkingly at the floor.

“My lips feel fuzzy,” she mumbles.

“I bet they do. Ready to go? Can you carry your shoes?”

She hums a yes and hops down the counter but stumbles into Ashton. He steadies her, slings her bag over his shoulder and guides her out the front door. He helps her in the passenger side, making sure she’s buckled.

Ashton keeps glancing her direction on the drive, he can see how sleepy she’s becoming even though her eyes are darting at the palm trees on the side of the road. She’s gnawing on her lip in a worrisome way.

“Are you hungry at all?” he asks.

“I want ice cream with sprinkles. And cheese fries.”

“Okay,” he smiles then turns into a fast food drive-thru.

When they get their food she tries to open up the cheese cup.

“No, no, no, you might spill and I know you don’t want melted cheese in your car.”

“But Ash!” she whines and pulls out two pieces of fries. She pops them in her mouth.

“Don’t eat them all or you’ll be very sad when we get home,” he warns. She snuck one more fry before rolling up the bag and sitting nicely against her seat.

They end up watching a movie while they eat their fries and shakes. She does a little happy dance each time she has a fry dipped in cheese.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks as the credits roll and she’s somehow found her way into his lap. He’s been petting her hair, letting his fingers thread through the strands for the last twenty-five minutes, her eyes becoming heavier.

“Kinda broken.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not yet. I need a little time yet, I think,” she sighs.

“Okay.”

“Time…time…can we watch Back to the Future?”

She was out like a light in the first ten minutes.

On Tuesday he texted her asking if she had any plans and she said no so he swung by to pick her up. She badgered him the whole time wondering where they were going but he wouldn’t budge. She was still confused when they arrived at the building then she heard glass shattering down one of the halls.

“Welcome to the Breaking Place,” a bubbly teen with bright pink hair said. “Are we here for a breakup, loss of job?”

“We’re here for feeling all the feelings and not knowing what to do with them,” Ashton says.

“Perfect. What’s your weapon of choice? Sledgehammer, bat, or fire poker?”

“I’ll do a sledgehammer, what about you, y/n?” Ashton asks and you’re staring at the girl in surprise.

“You brought me to a break room?” she whispers.

“Yeah. You’re feeling broken so why not break other stuff? Let all the emotions out. Choose your weapon, babe.”

She thinks it over for a second.

“Give me a bat.”

While they got dressed in the suits, pulled on gloves and goggles they listened to the teen explain the rules. Protective gear needs to be on at all times unless weapons of destruction are out of the hands. You can smash plates on the floor but not the wall. You can scream and shout and yell and cry as loud as you want.

Upon entering the room there were piles of plates on a worn table, multiple TVs, windows leaning against other tables, small lockers that have some dents in them and a glass cabinet.

“Have fun!” the teen sang and shut the door.

“What do you want to hit first?” Ashton asks, adjusting his goggles.

“The plates first, so I can get a feel of it.”

“Go for it.”

He watches her walk hesitantly towards the plates, her gloved finger circles the circumference before picking it up. It has a cheap design around the edges and then she slams it to the ground. It shatters and she smiles. She does another one then another one until she takes one in each hand and destroys them in tandem. When all the plates are broken she moves to one of the TVs.

She lifts the bat and swings hard right in the center. It concaves and broken pieces fall to the ground. Ashton watches her whack and smack at it some more, each thrust more powerful. Soon she’s screaming as she smashes and bats at the wood. Ashton watches as she destroys everything in the room, using all her might, all her strength until she becomes visibly drained.

Ashton drops his hammer the same time you let out a loud wail, the bat falling from her grip and rolling on the floor. The glass cracks under his feet as he goes to her and she slams into his chest. The sobs finally come forward and he holds her tightly.

“I’ve got you,” he murmurs then pulls the hood down and removes her goggles. His thumbs rub at her tears. “I’ve always got you, okay? I know you hurt sometimes and feel like you have no one but you’ve always got me.”

You nod meekly in his hold.

“There’s so much going on and so much to remember…I don’t know what to do first.”

“Let’s write it all down and go through it together.”

“Some of it is from work–”

“I’ll help as much as I can. You aren’t alone. The guys will help out, too. You have no idea how many people love you, y/n.”

“My problems are so miniscule to theirs–”

“That’s your brain tricking you,” he shakes his head.

“It’s hard to ask for help.”

“I know, and I know it’s because of your dad. He made you feel like a burden and got angry when you asked for help but that’s never going to be an issue with me. You call me whenever, wherever, no matter the time.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she shakes her head.

“What if we come up with a safe word? When you’re feeling too close to the edge, text it and I’ll come running.”

“Could it be a song?”

“Whatever you want,” he nods.

“Can it be your song? Emotions? It says exactly what I feel.”

“It’s perfect.”

“Thanks for everything, Ash.”

“Anytime,” he smiles and kisses her forehead.

____________________

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 7 months

Text

Dig You Out

Requested by @beautifulmagicbelieverblog. I combined the two individual requests together as I thought of a longer idea with both these together than individually.

I was thinking for one request how Ashton is over protective of reader since she's accident prone and extremely clumsy and also is insecure about her body and Ashton reassures her and maybe she reassures him about his insecurities? (His can be whatever you want)

Black!Female!Reader Insert.

________________________________

Requests are open briefly until September 24th. Any NSFW content (smut, etc) must be requested off anon to ensure no minors (those 17 and below) are requesting the content.

Feel free to look through my masterlist for more. You can submit a request through my asks.

CW: 18+ content (smut).

______________________________

City streets and heels do not mix--call them oil and water. And because of this, whenever a pair of heels are unearthed Ashton’s always a bit more cautious. Doesn’t try to be overbearing, but he still holds your hands up and down sidewalks, ensuring that wherever you two are headed doesn’t have tripping hazards. So now, on a date night, Ashton’s keeping you to the inside of the sidewalk away from traffic, elbow bent as you thread arms around his.

“Careful there,” he states, guiding you around the crack in the sidewalk.

“Thanks, babe,” you return, stretching upwards to ghost a kiss to his jaw.

“Of course, sweetheart.” He couples the sentiment with his free hand coming to rest on yours for a moment.

It’s not just city streets, or heels, or sidewalks Ashton keeps an eye out for either for you. Ashton will step in front of table corners, and tuck you up under his arms so you don’t brush or bump into doors. It’s not necessarily clumsiness, though more than once the manual can open has jumped from your hands and landed on your foot, but there’s a certain level of awareness that escapes you because there are other things you’re juggling in your head--mental lists of what’s needed at the grocery store, and packages to send off, returns to be made, wondering when’s the last dental visit, making sure all corrective lenswear has been ordered and is up-to-date. The two of you are carrying different mental loads, if you’re honest, but it’s how it works for the two of you.

Full from dinner though, the two of you carry on down the sidewalk back towards the car. Ashton wanted to park closer, but the rush hour proved to be a winning opponent and it left him needing to park in a lot a couple blocks over. You didn’t complain then, breathing out a joke that the steps would be good for you, now, the thick evening has settled and you two are taking the stroll back easy to the car.

“Should we stop and get ice cream?” you ask. The state for something sweet is strong and the suggestion falls easily before you nearly rethink it. Before you suggest otherwise, Ashton’s speaking.

“Oh, that would be nice. Do you want to go to the place at the boardwalk?”

You hum in agreement. Should you really have suggested ice cream? Not that you needed anything sweet. You’re more than cognizant that you don’t need it. The dress when you first dawned it before leaving already felt tighter than normal in your midsection. You hadn’t had time to change though. The reservation was for 7:30 PM sharp and with you and Ashton got stuck in traffic on the way home there wasn’t much time to change from what you’d already pulled out to wear.

You’d figured that you’d just dawn the dress, get some food and then be home faster than the discomfort could creep up. But now that you’ve suggested a detour, you can feel your skin crawling beneath the tight cotton fabric. It’s a nice dress. You’ve worn it multiple times. It’s always been tighter fighting. It was the way it was designed. Maybe it was more than you’d usually go for. But you think that to the way Ashton’s face lit up. He’d been sitting just outside the dressing room, but he’d begged you to try the dress on at least. For him, you had.

Ashton had devoured you--not in the dressing room, though he’d tried to muscle his way in. But when you got back home he had you try it on again. Seemingly, Ashton would never be able leave you alone in the dress. Perhaps that’s why you pulled it down from your closet. But now, as you climb into the passenger seat of the car, you’re feeling like it’s a mistake. It rides up too much as you’re sitting. The backs of your thighs are sticking to the seat too much.

You feel like you should be crawling into yourself.

“Vanilla or chocolate this time?” Ashton asks.

You shrug at the question. “What are you feeling? Is it a sundae kind of day?” Perhaps, you could at least split that. Maybe. God, you should not have suggested ice cream.

“I don’t know. It could be? Do you want a sundae? We could split it. Unfortunately, no lady and the tramp style today for us, but if you wanted to, we could.”

It’s a small nod, but you verbalize with a yes and Ashton reaches over to rest a hand on your knee. It’s a comfortable touch, a soothing back and forth over the ridges in your skin. You want to melt into the touch. It’s what you’d normally do. But you sit stiff in the seat. This was all a mistake.

You want to say something to Ashton, suggest that maybe you just grab a carton from the local store and then carry it home, but by the time the words work themselves up your throat Ashton’s pulling into a parking space. There goes your window of time to escape. Sucked up and you thought maybe the traffic from earlier might be a saving grace.

“Alright, let’s get us a sundae on a Sunday,” Ashton teases. “Look at that! We hadn’t even planned it but it works so well.”

You want to laugh alongside him. A small smile lifts your cheeks and that’s all you can muster. You're slow as you pull the seat belt back towards its normal spot, hanging and ready. Asking for ice cream was such a bad fucking idea. The door cracks open and Ashton’s voice seems to cut through a fog, but yet, he still sounds far away.

“Baby? Baby are you okay?”

His touch--just on the lower part of your thigh, near your knee is enough to bring reality back into focus. “I-I feel sort of exposed,” you answer, waving over the length of your body. It’s more than that if you’re honest. You feel like you’re being splayed out with the door open. You feel hung up for gawking, wishing you’d worn pants and a blouse instead. Anything to hide you away. Anything to make you blend in.

“Hey, okay, that’s okay.” Ashton returns. He pulls the car door in closer to his body, arm draped over it so he can keep it pressed to his body. “Do you still want ice cream? You can wear my jacket the rest of the night? Or, uh, there’s the blanket we leave in the back?”

You snort at the imagined site: you huggled in next to Ashton in this godforsaken creamery huddled in a blanket, your heels clacking with your steps. “A blanket feels a bit much.”

“Just tell me what you need, baby. I’ll do it. I’ll dawn myself in the blanket if necessary,” he teases.

You look up from the seat, watching him protect you--door still squeezed into his body and a gentle smile on his face. Your stomach flutters just a little at the sight. “Can-can we just go home? I don’t think I can right now.”

“Yeah, we can go home. There’s a box of ice cream sandwiches there too. Better because it was cheaper and we get more ice cream per dollar than what we’d get inside.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome.”

Ashton’s quick to get the door closed and then jogs back around to the driver side. He doesn’t fully get it. And you’re not mad at that part--you were sure that once you got home you’d not touch an ice cream sandwich either, but at least you can be home. At least you can wallow in misery in sweatpants or something else. You didn’t have to subject yourself to anything more for the time being. Ashton’s hold on your knee is tighter than normally, his fingers still brush at your skin softly back and forth but the pressure of his palm into you is firmer.

“I’m not going to float away,” you tease while he’s stopped at a red light.

“No, no you’re absolutely not going to float away on me. I’ll be damned if you do.”

“Oh.” It’s not an articulate response, but you watch now as Ashton’s brows furrow together. “Is everything okay?”

He turns just long enough to speak. “Love, you tell me if everything is okay. Are you okay?”

The light turns green, you see it out of the corner of your eye. But Ashton doesn’t move. Doesn’t lift his food off the brake. “Baby, the light,” you caution.

“Damn the light and the next one. This whole week you’ve been making comments about yourself. I thought they were just one offs. But I don’t know anymore. You want to skip out on sundae and when have you ever skipped out on a treat? With your sweet tooth? I-I want to understand. Are you okay? Really, are you okay? ”

The car behind lays into their horn, long incessant honking. Ashton doesn’t move though. His gaze is locked onto you. The other cars are whizzing by in the lane over to you. Others are honking too.

It’s a quick light. You know that for sure. And you know Ashton’s a stubborn man when he wants to be.

“Ashton, I love you and I will spill my guts, but please, the light.”

He sighs, foot lifting now as the car rolls forward, the light flickers yellow just as you two roll through the intersection. “I-I don’t want you to think you’re alone or anything. I’m here for you. I should’ve said something sooner. I’m sorry.”

“I believe you when you say you’re here for me. I know that.”

Ashton’s been there through thick and thin, food poisoning when you literally could keep nothing down and inside. He’s been there when you got promoted at jobs and when you’ve left them. It’s not a question about his own loyalty. You know that. But it’s all the other noise inside your head.

“They call it an apron belly,” the words are tumbling out of your mouth as the house whizz by. Maybe Ashton was talking or maybe it was the radio. But whatever was speaking prior silences.

“They--who’s they?”

“People, influencers, doctors, I don’t know. But it’s called an apron belly. And it’s all over my feeds. I hate the phrase. I really do. But it’s just goddamn everyone. And if it’s not one ad about getting rid of belly fat it’s someone telling you to embrace your body. Then I keep scrolling and someone’s not a miracle supplement. Then someone’s got arms I’d kill to have. And there’s just so much fucking noise.”

You’re crying, can feel the snot falling onto your upper lip. But you don’t care. It’s been eating away at you. An insecurity that’d been bubbling for god knows how long in your life. You’d mostly spent your life trying to understand that a body was just a body, but every so often the defenses crack. A little bit of the vitriol sneaks. It only needs the smallest seeds of doubt to latch onto.

“I-the moment I suggested ice cream I became so disgusted with myself and I didn’t want to say anything because I hate this, I hate feeling like this. But the second you opened that door, I just felt like someone was letting the door open on sludge. I felt like sludge. I feel like sludge.”

“No, no, no, no,” Ashton shushes. “You are not sludge. You have never been sludge.”

You stare up at the garage door, watching the house still in your vision. You’re not sure how long you’ve been home or if you just got there. “I know that. Intellectually. But it feels like it, you know. It just feels like it. You ever just feel like it’s you, but you know it’s just a bad day, a bad mental space. But you just can’t crawl yourself out of it. I know I’m not sludge. I know my body is just doing it’s job. A belly is only supposed to keep organs inside. Arms are there to help you lift and carry and mine do that. Legs are there to carry and get you around, take you A to Z. A brain’s just there to float in god knows what up there and keep your lungs pumping, and your heart beating and to make sure you feel good every once and a while, and I’m doing all that. But then there’s models on my feed who look like they’ve been carved from fucking marble. There’s just a voice in the back of my head telling me I could be better. She’s an incessant and petulant bitch, that voice is. And I just can’t crawl out of it.”

Ashton fills your visions, hands cupping your cheeks as he holds your head in his direction. His lower lip wobbles for a moment and he sighs. You can feel the breath ghosting over your face. “Then let me help dig you out, baby. Just let me help dig you out. If you can’t crawl, then I will dig and dig and go to to the fucking molten core. But I want to get you out.”

“It’s fucked. It's hard work and it’s just me, if you dig. You’re digging only to get me.”

His laughter is soft, head shaking and you don’t get the joke. Not until he speaks. “All I’ve ever wanted was something like you. You just have a belly, okay. It’s just a stomach. It doesn’t have to be anything more and or anything less. And I know you don’t believe the words I’m saying right now. I know they’re not getting through right now. But please believe me, loving you is the hard work I want to do. I was nearly the manager of a fucking KFC if you think for a goddamn second I’m scared of hard work you are mistaken, sweetheart. You are so mistaken.”

“Was KFC harder or easier than me?” you ask. It’s a silly question but it feels like it’s the sledgehammer waiting to drop.

“You are a dream compared to KFC. I just want you to believe me. Okay, just promise me you’ll give it time so you can see. You’ll see.”

You don’t get the chance to ask Ashton to clarify before he’s pushing over the middle console to kiss your forehead. Ashton takes a moment to clear the mess off your face, careful in case you’ve put on any makeup. You can see a couple streaks of mascara and foundation on the tissue after his work, but it looks minimal to you. He peels himself out of his jacket and hands it to you. “Put that one, okay. I’ll be over in a second.”

Maybe you don’t need to ask Ashton what he meant. “I promise,” you return, slipping your arms into the sleeves.

“C’mon, we’ve got the last two episodes to finish. We need to know which couples make it and which ones don’t,” Ashton whispers to you from the open car door.

“Okay.”

You expect that once you’re inside, you’ll change, snuggle up on the couch and polish off your reality TV show. It’s one you started without Ashton and he came home from the studio one day, crawled into your lap and just watched from where you were. He asked a few questions to get up to speed but he got hooked. It’s a ritual--to watch one or two episodes a night together. There’s four seasons so you and Ashton have plenty to watch through together.

But when you get inside, Ashton walks you straight to the bathroom. “Take a seat for me?” You don’t think it was meant to be that much of a question, but you nod anyway and take yourself over to the vanity chair. The bathroom’s got your makeup counter already set up. You pull the chair out and turn it around.

Ashton digs out the step stool kept around to help reach some of the higher shelves and settles it directly across from you. From your vanity, he finds your makeup remover, cotton rounds, and some makeup wipes.

“Do-do you want me to sit there instead?” you ask, pointing to the stool.

“No, you’re good where you are. Where’s your little headband? That keeps your hair out of your face?”

Turning to your right, you pull open a drawer and take out terry cloth item. “I keep it in the drawer so I don’t lose it in the cracks. Someone mentioned to me once they’re tired of digging it out from the corners.”

“Whoever said that is an asshole,” Ashton laughs. It’s soft and short, but still a laugh.

It’s a little awkward, you don’t doubt it as Ashton gets the headband over your head and then up to hold back your hair. But he settles soon after onto the stool, reaching up to the sides of you for the appropriate items.

The first wipe is on your cheek, gentle and soft--so much so you don’t think any makeup could come off with it. “Can I tell you a secret?” Ashton whispers.

“Yeah, yeah you can.”

“I have a nasty voice inside my head too. We all do. Trust me, getting older and seeing that you just don’t have the same body that you used to sucks. Or seeing you don’t have the same body as all the Hollywood actors or influencers. I don’t expect you to. But it’s hard. It’s really hard to not let them in your head. It happens to all of us. Me included.”

“Ashton, you’re built like a Greek God. I’ll fight those nasty voices of yours,” you laugh. “I’m tough enough to go a few rounds.”

You put your fists up in front of your face, bobbing like a boxer in the ring. Ashton laughs. “Yeah? You’d get into the ring for me? Go a few rounds?”

“Absolutely, I would,” you laugh.

“Alright Ali, settle down so I can finish cleaning off this makeup, please. The point is: that voice is in your head and it may not go away. It may pop back up again. But let’s find some ways to make you tough enough to go a few rounds. I’ll dig you out, whatever metaphor you want to use. But let’s-let’s not forget your body’s doing a job. And it’s doing it very well, if I might add. This dress and your body are a killer combination.”

You retreat from his words, cheeks heating with fear. “Ashton, please.”

“I am but a man. Put my girl in front of me and I’m a goner. Sweatpants, fancy heels, doesn’t fucking matter. It’s simple maths,” Ashton laughs. His wipes are firmer, clearing off more and more makeup as he works. “You are beyond gorgeous to me. And I want you to believe that about yourself. Enough that the voice doesn’t win all the time.”

“I want to believe that too. Just feels hard right now.”

“It’s okay if it feels hard right now. I’ll do the heavy lifting for right now, okay?”

You want to believe Ashton. You really do. You’re just not sure what that looks like, what that means. You’re not sure what you need. But you only nod. It’s all you have and you don’t want to insult Ashton’s genuine efforts.

“Admittedly, I am not an expert, but tell me if it’s good enough?”

You don’t even look in the mirror behind you. “It’s good enough. I’ll get the rest when I wash my face.”

“Want to do that while I set up the shower? I’ll make sure it’s extra hot and scalding for you.”

“It just feels better,” you defend.

“Sure, sure, whatever you say as you melt the tiles in the shower.”

You only roll your eyes at the tease but stand and peel yourself out of Ashton’s jacket. “Thank you, by the way, for the jacket,” you call from the bedroom as you slip out of your heels.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

Peeling yourself out of your dress feels a bit like you can breathe better. You don’t feel stuffed and held in by something irritating. The robe is softer, swallows you in the way that you want to fade away. The steam starts faintly when you’re re-entering the bathroom. The vanity is cleaned up and re-organized. Ashton slips through the door beside you, “I’ll be back in just a minute.”

The water is a welcomed respite. It cascades down your skin--just warm enough to your taste. You can only stand for a moment, letting the water hit your body. The knock on the glass door startles you a bit but then Ashton steps up and over into the tub.

“You hate how hot I run the shower,” you note.

“For you, it is worth melting my skin off.” It’s cheesy and you know it, but Ashton says nothing as he grabs your body wash and cloth. It’s not the first time you and Ashton have shared the shower together, or bathed each other. But Ashton’s moves are meticulous. He follows your neck down to your shoulder, your shoulders down to your arms and fingers. He comes back up to your chest as he works, sudsing your body as he goes.

You turn when ask, each time and try not to think about everything you wish were different. It’s only one body and there's only so much time you’ve got. Will you really spend it being upset about your body that’s just doing a job?

Ashton’s careful not to get your hair wet either with his work. And when he’s done, satisfied with his own work, he tips your head up. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Would-would you ever tell me if you had a bad body day?” you ask. You know the focus is on you, but you can’t help the question. Would Ashton try to hide like you did? Was it really productive to bottle all this up anyway?

“It’s not always to admit those. But I think I would. I could tell you about it. I know you’ll listen. You care. I don’t think I couldn’t.”

“Yes, you could. But would you? That’s what I’m asking.”

“Eventually, I would. Maybe not right out at the start.”

“Eventually,” you repeat, chewing over the word. “You’re a stubborn man. I’m not surprised you’d want to do it yourself.”

He laughs, arms winding around your waist and pulling you closer. “And you’re a stubborn woman when you want to be. But that doesn’t stop me.”

“And you being stubborn won’t stop me,” you laugh, window your arms around Ashton too.

“Good, I’m glad.”

The kiss is slow. Not even meant to be more, but you don’t want to crawl out of this warm cocoon you’ve created in this shower. You want to stay in Ashton’s arms for as long as possible. You pull him in closer, and closer. With his body pressed into yours, tasting his mouth, your brain has no space for other thoughts. The only thing you can think about is Ashton--the way he feels, the way his hands press into your flesh.

You’ve never considered yourself to be small, but when Ashton touches you, cups your sex and fingers teasing between your folds, you want nothing more than to shrink. Make yourself small and puddy in his hands. Your head falls back onto the tiles, a satisfied moan leaving your throat. Ashton’s teeth sting at the column of your throat, but he hums when you sigh at the touch.

“Can I show you something?” Ashton asks, lips brushing over your ear.

“Yes,” you huff.

Ashton laughs. “You sound so desperate right now.”

“I might be,” you return. “I just might me.”

“I’ll meet you on the bed in a minute.”

A groan leaves your lips. Your body is buzzing and you don’t want those voices to come back.

“Why can’t you show me here?”

“Because you are not slipping in this shower. I am not taking you to a hospital to explain you hurt yourself trying to have shower sex when we have a perfectly good bed just a few feet from us. Not on my watch ma’am.”

“That would be a little embarrassing,” you concede, climbing out of the shower. You do give Ashton’s ass a tap on the way out. He laughs. “You’re going to regret that,” he calls out.

You don’t doubt for a second you will. You dry off and immediately follow it up with lotion, and then all there is left is to wait, perched on the edge of bed. Your robe’s some comfort, but you can still hear the echo of yourself, I feel like sludge.

“You’re not sludge,” you whisper to yourself.

The water cuts off a moment later, your eyes straining to catch anything else behind it. Not even the door can creak as you’ve left it open but Ashton returns, towel around his waist and his eyes taking you in.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he mutters to himself.

You’re not sludge.

You can crawl into the space that you know is safe. It’s easy, tucked up and into Ashton. It’s so fucking easy. All you want is that little bit of reprieve. It’s all so close.

“Up for me.”

The robe falls from the push Ashton gives to a pool around your feet. There’s not a moment to think about how exposed you are. Ashton closes in, takes you up and lays you down. Lips part and meet, an echoing sound in the silence of the room. All his weight sinks into you and it’s like the noise is on a switch. All you can focus on is the lap of his tongue at the swell of your breast.

The way Ashton hums at the taste of you.

You touch always finds something solid. Each time you cling, Ashton is always there, a hum and encouraging word dripping off his tongue, Look at you. I’ll take care of you. Let me make you feel good.

You can’t possibly say no, wouldn’t dare fathom turning him away when his tongue and fingers are milking everything you’re worth. Your body grows warm as his work, praises in return falling off your tongue too, Yes, right there. I feel so good. You make me feel so good.

There’s only one place for you to go at the end of this and that is over the edge--once and then twice.

Your body is jello but Ashton stays a constant canary in your ear. You’ve always enjoyed vocal partners. Like to know that they’re having a good time too. But this time it’s different. Ashton’s words are careful and weighty. There’s not just You’re beautiful or You feel amazing. He’s praising your strength, the way you keep hanging onto the last threads that he knows in any other situation you would’ve let go of by now, most likely might’ve called it quits. But you keep digging deeper, finding what you can to stay floating.

It’s praise for a job well dog, for being so good for him and god, every word feels like a flame licking your skin. It’s hot, but you crave it. You need to hear that you’re doing a good job, that this body of your is made to take what Ashton gives to it. Maybe it’s more mental than physical at this point too. Maybe it’s just willpower, but whatever it is that keeps you hanging on, you thank it too.

It helps that Ashton knows your body like an instrument and plays it with his eyes closed just as well as he can with his eyes open. It helps that your body always wants him too.

“Ash, Ash, baby, please,” you beg. The edge of your orgasm isn’t far. You can feel the edges of it pulling in closer and closer.

“I will. I’ll get you there. Just keep being good for me. Be a good girl, please.”

You think there’s nothing else for you to be as he’s got your body pinned to the bed, holding your body open by the back of your thighs. Your knees are up to your chest. You can be good. This is a body capable of good things.

There’s no words--not that you can hear when your orgasm crashes over. It’s blinding as you find yourself in a spasm, body not quite under your control as the well placed thrust of Ashton brings about sweet relief.

“You’re okay. You’re okay,” are the words that bring you back earthside.

A tiny hum leaves your throat as you blink back to the bright lights of the room. You nor Ashton had turned them off before starting as it felt silly. But you can take in how damp the sheets feel beneath you for a moment. A warm wet cloth touches between your legs and you wince just a little at the sensitivity.

“I know, baby, I know.” Ashton places a kiss to your forehead before the bed dips again.

Your eyes flutter close and in the silence you catch a door open then close again. You peek open an eye see fresh sheets in Ashton hands. “Did-what happened?”

Ashton grins as he approaches. “Well, we discovered that you can squirt and I was not prepared for that. So, the sheets are soaked.”

You laugh, but there is a hint of embarrassment licking at your cheeks as they warm. “Oh my god. No, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, do not apologize, not in the fucking slightest. But, you may need a second shower. Or a quick wash up. Let’s just say you’ve got a wide wet zone.”

You snort at the tease and finally give into Ashton’s gesture to give him your hands. He helps you up and there’s a distinct dark gray ring on the sheets as you turn to assess the damage. “Oh, that is a lot worse than I was imagining.”

“Oh, hot as hell though. So do not worry.”

“You’re just saying that,” you laugh, collecting some pj’s.

“I, Ashton Irwin, am not just saying anything about learning that my girlfriend can squirt. That was hot as well and I don’t care what I have to clean up. Having that information is fucking gold.”

“Your check’s in the mail. I’ll be back to help in a second.”

“Take your time,” Ashton calls out. But you know you won’t listen. Freshening up yet again, you slip into your pj’s and scurry back to the bedroom. Ashton’s just got the sheets and the mattress pad striped by the time you return.

“It got down to the mattress pad?” you question pulling out the fitted sheet to the fresh set.

“I mean, that is what it’s there for in some right. Seriously, not an issue.”

You’re fighting to say upright if you’re honest--as your body wants nothing more than to collapse into bed, but you refuse to force Ashton to clean this up all on his own. Besides, he never gets the tuck right for the corners. You don’t complain when he does change the sheets as it as a laborious task in and of itself. You just know you have a preference on the way the bed is made.

By the time Ashton returns from the laundry room--sheets now going through a cycle-- he finds you working on the last piece of the flat sheet. The comforter got wet too and is waiting for the moment the washer gets free, so he brings over some of the spare blankets for the time being. “Up, up, up,” he commands, light taps to your ass accompany his chant.

“Ash,” you giggle. “I’m almost done.”

“Nope, up, get in bed. Let me tuck you in and we can cuddle until the washer is done.”

You huff, as you smooth out the last piece and then push up onto the queen sized mattress. It’s plush and holds you without worry as you flop onto your side of the bed. Ashton spreads out the blanket, it’s not terribly wide, but it’s enough for the two of you.

“I have one armpit ready,” he announces once he slips in after you. It’s a joke in response to the time you told him that you could live in his armpit once. In reference to your attraction to him, but Ashton’s refused to let it die in private.

“Hmm, maybe the HOA should do something about these bushes,” you huff, tickling right at his ribs.

“Oh, c’mon. I’m a hairy man and you love it. You cannot deny it.”

You settle into his side. “I’d never change a thing about you.” The kiss to his stomach is easy and you wind an arm over his chest.

“And I wouldn’t change anything about you. Thank you for telling me today about what’s been going on. I appreciate it.”

“Thanks for, like, not freaking out.”

“Now why would I freak out?” Ashton questions. “Hmm? I can’t freak out when I’m in a similar boat sometimes.”

You get it--everyone’s got their own insecurities, their own doubts that creep up. Resting your chin into his sternum, you look up to Ashton, a lazy circle around his chest with your finger tips preoccupies your free hand. “Will you tell me? When you’re having a bad body day or just a bad time, you’ll still tell me, right?”

“I’ll do my best, baby. I’ll tell you. So you can go a few rounds for me in the ring. Promise.”

You tap his side. “You better. Carved from literal mountains, you are so I just gotta make sure you remember.”

“Yeah? Carved from mountains?”

You nod. “They’re strong, rugged, handsome. Keep up, Irwin. Keep up.”

He laughs, squeezes you closer to him. “Well, you got plucked from the heavens and I won’t be returning you.”

“The heavens now?” you arch your brow with the question.

“Yeah, angelic, beautiful, radiant. Keep up.”

“Touché. I’ll give you that one.” It’s an easy round of laughter before Ashton grabs the remote from the bedside table. “If I fall asleep, catch me up,” you inquire as the Netflix app loads.

“You say that like I’m not about to set an alarm to make sure I get the laundry done. We both might have to get caught up.”

You snicker into his chest. “Lord save us both.”

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