#ashton irwin au

[let-the-bands-take-c0ntrol]

Adore You (Part 6)

AshtonXFemale Reader

Part 5

Warnings: Food, secret confessions, mentions of adoption, mentions of running away, fluff, slight slow burn

“Tell me something no one else knows about you,” Ashton said, his fingers idly tracing the palm of your hand. You both laid in a makeshift fort in his living room, boxes of Chinese takeout scattered around you and some tiny portable projector playing a film you both have long forgotten about. 

“Something no one knows?” you hummed, earning a nod from him. It was nearing the end of Spring break and the both of you have been talking non-stop since your first official date. It was you who asked Ashton out for the second time, feeling a sudden urge of courage. This time it was less strenuous and more comforting than anything. Your face scrunched up at his question as you thought about the answer. You almost felt brought back to the first day of classes where you had to play ice breakers in order to get to know classmates you were most likely never to see again. 

“It’s not a hard question,” Ashton laughed, breaking the long silence of your pause. 

“For me it is!” you exclaimed, retracting your hand from his and sitting up. Ashton sat up straight too and bit onto his bottom lip. “Besides, talking about myself is boring.”

“You’re not boring, Y/N.” Ashton responded. “I can go first if you want,” his head dipped low to look you in the eye and Ashton gave you a smile. You couldn’t help but to smile back and nod. He had a way of comforting you and you laid back down into the pillows looking up at the patterns of the blanket that covered you two. He shuffled onto his side and peered down at you as he thought for a moment. 

“Now look who’s-”

“I got it!” he interjected, grinning at you in amusement. Your eyebrows rose at his reaction and you held in a giggle. “When I was seven I used to be VERY obsessed with tadpoles and woul- for a good while actually- I would carry some with me everyday to school without anyone knowing.”

“How’d you manage that?” you asked, shifting positions to lay on your side to look at him directly. 

“I’d carry it in my thermos and people would just assume it was juice,” he said matter-of-factly. You laughed hard then, shaking your head at his admission. “Alright. . .your turn.” You thought for a moment, eyebrows scrunching. Ashton reached out with his thumb to rub away the wrinkled creases from your expression. “So serious,” he muttered, making you smile in return and let out a sigh.

“I once ran away when I was fifteen. Hitchhiked and got into some pickup truck with this old man. Made it to the city line and turned back. I had been gone for maybe three hours, no one was none the wiser.” A heavy silence penetrated the air, and you found yourself opening eyes you hadn’t realized you closed. Ashton was staring intently at you, worry written across his face. “I know, very dangerous for a young woman like me to hitchhike, especially alone,” you said. 

“Where were you heading?” he asked instead. You had expected him to reprimand you for being so careless at a young age. That was the last you got and could see curiosity fill Ashton’s worried expression.  

“To find my birth parents. I had just found out I was adopted and was spiraling over it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents dearly. It’s just I always felt like a black sheep, like something was wrong with me and then they tell me this huge secret a week after I turn fifteen.” You went quiet for a moment, eyes dazed as if you were placed back in that moment. “I thought if I could find my birth parents it’ll help me answer questions on why I was so different.” 

You had never told anyone about it. You were content now at the fact that you were adopted, something you didn’t hide anymore. But that story of you attempting to run away, it had always been a well kept secret between you and your stuffed animals. “Aren’t you going to ask why I turned back?” you said. The two of you had somehow found yourselves laying on your backs. Ashton’s fingers playing with your own. He shook his head in response. 

“Not unless you want to say,” he muttered, allowing the silence to envelop you once again. You weren’t expecting to share that part of yourself, but that was truly the only thing people didn’t know about you. Ashton just seemed so easy to talk to and you trusted him with the information. A warmth filled your stomach at his words. He wasn’t going to push and would allow you to tell him when you wanted. You turned your head to the side to look at him, eyes wide in the dim light. Ashton turned  his head to face you too, your faces inches apart. “Thank you for sharing,” he whispered, almost trying not to disturb the peace. 

“Thank you for listening,” you whispered back. Your eyes flickered down to his lips then back up to meet his gaze. His lips parted, tongue ducking out to moisten the plump skin. Time seemed to slow and you could see him glance at your own mouth. Just as Ashton was leaning towards you, a knock sounded at the door. The both of you jumped in surprise at the disturbance. 

“Shit-the dessert,” Ashton said, “I forgot we ordered that.” He pulled away from you and got up from the fort to grab the delivery. You sat back in your spot, feeling slightly dazed. The two of you were so close to kissing. Something you hadn’t done yet. You cleared your throat and sat up as Ashton came back inside the fort with two bowls. 

“What did you do before uni?” you asked him, graciously taking the bowl with your requested dessert. You remembered him saying he had chosen to pursue a career in photography after a stint of not being in school. 

“I traveled with my best friends. We were basically living a nomad type life. It was fun for a while, but I could tell we all missed home.” Ashton chuckled at a thought that came to him, “I do miss exploring the world.” He dug into his own bowl after that, your attention now back on the film that seemed to be nearing an end. After a while Ashton muttered something about it being late. You were supposed to go back to your dorm about an hour ago, but being with Ashton was too much fun. “I’ll take the couch,” he said, not really asking if you wanted to go home or stay. It was a decided fact to Ashton that you would spend the night. 

“We can sleep in the fort together,” you found yourself blurting. You were feeling a bit bold. The words surprising yourself. Ashton’s eyebrows raised, a look of perplexity coming across his face. “It’s cozy and you shouldn’t have to be uncomfortable in your own home,” you added, trying to save some type of face. Ashton let a laugh slip past his lips and he gave you a dimpled smile. 

“I should warn you, I am a cuddler.”

[littledrummeraussie]

masterlist. | moodswings masterlist. | want to be added to my taglist?

warnings: hitman!Ashton. mentions of violence, blood and death. bits and pieces of smut. fluffy moments. mentions of possible cheating (does not actually happen). angst and making up.

word count: 3900

author’s note: I started writing this piece in October while I had COVID, and I decided to pick it up again. It was inspired by this song in the first place, but as I started to work out the finer details of the story I realized the moodswings really fits the vibe and has many scenes that are basically in the song, so I decided to go with that.

I don’t plan on going into certain details in the story - my main focus is on how Ashton’s secret life and choices affects his relationship with the reader.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

- - - - -

chapter 1.

- - - - -

“Thank you for dinner, angel, it was delicious,” Ashton wrapped his arms around your waist after putting the dishes into the sink, lips pressing a sweet kiss on your cheek. “Just as always.”

“Flattery gets you nowhere, Irwin, you know that” your giggle filled the kitchen as you started to wash the plates and cutlery, head resting back against his shoulder. “Tell me, what do you want?”

“Cannot I just appreciate my gorgeous girl and her culinary skills?” he hummed with a small smile, breathing another kiss on your temple as he held you from behind.

“Okay, I will indulge you, but just this once,” you laughed and turned back to the dishes, letting your boyfriend slot his body against your back, slowly swaying with you, face tucked into your neck.

“Love quiet nights with you,” Ash mumbled against your skin, his scruff softly tickling you as he burrowed closer. “Wish they would last forever.”

“You’re awfully cuddly today,” you finished drying your hands, turning around in Ashton’s embrace and slipping your arms around his shoulders. “Is everything okay?”

“Mhmm, yeah. Just missed you, that’s all.”

His forehead knocked against yours, palms gently curling around your cheeks as his nose traced yours, hazel eyes shining beautifully. You moved forward, fingers tangling into the soft curls at the back of his head as you pulled him closer, both of you sighing into the kiss you shared. You loved the feeling of his lips on your lips, on your skin, kissing you senseless, making you feel like a queen he worshipped with everything he had.

“So, about those intentions…” you whispered on his lips, eyes closed as you both breathed deeply.

“You know they are never pure,” his little cheeky laugh resonated against you, teeth closing around your bottom lip softly before his hands wandered down to curl around the back of your thighs, picking you up swiftly. “What do you say? Are you game, gorgeous?”

“So much for quiet nights, huh?”

Ashton giggled against your cheek, pressing a sloppy kiss on your mouth as he adjusted you in his lap before turning around and making his way towards your shared bedroom.

.

“I think you’ve killed me and I’m in fucking heaven,” you panted in your afterglow, a laugh mixed in with your breathy words as you willed your eyes to open, just in time to see Ashton climb out from beneath the sheets.

“That good, huh?” he laughed as well, warm palms pressing against your thighs as he ran them up to your sides, caressing you lightly. He kissed your hip, moving his lips lower to softly mouth at your clit again, and you groaned, pushing him away.

“I cannot handle more, geez. My legs are still shaking, you monster.”

“You know you love it,” Ash pushed himself up and hovered over you, pecking your nose and lips. “Let me clean you up, okay?”

You returned the kiss and nodded, resting back on the bed as he went to the bathroom to retrieve a washcloth, cleaning up the mess he left on your stomach before eating you out for another 15 minutes or so. He lay back beside you, tugging on the blankets until he could wrap them around your bodies, holding you against his chest as you both came down from your highs.

“I need a shower but I don’t wanna move,” you drew circles on his stomach, making Ashton hide his smile against your hair.

“You can take one in the morning,” his soft caress followed the path down your spine, a light shiver running through you at the touch. “I don’t mind.”

“Yeah, but I need to wash my hair and all, and I have an early start,” you pouted at him, and he leaned down to kiss it away.

“We can shower together. I’ll even wash your hair, deal?”

You nodded, a smile pulling at your lips as Ashton kissed you again, patting your ass cheek to usher you out of bed. There was a buzzing sound coming from the other side of the room, and you reached for Ashton’s discarded jeans, throwing them at him as he was sitting up in bed, giggling at him.

“It’s been 10 minutes already,” you nodded at the phone still vibrating in his jeans. “Wish it was something else buzzing,”

“We can talk about it tomorrow,” he chuckled, looking for his pocket to pull out his phone. “Go and start the shower, it’ll be just a second.”

Ashton waited until he was sure you started your pre-shower routine, only then did he open the text he received. He knew better than to call back the person who looked for him – he knew they were already pissed that they needed to send him a message. Written proof was always a risk in their business.

He rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly tired and losing his mood that’s been his companion for the night. Work was calling, and he started to go through his mental checklist of what needed to be done.

“Hey, Ash? Are you coming?”

His head snapped up as he looked at you, catching you leaning against the doorframe, your naked body just out of his sight. There was a slight worry pulling at your eyebrows, and more than anything he wanted to kiss away that frown so it was not marring your beautiful face.

“Yeah, sorry,” he was already up and moved towards you, arm curling around your waist to lead you to the shower. “I promised to wash your hair, right?”

“Damn right, handsome.”

.

“You’re up. Why are you up?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Thought a quick walk would clear my head.”

You tiredly rubbed at your eyes as Ashton kicked off his boots, clothes following as he dropped them in a pile at the foot of the bed. He climbed back next to you, letting you curl into his side as he settled against his pillows, ready to catch up on his sleep. It wasn’t a lie, not really – his sleep was fitful in the first two hours, not even your soft, calm breaths on his skin could make him relax.

When the time has come he quickly got dressed and picked up his keys, going through the motions: go to the basement, open the storage room, pick up the bag, go to the garage, get in the car, drive to the location that was given to him. Get the job done. Clean up, get home, pretend like nothing happened. It’s just another Wednesday night.

“You sure you’re okay?” your arm rested around his stomach, fingertips caressing his side as you fought your own sleepy brain, wanting to make sure Ashton was able to fall asleep too.

“I’m alright now, don’t worry about me,” he kissed your forehead, fingers tangling into your hair as he brushed through it, trying to coax you back to sleep. “Good night, angel.”

“Night, night,” you mumbled into his chest, already falling asleep again, and he let out a sigh when he was sure you won’t wake up again.

Ashton buried his face against his pillow, the fabric softener and both of your perfumes mixing on it, the scent of home finally calming his senses, making him forget about the coppery smell in his nostrils.

He needed to buy a new pair of leather gloves, though.

.

“Where are you going?” Ashton reached after your hand as you crossed the living room and pulled you into his lap, arms wrapped around your waist. “Looking like a snack and all.”

“It’s girls’ night, remember?” you ran your fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead before standing up. “And I am so fucking late, you have no idea!”

“I can drop you off.”

“I didn’t want to drag you away from home, you told me tonight’s the only time when you can relax,” you bit your bottom lip while fixing your earrings, trying to withhold the puppy dog eyes that usually worked on Ashton like a charm.

“Anything for my girl,” he was already putting on his shoes and reaching for his jacket. “It’s no trouble at all. I’ll even pick you up if you need me to.”

“You’re absolutely wonderful,” you slipped into your heels and pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss him on the lips. “Thank you.”

Ashton stopped in front of the club 20 minutes later, leaning closer to get a quick goodbye kiss before you hopped out and disappeared behind the entrance. You’ve agreed that you’ll call him once your party is over and that he will come and take you home so you don’t need to wait and pay for an Uber. His finger was tapping against the steering wheel, following the rhythm of the song playing on the radio, thinking that maybe he could go and do some grocery shopping so you both could sleep in in the morning, or get his car washed since it has seen better days.

He just turned into the parking lot when his phone started buzzing on the seat next to him, and a quick glance at the caller made him stop, already knowing what they were going to ask from him. Ash swiped the hair back from his face as he picked it up, eyes searching his surroundings, almost like he anticipated someone watching him.

“Where?” he asked shortly, not one for asking too many unnecessary questions – he learned not to do that a long time ago.

The line cracked, the unmistakable voice listing off the address and the details, asking for a quick and clean job. Ashton’s only answer was a short ‘on it’ before disconnecting, putting the car in reverse and leaving the parking lot like he didn’t even go there in the first place.

So much for getting that grocery shopping done.

.

“Hey, I thought you’re gonna call me?” Ashton was surprised to find you already back at home, wearing your PJs, face clean of makeup as you finished getting ready for bed. “Did something happen?”

“You forgot to pick me up,” you gave him a shrug like it didn’t matter, but he could hear an edge to your voice, and that made him confused.

“You didn’t call me,” he shook his head, leaning against the doorframe to watch you in the bathroom mirror, trying to catch your gaze.

“I did,” you finally looked up at him, giving him a hard stare before your eyes slid away again, voice going quiet. “You just did not pick it up.”

“Impossible,” Ash huffed, reaching into his pocket to check his phone, sure that this was all a misunderstanding. “Shit!”

There were 5 missed calls and 7 text messages staring back at him, every one of them from you. He breathed out another silent curse as he checked the timestamps on the calls, your messages going from confused to sad and angry, and he remembered how he silenced his phone when he arrived at the given address, just to be cautious. From that point on he forgot about time, and once the job was done he was ready to go home and dispose of his gear before doing a quick grocery run like he previously planned, and then pick you up like you’ve agreed.

“Yeah, well… I really wasn’t looking forward to that Uber drive…” you finished brushing your hair, eyes still avoiding Ashton as much as you could. “I always end up with the weirdest guys… and you know I always ask them to drop me off a block away from home and I really, really wasn’t in the mood for walking tonight…”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry!” Ashton stepped forward to reach for your hand, to maybe pull you closer and comfort you somehow, to make up for his stupid mistake, but you slipped out of the bathroom before he could get to you. “I left my phone on silent, I forgot to–”

“Yeah, I wonder why that happened,” hurt laced your voice as you crossed the room, quickly burrowing under your blankets and pulling them up to your chin. “I’m tired. And I’m not in the mood to talk with you.”

“Come on, don’t do this,” he sighed, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want you to go to bed being angry with me.”

“Night, Ash,” you mumbled, now pulling the sheets over your head, clearly being done with the conversation.

Ashton looked at you for another minute, hoping you will change your mind and let him explain himself, but when you didn’t move he gave up, and with a sigh he turned around and left for the bathroom. He let the hot water run over his body for long minutes, washing off the grime and dust, the invisible spots of blood that stuck to his skin.

This definitely wasn’t what he planned for tonight – he thought he could be done with this before picking you up. He thought you could flirt with each other on the drive home, his fingers teasingly slipping under the hem of your dress, a clear sign of his intentions. You looked gorgeous, and all he could think about through the night was how he wanted to take you home and strip you of it, to have his way with you like he imagined. He wished that he could have you against him, wrapped in his arms as you made love, that you were not giving him the silent treatment because he was a shitty boyfriend tonight. Ashton knew he deserved it, but it still sucked.

After drying his hair and putting on his sweatpants he shuffled into the room, not wanting to make too much noise and wake you up in case you already fell asleep. Your head was resting on your pillow, no longer hidden under the blankets that were tucked around you now, but your back was still turned towards him, another clear sign that you were mad at him. Ashton settled onto his side of the bed, trying to make his thoughts slow down so he could fall asleep as well, but every time he closed his eyes the only thing he could see was the way you looked at him in the mirror: sad and disappointed.

He turned onto his side, listening to your breathing; truth was that Ashton hated sleeping without you. Ever since you moved in with him a year ago he got used to you always being close during the night, bodies touching under your blankets, your soft sounds calming his mind and heart, lulling him to sleep. He loved how the smell of your perfume and your body wash lingered in the air, a reminder of your presence which made his place feel like home. Living together made him learn a lot of things about you – one of which was the way you were breathing when you slept. And Ashton knew you were not asleep.

It took him a moment to gather his courage, but then he scooted closer to you and wrapped his arm around your waist, his body resting against your back, a soft sound leaving his lips as he felt your hair tickle his cheek. You tensed in his arms for a second before letting yourself melt against him, your fingers tangling together as he drew circles on the back of your hand with his thumb.

“I’m still mad at you.”

“I know,” Ashton mumbled, softly kissing your hair and letting out another sigh. “I really am sorry, Y/N.”

“Were you with someone else?” your voice was just above a whisper, like you were scared to even say those words out.

“Just with Calum,” he knew he could count on his friend to cover for him, but still he made a mental note to send him a text in the morning. “Thought we could catch up and all…”

“…that doesn’t explain why you didn’t pick up your phone,” you let silence settle over the two of you after that, not even sure if you were waiting for an answer from Ash or not.

“We’ve been talking about the shitty week he had and it was constantly going off with messages from work. I silenced it so I could pay attention to Cal, and left it like that. I was just clumsy. But I’m not cheating on you.”

“So the walks at night and the long showers are not because you’re trying to hide something from me?”

“You really don’t believe me, do you?”

“You’ve been acting strange all week,” you pulled your hand back to tuck it under your pillow. “What am I supposed to think?”

“I don’t know, but I promise you it’s not that,” his arm tightened around your waist like he wanted to make sure you understood what he was saying. “I love you, and I would never do that to you. I’m just… really lost in my head this week.”

“If you say so…” a quiet sigh left your lips as you burrowed against your pillow, still not entirely convinced that Ashton was telling the whole truth. “…but you’re lucky I love you too.”

.

In the morning Ashton was nowhere to be found. You woke to an empty bed, the sheets cold where your boyfriend was sleeping just a few hours ago. There were no sounds coming from the other rooms – your apartment was peaceful and quiet in the early morning sunlight that filtered through the curtains and fell across the floors. Ashton didn’t leave any message for you about his whereabouts, and you tried to fight the sick feeling in your stomach that maybe he ran to see his other lover, letting her know that they needed to be more careful.

You shook your head like you wanted the thought to fall from your mind, finally leaving you alone – Ashton promised you last night that he was not seeing anyone else, and you desperately wanted to believe him. He never gave you any reason to think that he was cheating on you, and you tried your best to give him a chance to prove that what he was saying was true. So you put on your robe and a brave face to start the day, hoping that you made the right decision.

Just as you stepped into the kitchen to start the coffee machine, you heard the front door opening, and a moment later Ashton appeared with two grocery bags in his arms, smiling at you brightly.

“Good morning, angel,” he put the bags on the table, making sure they didn’t fall over. “You’re up early.”

“I was cold without you,” you let yourself pout at him, the tension from last night slowly disappearing between the two of you. “My bed warmer went missing.”

“I wanted to do some grocery shopping after I dropped you off yesterday so we could spend a lazy day together. But since I didn’t do that, I woke up early to get it done as soon as possible, and I was hoping I could still catch you in bed,” Ashton confessed, reaching into one of the bags to pull out a box. “I stopped by your favourite bakery to buy some pistachio croissants for breakfast because I know you love them. And these too–” he quickly stepped back to the entryway and came back with a bouquet of flowers, stopping in front of you with them.

“Ash–” you felt your breath catch and your cheeks warm, not expecting anything like this from him.

“I know I’ve said it a hundred times already, but I really, truly am sorry for last night. I should have been more attentive, especially since I’ve promised to pick you up and then I did not follow through with it. I promise to be more careful and not silence my phone,” he let a hopeful smile pull at the corner of his mouth, holding the flowers out for you.

“You are just… terrible,” you let yourself smile too, accepting the flowers and wrapping an arm around his waist to burrow against him. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he breathed, kissing the top of your head.

He rested his cheek against your hair, and you hid your face in his neck, breathing in his scent, so familiar and calming. After everything that happened it felt safe being in his arms, the warmth of his body and the smell of his cologne soothing your nerves – he was here with you, no traces of another lover on his clothes or skin. Ashton was still yours to love, and he made sure you knew too how he felt about you, how he loved you too.

“Let me finish making coffee, and then we can have breakfast, okay?” Ashton pressed another kiss on your forehead, smiling down at you. “After that we can go back to bed and call it a day. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like the perfect Saturday,” you nodded, burrowing back against him for another second. “I’ll put these in water. They are really beautiful, thank you.”

“You are beautiful,” Ash responded before taking a vase off the shelf and giving it to you.

While you arranged the flowers he set the table, and you spent the next half an hour eating breakfast, softly talking and playing footsie, the demons from last night disappearing with the sun lighting up the room. Ashton sent you back to bed as he quickly finished washing the plates and mugs, his jeans and shirt thrown onto a chair before he joined you under the sheets, pulling you close to him.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you looked last night?” Ashton moved until he could rest his head on the same pillow as you, his nose softly tracing yours as he whispered.

“Well, you did call me a snack,” your hand slipped onto his shoulder, palm sliding up and down on his arm, caressing his skin.

“I had every intention to appreciate you in that gorgeous dress,” his fingers tangled into the hem of your shirt under the blankets, tickling your waist a little. “And now I have every intention to do that while you’re wearing your PJs. I’m not picky.”

“I mean, I could put the dress back on… but you would just take it off of me,” you laughed, pressing your lips against Ashton’s. “And that would just waste our precious time on this lazy Saturday morning.”

“Hmm, I have a few ideas how we could spend our time this morning,” a cheeky smile pulled at the corner of his mouth before he pushed himself up on his elbow. “I have a surprise for you.”

He turned towards his nightstand, rummaging around until he pulled something out, hiding it in his palm. You gave him a little questioning look, and Ash laughed, finally showing you what was hidden in his hand. The item made you blush and giggle at the same time, a pleasant feeling settling in your core as you bit your lip.

“No way you did it!”

“You did tell me you wished it was something else buzzing other than my phone,” Ashton held the bullet vibe between his fingers, tracing the toy over your skin, slowly moving it over your stomach before pressing the button at the bottom, the toy softly vibrating as he held it against the top of your panties. “What do you think – shall we try it?”

 - - - - -

@mymindwide @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @suchalonelysunflower @talkfastromance4 @ashtonsunflower @in-superbloom @wiiildflowerrr @lovelywordsblog @heyitskelseaj @whentherosesbl00m @sadistmichael

[theshyspy]

bookstore au with ashton irwin - headcanon

Based on this request from the very talented @littledrummerangie,thank you for sending it in lovie🦋

He was a bookworm who loved the familiarity of the known. He didn’t even notice how everything was a routine: the way he went to the same cafe and browsed the menu but got the same coffee each time, before heading to the usual bookstore a few feet away.

Which was why Calum was so confused as he stopped outside a newly opened bookstore, his eyes fixed at you moving inside it. In no time he had pushed the door open and started browsing through the shelfs, waiting for you to ask if he needed any help.

He swore you had the voice of an angel as you moved towards him, smile on your face as you wondered if he needed anything. (He didn’t, but) shortly after you were recommending all sorts of books.

He was so quick to return the next day, claiming he forgot to get one of the pieces on his wishlist (something he definitely hadn’t). He was just hypnotized, adoring the way you strang your sentences together and how all your opinions was so reflected. He could listen to you talk about anything for hours.

Every other day he would come up with a new excuse and be back again, not that you minded. He was your favourite customer, always smiling and asking about your day. Once in a while he even brought you coffee (he swore the barista had made an extra on accident but it happened way too many times for it to be a coincidence)

You always looked forward to your meetings, but was getting impatient, kinda hoping he would ask you out.

He most definitely wanted to ask you out. But it had to be perfect, something you couldn’t say no to.

So when your favourite author came out with a new book, he figured it was his time to shine.

At the end of your shift, he was waiting patiently outside the door. A basket resting on his arm, filled with food you’d briefly mentioned you enjoyed. To say you were surprised was an understatement, but you followed with a smile plastered on your face as he said he knew the perfect reading spot.

And that’s how you ended up with your head in his lap, his fingers gently playing with your hair as you fell in love with both your new book and the man beside you.

[daniellesimagines]

Shot of Truth (Ashton Irwin) - Part 2

word count: 1004 requested by: @youngblood199456 (x) pronouns: she/her warnings: none fandom: 5 seconds of summer au type: exes, bad boy summary: it’s been 4 months since you made that mixtape for your ex-boyfriend, 4 months since you’d last seen him, and 4 months since you were starting to worry you’d fucked up inspired by: @bxdlvckcharm (x) and @phoenixsbby (x) authors notes: sorry this took 3 years lol other parts: part 1 / part 2

❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀

Ashton took a deep breath before he opened the bookshop’s door, hearing the bell above his head ding. He could feel his heart beating like it was going to fall out of his chest at any moment, but he knew he could do this – he had to do this. He’d been hyping himself up for the past four months to come back into this shop and confront you about your mixtape. He hadn’t been able to think about anything other than that damn CD – that you were telling him you still loved him.

He looked around the small shop, unable to see or hear anyone around – not a cashier, not someone stocking shelves, not anyone greeting him as he entered... It was like the store was empty. He decided he’d use the opportunity of no patrons being around to find you – at least no one would be around to hear you reject him for practically ghosting you for four months.

He began walking toward the back of the shop – the only place anyone could feasibly be if they hadn’t heard someone enter – but he stopped when he heard people talking. He listened carefully upon hearing your voice, quietly making his way toward his favorite sound, and stopping at the end of the aisle of books just before he’d been spotted.

“How can he think I’m happy?” he heard you sniffle, peeking above the books to see you roughly wiping your eyes with the heel of your hand, “I’ve been miserable since the day he broke up with me and he thinks I’m happy?”

“Y/N,” your co-worker sighed, “Maybe he’s just trying to cope too. You didn’t leave that CD for nothing, did you?”

“That was months ago,” you mumbled, “If he’s listened to it, he would have said so by now. He hasn’t even come into the store since then. It probably scared him away.”

“He’s probably trying to figure out how,” she assured you, “It took you a couple weeks to come up with the idea for the CD, didn’t it? I’m sure he’s just trying to come up with an idea for a response.”

“He probably thinks I’m too clingy – that I’m too hung up on the past and am begging for him back...” you whispered, more to yourself than to Corrine, “He already broke up with me for being too much to deal with the first time around... Why would he wanna deal with this trainwreck again?”

And Ashton, finally having enough of you berating yourself, couldn’t keep himself quiet anymore.

“Because that ‘trainwreck’ is the best thing that ever happened to me!” he said angrily, making you jump when he popped out from around the corner, “And I’m not about to stand here and listen to her convince herself that I don’t love her anymore!”

Corrine rolled her eyes – took him long enough to speak up – before plucking the books out of your hands and taking the cart to finish working so you and Ashton could have a moment alone.

“A-Ashton!” you squeaked, quickly wiping the rest of your tears off of your cheeks, “What- What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to talk about that CD you left me,” he stated bluntly to keep you from avoiding it.

“You... You listened to it...?” you murmured, surprising him.

“I mean... Yeah,” he nodded, “You put it there for me to listen to, didn’t you?”

“I just... I didn’t think you did...” you admitted, keeping your gaze on your feet, “Been a while since you’ve come in here...”

“Well, uh...” he cleared his throat nervously, “Corrine wasn’t wrong when she said I’ve been trying to think of something to say.”

“I’m just- I heard you and your friend talking before... I don’t- didn’t...know you thought I was happier... I guess I just thought... You know I’m not good at talking about my feelings... I thought that would be easier... M’sorry if it made you uncomfortable...”

“Uncomfortable?” he furrowed his eyebrows, “Why would it make me uncomfortable?”

“I’m- I dunno,” you shrugged lightly, “Jus’ haven’t seen you around since then, I guess...”

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable,” he shook his head, “I never expected you to still want me is all. Those songs you picked... That was a lot for me to hear all at once.”

“M’sorry...” you repeated in a whisper.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Y/N,” he assured you, “I know talking about how you’re feeling is difficult for you. I’m proud of you for trying anything at all.”

He saw the corner of your mouth twitch, making him barely smile as well. He watched you for a moment longer, finally realizing you hadn’t looked away from the floor.

“Hey, Y/N?” Ashton said softly, “Look at me? Please?” You barely shook your head. “Why not?” he furrowed his eyebrows again – had he done something wrong already? But, as you swallowed the lump in your throat, he could have never prepared himself for your reply.

“If I look at you again, I won’t be able to stop myself from kissing you,” you confessed so lowly, he almost didn’t hear you. But when his brain finally processed your words – when he actually realized what you were telling him – he couldn’t keep himself from smiling.

“I wouldn’t tell you to stop if you did,” he promised.

You tried to slyly wipe your face again, but Ashton took your hand and pulled it back down. He then put his hands on your cheeks and lifted your head up. Your eyes finally met his, and he could tell how hard you were trying not to start crying in front of him.

“You are my favorite person in the entire world,” he whispered, swiping his thumbs underneath your eyes, “You know that, right?”

“St-Still?” your bottom lip quivered slightly, your heart racing when he smiled at you.

“Forever,” he promised, smiling even wider when you wasted no more time in kissing him.

❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀・・・❀

other parts: part 1 / part 2

master list / master list for mobile users

you can also check out my last imagine here, my to do list to see what’s coming up, and click here to go to the page for my calum fic :)

Other bad boy AUs: Ashton / Calum / Marshall / Luke / Ashton / Calum / Michael / Calum / Luke / Luke / Ashton

Other exes AUs: Ryan / Nash / Ryan / Alex / Jack / Cody / Ashton / Luke / Alex / Calum / Marshall / Ashton / Ashton / Ashton / Michael / Luke / Michael / Marshall / Luke / Luke / Calum / Marshall / Luke / Cody / Cody / Ashton / Maxx / Marshall / Trevor / Luke / Ashton

taglist: @calumhoodslays @vendylewin @lunalove25 @i-opened-the-chamber-of-secrets @maurine5sos @rachellwrites​ @itkindajusthappenedreally @breathinginthevapor @double-tap-to-edit @all-i-want-is2b-loved-by-you​ @silverchainbee​ @disastrxlogy @kikixfandoms @5saucewho​ @mycollectionofnuts​ @sunnysidesblog @youngblood199456 @boxofteenageideas @newhopenessie @5-seconds-of-mendes

if you’d like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

[33-81]

missed but never forgotten 💔

[kateisinwonderland]

Remember my story, Black Ink

8 years have passed since I published it and now it may become a complete novel and a published one...What do you think about that?

I'm gonna leave the link to my inbox here so you can give me your opinion!

https://kateisinwonderland.tumblr.com/ask

Or go to my wattpad and leave a comment on the chapter I just posted about this (or send me a DM!):

Click here to read it

Black Ink | Tattoo artist Luke Hemmings fanfic

He worked in the tattoo parlour across the street and she worked in the florist around the corner. 

He was the dark guy and she was the colourful girl. 

They didn’t have anything in common but when Luke buys flowers in Noelle’s shop for the first time they realize that sometimes opposites attract.

Read and vote and comment if you like! 

Love you x

[carryonafi]

blood on the drums.

ashton irwin x reader; SMUT!!!🔞

a/n: HELLO MY LOVELIES!!! gosh it’s been so long, life has been chaotic and yes i’m still alive HAHA. but hey… this one’s been cooking for a while and this is the second au ive done!! my bae @souperbloom gave me some amazing WWE insight and i just needed to write some dirty wrestler ashton. so this is truly for the girlies who get it. i’ve missed yall, enjoy!!

words: 2.9k

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

SMACK

A gasp tore through your throat, watching Ashton stumble back to the rubber barriers of the ring and when he lifted his hand to his head, there was a mess of red everywhere. That horrible screeching ring of the bell going wild and signaling the end of the match had your fists balled at your sides

“Ashton!” You shrieked, running up each platform and entering the ring. The crowd seemed to ripple in cheers and shouts of surprise and excitement from left to right, all the way around the ring until you made it to Ashton’s side. Adrenaline pounded through your chest, getting down on your knees beside him and shooting a flaming, angry glare at his opponent. It took everything in you not to storm off and beat the shit out of him, but there were rules, you needed to abide by them.

“Are you okay?” You whispered, meeting the gaze of your boyfriend which was dazed and unfocused as you helped him sit up. Security was everywhere, cameras were on you, people watching were muttering angrily and shouting profanities at the intense turn of the match. Your shaking hands moved to cup his face, pinky pressed against his pulse point which was pumping rapidly.

“Yeah, fuck — ‘m fine.” Ashton breathed, wiping his bloodied nose on the back of his hand and letting you help him into a sitting position. Your heart hammered ruthlessly against your rib cage, not a single thing on your mind other than Ashton’s wellbeing as he swayed a little upon getting to his feet. Your arms looped around his waist. The unusual hesitation in his movements and the way Ashton seemed to think about every single step was more than concerning.

“Here, c’mon…” You hoisted his arm around your shoulders, the sheerness of sweat on him slicked your shoulders and hair which was messily tied back and falling out of its done-up style. Ashton leaned into you heavily, bringing a bit of irritance into your eyes. He just wouldn’t stand on his own— you had to basically push him the rest of the way down and into the right backstage door.

“We should get you some water or something, you look…”

Which was where he completely cut the act.

Ashton looked at you with a shit-eating grin, the blood from his nose trickling down to his mouth as he flashed you his teeth.

“I really fuckin’ got ya, didn’t I?!” He nudged you aggressively, making you snarl and almost immediately shove him off of you.

“What’re you talking about?” You snapped, glaring at Ashton with expectancy.

“Oh my god, Y/N — You really thought I was gonna pass out.” He laughed loudly, the sound grating to your ears. Seriously… you wanted to rip the fucking tape off of his knuckles with less care than you ever could’ve imagined.

“No! I didn’t! I was just playing my part!” You stammered, the heat of the moment quickly showing in your cheeks which you tried to play off as exhaustion, but there was no way in hell Ashton was letting you live it like that.

This ‘relationship’ which was set up by the script writers clearly had no thoughts taken to personal relationships, and not that it should, it was just a bit unfair that you had to be all sickly loving to the guy who you found painful to be around.

Ashton was still laughing, near tears to the point where he had to stop in his tracks and catch his breath. You leaned against the wall, nostrils flared up in shame and embarrassment as you stared him down.

“Are you done yet?” You muttered under the sounds of his laughter, Ashton pressed his sweaty back to the opposite wall and his cheeks stuck in a smile with broken giggles.

“No. no. Absolutely not, I’m not done.” He sighed heavily, still trying to catch his breath. The blood from the exaggerated blows had run down his neck, making a sick lightning trail of red which made you cringe. Ashton reached for a bottle of water on the table, carelessly cracking it open while staring dead at your face.

“What?” His eyebrows quirked, the angry little quirk of your lip, he found quite adorable.

“I’m trying to be angry. Stop talking.” You blinked at the way his body glistened, blood trickling in one smooth, flawless line down his chest and matting up in the section of hair in the upper center.

“Trying?” He hummed, tossing the water bottle into the recycling after slamming nearly all of it due to how much he had just exerted himself. Ashton’s eyes were back to boring into your face, the way your brows furrowed and how your lips formed a tight line as you held your tongue.

His face was so fucking annoying, his perfect eyebrows, sweaty skin and hair clinging desperately to his forehead. His chest heaved with every single breath now bated with laughter all while still feeling the adrenaline, it made your jaw tick.

“Never mind.” You snapped, oddly enough, as much as you avoided the blood the more he seemed to become insufferable again. Ashton groaned loudly, like he just lost a sibling fight. A pathetic child who thought he had you where he wanted you.

“Do you know how I feel about you?” Ashton jogged after you as you started to walk away again, your boots clicking aggressively along the tile floor. There were crew and doors, muffled music and crowd roaring which started to piss you off even more.

“Why would I care?” You added with a scoff, nearly ripping the hair tie out of your hair and letting the strands stick to your shoulders. One door seemed like a good choice, so you quickly swerved to the left and ended up in an empty dressing room with a sofa in the corner next to some lit up vanities. This wasn’t like the usual locker rooms, this was for real performances.

Once you turned around to face Ashton again, he looked angry as well which honestly caught you by surprise. “What?” You asked, looking at each frown line on his face and narrowing your eyes at him like he was acting a fool.

“You would never know what pisses me off about you.” Ashton shook his head, taking a few steps towards you and feeling satisfied with the way you stepped back. “Why would you care what I think, huh? Would it hurt you that badly to have a thought for anyone else?” He responded in the tone you were using earlier, and goddamn, something about him standing up like this was hotter than he looked.

“I do give a thought for other people, just not you.”

“Why?”

“I don’t fucking know, Ashton!” You threw your hands up, heels hitting the wall on your last step and his shadow loomed over you. “You’re annoying, all you do is bug me when I’m clearly not in the mood. You want to talk about thinking of other people? Pick up on the clues, idiot! Read the room!”

The arguing stopped, now it was just silence. Your breath on his and it all caught up to you again, the blush on your face started to mirror the dried blood thriving on his skin. There was a sudden, rough warmth on your hip which made your gaze snap towards it. Ashton’s hand was on you, sending a realization in the form of goosebumps all over your body. When you looked back up at Ashton, he was smiling that stupid cocky smile again.

“Y’wanna know what else pisses me off?” He spoke, pausing as if you would say something or perhaps react to how low his voice could get. “You can’t admit that you want me too.”

Too? Who did he think he was?

You shoved Ashton’s chest, not very hard… just a playful little shove as you tried to keep up your act. “You’re so humble.” You rolled your eyes, getting cut off by another hand on your chin, holding you in place as Ashton collected your lips in a tense and searing kiss. Relief. Sweet, intense relief.

That was one thing you couldn’t deny, you felt so relieved and it made your jaw significantly less tight.

“Am I reading the room correctly?” Ashton whispered against your mouth, ready for another hard smack… which he definitely received. Straight in the chest again.

“You’re lucky I didn’t kick you in the dick.” You whispered back, the tone soft despite the snarky comment.

“Why? You want it that badly and don't want to hurt it?” Ashton started to grin again, but this time it wasn’t that painful. The hand that was on your hip moved to the small of your back, calloused thumb gently caressing your bare skin. His words had you fumbling for a response, it wasn’t that witty, but everything about the last few minutes had your brain turned into mush.

“Fuck off!” You blushed, swallowing down your nerves and watching Ashton’s expression quickly shift to one of possession. You could see that light bulb above his head.

“Yeah?” He breathed, eyes challenging as you nodded and pressed yourself firmly against the wall. “Be that way, then.” Ashton muttered, the hand on your hip gripped tightly and his other swiftly trailed down the front of your skirt to lift it up.

“Ashton,” You cut yourself off as his hand moved between your legs, his eyes silently asking for permission as his thumb moved in slow circles over the fabric of your panties. Instead, you gave him a smile back. “Do what you want.”

There was that nasty grin again, Ashton chuckled and pressed a wet kiss to your cheek. “Sick.” He nodded, now using both hands to tear your panties down which ripped a gasp out of your throat. Now he had gotten all the green lights he needed, allowing the fabric to slip down to your ankles and catch on your tall boots.

It was unpredictable and such a blur, Ashton’s eyes had a bright sparkle of lust and wonder as his fingers dug into the softness of your upper thighs and hips, roughly guiding you to turn around and press your body against the wall. Your breathing had become labored, but Ashton wasn’t one to care. He quickly tugged your skirt up to expose your bare ass, and if only you could see the look on his face… but he wasn’t wasting time.

“This wet, all for me, baby?” He spoke against your hair, breath hot as he ran his fingertip between the slick folds and plunged deep inside once he met your entrance.

“Sh.. Shut up, you’re lucky.” You gasped, turning your head a little, but unable to see him very well. Ashton laughed from behind you.

“Still keepin’ this thing up, huh?” He said right next to your ear, giving himself another challenge as he pushed another finger inside of you. You were about to reply, but clearly, your act wasn’t going to be kept up for long.

Ashton had you pathetically moaning out into the nearly empty room, trying your hardest to keep yourself quiet since these walls weren’t very thick. He knew just the right spot, his fingers were long and rough, curled in just the right spots which drove you further and further towards the edge — until the sensation disappeared.

“Why’d you stop?” You whined, that voice… that didn’t sound like you at all.

“You want more of me, don't you?” He replied, in a tone that was unfamiliar to you as well. It was rough and husky, urgent and just as needy as you.

That was something you yet again, couldn’t deny. You swallowed down the lump in your throat and waited, waited… the silence started to ring in your ears and it became too much. Way too much.

“What are you doing?” You snapped, Ashton was standing behind you, clueless only for a moment until he grinned again.

“Hold on, hold on… tryna’ get a plan.” He mumbled, time broke when he finally moved forward and slowly guided you to turn around. As if you couldn’t do it on your own.

“Okay,” You breathed, disoriented eyes meeting that calculated stare as both of his arms hooked up under your thighs.

“Jump.”

It wasn’t a second thought, there was nothing holding you back from immediately following his orders and wrapping your arms around Ashton’s neck. You hopped up and his forearms flexed beneath your thighs, hooking them around his waist as he maneuvered the fabric around his own body to let his cock spring free.

Your breath coming out in short pants, you tried not to look down and instead stared straight into his green eyes which had morphed into a fury of lust and control fighting over one another. His body pressed yours as far as it would go to the wall, making your heart pound like this was your own match and you were just seconds from the end.

“Do you really fuckin’ want this, huh?” Ashton glared at you, but it wasn’t a harmful glare. It was hungry and feral. The only response he needed was a nod, fingers abusing the curve of your hips as his head dropped forward. He was looking straight down between your bodies, sweaty and bloody, letting himself gently nudge your wetness and drawing a whimper from the back of your throat. There was no control over your own body.

Your thighs were already burning from the effort, nails digging into Ashton’s shoulders and back as he only pushed himself further. It was a quiet mess of heavy breathing, soft grunts and light gasping… then it changed. His hips snapped forward aggressively which made you yelp in response, Ashton’s name just on the tip of your tongue as you bit down on your lip to stay quiet.

“Shit, fuck—“ He huffed, jaw ticking in concentration as he just let go. Ashton figured that if he had already lost it, there was no going back with that rough rock of his hips. His thrusts were near reckless, paying no mind to the sound of lockers and the uncertainty of whether or not the two of you would be heard. It was clear that you felt the same way, holding back was no longer an option as you cried out and grasped for any part of his sweat-slick body. It was his shoulders which faced the abuse and left him hissing with each drag of your nails.

“Gonna make me fuckin’ bleed, for real, ain’t ya?” He growled, his eyes boring into yours through the sweaty waves that fell in front of his forehead.

“Y.. Yeah, no props,” You stammered out the best reply manageable, gasping in pleasure and eyelids fluttering closed as Ashton found that spot.

“Fuckin’ look at me.” He spat, accompanied with a rough slap to your thigh, and not that it caught you off guard, but it did make your eyes widen right as he would have wanted them to. “Y’look like a real slut.” Ashton smiled, the pace of his thrusts slowing to a rough grind instead of the desperate abandon he had started with.

“God—“ You choked out, cursing under your breath with each tremble of your body. Body language was speaking for you, the quivering of your bottom lip and how even after this command, your eyes fell shut again.

“Go on, yeah… look at that.” He licked his lips, his eyes scanning frantically over your body as your release hit you like a truck. Ashton had the decency to let you ride it out slowly, becoming spent himself and pulling out to make a quick mess of your bare midriff. It was over about as soon as it started, your mind a bit hazy and confused with all of the events whirling around trying to make some sense of itself. The frenzy which had taken over Ashton died down, he carefully helped you to stand but kept a hand on your hip just in case the support of your jelly-like legs wasn’t enough.

“So…” You said softly, voice hoarse with way too much effort. Ashton’s eyes turned soft again, the way you had seen them a few moments ago.

“So.” He chuckled, but you shook your head.

“No, no… that was just one time, wasn’t it?” You asked, but it sounded like you were trying to convince yourself of the words you spoke. Ashton’s face fell a bit, blinking increased as he shrugged his shoulders.

“If you’d like it to be, I mean, that was kinda’ spur of the moment type shit.” Ashton was trying to act as himself, huffing out a laugh which didn’t quite make the cut and instead broke down the nonchalance of his act.

“I’m..” For the first time you were speechless, unsure of your feelings and the internal battle which was currently taking place. His hand was on your hip, but gentle. Gentle and steady, not something you two were used to. “Would you be mad if I said I needed to think?”

You had never seen his face light up so quickly, like there was a bit of childlike hope in his eyes as he nodded. “God no, absolutely not. Take your time, however long you need.” He laughed again, not strained at all.

However, the way that he had responded had you pretty sure that your mind was made already. As well as the way he helped you get dressed, used his own towel from his bag to clean up and walked you out through the back doors of the event to avoid being seen. There was no more thinking to be done, that was not a one-time thing.

[sinning5sos]

one of the boys (you can choose which one!!) having corruption kink and teaching y/n some stuff? I think it would be so hot him teaching her how to touch herself cause she’s never done it before and in the end just being “good but not as great as you make it feel”.

so basically innocent!yn + corruption kink if you could and isn’t weird for u to write.

Corruption

Requested: Yes you little freak, I love it

Word Count: ~2,100

Smut:  praise kink!!!!!!! Corruption, masturbation, teaching? Etc. DIRTY!

We all know Ashton has to be the kinkiest one out of the group

“Truth or dare, what are we back in high school?” Luke said, laughing off Michael’s suggestion. Michael rolled his eyes but leaned back against the couch. You were sitting next to him, Calum, Luke and their significant others on the opposite side of the coffee table. Ashton was off in the kitchen, gathering snacks for the group. It was a weekly occurrence that you all got together, something beneficial for all of you involved.

“We all know everything about one another anyway.” Calum said, and Luke chuckled.

“Well, nearly everything. We still don’t fully know you,” Calum’s fiance pointed out, her gaze on yours and everyone else followed.

“You guys know a lot about me,” You said, laughing a bit awkwardly but Michael shook his head.

“Mmm, not all of it. We don’t know the juicy details of yours and Ashton’s sexual encounters.” He said, wiggling his eyebrows. The girls around the table scoffed, but the boys laughed slightly.

“Who’s in charge in the bedroom? Is it you?” Luke’s wife asked, and you laughed again as you shook your head. You weren’t really sure how to answer that. You’ve had a lot of fun with Ashton, but you’ve always felt as if there could have been something else, if there could have been more.

“It’s equal in the bedroom,” You said, taking a sip of your drink to give you time to think of an answer, “But of course, it’s more so Ashton.”

“Well obviously, we all know that Ashton is super fucking kinky, it’s only a matter of time before he truly corrupts you,” Calum said, lifting his beer up in a cheers motion and you felt the blush creep onto your cheeks.

“He’s probably already done it, hasn’t he?” Michael prodded, nudging his knee with yours and you laughed, hoping your embarrassment wasn’t showing itself.

“What are you going on about me corrupting my girlfriend?” Ashton asked, bringing a tray of food into the living room. He had a smile on his face but a pointed look in his eyes. 

You smiled up at him, taking his hand as he sat on the other side of you, “Michael, you’re not being a dick again are you?”

Michael chuckled as he shook his head, and Ashton leaned his head down against yours. He turned slightly and kissed your hair, and you smiled as the topic drifted off to a different conversation.

“Tell me about it later,” Ashton murmured into your hair and you nodded. You knew all the jokes of Ashton being the kinkiest one, but he hadn’t shown that side to you. You weren’t a virgin, but you also weren’t as experienced as he was, and now that thought was a slight insecurity. You felt yourself becoming distant from the conversation, which Ashton so graciously covered for you as you thought more about what the boys had said.

Ashton hadn’t corrupted you at all, nor has he let you feel any shame in it whatsoever. But you wanted more from him, you just weren’t sure how to get it.

* * *

“Baby girl, why are you acting like this? Is it because of the conversation that I walked in on earlier?” Ashton asked, moving to join you on the bed as he knelt beside you.

“I'm not acting like anything.” You insisted, but you knew that was a lie. The conversation had been replaying over in your head, again and again, until the two of you had gotten to this moment. You weren't sure why the conversation was impacting you so much. I'm at the boys a joke around about summer things in the past, but there was a part of your deep down that wondered if Ashton had been holding out on you.

“Okay fine, I am. I’m sorry,” You said, laughing slightly as he looked at you.

“Don’t be sorry, just talk to me about what you’re feeling.” He said, an authentic smile on his face as he leaned down closer to you. He pressed his lips against yours, a nice gentle kiss but pulled back. 

You leaned in again for a kiss, deepening it and racking your brain on how to be more…aggressive. You bit down on his lip but winced as you pulled away.

“Princess, what was that?”

“The boys are talking earlier at Luke's that you're obviously the very kinky one and that I am not as experienced by your means. I don't know, it's just been kind of stuck in my head since we left.”

“Can you explain a little bit more?” He asked, nodding as he cupped your cheek, his thumb grazing the skin.

“I want you to corrupt me.”

He chuckled as he dropped his hand but stopped when he realized you were serious.

“Baby, what do you mean?” He asked and you sighed as you thought more about it. 

“I don't know, I just want you to teach me more. I'm not saying that I am completely innocent, but I know there's more that you wanna explore but you’ve been holding back on me?” You suggested.

“Is this coming only from the conversation or is this something you’ve been thinking about for a while?”

“I guess I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” You said sheepishly. His brow furrowed at your response, and he pushed off the bed, “Baby wait, I’m not -”

He cut you off with his hand raised and you quickly shut your mouth.

“I’m not mad. But we’re going to have some fun now, since you want to learn so badly. You want to be my little slut, is that what you want?” He asked, his voice hard but his eyes still soft.

You felt the blush creep back into your cheeks but nodded.

“Good girl. Now I want you to get up, strip, and then sit with your back up against the headboard.” He commanded. You were quick to follow his words, pushing off the bed yourself and climbing out of your pajamas. You shivered slightly as the air, chilled by the AC unit, now was blowing against your skin. You followed his instructions and climbed back onto the bed, your back now against the headboard.

He stripped out of his boxers and sat on the edge of the bed, by your feet and gripped his own cock. You licked your lips in anticipation, now so excited to hear his next words.

“Spread your legs Princess,” He murmured, his voice low and his eyes dark. You slowly spread your legs, feeling self conscious but also empowered and how hungry he now looked.

“I’m going to tell you what to do, and I want you to do exactly what I say. My mouth is about to be very vulgar, can you handle that?”

You nodded, but his gaze caught your attention.

“Verbal confirmation. Everything will revolve around your ability to answer me, is that understood?”

“Yes Ashton,” You whispered, and he nodded. 

“Good girl,” He praised, and you bit down on your lip again at the praise. Did you have a praise kink? “Now, I want you to take your right hand and bring it down to that sweet pussy of yours.” 

You followed his instructions, your hand grazing down your front to your core and looked up at him, waiting for the next cue.

“I want your fingers to tease your slit, but no penetration yet. Up and down, collect some of those juices I see running already.” He said. You followed his instructions, your two fingers grazing your lips. Your body jolted at the contact, but you kept your gaze on Ashton. His hand was moving ever so slightly, teasing himself and you at the same time.

“The same rhythm I’m stroking my cock, I want you to start fucking yourself with your fingers.” He muttered.

“Yes Ashton,” You breathed out. Your fingers, already slick from stroking yourself, pushed inside of you. You let out a slight gasp at the feeling, craving it to be his cock instead but you didn’t voice that - not yet.

“Good girl. Tell me how that’s making you feel?” He murmured. He started to stroke his cock just a bit quicker now and you matched his pace.

“It feels so fucking good Ash,” You moaned out. He chuckled as he nodded, licking his lips as he watched your fingers move.

“God, already so fucking wet and you’re only fucking yourself. You’re a fucking vision right now,” He breathed out, his eyes closing for a second as he increased his pace once again, “Insert another finger inside of you and start rubbing your clit with your other hand. Fast too, don’t hold back on it.”

You followed his instructions once again, adding in your ring finger inside of you as you brought your left hand to your clit. You moaned as you made contact with yourself, your clit being a sensitive spot for you. You started out rubbing slow circles, but as you heard him tsk, you sped up.

“Tell me again how you're feeling right now, baby girl.” He said, but you barely heard him over the sound of your own moans. You couldn't help it, the way that they fell from your lips at the situation. Ashton looked so hot sitting at the edge of the bed and stroking himself while fucking yourself with your fingers. 

“I feel so fucking good Ashton. I think I’m going to cum soon.”

“Good. Keep going, but don’t you dare cum without my permission.” He said, and you nodded.

“Ah, words Princess, or I’ll have to punish you.” He snapped.

“Yes Ashton, I won’t cum unless you tell me to,” You breathed out, your eyes peeking up at his and seeing him satisfied. He had a smug look on his face, his hand still stroking at a steady rhythm and you were starting to struggle to keep up. You felt your thighs begin to shake, but you kept your gaze on Ashton as you continued fucking yourself.

“Ash,” Your voice was desperate, but he chuckled. You positioned yourself sitting up more, your fingers still fucking yourself as your other hand was on your clit, and you moaned out as your body began to shake.

“Ash, please,” You begged. He stopped stroking and moved closer, giving you a singular nod.

“Cum for me princess,” He said, and your abs and thighs started to burn with how much you were restraining yourself. You let everything go, your orgasm crashing into you as you came on your own fingers. You stilled, your body now exhausted and Ashton went back to stroking himself.

“Let me taste you,” He murmured, and you brought your hand up to his lips. He sucked and moaned with your three fingers in his mouth, before releasing them as he was about to cum himself. He stilled, his cock twitching as he came and you enjoyed watching him become undone.

“I’m going to clean up real quick, then we’ll chat.” He murmured, pressing a kiss on your lips and you hummed quietly. He walked into the bathroom, and you pushed up on your elbows as you watched him grab a washcloth and run it under warm water before returning to you. You moaned as his fingers brushed against your core, feeling extremely sensitive from what had just happened.

“Tell me baby girl, what do you think?” He murmured, pressing a kiss against your neck and trailed them down your throat.

“I definitely enjoyed that,” You whispered. He chuckled as he nodded.

“You definitely did. Did you like fucking yourself while I watched?” He asked, sliding down slightly to drop the rag in the laundry basket before he turned back to face you. This was your favorite version of Ashton, his cheeks flushed and his face glowing in the post orgasm haze.

“I’d much rather have you inside of me instead,” You breathed out and he chuckled as he crawled up the bed, closer to you. He met your lips with his, pushing far more forcefully than earlier and you smiled into the kiss. He pulled back, his hand gripping the side of your hip as he lifted himself up.

“You’re going to regret those words Princess,”

[suchalonelysunflower]

Den of Vipers

Sinners and Saints: Chapter 1

Pairing: Mafia! Ashton Irwin x Fem! Hemmings! Reader

Word count: 5.8 k

Summary: Devastating news forces you to knock on the door of the last person you’d ever want to see.

Warnings: Death, murder, blood, guns, mentions of drugs, abuse, torture, kidnapping, language. Some gramatical errors (English is not my first language, I’m sorry)

Author’s Note: Hiya! Welcome to my new series. I won’t have a taglist anymore, so any way you can support this, whether it is a reblog, comment or like, would be very much appreciated ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy reading 🌻✨❤️

Series Masterlist

The roaring sound of the engine could be heard from your room, distracting you from the book you were so comfortably reading. A smile crossed your features as you jumped out of bed and made your way outside.

The sun was starting to set with the golden hour on the horizon. The image of your brother’s back walking out the door welcomed you for just a moment before you decided to jump on him, immediately making him drop the small amount of luggage he was carrying.

“Since when do you leave without saying goodbye?” You laughed, perfectly koaling your way along his broad back.

The perks of being a little sister: you’re never too old or too heavy for piggyback rides from your siblings.

Luke groaned a laugh “Since I figured I could be free from your ass a few minutes longer”

You jumped off him “You don’t mean that”

“Of course not,” He smiled, pulling you into a hug. “I was going to go up to your room in a few minutes”

It was always like this when he had to leave. Ever since he started helping your father at work, he’s been gone most of the time, barely having any time for you. It was no secret that Luke was your favorite amongst your brothers, nor did he hide the fact that you were his favorite as well. It was just the way it is, having just two years distancing you of age he became your best friend from the beginning. And it was not like you were allowed many friends either - or rather, no one wanted to be your friend because of your last name.

Luke got that, everyone in the family did. But growing up made it harder for you than your brothers. Being the only girl in the family does that.

“How long are you leaving this time?”

Luke sighed “Dad said it’s only for a week, but you know him”

“So I should expect you by the end of the month” You answered him, trying to hide the hurt in your smile “Can’t you come back early? At least for a few days?”

“Why?” He asked with a puzzled expression “Is there something important happening or…?” You punched him, he laughed “Of course I’ll try to be here for your birthday, little thunder”

And if Luke said he would try, he meant it.

He kissed your forehead before a loud honk could echo throughout the house.

“Someone’s impatient” You rolled your eyes.

“We gotta love him” Luke shrugged, grabbing his luggage and giving you one last look “Take care, Y/N”

“You, too! I’ll see you when you get back”

“I’ll bring you a present!”

You stayed at the door until you watched the car disappear through the gates. Little did you know what would happen next.

*

The brain works in funny ways. Always reminding you of things you would rather forget.

It’s been a week since “it” happened, but there wasn’t a day where you didn’t relieve it at least once.

The rain against the window; the loud knocks on the door. You were sitting in the kitchen, putting the last candles on your birthday cake, anxious about the promise Luke made you as you looked at the clock. How did they let the police just pass through the gate like that? Maybe the guards knew it was urgent. How you walked down the hall, careful just to eavesdrop without being noticed, just in time to watch your mother fall to her knees, her beautiful party dress ruined as the most horrifying sound left her mouth.

Then, it was all a blur.

People dressed in black. Your father having meetings after meetings behind closed doors, always catching your eye before the familiar click of the lock filled the silence. How the rain felt against your skin as the casket containing your brother's body was lowered down to the ground, never to be seen again. Your mother’s tears. The fake “I’m sorry for your loss” speeches. Your father's stone-cold expression as his hand covered your shoulder with some sort of affection. The silence that came afterward.

But it couldn’t end like that. It wasn’t right.

“We need to find him,” You told your father after the funeral.

He was sitting behind his desk, looking the oldest you’ve ever seen him. His eyes weren’t even focusing on you, almost as if he were also lost.

The first time he lost a son, Ben, your oldest brother, it made him cold as ice. It helped him build the empire he had now, grown on the blood of the enemies he took down along the way. You were just a child then, not older than thirteen, but you remember how fast things started to change. How friends stopped being friends, how business never meant the same thing again, how your mother stopped smiling as the jewels in her chest started growing.

But this is different.

“Dad,” You begged, hating how you sounded like a little kid again.

“There is nothing we can do, Y/N,” He said, coldly.

That’s who Robert Hemmings was, never sugarcoating anything. He tried, albeit your mother’s begging, to keep you out of the know of the family business. You were their only daughter, their little Angel, what good would it do to drag you into this world of madness and blood? It seemed like she didn’t know you at all.

“So you’re just going to sit there and do nothing?!” Your voice rose with every word.

Your father didn’t dignify you with a response, instead, he chose to sit back and close his eyes. For the first time in years, you realized just how old your father was getting. The creases upon his face were as deep as the dark circles under his eyes. His white hair was getting thinner by the hour, and the spots on his skin seemed to be growing.

For a second you wondered just how much time it had passed since you saw him smile, since you spent time with him like you used to when you were a little kid. But you were not a kid anymore, and the man in front of you did not seem like your father at all.

He seemed tired, he probably was after all of this. But you were tired as well, tired of so, so many things that you were done keeping quiet for.

“He is still out there,” You said, more quietly this time “I know he is”

“Y/N…” He sighed, rubbing the pads of his fingers on his temple, trying hard to come up with the right words before he exploded in a fit of anger as he usually does with his subordinates “You heard what the police said. You read the reports even though we told you not to-”

“The reports said they only found one body, dad. One!” You wanted to scream, to shake some sense back into him but for what? You could already see the lost battle before it even began “Maybe Luke wasn’t in the car, maybe-”

“The car was completely burned out! They found his jewelry, some bones- Y/N I don’t know how else to tell you! They’re dead!”

“Jack is dead,” You said somberly “Jack’s body is the only one that they found. Jack’s the one six feet below. Not Luke”

Robert sat back in his chair, shaking his head as you continued with your ranting.

“The bones couldn’t be identified, so it could be one poor soul that got the short end of the stick. It could be one of the collateral damage, as you call them, right dad? Could be fucking anyone! Luke could still be out there, he could be in trouble and we’re sitting here doing nothing-!”

A loud bang interrupted you. Your father’s fist was tense over his desk after he banged on it, not caring about the glass of water that tipped over and was now spilling over the edge of the mahogany. The vein on his neck was trembling as well as his jaw, but his eyes weren’t focused on you. Instead, he looked down, eyes wide and unreadable with every emotion hidden and swallowed by his pride.

Still, that didn’t scare you.

“Jack would’ve wanted for us to find him”

“Don’t you fucking talk about your brother” Robert spat.

“Someone has to!” You stood up, letting the foot of the chair drag against the floor. You have never stood up to your father before, but it was time to change some things around the Hemmings' household “You know I’m right”

“Y/N, Luke is dead,” He said, finally looking straight at you. The helplessness in his eyes took you by surprise “The sooner you accept it, the better. The ceremony for his remains will be-”

“No! That’s not him!” You nearly cried, but you promised yourself not to. Not in front of him. Not ever “I’m not going to mourn a stranger standing in his place”

Your father just shook his head, letting his hands distract him as he sorted out the papers on his desk.

“Dad,” You demanded his attention, leaning over his desk “Dad!”

No response, no reaction.

“Fine,” You said, voice laced with anger “I’ll go find someone who will pay attention to me”

You started to walk away, not looking back as your nails dug into the flesh of your palm, cutting the skin to distract you from crying out of rage and disappointment. This was not how you expected he would react. You didn’t expect him to give up just like that.

The merciless boss of one of the biggest mafia rings in the country… giving up for his son.

“Y/N,” He called out before you closed the door behind you, making you stop in your tracks but you refused to look at him “I’m thinking of selling the business”

Those words left you frozen in place, a drop of cold sweat dripping down your back as you turned to him, clear fear in your eyes.

“What?”

Robert, stoic as usual, didn’t look up as he signed over something.

“The Luccas made an offer” He explained in so little detail “I believe it’ll be for the best”

“For the best?!” You scoffed, feeling completely betrayed. A new low you believed your father could never be able to reach “For the best of whom? Your conscience? Breaking news, dad. You don’t have one. Cause if you did, you would never-”

You pressed your lips together, shushing the lump in your throat that threatened to escape in a sob. You took a deep breath and turned to your father.

“I hope you know this is the last time I’ll ever talk to you again if you dare to sell it to them. To him”

“That’s not your decision to make”

“Then consider me dead along with the rest of your children. You’re good at that”

The banging on the door was heard all over the house along with your shoes stomping on the floor.

*

He could laugh. Was it possible that they were that stupid?

It wasn’t a rare occurrence for Calum Hood and Michael Clifford to come at him for help, but really? Drugs?

“This has to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever asked me,” He said, both Calum and Michael shifted a little in their seats.

There they were, sitting in comfortable velvety cushion seats with leather handles; drinking a whiskey that was probably older than them; hands adorned with expensive jewelry and dressed in the finest suits they could afford. And they were afraid.

It was normal, of course, to feel intimidated by him. After all, his reputation preceded him as one of the deadliest men in the country. His successful deals gave him millions, and the ones that weren’t as successful still made him a threat. Men feared him or wanted to be him. Women fell at his feet on their knees and not just to beg for mercy.

There was no wonder why he was nicknamed “Lucifer” given that his eyes resembled the evil and cruelty of Alexander Cabanel’s painting. There was no good left in him, not that anyone knew. Not that he would show proof of that.

Ashton Irwin was a proud man, a respectable man. And the two men in front of him knew it, so why waste their time?

Both Calum and Michael were famous around town as well. The prodigal son, Calum Hood, became a household name after he took on the family business after holding his father at gunpoint to sign the papers for him. Soon, he enlisted Michael Clifford, a wizard in technology and heir to his own fortune - albeit a bit small - as his right-hand man. They made themselves known in the business, and even Ashton had to admit that it was surprising how quickly they went up the ladder amongst the other families he knew. But, as any rookies, they made a few mistakes and asked a lot of favors that they were now trying to amend.

“Calum, how’s your girl?” Ashton asked, leaning back on his chair, pretending that their request was never asked in the first place “Still running that bookshop back on Seventh Street?”

The smirk on Ashton’s face might not have meant anything else but a taunt to Calum. But the latter didn’t like the way he said it, almost as if he knew that his girl was his only weakness.

“She’s good” He answered, trying not to give him the satisfaction of seeing him affected.

Ashton hummed, looking at the third guy who was standing near the mirror on the wall.

“It’s not nice to bring security and bodyguards for a talk with friends,” He said.

“Is that what we are?” Michael asked, “Is that what we’re doing?”

“You tell me, Clifford. Cause I know for sure that if you came to me as partners then we wouldn’t even have this conversation” Calum opened his mouth to speak but Ashton silenced him “Because as you know, I don’t make deals with lost causes, and right now I’m seeing two in front of me”

“Ashton-”

“There’s a thing called “unsaid agreements” in this business, Calum, I know you’re familiar with that. And that is we don’t shit where we eat. We don’t sell drugs in this city, we don’t make deals with the locals, and for fuck’s sake we don’t owe favors to the ones that don’t comply with this agreement” He pointed his finger at the two men in front of him “And you two fuckers did the three things together”

“Well, what choice did we have?!” Calum asked “The Luccas were threatening to take over our territory and-”

“And I don’t give a fuck about the Lucass’” Ashton spat “In fact…”

In one swift move, he took a gun under his desk and shot the security guard right in the head.

“WHAT THE-”

“FUCKING CHRIST”

The two men yelled and jumped as the gun went off. Splatters of blood could be found in their clothing and faces, but nothing compared to the smear of blood and brains that now dropped from the mirror. Ashton, as usual, sat back in his chair with a smirk and hid the gun. Not a single drop of blood hit him or his desk.

“WHY THE FUCK DID YOU DO THAT FOR?!” Calum yelled, trying to wipe the blood from his clothes, showcasing his lack of knowledge of the business.

“Cause he was wearing a microphone you jackass!” Ashton spat “Hidden on the belt, look it up”

Michael leaned down and he in fact found a small microphone hidden behind the buckle. He sighed as he showed it to Calum. The two men looked back at Ashton with tired looks filled with anger and embarrassment.

“Another advice,” He said “Don’t fucking invite newbies to “important” meetings”

“You think you’re so smart…”

“I know I’m smart, Hood, and I’m the best there is in this business so don’t you fucking forget it. There’s a reason you came to me and not to the bloody Bermans” He got up and walked up to Calum, grabbing his chin and pulling his closer “I’m the only chance you have but I don’t even know if you two idiots deserve it. So, admit it, Hood”

Calum rolled his eyes, but Ashton tightened his grip.

“Say it” He nearly whispered, looking straight into his eyes.

“Jesus fuck, fine. We need you, okay?”

Ashton smiled, letting go of Calm and patting him on the cheek “Atta boy”

Just in time, someone knocked on the door before opening it. A young blond girl dressed in a white crop top and leather pants peaked inside, only showing half of her body but her whole face.

“Sir?”

“Lauren, not now”

“There’s someone here to see you”

Ashton rolled his eyes “I don’t have time for it right now. Whatever or whoever it is, it can wait till at least for the cleaning to come up”

“I don’t think it can wait, sir. She’s very insistent. I’ve been trying to hold her back for twenty minutes now” Ashton gave her a look that made her roll her eyes “She says her name is angel and that it’s urgent”

Ashton perked up at the name. Slowly biting the inside of his cheek, he nodded and turned back toward his desk.

He clicked his tongue before looking toward Michael and Calum, and then back to his assistant.

“Bring her in and send the cleaning team to at least remove that idiot, please” Lauren nodded and closed the door. He looked at his desk, putting away some papers as he nonchalantly said “You two, out”

“What?!”

“This isn’t over, Irwin-”

“Yes, Clifford it is” He stared at them but barely raised his head “Now get the fuck out before I make you”

Ashton could only hear a string of murmured curses and then the door closing with a bang. He smirked, “Angel,” He whispered to himself in a singing, mocking tone “What have you gotten into”

*

The blonde girl looked familiar. Her smile showed some kindness that you weren’t used to seeing around these places, even when you first encountered her behind the bar. She didn’t ask questions other than your name and the reason for your sudden visit.

“He doesn’t see people without a previous appointment,” She said, handing one more beer to the drunken men who slurred their thank you’s to her.

“What, is he a doctor?” You chuckled humorlessly, but the girl didn’t laugh along with you. her bright blue eyes just showed pity and understanding. You sighed “Look, tell him is angel, he’ll see me”

The girl shrugged “I can’t promise you anything, doll. Just wait here”

Once she was out of sight through a backdoor, you took your time to scan the place. Ashton did outsell himself with this one.

“The Den of Vipers” was the most popular club in the city, having opened ten years ago when Ashton took over the family business, it was still filled with clients who wanted to get lost for a while. Ashton was good at making people disappear, and it showed. This place screamed his name wherever you would look.

The floor was a dark marble with white gold lines separating the tiles. There were booths against the walls, all made of velvet cushions and leather. The lights were low, and changing from blue to purple, to green and then white again as the music played, it was impossible to keep track of the people there thanks to it. The bar itself was made of bulletproof glass, standing proudly and mockingly in the middle of the dancefloor, surrounded by different bodies lost in the mindless music the DJ of the night put on, almost in trance and unaware of the things that happened behind the scenes.

Of course, this whole charade of a humble business owner was just Ashton’s front to the authorities - even though they always seemed to be on his side, many times you heard your father complain about it - but you knew the reality. In fact, you were sure that when the girl came back, you’d be led through the backdoor and into the real building. You’d walk through careful hallways that will eventually lead you to the owner’s real office.

And that is exactly what happened once she came back and guided you through cushioned, sound-proofed walls covered in dark green velvet. The lights of the halls were dimmed, giving the feeling of being watched at all times like a haunted house. And you wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case, after all, Ashton could be anything but careless when it came to a negotiation.

Which is exactly why you’re here.

When you got to the door of his office, you didn’t need to knock as the door opened immediately. Two guys dressed in black came out carrying a bodybag, leaving the door open. You rolled your eyes because, of course, Ashton would make a big show.

“I’ll take it from here,” You said to the girl, giving her a small smile that she mirrored.

The first thing you saw when you came into the office was the desk. It had nothing but some papers and a lamp, no sign of family pictures or hobbies. It was common for the “big bosses” to keep their workplaces clean of any personal relationships, but coming from Ashton it seemed pretentious - at least for you.

The mirror still had blood stains on it and you could tell they were still fresh, even so you didn’t look twice. Blood and guts are not something that shocks you anymore, and that realization came with a whole can of worms you weren’t ready to open up yet. There were some stains on the floor and what you could assume was gunpowder residue, so you were careful not to step on those.

“I’d apologize for the mess, princess. But you and I both know it doesn’t matter”

You turned to find Ashton with his back facing you as he fixed a drink on his personal mini-bar. His broad shoulders and back were covered with the finest of suits - from Milan, everyone and their mothers wore clothes from Milan - his hair was longer than the last time you saw him.

When he turned around, however, it seemed like nothing had changed.

He looked mature, of course, twelve years can do that to someone. But his eyes were still the same shade of hazel you remember, only a bit more sadist. He looked good, and somehow you hated that. It was time to put the past in the past where it belonged and stop the memories before they cloud your mind. Still, something inside you kept telling you, urging you to let yourself go. What did it matter how he looked? But that thought came late for the half smile he wore as he walked up to you, made you realize that he caught you staring.

“Here,” He said, handing you a glass of whiskey and coke. How’d he know your favorite drink? that was a question for another time “I assume you’re a big girl now, princess”

You glared at him as you swallowed the whole glass in one go, never taking your eyes off him and his unimpressed look.

“‘m not a princess” You said, dryly “And I can make my own drink, thank you”

You pushed past him and walked toward the mini bar, fixing yourself another drink. It was clear that you didn’t need it, your mind was screaming and begging for you to keep a clear head while you were ahead and in front of Lucifer himself. But something in his smile… the way his eyes still treated you like a child, so condescending, brought something in you. A chance to prove yourself in front of him.

All your life you had to prove yourself in front of men like him. In front of women who think they were better than you because their hands didn’t get dirty as yours did. In front of your parents. Of Luke… How long until they realize that you are where you belong?

Once you finished making your drink you turned back to Ashton. His eyes roamed your body, shamelessly, he licked his lips briefly before a smug grin adorned his face, eyes looking straight at you.

“I can see that,” He said, leaning against his desk “So, angel, haven’t heard from you in a while”

You rolled your eyes “Don’t call me that”

“You’ve never seemed to mind it before”

“I’m not here to reminisce about the olden days, Irwin” You spat.

Ashton whistled “So the bitch can bark! Impressive. Who would’ve thought that the balls of the Hemmings family were hiding behind their youngest?” Your face turned red in anger as your fingers tensed around the glass. Ashton noticed and tauntingly walked toward you with a smirk and leaning to whisper in your ear “But guess what? Y/N, you still can’t bite”

Your body became hot at his proximity. The smell of his cologne filled your surroundings as the rage - or something else, something new - inside your stomach kept boiling. But before you could push him away, he was already pulling apart and going back to sit at his desk.

“Tell me, Y/N, what is a Hemmings doing here all by herself? Has daddy finally kicked you out?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, looking down unable to meet his eyes. You can’t believe you’re doing this, not with him. But there wasn’t any other choice.

“I need help,” You said, hating how those words sounded coming from you.

“Everybody does” He shrugged “Doesn’t mean they’re going to get it-”

“Ashton,” You finally looked back at him. The urgency of your voice and the fact that you called him by his name for the first time since you came here, took him by surprise as he listened “Jack’s dead”

Ashton’s eyes remained unchanged at your words, looking straight at you while his fingers played with his rings on the opposite hand. From his reaction, it was hard to guess that once upon a time he and the Hemmings’ siblings were inseparable, Jack being the closest of age to him and one of his first friends. Your eyes begged for him to do something, say something. To show you any indication that he might help.

The bond between your family and his broke a long time ago. You were barely a child, but you knew there was no going back to the summers filled with laughter and joy you all shared. In the blink of an eye - or at least that’s what it felt like as a child - The Irwins and the Hemmings were sworn enemies. And the friendship you had with Ashton vanished in thin air.

You and Luke took it the hardest, begging your mother to help you call the Irwin household so you could talk to Ash. Never understanding why suddenly her eyes filled with tears as she shook her head no and told you to play something else.

“He hates us,” Luke said to you once. It was another boring afternoon after you suggested calling him again. But Luke’s eyes were cold as ice, scaring you as he said “And we hate him”

And for a while that was it. You weren’t going to go against your brother, so the subject was finally dropped and you haven’t seen Ashton since. Or at least that’s what everyone thought.

But now, years after the fallout, you were hoping somehow that those words were a lie. Maybe Ashton could still hold some kind of fond memory of your families together. Anything to make you believe he might help you.

“My condolences,” He said after a while, no emotion hidden in his voice.

His comment made you angry, “Is that it?”

“What else do you want me to say?” He shrugged “People die every day, Y/N, it just the way it is”

“He was murdered”

“Shocker” Ashton scoffed with sarcasm “He was never the brightest of lads.”

“It was an ambush,” You said, unable to stop. “They were driving back home in the middle of the night when a string of bullets came raining down on the vehicle. Jack could barely escape before they found him and slit his throat. They burned the car afterward. And Luke-... Luke’s missing, Ashton”

Ashton nodded, pressing his lips in a thin line “He’s probably dead”

“No, he’s not”

And maybe it was because of your determination, or the look in your eyes when you said it, almost as if you believed it. But Ashton grinned at your statement.

“No,” He said, “He’s not”

A small breath of relief escaped your lips. Finally, somebody believed you.

“Would you help me?”

“No”

“What?!”

Ashton shrugged “Why would I help you, little Hemmings? What makes you so entitled to come here and ask for my help after what your family did?”

“My family?” It caught you off guard, what did he know that you didn’t?

“And why aren’t they helping to find their beloved golden child?” Ashton mocked, standing up and circling his desk until he was once again in front of you “All the stories we hear about the young, promising Hemmings… I’m sure they were not talking about you”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the comment, grip tightening around the glass, nearly breaking it.

“I am shocked that they didn’t start a search party already. Has daddy Hemmings opened his eyes to his karma yet? Why should I care? Matter of fact, why should you?”

“He’s my brother,”

“Cute. Not enough, but thanks for trying” He nodded toward the door “See yourself out, angel. This isn’t your castle”

Ashton turned around, not even giving you a second glance. Your hand reached out to him, grabbing him by the arm and making him stop. There were probably a few people who could do that to him, even fewer the ones who were still alive to tell the story. He turned his eyes toward you, curiosity and anger hidden in those hazel marbles staring back at you and then at your hand on his arm.

The tension was clear, but it was a little too late to rethink that mistake. If this was your only shot, then you had to take it. You owe that much to Luke.

“I- I have no one, Ash,” You said, looking down, ashamed of your statement and how weak you sounded.

Ashton didn’t say a word, he didn’t move away either. He stood there, waiting for you to continue. And for the first time in a long time, you felt relieved that someone was at least willing to listen.

“I left them,” You told him, looking straight into his eyes “I left my family because they did not believe me. They can’t find Luke, they won’t even try. He’s the only person I have left and I won’t rest until I find him, with or without your help”

Ashton grinned maniacally, a shadow appearing in his eyes as he looked down at you. Now you understand why they called him Lucifer. For he once was one of God's most beautiful angels, but temptation and his own ego were his doom. And, as he leaned down, you couldn’t help but be entranced by that wicked smile as he said, nearly whispering.

“And what are you willing to do, angel?”

It was a challenge, you could see it in his eyes. A bait to lure you into a trap. And you took it.

“Anything”

Ashton’s smile widened as he freed himself from your grasp and walked over to his desk to grab a set of keys, pressing a little button on it.

“If I’m going to help you, little Hemmings - and I’m not saying I will just yet - you’ll have to resign your name and what comes with it. I’ll be dead before I help a Hemmings out of the sheer kindness of my heart”

You rolled your eyes “You don’t have a heart, Irwin. Is that all you want? I told you I left my father”

“I don’t need a rogue princess fumbling with my business” Ashton scoffed, “So whatever I say goes. You’re working for me, Hemmings, not the other way around” He walked closer to you again, his chest nearly hitting yours “If I say go, you go. If I say we stop, you stop. If I say get out of my sight, you better pray your little feet move fast. I don’t care who you are, what you are, or what you represent. If you fuck with me, I’ll fuck right back. And I go hard, angel. No intentions of having any kind of mercy. Understood?”

You challenged him with a look, trying to figure him out. But time was running out, and you didn’t have any other option.

“Yes.” You said, dryly.

Ashton clicked his tongue “Yes, what?”

“Don’t push it, Irwin” You took a step back “So, we have a deal?”

The doors to the office opened and two large, muscly men dressed in suits came in and stood quietly but threatening at the door. You crooked an eyebrow and looked back at Ashton.

“Friends of yours?”

“Acquaintances,” He said, walking over to them and getting out the door, only stopping for a second “You comin’?”

The two men walked behind you as you followed Ashton through the halls that first brought you there. The image of his broad shoulders walking under the low lights and out toward the club shielded you from any distractions. He would sometimes glance over his shoulder, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of his lips when he noticed you were still walking a few steps behind him.

People at the club were sweaty and unashamed. Bodies grinding against one another and along the beat of a dark EDM song. Some women and boys would walk up to Ashton, letting their hands grace the skin of his face and neck or arms as they each seductively said hello to him. It seemed as if they were enchanted by him, moved by a spell of lust as their eyes would meet his. They wanted him, they all wanted him. Ashton would smile, say their names, and acknowledge them with a hello before moving to another person, another step toward the exit.

Ashton led you through a door that led to another dark hallway. The music sounded muffled through the walls, blocking your ears at the sudden change of environment. Ashton walked a few steps ahead before he stopped and turned around toward you, hands in his pockets as he looked at you and grinned.

“Now what?” You asked, annoyed “Any other fan of yours that we need to greet?”

Ashton chuckled and shook his head.

“No, just precautions”

“Precautions? Why would you-”

“Sorry, angel”

And with a snap of his fingers, the world went black.

*

[nicksbestie]

maybe y/n and Ashton having an argument? he seems like a really calm guy most of the time so it would be interesting to see how he is during a serious moment like that

Argument

word count : 1010

warnings : talks of alcohol addiction

enjoy!

<3

“Why do you keep doing this?! You keep shutting down and closing me out! I can’t help you if you won’t let me!”

“I told you! I don’t want to talk about it! You keep pushing me and I don’t want to! Yet you keep doing it!”

“Because I fucking care about you!” 

“I didn’t ask you to care about me!” 

Ashton spun on his heel, stalking out of the room and you could hear the front door slamming shut, knocking a picture frame off of the wall. You slid down the wall, sitting down. What had just happened? It was a stupid, hypothetical question. You knew exactly what had just happened. You’d tried, once again, to get Ashton to put down his drink and talk to you, but he wouldn’t do it. You didn’t even know the person you were in a relationship with anymore. He was completely taken over by addiction, and the fridge was never not stocked with strong liquor. 

You didn’t hate him, even though you maybe should. You wanted him to heal, you wanted him to cope, but he didn’t realize that he was just making everything worse. And while the aggravation of fighting with him hung heavily on you, the worry was worse. You hated fighting with him, especially because Ashton was downright scary when he was angry. With his broad frame it was terrifying to be on the receiving end, even though you knew he would never lay a hand on you. 

Luckily, he had left his location on, and when you noticed he was at Calum’s house, you sent him a text. It was late at night, and it wasn’t a long text, either. You trusted Calum to take care of Ashton. They had such a close bond, and you believed that if anyone could get through to him, Cal could.

12:31 AM : Please be safe. Get some rest. I love you.

*read 12:33 AM*

Checking your phone after showering to see Ashton had left you on read, you sighed, shooting off a text to Calum as well. 

12:50 AM : Take care of him. I’m heading to bed, but if you need me, call. Thank you &lt;3

*read 12:51 AM*

12:52 AM : I will. Getting him sober, and then we’ll talk. He’s staying here tonight, at least. He’s rambling about how upset and sorry he is for yelling at you, if that eases your mind. I’m the one who saw your text on his phone. He loves you too. See you soon &lt;3

Reading through Calum’s text really did help you relax, knowing that Ashton didn’t mean to start a fight, or to unintentionally hurt you. Hearing, or rather, seeing, the confirmation that he still loved you helped you sleep, when you finally did crawl into bed. You fell asleep still upset, but knowing that Ashton was in good hands made you much less anxious. 

You woke up to a soft knock on your doorway, having always been a light sleeper. Rubbing your eyes and sitting up, you saw a figure standing in your door, easily recognizing it as your boyfriend. You checked your phone to see the time, noticing another text from Calum that he sent earlier. 

9:45 AM : Ashton is refusing to stay here. I tried to stop him, he’s determined to fix things. I’m sorry if you still need space. I hope everything works out. 

You didn’t reply right that second, setting your phone down after realizing it was just past ten. You looked up, noticing Ashton hadn’t spoken, so you broke the silence. 

“How is your hangover?” 

He shrugged, not making eye contact. 

“Not terrible. Four out of ten.” 

You sat up, throwing back the blankets that were normally deemed as being on Ashton’s side. 

“You were an idiot, Ash. You drove drunk. I don’t care if it was just down the road to Calum’s. Rest assured that I am very angry at you.” 

The shame sunk into his face, along with a mixture of sadness.

“I know. Calum ripped me a new one this morning. And last night, too. I can’t believe I did any of that, including our fight. I’m so many different levels of sorry, and I know that won’t fix it, but I am.”

You could see just how guilty he felt and how much he was beating himself up for it, as while one part of you wanted to say he deserved it, the other part won. You patted the bed, motioning him over. 

“I’m angry beyond belief, and I don’t want you to think you’re off the hook here. However, I still love you, and I know you didn’t intend for this to happen. So come lay down, I’ll get some painkillers, and we’ll talk.”

The conversation lasted a few hours, and a conclusion was finally reached. Ashton swore he was going to get sober, and he got rid of all of the alcohol in the house. He called Calum, profusely apologizing for his actions the previous night, and thanking him for everything he did to help. He never wanted to see that look of fear and worry in any of his friends or loved one’s eyes ever again. 

Two years later, he hadn’t broken that promise. He was now two years sober, and was making consistent progress in his mental health, with the assistance of therapy. He knew he needed a better solution than drinking his problems away, but he hadn’t gotten that push to actually fix his behavior. 

At this point, you could look back on that struggling time in his life, knowing that he didn’t have to go through it anymore. He reminded you every day that you were one of his main reasons to stay sober, and his self control improved every day he didn’t touch a drink. All of the rest of the band were so accommodating, even doing a “Mocktail Chats” for their most recent album to make him feel more comfortable. All in all, things were, by far, better.

[let-the-bands-take-c0ntrol]

Adore You (Part 4)

A/N: I don't even know if people still look at this blog, but someone messaged on AO3 asking me to finish this series, so I decided why not!

Ashton IrwinXFemale Reader

Part 3

Warnings: talks of alcohol use, embarrassing moments, food, fluff

A groan of pain left your lips at the bright light coming through the curtains. Your head was pounding and your mouth felt dry as the Sahara Desert. You peeled your eyes open only to squint once again at the bright light. You turned away from the window and found yourself facing a nightstand with a picture of Ashton and some people you didn’t recognize. “Oh fuck,” you moaned out, placing the pillow over your head. You had almost forgotten you had called Ashton drunk last night. Worst of all he saw you puking your guts out and you asked to go home with him. “Take a deep breath,” you whispered to yourself, breathing in deeply through your nose and slowly out your mouth.

You timidly pulled the pillow off your face and sat up straight in the bed. You were still wearing the same clothes from last night. You didn’t remember falling asleep, but must’ve done so in the car. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the bits and pieces of Ashton that you could gather. Your attention landed on the picture again, taking in the people surrounding him. They all had a similar shade of hair as him, bright smiles painted on their faces. You concluded it was his family after a few minutes and a smile embraced your own face at their happiness. After placing the picture back into its spot, you slipped out the bed. You sucked in another deep breath and decided to finally leave the room and face the embarrassment. 

Ashton wasn’t anywhere inside the one bedroom apartment. A computer desk in one corner being disheveled and a waste paper basket overflowing with crumpled up paper. There was a pillow and blanket on the couch, letting you know Ashton had slept on there last night. Your fingers traced along the back of the couch as you made your way towards the desk, eyes locked on the pictures clipped around the space. Ashton didn’t just take pictures for the school journal. The ones in front of you now showcasing various places and people. The way he took pictures captured the true essence of the subject. It was an art and he was damn talented. You continued to look through his stuff, trying to find out more about Ashton. It was the sound of the door opening that made you turn towards the entrance and see Ashton coming in. “You’re up!” he grinned, closing the door with his foot. 

“Uh yeah,” you muttered, hands going behind your back in embarrassment at being caught practically snooping. “I was just looking at the pictures,” you finally admitted, watching as he sat a bag down on the kitchen counter. 

“Those are from my trip back home,” he said, walking over to you to grab one of the polaroids. He smiled at the picture and then handed it over to you. “That one is my sister for her birthday. She wanted me to take some professional looking shots,” he told you. Your fingers grazed over the picture and you laughed at the clearly non-professional pose of cake being smashed into her face. 

“She’s pretty,” you commented, handing back the picture. He nodded at your words, setting it back in its spot. “Do you travel a lot?” you questioned, eyeing a section that showed landscapes. 

“Only when I can. Harder to do now that I’m in school,” he commented, heading back towards the counter. There were a couple of the same location, but with a timestamp to show the progression of the light change. It was then you realized you had no idea the time of day. Did you sleep through the morning? Was it late afternoon? You had absolutely no clue.

“I thought you might be hungry when you got up, so I went out to get lunch,” Ashton said, answering the questions running through your head. 

“Thanks,” you muttered, suddenly shy in front of him now. You hadn’t contacted Ashton in two days and when you finally did, it was because of a drunk call. He didn’t seem to mind, digging into the bag to take out containers of food. Yet for some reason you felt guilty. “For everything,” you added on, finally walking towards him. 

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to make sure you were safe,” Ashton reassured. You shook your head at his words and his eyebrows furrowed at the action.

“No, I just-” you began, swallowing hard. “I was going to call you today and say yes to your date proposal-I’ll admit I blanked when you had asked me the question because no guy has ever been that up front with me.” You began to pick at your nails an action of you being nervous which Ashton had picked up on. 

“I’m sorry I drunk dialed you and that you had to see me like that.” He had been sitting at the counter, elbow resting against the counter and chin in the palm of his hand. A chuckle left his lips at your words. “Don’t laugh at me!” you exclaimed, only making him laugh even more. 

“I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you,” he began, “It’s just-you’re cute when you’re flustered.” Your mouth clamped shut and your eyes widened in shock. Ashton tossed the bag into the trash bin and slid over one of the boxes to you. “Eat,” he said, digging into his own food. You stared at him dumbfounded for a second, then climbed into the barstool next to him. The two of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity as you began to eat at the food he had gotten you. After some time you chanced a glance in his direction. He had already been watching you with a phantom of a smile on his face. Ashton had been trying to figure out what to say to you since your apology. He didn’t mind that you drunk dialed him. Didn’t mind that he was the one to come and get you. Ashton was in fact quite pleased that you even asked to stay with him last night. It showed how much you trusted him and it made him feel relieved. 

“Usually a few dates have to go by before I reach this stage with someone,” he finally spoke. His heart warmed at the smile that came to your face. “But, I seem to have a soft spot for you.” You giggled at his words and relaxed in your spot. 

“Well, we’ll have to fix that then,” you replied, earning a nod in return. The rest of the afternoon was spent with you and Ashton making plans for a proper date. One that wasn’t on campus or as a result of a drunk frat party night. After the food had been finished, Ashton offered to drive you back home. The next time you would see him would be for the date and you had to admit you were excited for it.

[littledrummeraussie]

masterlist. | moodswings masterlist. | want to be added to my taglist?

warnings: hitman!Ashton. mentions of violence, blood and death. strong language. manhandling and small pieces of actual violence (she does not get hurt, I promise). discussion of addiction (gambling). discussion of murder. this is a heavier chapter, please be cautious.

word count: 3277

author’s note: Hello, I’m slowly working my way through this fic, and I’m enjoying every couple hundred words I’m able to write at the end of my days.

This is your reminder that this is not a fluffy, happy story, even though it has its moments when it touches on softer things. Ashton in this fic is definitely problematic, so please, proceed with caution.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

- - - - -

chapter 2.

- - - - -

“Did you think of anything else?” you walked around the grocery store with your phone pushed against your ear as you chatted with Ashton, putting some chips into your cart.

“I think I’m good,” he hummed on the other side, and you jotted down a few more things onto your list. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. They are literally holding back everyone until we solve this problem.”

“Sounds familiar,” you pulled a face, stopping in one of the aisles so you were not in the way of anyone. “You think they will let you come home to sleep and all? Or will they make you set up camp in the office?”

“I’ll sneak out and then back in the morning,” Ash chuckled a little, and that made you smile as well. “I really need to go back now, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. See you at home?” your voice was laced with flirt, letting Ashton know that you were in the mood for some fun if he was able to make it on time.

“Of course. Bye, love,” he made a little kissy sound before hanging up, and you hid your face in your palm, giggling quietly in the middle of the store.

Two weeks passed since your little misunderstanding, and during this time everything seemed to fall back into place. Ashton checked in with you regularly, not just when you were both working, but also during the time you spent together, wanting to make sure you were both on the same page. For a few days you let him spoil you, but after that things went back to normal, and you no longer thought that he’s hiding something or someone from you. If you wanted to be honest with yourself, you felt like the two of you did a great job in sorting this thing out, even though you thought that you might have been overreacting it all a little bit. But better safe than to be sorry, right?

You spent another half an hour in the store, buying some more stuff for the upcoming week. Ashton’s been busy in the last two days, working long hours after his boss found a problem which needed urgent attention, and you thought you might surprise him with something nice for dinner, or if he came home late, then you also had a few options to make him a hearty breakfast. His efforts did not go unnoticed by you: there were little things that reminded you every day how much he loved you and how much he wanted you to know that you were important to him. The least you could do now was to take care of him as work piled upon his shoulders – if it meant his favourite meal or a blowjob in the morning, so be it.

There were a lot of cars in the garage when you arrived home, but his spot was empty next to yours. You hoped it wouldn’t be midnight by the time he came back – you were really in the mood to snuggle up on the couch, put on a movie that none of you watched and was only background noise to your late night kisses. It was the perfect plan for a chill Friday night, something you knew both of you were craving since the week started.

You played some music as you started putting away the groceries you bought, quietly singing along while gathering ingredients you needed for the meal you had in mind. Doing this with Ashton around was always much more fun, you liked sharing the kitchen with him as you cooked together, even though he was more in the way than providing any actual help, but you really didn’t mind – there was something soft and domestic in the whole thing. You liked him brushing up against your side or that you could ask him to taste whatever you were making, and also to reach things on the upper shelves so you could watch that tiny sliver of skin peeking out from under his shirt.

It's been a little more than a year since you moved in with Ashton, and you felt like it was one of the best decisions you’ve made in a long time. What you had with him was special, and this was one of the reasons why you wanted to work on your relationship any time you ran into a bump in the road. With Ashton doing his best to make up for the misunderstanding he caused you wanted to meet him in the middle, and as you thought more and more about it, you became more certain that the two of you were on the right way to build an even stronger and better relationship, something that could last for long years, if not a lifetime.

“Dammit, where are you?” a huff left your lips as you looked for your phone; you wanted to send a quick text to Ash, asking when he thought he would get off work, but the damn thing was nowhere to be found.

You felt a pang of guilt as you grabbed your keys, making your way back to the garage and your car. Just two weeks ago you got upset with Ashton because he left his phone on silent, and now you were the one who forgot it on the passenger seat or in the trunk, making you unavailable. If Ash was looking for you and you did not pick up his call, well, you thought he had every right to be mad at you once he got home. And if the black car parking next to yours was any indication, he already left work to check if everything was okay with you, and you hated how he might have come home early because he couldn’t reach you. His boss won’t like it when he finds out about it, that was for sure.

“Ash, hey? Are you in there?”

You already grabbed your phone from the passenger seat (it was right where you’ve left it), and now peeked inside the storage room which belonged to your apartment and which was now open just a fraction, letting you know that Ashton was probably packing something in there. It was usually him who brought stuff down and put them away in case you needed them later, and you rarely checked what was hidden on the shelves and corners, knowing Ashton would find them quicker than you did.

But Ashton was nowhere to be found. You frowned, looking around the tiny space, then back to the garage, trying to find your boyfriend. A thought crossed your mind that maybe he was already on his way back to the apartment, and that maybe he missed locking the door, but as you turned back to close the storage room something caught your eyes.

In the back there was a gap, something that looked like a door, hidden in the wall. You’ve never seen it before, but then again, you were the one who moved into Ashton’s space and you didn’t really leave anything down here. Curiosity got the better of you, and you stepped closer, opening the door just a little more to look inside. You desperately wished you didn’t do that, but it was already too late.

“Ashton? What is goi– oh my god!”

It was something you couldn’t unsee: the ropes and the bags, the guns lining the walls; so many guns it was impossible to count them. And in the middle of it all – Ashton. Ashton, the man you loved and cared about, who bought you flowers and donuts, who washed your hair and held you close at night, who kissed you senseless and said ‘I love you’ one too many times before falling asleep. Ashton, who still brought you on dates and acted like it was the first time, who touched and teased you under the table to make a mess out of you, who made sure you were satisfied and fucked good by the time your night ended.

Ashton, who was throwing a pair of leather gloves onto a table next to a bloodied rag, clothes wrinkled, hair dishevelled and eyes dark as he looked up at you, a grimace appearing on his face as a quiet ‘shit!’ left his lips. With his foot he shoved a gym bag under the table then took a step towards you, and that was the moment your instincts kicked in: you turned on your heels and ran out of the tiny space, out the storage room, ready to open your car and just flee–

“Where do you think you’re going?” you felt his grip on your waist, pulling you back against him, and you started thrashing in his arms, trying to free yourself.

“Let go of me, you monster!” you kicked back, aiming for his shin, but you lost your footing as Ashton picked you up, suddenly throwing you over his shoulder. “What the–”

“You weren’t supposed to see that,” he kicked the door of the storage room closed, voice low and dangerous.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” you hit his back with your fists, but it was like he didn’t even feel it. “Put me down, you–”

“Calm the fuck down!” he stopped in front of the elevator, squeezing hard where he was holding onto you. “If you don’t stay quiet then I’ll have to make you.”

You suddenly understood that this wasn’t his usual silly threat, the one he always made when you were feeling frisky and started teasing him, wrestling him on the bed, always ending up under him as he tickled you, your shrieks filling the room. He pressed his lips against yours to kiss away your giggles, reminding you in a whisper that the neighbours will hear you if you don’t stay quiet, and they will think he’s either being thoroughly naughty, or is trying to kill you. Now the memory made you sick, knowing that maybe those harmless, flirty threats held a much deeper meaning you didn’t know about. You tried to twist out of his grasp again, but Ashton was much bigger and stronger than you, and he kept you in place over his shoulder as he rode the elevator with you back to your apartment. And it made sense, of course, how it was so easy for him to do so – he probably needed to dispose of a few bodies, or simply just move them from one location to the other. Tears started gathering at the corner of your eyes, and you quietly sniffled. Maybe it was your turn now; maybe you were his next victim.

The elevator arrived with a ‘ding!’, and you hoped and prayed that someone was on the other side waiting for it, and that you could tell them to call the police because this wasn’t a romp between lovers, but when the doors opened the hallway was empty. Another futile attempt was made from your side to get out of Ashton’s hold, nails digging into his arm where you could reach him, but he only hissed once before adjusting you up on his shoulder, digging through his pockets to pull out his keys. A second later both of you were inside the apartment, the door locked tightly behind your backs, giving you no option to escape the nightmare you found yourself in.

Ashton put you down on the couch, and you immediately backed into a corner, making yourself as small as possible as he checked the long scratch marks on his arm, flaming red and slowly oozing blood where you broke the skin.

“That’s quite the scratch there, darling,” he finally looked at you, a scowl on his face. “This never happened during sex. You’re feisty.”

“I’m not just gonna let you throw me around like a ragdoll,” you grumbled, sending a dirty look his way. “Just because you’re bigger that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna fight back!”

Ashton finally let out a loud sigh, running his fingers through his messy locks. Suddenly he looked tired and done, his shoulders tensing before sagging a little, almost like he felt defeated in that moment. But then he turned towards you with a new vigour, taking a step forward, and you were crowding into the corner of the couch again, reaching for a pillow, like that could save you somehow.

“Don’t you dare touch me!”

“Just let me explain,” Ashton sighed again, stopping and taking a step back to give you space.

“Sure, now you wanna explain after you’ve dragged me up like that? And what are you going to tell me, Ashton Irwin? What the fuck was that? Who the hell are you?”

“I’m a hitman.”

The sudden silence that settled over you was deafening. Even though you started to understand that your boyfriend did something that was far from legal, there was an honest surprise on your face and that made him chuckle bitterly. He threw himself down on the other side of the couch, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table, tiredly rubbing at his eyes.

“You’re happy now, Y/N?”

You were rendered speechless – how were you supposed to react to a bomb like this? How could you go on with your life, pretending that everything was normal when you just caught your lover in a hidden compartment of a storage room, clearly trying to clean up after a mess he made somewhere in the city? Maybe it would have been less painful if he cheated on you. Now you wished that’s what he would have done instead of doing whatever he did during his so-called work hours and late night walks.

“Go ahead. Ask away,” Ashton said after a few silent minutes, almost sounding nonchalant. “I guess I have nothing to hide anymore.”

“…what was in the bag?” your voice was timid and quiet, afraid to learn what he has to say, but still, it sounded like the safest question to ask.

“That’s the first thing you can think of?” his bitter laugh was back, clearly not believing that this was what you really wanted to know.

“Ash…”

“It’s not body parts, if that’s what you want to know,” he rested his head back on the couch, closing his eyes. “It’s just a change of clothes. I have duplicates of everything, so in case something got dirty I could change out of it without you noticing. I washed those when you weren’t home. Easy as that.”

The smallest of nods was your only answer as you let the silence settle over the two of you again. You tried to curl up in a ball as much as you could, the corner of the couch providing a little bit of comfort, almost like you could hide there without him finding you. A few minutes later Ashton glanced at you, the look in his eyes unreadable, and that made you shrink into yourself. Without a word he pushed off the couch and disappeared in the kitchen, and you felt panic rise in your chest again – thoughts of him coming back with the kitchen knife or a hidden gun made you shake. Still, you tried to think of any way to hide or escape, to run for your life. But you had a feeling he would find you anyway; that was his job, right? To find and get rid of people.

A mug was placed in front of you, steaming hot and smelling a lot like the drink you liked to have when you needed comfort. You finally looked up, giving a questioning look to Ashton, eyes flitting between him and the cup.

“It’s just tea, not poison,” he sighed, reaching for the mug and taking a careful sip before giving it back to you. “I’m not trying to kill you.”

“Could have fooled me,” you pushed the mug away, finally finding your voice and giving him another hard stare. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he scoffed, and that made you even angrier.

“No, Ashton, it’s not fucking obvious, because up until today I’ve thought I had a normal, functioning life and relationship with you, and then you’re telling me you’re a hitman and expect me to just understand that that’s actually our lives! Like how long has this been going on?”

“Six years,” Ashton answered without missing a beat, clearly done playing pretend. “You wanna know what happened? I had a gambling addiction. And clearly I was a shitty player because pretty soon I was drowning in debts and they didn’t let me join any of the parties until I did not pay up. That’s when the opportunity came.”

“To kill people?” you were in disbelief, but Ashton just nodded.

“At first I didn’t know that that would be the job. Someone approached me after one of my many failed attempts to get into a game, and they offered to pay off my debts if I helped them take care of something. So I said yes and the next thing I knew I was given a gun and a target,” he finally settled in the armchair, elbows resting on his knees, hands clutched together and on display in front of him, almost like he wanted to make sure you had a clear sight of them.

“You could have refused!” you were angry – at him, at yourself, at the whole situation; he was way too calm for your liking. “Just say no and be done with it!”

“You clearly never had a serious addiction. No offense,” Ashton added almost like an afterthought, before he continued with his story. “When I was done I threw up immediately, I was sick of myself, of what I’ve done. But you would be surprised how easy it is to kill after the first few times.”

“…how many?” it was long minutes later, after the silence settled over the two of you again; your voice was just above a whisper, not sure if you really wanted to know the answer.

“I don’t count,” Ash shrugged his shoulders, slightly shaking his head. “I just do the job they ask from me. I don’t ask questions, and they pay me that same night.”

“What about your gambling addiction? Or is that something you’re keeping from me as well?”

“I’m not playing anymore. My debts were cleared and I never went back. I had another thing that kept me high, and they even paid me for it.”

“Great – you just exchanged one addiction to another,” you heaved a breath as you stood from the couch, pacing back and forth in the living room. “What’s the next surprise? Your other job is just a cover for all of this and you actually don’t do anything all day long, just clean up after your night outs? Is your name even Ashton? Or that’s also just a lie?”

“I know you’re upset with me, I understand. But now that you know all of this we need to discuss some serious things,” he followed you, and you threw up your hands in front of you, making him stop again.

“Don’t you dare touch me! And I’m not interested in your thoughts or discussions or whatever bullshit you have to say about all of this because you, Ashton Irwin or whoever the fuck you are, you have lost me. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“Y/N, listen. I’m just trying to protect you,” he tried to make his voice sound calm, and at that you scoffed at him, turning on your heels to lock yourself in the bedroom.

“You don’t have to. I’m already living with a monster.”

- - - - -

@mymindwide​ @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @suchalonelysunflower @talkfastromance4 @ashtonsunflower @in-superbloom @wiiildflowerrr @lovelywordsblog @heyitskelseaj @cthheaven @sofsversion @justreblogginfics @whentherosesbl00m @sadistmichael

[valentiyne]

𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖢𝖠𝖲𝖳 𝖮𝖥 𝖬𝖨𝖣𝖭𝖨𝖦𝖧𝖳

(𝖡𝖮𝖷𝖤𝖱!5𝖲𝖮𝖲 𝖠𝖴)

FIND MIDNIGHT HERE

[caketopics]

idk why its so fucking funny & endearing to me that Luke has gone as Ashton twice for halloween

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

Sweet Dreams--Part 17

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

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert. Tried to keep this as gender neutral as possible!

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

It happens every year. Calum knows this. But he’s still shocked when his phone shakes and the details stare back at him, New Year’s Eve. Eclipse. Doors are opening at 9PM. Your plus one is already accounted for, still in? Calum checks who the text is from again--though it’s always from Keegan, who always organized the New Year’s parties even in college. When Calum sees it is Keegan’s number, he is shocked that he somehow forgot he’s coming. But it’s less about the fact that the party slipped his awareness and more about what it means, more about who will be there. Keegan ensures to invite everyone from their college group, year after year. 

The last time he really spoke with Nora was at this year’s Summit in early May. A gathering that happens in spring as various national leaders and royalty meet to rub elbows but also to make work on foreign policies and deals. More deals and exchanges are made at the Summit than on policy floors. His interaction with Nora then had been pretty minimal. She was a panelist for one of the talks that focused on reproductive health policy and Calum, who’d been working with his mother on potential reform, went to that talk so that his mother could handle something else. Calum really shouldn’t even say that he talked to Nora then. He’d really only thanked her for her contributions and asked if she was doing okay. She was cordial, thanked Calum, and wished him well too. 

The interaction was all of five minutes if he had to time it. But prior to that, his contact with Nora is non-existent on the personal front. He hadn’t even gone to the new year’s party last December either. Calum opted, instead, to go with his parents to a party they’d been invited to--and though it wasn’t the rager he’d been accustomed to thanks to his years in college, it was still a nice time. But just like clock work, like every day has a noon, Keegan’s text reminds Calum yet again of the New Year’s Eve party, of the reality he’d been a part of for years. 

The shower stops and Calum looks up from his phone when the door opens. A small tuft of steam follows behind you as you step out of the threshold. Your hair holds a little bit of moisture, the weight heavy to your scalp from the water. You’ve acquired his Conway Studio’s t-shirt as yours. He’s not really sure when he lost custody of it, but every so often it pops back up in his laundry and he knows. You want him to wear it so it smells like him again so he does, he’ll throw it on after a shower when he’s changing into lounge wear and will keep the shirt for a couple weeks at least until he hands it back over to you for a pajama shirt. It’s a silent exchange now. 

The thoughts of Nora are fleeting, nearly as if the text message never came through as you move closer now to the bed. All Calum cares about is you. All he cares about is if your back still hurts like you mentioned earlier, or if you actually ate enough today on your breaks. He cares about how you cart around the relationship coupon book. He cares about so much more than his own measly anxiety. 

“Is there something on my face?” you ask in a tease. 

The smile in your voice breaks the internal trance and Calum takes in your smile. “A beautiful smile,” he quips. 

“Thanks, love. But seriously--is everything all good? Looks like you were thinking there for a second.”

“I got a text,” Calum answers. The anxiety is not nearly as fleeting as he’d hoped by your pressure. It’s a lame way to start the conversation, but it’s the truth. “A college friend of mine is throwing a New Year’s Eve party. It’s at Eclipse.”

“What time does it start?” 

“9. And I get it if you're working and you’re not interested because of that. We can skip.” The mattress gives as you settle onto the edge of it. 

“I didn’t say anything about that now, did I?”

“No, but I just want to be mindful.” He doesn’t want to overstep and knows how taxing the holiday season is, especially for those in retail and food service. 

“How long does this go for?”

“Usually ‘til about 2AM. That’s the hard cut off if I remember correctly. I don’t really ever stay that long, pretty much bail after the ball drops.” Calum usually leaves around 12:30. Not the first to leave but he’s absolutely not waiting until the last possible moment to leave out. 

“Are you okay with driving? Or are you looking to party pretty hard? I’m working that same day and probably can get back here around 10 or so.”

“Yeah, I don’t mind driving.” It might serve Calum better to stay sober than anything else. It does mean any embarrassment will be remembered but it could be his saving grace from making a fool of himself in the first place. 

“Thanks. I should be quick with a shower and then we can aim to be ready to go at 10:30?”

“Whenever you get ready, it's fine with me.” You don’t really take long to get ready as it is. He’s the one that hems and haws over the choices, but even that’s pretty minimal. “I’ll make sure I’m not the one holding us up,” Calum laughs. 

Your returned laughter is short before you speak again. “So, who’s all there? Like all your friends from college?”

There’s an emphasis to the question plus the distinct mark of you picking at the non existent fuzzies on his comforter that tips Calum off. Maybe he wasn’t the only one a bit more nervous about what such an event would mean. But there’s no reason for you to worry. “It’s…the whole group, yeah. But Luke, Michael, and Ash will be there too.” He hopes it softens the blow. Part of Calum wonders if he’s softening the blow for himself more than he trying to soften the blow for you. 

You nod and bring your gaze up. “I guess I’m worried more about you. How do you feel about that? Do you know if Nora’s going to be there?”

Her name doesn’t sting like Calum was expecting it might when you say it outloud. But it does settle on his chest heavier than he anticipated--much too preoccupied waiting for the sting, he’d forgotten about the crushing weight. The reality he’d been absorbed into at one point, to the point of marriage, with her. It’s not the kind of ache that feels raw, not the kind of ache that consumed Calum when the breakup first happened. It’s the kind of ache that comes with old and long sustained injuries. The kind of ache that only really returns when the weather changes, but for the most part with meticulous care stays hidden away. 

“I don’t know for certain. But she goes every year, so I know she’s most likely been invited.”

“And-and how does that make you feel? That’s my main question.” It’s a clarification. Not dismissive or angry, but very direct. He’s not to avoid the inquiry this time. 

Calum takes a moment to drop his gaze to his own comforter. “There’s a reason why I was dodging it, you know,” he starts. The laugh is devoid of any true humor even to his own ears. The mattress dips again and you settle onto your knees off to his side. The flat of your palm is soft and warm against his cheek, a gentle urge to bring his gaze back to yours. An instruction Calum does follow. Your gaze is warm, full of understanding too. 

“I know there is. But part of this relationship is that I ask those hard questions. And I’m going to be there too, no matter how hard it gets.”

Your gaze is steady to match the steady brush of your thumb over his cheek. It’s grounding--Calum knows just how long your thumb will rest at his jaw before it slides back up towards the apple of his cheek. It’s predictable. And that’s the thing about this party. He can’t predict how it’ll go. He can’t say for certain if it’ll go well or if it’ll go up in flames. “I feel like I should be over it. And in ways, I am. But I don’t know.” 

All the words are failing him. He’s in love with you. He wants to spend his life with you. But something as simple as a party has upended him. He’d never really talked with anyone about it. Occasionally, he asked his mother for advice and for her listening ear, but a lot of it was just time. He’d had so much time. But maybe it’s less of an open wound and more like a scar that acts up in the cold weather.

“Yeah? But it’s like you’re not sure about those other ways?” It’s poised to prompt for more. He can hear it in your voice what you’re asking him: what are the ways that he still aches? 

Calum hates these moments, when he knows what he’s feeling but can’t seem to get the words out of his mouth to match it. His inhale is slow with a matching paced exhale. “I banged up my knee pretty bad during a football game once. Didn’t tear anything but I was taped up for a while and sometimes I think about physical therapy for it. It aches like that knee sometimes, you know? I don’t think about Nora and don’t worry about that most of the time. I am over it. But it’s like, grief? Something about how the relationship ended that just feels better than a normal breakup.”

“Grief never fully shrinks,” you start. “The injury gets better because other ligaments and muscles get stronger around it. You get stronger around the grief. But it never really goes away.”

What Calum had so desperately to be a straight line was turning out to be more like a circle. A wind and bend, but never a snap--always curving around, coming back, a way through that was a loop. He’d never really worried about the knee until he started increasing his weights. He never really worried about Nora until it’s clear he’s got to be around her. And though he understands what you mean, Calum still wishes this grief would shrink. 

“Maybe you’re right,” he concedes. But maybe he wishes you weren’t. 

“Do you want to go to this party?” you ask. 

It’s the question Calum hoped you wouldn’t ask. Because he doesn’t think he wants to, but he doesn’t want to miss out. The silence settles. He can feel it heavy in his lap but you watch him watching you. A steady gaze as you hold his eyes. Your thumb a steady stroke over his cheek, etched into the ridges of your thumbprint Calum feels what is you want to say but have not uttered yet, you don’t have to go if you don’t want. 

But it feels foolish. It feels weak not to go. 

“I want to try,” Calum settles for. Because it’s still a weak answer. He can back out at any time. He can be a coward. But he’ll always be able to say he tried. 

“Why do you say it like you’re not certain, love?”

Because I’m not. “I think it’s all I have for right now.”

Your nod is measured, two bops before you press a kiss to his forehead. “We’ll take any and all attempts,” you whisper into his skin. 

Calum doesn’t want to be a coward. It would ultimately be a matter of time. He’d have to learn to deal--find a way to not let the grief and fear choke him. But he’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he prayed that such a time actually came. A selfish notion he knows, but that doesn’t stop him from wanting it. It could all be a matter of perspective. If he looked at it less like the thing that could break him, it might feel different. But the thoughts are a weight on his chest that not even your presence fully chases away. They settle, under the sheets, with the two of you and burrow in the gaps. In the spaces that you aren’t pressed up against him, Calum feels the heavy dread settling in. 

And the dread doesn’t go away. Even though Calum tells himself, he won’t chicken out. Even when he promises to himself that the worst of it can’t all be that bad, dread is a passenger in the remaining days until the party. When Calum goes for a drive, dread is there. When Calum fixes himself a snack, dread is hissing in the cold air of the fridge. When Calum washes his hair, dread is in the plops of the water into the basin. Dread is the unwanted guest that Calum can’t get rid of. And maybe it won’t ever go away. 

He feels the dread hovering over his shoulder as he zips up the black dress pants--they’re a straighter cut with more space in the ankle and shin, not as narrow as his usual attire making them easy to pair with his Docs for the evening. Dread breaths down his back and not even the spritz of his cologne deters it. You’re quick in the shower, as promised, and just as swift with getting dressed too. The red shirt is daring, especially considering you don’t button it up all the way. Nothing too revealing as only the two three buttons remain open and the winter is harsh, but it’s a nice pair for you to be in red in contrast to Calum’s all black attire. The party isn’t a funeral, even if it feels like one to Calum. 

“Hey, Calum,” you start softly. It’s a small shock for you to use his name so sternly, even if it is gentle. He blinks for a second, then two, and you are slow as you pull his hands down from smoothing out the t-shirt. “I’ve noticed you’ve been quiet lately. And not that this isn’t your usual demeanor but something does feel off to me.”

It’s the stench of dread. The heft of terror. It would make anyone quieter. “I want to go,” he states in return. You haven’t really asked the question. Yet, he knows what’s underneath your words. Because he does want to and still, that doesn’t mean he’s not scared of the outcome. 

“I understand that. You--” there’s a pause. Your hand squeezes around his and your exhale is soft. “If you ever get into a bad position and I’m not there beside you, find me, okay? Squeeze my elbow if I am there. Just let me know when it’s too much, yeah?”

It’s clear you want to say more, that more is probably loaded behind those words. But you don’t utter them. He’d bet his last dollar it’s along the lines of trying to encourage him that he doesn’t have to go if he doesn’t want to. But you don’t say it. All you do is ask two simple things. He can find you if you’re not there. He can squeeze your elbow if you are. So he nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”

You press a kiss to his cheek, smoothing his shirt down over his chest. Your fingers find his wrist and trace the bracelet you gifted him still there against his skin. It’s grounding, even if only briefly for Calum. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Because ready’s not the word. It’s not the phrase Calum would use, but he’s not backing down. 

“Still okay to drive?”

“Yeah, I need the excuse not to drink if I’m honest.” If he’s going to embarrass himself, he’d rather remember it. Rather not have anything to haze his judgment outside of fear. 

The drive is mostly silent. Though Calum does still keep a hand on your knee as he drives and though you absentmindedly trace shapes on his forearm, and though there is the radio on, there’s a distinct silence between the two of you. Dread’s moved to the backseat, but still it hovers and Calum prays to a god that he’s not the same believer he once was in that he makes it through the night. You don’t make any moves to break the silence. And Calum can’t think of anything he can say to break it either. 

Eclipse is bright--even though the night is thick and dark--there’s the loud hum of music from the doors as you and Calum approach. The strobing lights pour out into the street as people enter the club--a beacon in the middle of the night it feels. A buzz that echoes the thumping of Calum’s own heart rate in his ears. God, he should turn back around. He should tell you that he’s a fucking liar and he’s selfish and he doesn’t want to do this. No one would really blame him, but Calum thinks he’d blame himself. He’d torture himself over the failing. Even as much as he wishes it never came up, even as much as he wishes he’d lied about that text and this party, Calum knows the suffering would probably be much worse if he avoided it. 

He feels insane--torn between such a desire to avoid this reality and an overwhelming stubbornness that he wouldn’t back down now that he’d all but committed to it. For every exit you attempted to create, Calum ignored them. Perhaps, it’s self-flaggation. Maybe in all his years on earth Calum had yet to discover his own masochism until now. It’s pathetic, and stupid, and reckless, but Calum doesn’t stop himself. He doesn’t take the exit.

The bass rattles his teeth. Calum’s sure the speakers will lift off their risers at any given second with the way the music seems to only get louder the deeper and deeper he goes. Your hand is warm--your fingers thread through his. It’s not massively crowded in the club, thankfully. But Calum’s pretty sure that given another half an hour more people will be pouring in. While Calum’s group of friends from college wasn’t massive, Keegan has connections to several clubs--rugby, rowing, several student political organizations, clubs that Calum’s sure don’t even exist on the campus anymore. What might seem like a normal house party should anyone else take over easily turns into a 200 person ordeal with Keegan. 

At the bar, Calum keeps you close. “You want anything?” he asks, lips pressing almost right up against your ear. 

“Just a Sprite for right now,” you call out. 

“You know you can drink. I’ll be okay.”

“Maybe in a bit,” you shrug and Calum lets it go. You hadn’t proven yourself as a heavy drinker anyway and with the noncommittal answer, Calum takes it that you’re still toying with the options. When the bartender goes to him, he orders two Sprites. 

“Opening or closing?”

“Uh, opening. They’re with me so whatever they get just keep it on my tab,” Calum returns, pointing over to you. 

The bartender nods, eyes locking on you only for a couple beats after they return the card. “Sounds good. The two of you on the same tab, got it. So just Sprites for now?”

“Yeah,” Calum nods. 

“Got it.” The bartender turns for the glasses. 

“You made it!”

Calum turns to the sound of Michael’s voice, leaning in across the wooden bar. “Are you saying you worried about me?” Calum teases. He laughs with more humor than he actually feels but is swift to give Michael a hug in greeting. 

“Ah, glad to see you again,” Michael addresses you. The hug is quick. “I’m still fucking drooling over those cupcakes every time I think about them.”

“Hi, Michael. It’s a pretty easy recipe,” you offer at the start.

“Oh, I’m a shit baker. But I’d certainly help,” he laughs. “The rest of us are on the second level. The couches that overlook the dance floor if you want to join. Everyone’s up there.”

The three of you pause and Calum feels the heated stares directed at him from you and Michael. “Well, not everyone,” Michael corrects. “But our group is.”

Maybe Nora won’t show. Maybe in the club of this size they won’t cross paths. But the dread is still like lead in his gut at the prospect. It could all still happen. “Thanks. We’ll be up in a second. Have you seen Keegan?”

“Uh, it was maybe half an hour ago. On the dance floor. God only knows where he is now,” Michael answers. 

There’s a slight drift, where Michael’s gaze falls to the floor and then back to Calum and Calum wonders if that means. If it’s a warning of something more, Calum doesn’t really get the chance to ask it before a glass is handed over to him. The clear liquid fizzes and he knows it’s the soda. 

“Keegan’s floating right now. We’ll make sure we find him,” Michael adds on in the mindset of the distraction. “Let me get my drink and we’ll head up to the couches together.”

Calum agrees, but he can still feel it in his toes that he’s desperate to find somewhere safe. Surveying the dance floor is a little useless. It’s dark. A lot of people are paired up, swaying to the bass that rattles through the building. It feels nearly impossible to piece together who’s who until they’re mere inches from him. Safety may be a nearly impossible desire to achieve. 

The passing seconds are filled with the bile of anxiety and introductions. Even in the few minutes it takes for Michael to get his drink, multiple old football teammates approach him with slaps on the shoulder. They smile over at you as Calum introduces you. He’s sure you’re just barely keeping up with all the names. But they come and go--also looking for something to drink as well. But there’s still a little bit of panic as each one approaches that he’s going to come face to face with her. 

Maybe getting it over with early will save him. Maybe it’ll just sour the whole night. But neither possibility comes to fruition just yet. Michael turns back around, two drinks in hand and leads the way through the crowd up towards the stairs and then to the corner the boys have commandeered. You stay close, which is a saving grace, fingers threaded through Calum’s. But once the couches fill out and Ashton, Luke, and a couple others fill out your vision, you ease away just a hair. Your warmth still seeps into his arm, and side, but the press of your palm into his is gone. 

“Thought you might’ve been avoiding us,” Ashton teases as you and him embrace.

“Who says I wasn’t,” you laugh. It’s a sound Calum could place anywhere, even in the temple splitting thump of the club. Ashton’s laughter is sharp too in response. 

“You okay?” Luke asks in his greeting with Calum. The two are inches away, glasses in hand but neither one of them looks really sipped at all. 

“Sometimes I think I’m crazy,” Calum returns, part of it is humorous. But the other part is true. 

“We’re here for you. Just…just stick with us,” Luke suggests. And it’s viable. But Calum’s not sure if you’re going to want to dance at some point. Then there’s the countdown. But maybe Calum’s too caught up on what could happen that it’s taking away from what is happening right now. 

“Thanks, man. I appreciate it. How was your Christmas?” It’s best to change the subject. Better to distract, since Calum’s already here and Ashton’s got you sucked into a conversation. 

“Pretty good, I went home and spent time with my family, which is always nice. We started looking at wedding venues, finally.”

Calum whistles. The proposal went smoothly, but not much progress had been made since the early spring about it. Not that Calum thought there needed to be any rush. The group was just coming off the tails of Michael’s wedding in January and Luke’s proposal in April. Maybe after the buzz of the holidays there was more space to consider the details now. 

“Still thinking about a wedding planner?” Calum asks. 

“We have a meeting with one in..two weeks? I’m not sold on it. She is though, so we’ll see how it goes.”

“Buddy, I love you, but you can barely plan a dinner party.” Luke asked for a more intimate setting to gather but scrambled to get a date and time until four days prior and still asked if people were okay with bringing a dish--a bit potluck style. It wasn’t a huge bother for Calum, but still rather a tight deadline in the grand scheme of things. It was made doubly sour because Luke had nearly a month to get it together. 

“It was one attempt. I need redemption, you know this!” Luke laughs. 

“Your proposal I think might be redemption enough. Get the wedding planner,” Calum states. 

Luke’s shrug is noncommittal as he goes for a sip of his drink. “My knee still hurts from time to time after that.”

“You’re the one that wanted to propose on the cliffside.”

“Because it would be romantic. And it was!” Luke defends. 

“The videos do it justice.” While Calum hadn’t been there for the actual event itself, he’d help get Luke’s partner around the city in the meantime to get her nails done and to grab lunch. Ashton and Michael helped ensure the house was set up and Luke was working with other friends to get the final touches on the cliff situation. The entire thing went smoothly from what Calum had been told. 

“You finally going to give yourself some new year's resolutions?” 

It’s not that Calum doesn't believe in resolutions. He doesn’t believe in the timing of them. Changes can be made any day, any time, any month of the year. The pressure to start new on exactly January first feels too trivial. It’s not realistic. “You already know the answer to that,” he laughs, watching the way Luke smiles well before he finishes the question. 

“Ah, c’mon I had to try and see if you’ve changed your mind at all about them. Looks like it’s still the same.”

“Yeah, it’s still the same,” Calum agrees. “What are yours? And I swear if you say gym again for the fifth year in a row I might have to disown you as a friend.”

Laughter shakes Luke’s shoulders. “Guess you gotta disown me then.”

“C’mon, man. You say that shit every year and in three months you give up.” It’s not that Luke doesn’t work out. He is good at getting four days in at the gym. But Luke’s always said he wanted to bulk up a little and every year he stays about the same. “Besides, I don’t think you need to bulk up at all. You look good.”

“Oi, easy for you to say. But I don’t know. Maybe I should just say I’m going to stay consistent. It’s helping the ol’ knees stay in good shape so it’s better than nothing.”

“You cannot talk about knees,” Calum laughs, halfway to taking a sip before he pauses. “Don’t do that to me.”

The conversation carries Calum away from the dread, away from the anxiety. He settles in with Luke, Michael, and Ashton, with you only a few steps away talking to Michael’s wife and Luke’s fiancée. It’s easy here. So fucking easy and he almost chastizes himself for being so worried. He’d worried about all that and it’s building to be for nothing. It’s just a party. One singular night in the grand scheme of the cosmos--hardly a drop in the bucket. He’d forget all the exact details of the party in a few months. This night wouldn’t matter in a few months, if he’s honest. He’d twisted himself sideways only for him and his boys to spend most of the night laughing into their glasses. 

Calum feels the press of you into his back, one of your hands curling around his elbow. Or at least, he assumes it’s you as he can’t quite see, but when your voice floats up through the music, he relaxes a bit more. “Want another soda?” you ask. 

“Uh, no. Do you want something though? I’ll go with you,” he offers. “Or go get it. Either way.”

“No, no, stay here. I don’t mind. You sure you don’t want anything? Water, maybe?”

Water does sound nice. It’s growing warm in the club. Though the area they’ve settled into isn’t packed like the dancefloor, the sheer amount of people in here is radiating heat upwards. “Water, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t. I’ll get it for you, love.”

Calum nods, watching you carry down the steps. He watches until the red of your shirt is totally absorbed--sucked in by the red of the lights and the sheer distance of your body moving further and further from him. When he can’t see you anymore, Calum turns back to the group. It’s easy to forget as some old football teammates meander their way over and start regaling the tight games, the well fought victories. Calum’s sucked back into a time he remembers so fondly, that he’s not really paying attention to Michael, who seems to have a bit of a wide eyed stare. 

What is he on about? Calum thinks to himself and just as he goes to settle his full attention to Michael; he hears her. Her voice loud as it has to be to be caught over the music and just from his left, behind Joshua, Nora appears. Right behind her, Calum recognizes Sean--the son to a business mogul, known for advancements in pharmaceuticals. Sean’s father is the grandson to an old and well respected politician, a path Sean’s father didn’t take, but Sean definitely has as a lobbyist. 

“Got space for us to squeeze in?” 

The circle shuffles to accommodate them. Calum moves too, a couple steps back and one step closer to Ashton, but he watches the way Nora slips in and Sean steps in to her right. They look cozy. Calum shouldn’t assume and he shouldn’t be worried, but something in his gut lurches. Are they dating? Just as the question surfaces for him, it’s answered when Sean slips his arm over her shoulder. Nora reaches up and the stone dazzles in the light. It’s not the same cut Calum was looking at--a pear cut gem to the marquise that he’d been on the verge of purchasing. 

“Oh, that’s quite the ring,” Joshua quips. “Congratulations appear to be in order, yeah?”

Nora nods. “Yeah, he proposed on Christmas Eve. So if this is on the news circuit tomorrow, I’ll know who to start with,” she laughs. 

It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt. It stings--sharp, but fleeting. Granted it had been two years  and growing at this point. There was plenty of time. They had plenty of time to heal and move on. And he’s happy she has moved on. He’s glad neither one of them is stuck wallowing or bitter. But still, something about it still feels like a shock. 

“Congrats,” Calum returns. He wishes he hadn’t finished his drink so fast. He wishes he’d gone with you to get another. What should he do with his hands? He could still leave, dismiss himself with his empty cup, and find you. But is it really that bad? It’s just…a ring. Nora had every right to move on. He had. It’s just a ring, but it’s also so much more. His brain can’t quite place it in this moment, but he knows it is more than just a ring. Calum knows he should stop staring at the ring. It takes another minute to peel his gaze away, only for it to land on Nora’s face. Her hair is shorter--much shorter than she used to wear it. He doesn’t think it was this short at the Summit either. The black strands just brush the top of her shoulders, right near the base of her neck.

“Thanks.” Nora’s smile is tight and a little awkward. “Looks like things are good for you too, Calum?”

It sounds like it’s too much of a question. Like Nora’s somehow unsure or worried about Calum’s response. “They are,” he answers with a nod. Because it is the truth. Things are going well—with you, at his job.  Calum doesn’t miss Nora. Doesn’t want what they had back. It’s just the grief in all of its big and obnoxious ways. Calum is just staring his own grief in the face. He’s sure Nora’s doing the same. Like one might do after losing a parent and looking back at the old photographs. There’s the idea of what once was. 

“Good,” Nora smiles. This one feels a bit more lived in, relaxed in the way that only comes with relief. 

The seconds tick by are thick and slow. Calum can feel the eyes on him, how Luke, Michael and Ashton are locked into his every move. Calum wonders if this is how animals feel at the zoo with their handlers, watched in a way that reminds the animal that it is dangerous and wild, unpredictable. But Calum’s not a wild animal. He’s not going to spook. He can handle this. Even if it’s hard and awkward. It won’t kill him--not literally at least. “So, I guess we really shouldn’t make a competition of who got what for Christmas,” Calum starts. “Don’t know if any of us can top an engagement.”

It cuts the tension nicely. The group laughs and it’s a nice segway for Joshua to give the news of his own engagement--the day after Christmas--had been accepted too. The group gives another round of cheers and congratulations to the news.  “And here I am. Solo island,” Ashton laughs. 

“My wife keeps saying she knows someone,” Michael offers with a laugh. 

“No, I love your wife. She’s amazing. But I did go on a date with that girl she’s talking about and it went so poorly,” Ashton says. His laughter dissolves into the retelling of the disastrous date--spilling pasta sauce all over himself, getting the girl’s cut caught in the car door. They’re all minor snafu’s but it all accumulates to a degree that a second date was pretty unsalvageable. It earns the group’s sympathy.

Calum slips his arm over Ashton’s shoulder in comfort. Even though Calum never laments his own friends' hardships, he is glad to have the focus shifted from him. “You cannot be that harsh on yourself, Ash,” Calum reprimands. “It probably wasn’t all that bad.”

“Mate, utter dog shit, I’m telling you,” Ashton confirms with a grin. “But there’s a pretty cute librarian I’m having a hard time asking out. I took some of my younger cousins for the day and we made a stop at the library, to help give my aunt a day of sanity, you know. And this librarian, she’s really cute, but I feel like I’m cursed after that disastrous date.”

“One bad date is not the end all be all,” Calum encourages. 

“Yeah, you could always go back and ask for a library card or something. Ask for a book recommendation,” Nora suggests. 

“It’s not a bad idea,” Calum agrees. “If you think she’s cute, then it’s worth a shot. At least one.”

Ashton shakes his head, taking a sip of his drink. “I don’t know. Maybe. I think I gotta shake the bad juju off.”

“No better shake than getting back onto the wheel,” Luke chimes in. 

“Shit!” 

“I’m so sorry!”

Calum looks over his shoulder and notices you shaking your hands, like one might do in attempts to get something off them. You’re only a couple steps away from the group, in what looks like attempts to get back with the drinks but getting either bumped or walked into causing those plans to be thwarted. Calum pats Ashton’s chest. “I’ll be right back,” he calls out before walking closer to you. 

There’s more apologies but you spend more time trying to console her than you do worry about the fizzing beer in your hand--and all over them too. “You okay?” Calum asks, slipping a hand along your lower back. 

You nod. “Yeah, yeah, just an accident. I’ll need to get you another water once I get cleaned up.”

The other girl’s so focused and too buzzed as she takes the couple napkins she got with her drinks to dab at the front of your shirt to think fully about what she’s doing. “God, I’m so sorry I ruined your shirt too. I should’ve been more mindful about where I was stepping.”

“Hey, no, it’s fine. Just a shirt,” you offer. “Don’t sweat it. And you don’t have eyes in the back of your head.” 

“Was it the water or beer on your shirt?” Calum asks. Your shrug is enough of an answer before he starts thinking about if he has any spare clothes in his truck. He thinks he’s got a bag of old clothes he’d been meaning to donate that might have something. But he’s not sure. 

It takes a couple more tries to console the girl who stepped into you and reunite her with the people she’d come with before Calum leads you back down the stairs and towards the front door. The stamps on your hands do allow for re-entry so there’s not much worry on that front as you return the now half empty bottle and glass to the bar. 

“We can check my truck. I might have a spare shirt,” Calum comments. 

“I need to wash my hands first. That beer’s going to get sticky if I don’t.”

“Oh, yeah, you’re right. I’ll head to my truck and you take care of that. I’ll meet you at the bathrooms.”

“Thanks, love. I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” he returns, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. The night is cold as he sips out the front doors. The bouncers don’t give him any issues as he goes. He hopes that bag is actually in the back of his truck. He’d been working on gathering the clothes for the last couple of weeks, and can’t remember right now if it was in the trunk or not.

But the headlights blink as Calum unlocks the doors and eases the tailgate up. There, like a beacon, is the white plastic bag of clothes. “Thank fuck,” he whispers to himself and unties the knot. The clothing items are cold, thanks to the days and nights it’s spent in the truck, but they’re clean and not covered in beer. They’ll have to do for the rest of the night. Calum spots another red top--it’s a button down with a vertical white pin striping design over the entire shirt. He hadn’t worn it in ages and was pretty sure it wasn’t a fit issue, just too many other things he wore more consistently to feel the need to hold onto the item. 

Calum is a little glad for the warmth of the party. It cuts through the chill of sobriety and the winter night. It’s fairly easy to wind through the folks at the border between bar and dancefloor until he reaches the bathrooms. You stand at the start of the hallway that leads to them, your own red button up still clinging to your stomach. 

“I tried to match the theme,” Calum laughs, holding out the new unsoiled item. 

“A real knight in shining armor moment, I appreciate it,” you return, a smile grin decorating your face. “I think it’s mostly water that got on me though. Nothing smells bad yet.”

“Trying to save it?”

“Maybe?” You answer unsure and Calum spots the indecision in your face. 

“There’s some back patios if you want to freeze for a tiny bit to dry it out before we bag it up. I’ve got spare plastic bags on hand.” That Calum knows he has as he keeps them in a reusable bag that sits on his back seat. He’d tell people it’s for emergencies, but there’s very few emergencies that need plastic bags. 

“It is fucking cold out,” you agree. 

“Just change first. Then we’ll worry about the rest second.”

It’s a semi confident nod you give before turning on your heel and heading back towards the bathroom. It’s only a couple minute wait before you resurface and Calum leads you back towards the front rather than towards the back. If you want to save the shirt, he’s not going to risk yours or his health at the same time. 

There’s very little wind, which is a good thing as the two of you breach the front doors and back outside. The rattling music echoes quieter now behind you. Calum’s keys click gently with each step. “I see Nora found you,” you comment, hand squeezing his. 

“I doubt she was looking for me, but yeah.”

“Did it go okay? Sorry I wasn’t there.”

The headlights blink again--bright before cutting out nearly immediately which lets both of you know the vehicle is unlocked. Calum’s shaking his head, paused at the passenger door. “You don’t have to apologize. You went to get us drinks. There’s no way you would’ve known she was headed our way unless you want to admit now you have some sort of supernatural ability.”

Your laughter is short and mostly through your nose. “No, not psychic in the slightest.”

“I didn’t think so. Hop in, we’ll use the vents and the heat to see if we can salvage ourselves and your shirt.”

Calum makes sure that you’re fully situated into the seat before shutting the door and jogs around the front to get the driver side. The blast of chilly air from the car vents is cut rather quickly by the heat. You hold a section of the shirt up directly to the vent to dry it out. The radio reads 11:38 in the glow it casts through the front of the truck. 

“You’re not dead, so I take it the interaction didn’t kill you,” you tease. 

It stung. It definitely stung and maybe it’s not even Nora really. Just the fucking grief. “No, it didn’t. It was…a little awkward but survivable.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“She’s engaged.” It falls softly and Calum can taste his own disbelief still. His head falls back into the cushion of the rest and he can only really stare up at the roof, where the mirror waits to be pulled down for the imagined sun that’s covered now by the thick light of the moon. 

“I’ll propose right now. I don’t have a ring but I mean what’s a better way to get a one up than a New Year's proposal?”

Calum knows he shouldn’t, but he laughs. It’s not that he wouldn’t say yes. It’s not that he doesn’t believe you. He does. He knows he’d accept too. Shit, he’d accept. It’s not a conclusion that he’d really settled into. It’d only been a few months and though he’d fallen hard for you, he’d always imagined being more cautious about the long term commitments. Having you by his side makes daily life better--not necessarily easier, but bearable. You help him get through the sludge of laundry and you listen to the boring stuff. You make him laugh when he needs it most. You ask the hard questions. And it’s you that you Calum wants to do the hard work with. 

The sound of your laughter overtakes his as Calm feels the stunned silence of realization dawn over. He drops his head to look at you. You’re still pushed to the edge of the passenger seat, still holding your wet shirt to the vent. It’s you. He knew that--subconsciously. It just hadn’t broken the surface. But he exhales as you turn your attention back to the vent, moving a new section of the shirt to the vent. 

He’d accept your proposal and maybe eventually you might even accept his. “This isn’t about one upping anyone. But I do appreciate the offer.”

“Just needed to hear you laugh.”

But Calum doesn’t think it’s just a joke. It couldn’t only be a moment of levity meant to cut through the otherwise heavy tension that had fallen upon them. He thinks you might mean it. He knows he will eventually. The radio displays in the blue hue the time: 11:45. The minutes are falling away from him faster than Calum thought they would. His chest doesn’t feel as heavy, not after laughing, but mixed in with grief is a tiny bit of hope. A precarious spot to have such a small seedling but Calum cherishes it. He hopes it can suffocate out the dread. 

“How’s the shirt coming along?” he asks. 

“I think it’s the best I’m going to get for the time being. I do want to be there for the count down, if you’re still game to go back inside.” You bring it to your nose and scrunch your face at the smell. 

“I’m tough,” Calum returns, not really flexing all that hard but it makes you snort as you toss the shirt into the back seat. 

“Real tough,” you nod, leaning across the console. 

The digits blink and the minute rolls over to 11:51. “Beer got on it, huh?”

“A little I think. I’m sure it’s on my pants too. But those are dark enough that it doesn’t matter.”

“We can start the new year with a pile of laundry in the morning. My treat.”

You snort. “I’d appreciate that.”

Calum cuts the heat off first, catching 11:53 on the display before cutting the engine off next. It’s a light jog you two undertake to cross the parking lot and get back into the club. The heat of the bodies crowding the dancefloor is thick. Calum tightens his hold around your hand and tugs you in a little closer. 

“We’re only a few minutes away from the new year y’all! The five minutes will go quickly, so I hope you got your New Year’s kiss at the ready,” the DJ calls out over the sound system. 

The quick speech only spurs more and more people to flood the floor. The couches that you and Calum were perched early now seem nearly impossible to reach again. So he slides you in front of him, his lips are pressed up against your ear. “Have you ever had a New Year’s kiss?” he asks. 

You shake your head no in response, turning to face him now. There’s bodies on either side of you, people pressed into Calum’s back and into yours too. But when you gaze at him it doesn’t matter. “Care to be the first?” you ask.

“We’re ringing in the new year in two minutes!” the DJ announces between the cross fades between songs. 

“And your last while we’re at it,” Calum returns. 

“Ah, I didn’t think we were proposing today.”

“We’re not. Not yet anyway.”

Your brow arches. “Not yet.” It sounds like an agreement, like you too might know that it’s a future goal but not one to be breached just yet. 

Calum’s still got a way to go--see if he can get even stronger around the grief. He still doesn’t know what his future looks like in terms of when he’ll be taking over the throne. It might be best to only take one thing at a time but just because it’s not right now doesn't mean it’s not ever. With so many things happening, so many changes, he savors the idea that he can take his time with this, build more and more of a strong foundation with you. 

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The chant starts with the DJ and soon the crowd joins in. 

“Five! Four!”

The inches are gone by the time the count down finishes. Though the crowd’s cheering about the new year, Calum’s only focused on you--the soft press of your lips, the warmth of you seeping into his skin through the layers of clothing, the buzz that lights up under his skin. His hands hover for a moment, as they move from your chin to tilt your head down to your hips. Calum wouldn’t normally care this much. But you two are in public. So he wants to be mindful, wants to make sure he’s not taking more than you’re willing to give. It’s not that for a lack of extreme self control, not that it doesn’t knock against his ribs to pull you flush against him.  But he doesn’t have to do any of that. 

You step in, fingers slipping into the loops of his pants and tugging Calum in a tad bit closer. He follows the instruction, with minimal breaks to the kiss, to press his hands now into your lower back, easing and fingertips aching to cup your ass. This he does resist, but part of him thinks you wouldn’t mind it at all. Your fingers trail up his back, pressing at his shoulders until your fingers wind up in his hair. His lips pepper kisses along your jaw. He starts to melt into the scratch of your nails at his scalp. 

“Happy New Year, love,” you breathe into his ear. 

And Calum has to laugh--because he’s not thinking about the new year, or the party, or Nora, or the mess on your pants, on how sticky the floor to this club is underneath his shoes from all the other drinks that were spilled here. The caress of your lips and hands over his body is enough to make all those worries disappear. 

“Happy New Year, baby,” he finally giggles out. 

The rattle of the bass pulsates again, shaking the floor beneath his feet. A chaste kiss is pressed to his cheek before you peel your upper body away from him just a little. Not enough to break the embrace, but enough that there’s a bit of cold air that rushes in and as it slips across Calum’s face, he realizes just how hot his face got, how lost he’d been. 

“Should I attempt the second round of drinks again or no?” you ask. 

“We can go together this time,” Calum offers. “And I’ll make sure if a drink must be spilled it’s on me this time.”

“I think we all much prefer no more spilled drinks. One is already too much of a party faux pas. But lead the way.”

“One more kiss?”

You roll your eyes, head falling back just a little with what Calum barely catches as your laughter. The skin of your neck dazzles in the passing blue and red strobe lights. He almost wants to sink his teeth into it, but again, reframes even in a place like this. When you bring your head back up, you nod. The gap’s shorter this time, you break the centimeters down in one final swoop as you press up and capture Calum’s lips again. 

He hums at the feeling--the every so slight hint of the Sprite from hours ago, the fading taste of your minty toothpaste from earlier. It reminds him he’s not dead. When you latch onto his waist at the bar, both of you leaning in close to be heard by the bartender, Calum’s reminded that even if he wanted the night to prove him right, to prove him as weak, he’d been stronger than anticipated. It didn’t matter if he wobbled at it either; even if he’d sworn up and down the dread and the unknown and the grief would kill him, it hadn’t. 

They most likely never would.

____________________________________

Charlie squeezes at your hand the closer you all get. His steps are bounces next to you. The eagerness radiates off him and you wish it were contiguous. At least then, it’d mask the waves in your ocean as something thinking. Because as it currently stands, you think you’re going to puke, and not because the walls are so white and bright. Not because you can still smell the chemicals from the cleaners they use. Not because people are staring at you. You think you might puke because you’re in front. Melvin and Teagan are behind you and you and Charlie follow behind the attendant--a young woman probably a couple years younger than you if you had to hazard a guess. You don’t remember her name--it started with an H and you think it was Harmony, maybe it was Heather. She greeted you with a big smile and welcomed the four of you inside with a large wave after you’d checked in and slapped the neon green visitor stickers to your chests. 

But none of that matters anymore. You’d have to apologize for ruining such pristine floors. Because as much as you think you’re going to puke, it starts to feel like a reality once you spot Diana. You see her before she can see you, as she swipes at something on the table that you can’t see. It might be crumbs; it could be nothing and just a nervous fidget-one last nervous tic- before she turns to you all. 

The white cardigan swallows Diana’s body, long and big. Yet, somehow her face looks fuller than it has since the last time you saw her. It’s probably the alcohol, though she’d undoubtedly drank herself into the depths, she was probably also not eating as she should. You take in this visage of her; she looks like you imagine a person should look like--no saggy bags and dark circles, no sunken in cheeks. She looks well and her grin is bright as she runs up to the group. Her arms are opened wide. Charlie pulls from your hold just a little, a laugh falling from his lips too. “Mom,” he calls out, closing the distance of a few ten feet or so.

Charlie wears the Birthday Boy pin you’d jokingly gotten for him. It’s pinned into his shirt, right across from the visitor sticker. You worry as he collides into Diana the pin will jut out and poke him, or her. But their embrace is tight and long. Perhaps, the construction of the flimsy thing is studier than it appears. Teagan whizzes past you too towards Diana. 

Diana takes her in with open arms too. “Oh, my babies!” she laughs, but you catch how wet the sound is. Behind the exclamation is the relief. Three months without much contact outside of the phone calls appears to have caught up to her, to them too. 

Melvin hazards just a couple more steps past you and that’s the only thing that makes you realize you’ve paused. He turns back and extends out his hand-a lifeline, the buoy you hadn’t realized you’d been looking for. You ease up a step. Then another. You don’t take Melvin’s hand, but your arm brushes against the tips of his fingers. He seems to understand as he gives a gentle squeeze on your bicep rather than the first offer hand. 

It’s supposed to be a joyous occasion. It’s supposed to be filled with hugs. But by God, you still have failed to conceptualize where you fit. All the talk you’d given to Calum about grief and being stronger than it, but you’d been failing that test too to stand up the battering grief gave. Melvin stays with you until the two of you are only a couple feet apart from Diana. Then he goes in for a hug and a kiss. Intimate, but chaste all the same. They look lost--but not the wandering kind of uncertainty. You get the feeling from Melvin and Diana that you think you have with Calum. They are only lost in each other, only slotting back the pieces that’d been missing. 

Melvin’s not a big guy--about 6’2--and Diana’s not too far behind him at 5’9. But she folds into his chest and you ponder if you should look away. Not that the sight makes you sick, not that you think you can’t witness it as an adult yourself. But you feel the need to steady yourself, check to make sure ribs haven’t actually caved in and haven’t actually punctured a lung. Everything you could’ve wanted for your younger self in front of you and you’re not sure if you can withstand the crushing wave. The tiles on the floor are still spotless here too.

“I’m glad you came,” Diana says. 

You look up at the sound of her voice and she’s a step in front of Melvin, Charlie and Teagan nestled on either side of her. It’s a family that is complete. It’s the family the way it should have always been. Your mouth gapes and you can feel the words burning the tip of your tongue--a dismissal, a joke about how you wouldn’t miss Charlie’s birthday for anything. You can’t say of course you’d come to visit. You shouldn’t give Diana a platitude covered lie. So you just nod.  

“So what’s there to do in this place?” Teagan asks. Her curious mind, undoubtedly, scanning the area surrounding them. 

“Oh, well, I sleep and eat,” Diana laughs. “But for such a special occasion, I got some special dibs on a few card games and a couple board games.”

“And we did bring some treats. But we were told we couldn’t bring them inside,” Charlie relays, having been disappointed about the no outside food in the lobby rule. But you offered, in condolences, that you could maybe sit outside with a few of the snacks. The nurse agreed it would be permissible but that you’d have to use the side garden with supervision. 

“Oh, I’m excited for that,” Diana returns. “But have you all been good? How’s school?”

Charlie and Teagan recount their days in the past week at school--quizzes to take, new things they’ve learned. It all feels so mundane, or that it should be. And to them it probably is as they settle at the large round table. This is normal to them but you feel like you can’t press on, like you can pass through the invisible wall lest you break something or ruin the moment. Melvin stays with you though--in between you and them--that buoy again, a bridge. 

“I know you’re used to standing at your job, but you can sit here, if you’d like,” he offers. 

You take a step. The ground doesn’t shake. Maybe things won’t fall apart. You take another and Melvin walks at your pace until you both reach the table. You don’t want to ruin this. You don’t want to ruin Charlie’s birthday. You don’t want to ruin the first face to face interaction Diana’s had with them in months. But you cannot shake the feeling of fear. You do not for the life of you want to fucking ruin this and you hope Diana doesn’t want to either. You hope it can stay on Charlie and Teagan. It’s so much easier that way. Yet, Diana asked for you to come, so you think perhaps, there will always be something under the surface-- like a cryptid that’s always talked about, rumored about, but never seen. 

“What are taxes?” Teagan asks as her piece lands on the space. She looks over her career card.

“It’s money you pay, in real life, to the government. It helps pay for things like education and healthcare,” Melvin explains. 

“Then why is it in this game? This isn’t real life,” Teagan retorts. 

“Well, it’s the Game called Life, so it’s meant to mirror things in the real world,” Diana tacks on. 

“Charlie, we are not ever playing this game again,” Teagan huffs as she slides the bills over to the bank pile. He’d picked the game to play. 

“Hit Happy Old Age and then we never will,” he laughs in return, picking up the die for his roll. 

“If this is supposed to be real life, we should have pets.” It feels so matter of factly from Teagan. You figure in a place like this the funding’s not always going towards the latest and greatest in boardgame technology. But she’s not one to argue with. 

“I still miss Hungry, Hungry, Hippos,” you muse, taking in account your position on the board. You think maybe you should swap careers, but know that you’re pushing your luck with what’s already been traded in. 

“What’s that?” Charlie asks. 

“Just a game where you slap the crap out of a lever and try to collect as many balls into your hippos mouth/side. Largest amount wins,” you explain. 

“Do they have that Mom?” Teagan questions. 

Diana shakes her head. “No, but it is a pretty fun game. Maybe when I’m back home we can get it and play.”

“Hmm, okay, sounds good,” Charlie returns but then huffs when he lands on a bad space. “C’mon! I’m so close. I don’t want any taxes,” he huffs, pulling his card from the pile. You only laugh, watching the intensity on his face as he reads over what he’s supposed to do next. 

As the hours pass and the games of Clue and Life and the rounds of Uno wind down to the close, when all the laughter is falling down around you, you left feeling Diana’s gaze. You feel it like the needle of a tattoo gun piercing skin--constantly and with a prick each time. You’d noticed it earlier, in the last round of Uno, when you were itching to slap your +2 down but ate the two cards you were forced to take, since Teagan had been particularly prickly about adhering to the “real rules” for one round. The house rules-while enjoyable-weren’t always easy to be on the receiving end of. Thus, leaving you to play more cautiously since Charlie and Teagan were on either side of you and they’d be enduring all of the suffering had you not gone as easy as you had. And all the while, as you picked up cards, and put them back down, you contended with Diana’s pointed stare--if you’d actually meet her gaze or focus on your cards in your hand. 

But all things come to an end and when Charlie asks if you all can go to the side garden to enjoy the snacks while there’s still plenty of light from the afternoon sun, Diana asks for you to stay back from Melvin, Teagan, and Charlie’s walk to the front and out to the car for the cooler and grocery bags. The wave of bile crashes against your throat, though it never crosses your lips as you help her reassemble the games and place them back onto the communal shelf. The rattle of the game pieces cuts through the soft sound of the TV as a ding sounds from the episode of Family Feud. 

“I owe you an apology,” Diana starts. “For the way I acted at the restaurant; I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to ambush you like that. You’ve been very clear in your boundaries with me and I crossed them. I’m sorry, too, for the drinking now and before. It was my duty, and still is my duty to be your mother, I feel. I failed that by being worried about everything else but you.”

There’s no warning, no wind up to this spiel that Diana’s launching into. You can still feel the dust of the shelves on your fingertips as you’ve yet to bring your hands back to your sides. You hate how much this apology too reminds you of an ambush, of Diana forcing onto you something you’re not ready for. But you’ve all but begged for an apology. You fantasized about how it might sound to hear Diana admit her wrongdoing. You wondered if she’d look you in the eyes. You wondered if she’d hold your hands. You wondered if you’d cry. All you feel is the instinctual part of your brain telling you to stay still and the danger will pass. 

“And I think I’m messing up again,” she laughs when you don’t speak. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

What do you say to that? Do you tell her it’s okay even if it’s not? Do you give her a platitude knowing it’s a fucking lie anyway? “We’re rusty,” you return and straighten up to face her. “Very rusty.”

Diana nods, gaze falling to the floor. “I just--would it help to give you context? Why I did what I did?”

“I hope we’re not talking about the drinking.” You feel like a parent now with how much she refuses to meet your gaze. It’s not that Diana was in trouble, per se. She’d already been in trouble. But she looks like she’s been caught, hands wringing around themselves. She’d not get deeper in trouble with you or anyone else. But you admit that you were the nail in the coffin for her. You’d been the final blow and you can’t fault the apprehension. 

“Well,” she starts and then stops. 

It’d be so easy to say Diana’s just doing this for herself. It’d be easy to theorize that she’s got some sort of homework that she needs to check off, so she can take it back to the doctors here and prove to them that she’s really improving. But you know you shouldn’t. You know that you need to give her some amount of hope. Change in people is real and Diana’s among them that deserve a shot at it. 

“Yes, and no. But I mostly want to explain everything and my actions,” Diana answers, finally looking back up to you. 

“You’re sure about doing it here? Now?” But the question should be are you sure you’re ready to hear such context here and now. The question should be: will anything that Diana says change how you feel? Would it truly ever make a difference? 

Diana nods. “I am.”

I’m not. You inhale for three seconds, then exhale for five. It doesn’t stop the thump of your heart against your ribs, but you nod too. “Then I’m all ears.” You can feel the heat on your skin, the prickle of sweat on your pits and palms. You’re all nerves too, exposed like cut wires. 

Diana nods. But there’s a few second gap before she speaks again. You don’t know if there’s enough time to laugh or to cry. Diana starts before you can make up your mind, “I can only recall in pieces what I said to you that night. I just know I wanted you home and that I admitted that drinking was sometimes easier to do than face the reality. But it’s not your fault. Melvin and I made choices and we have to live with the outcome. I felt unprepared to be a parent, but it’d been something I always wanted, you know? I wanted the house, the white picket fence, the three kids, the dog, maybe even the cat. I wanted that but when I got pregnant with you, I was not ready to be a mother. There were plenty of other options for me to choose from. I am not faulting you. I made those choices and I should’ve asked for help. Melvin and I both should’ve. But I was the oldest of the girls and I was supposed to have it together. I realize now that’s an expectation I have to unburden myself of. I just wanted to do it right and do it myself. But it was not without cost. 

“I’m really, so sorry. I failed you. You needed a mother, not a drunk. And maybe you still want a mother too, in me. I don’t know,” she sighs. She blinks rapidly, swallows hard by the bob of her throat. You mimic the action, eyes blinking back hot tears. When they started to fall you don’t know. But they’re here now. They fall down your cheeks and you don’t even think to wipe them away. Being human is the most universal condition--a fallible being who’s bound to make mistakes, and bound to want to fix them too. 

Diana continues on. “That night outside your job, I wanted to ask you to come to the house, to spend time with me and your dad and try and repair our relationship. I didn’t ask it right. I can understand your anger and your frustrations with me. I made it about me and what I wanted, not about you. I’m sorry. Nothing feels right. Not with the way we stand. And I’d,” Diana pauses, her lower lip quivers. The emotions now breaking down the dam she’d been putting up before. “I’d like to repair it--our relationship, I mean. I’d really, really like my family unit complete with you there. I’d love to know what you do for fun or what your favorite color is, if it’s still green. I just, I think my heart will always ache for you and what could be.”

You don’t hate her. You don’t think the anger you felt was ever true hatred. It was frustration; it was fear. It was always the child in you begging to be listened to; the anger was always something else in disguise. You don’t hate Diana. You’re relieved to hear the admission. You’re relieved to be vindicated. But you don’t know if one apology fixes it all. You don’t know if the decades that haunted you can be put to rest in one speech. 

“I appreciate that,” you start. Diana swims in your vision before the blink clears away a few more tears. “Thank you for telling me. But I-I don’t know if I can answer all of that right now. I don’t know where we stand. I want you to be better for Charlie and Teagan. They need you right now more than I do.” 

It almost slips, the hotly pressed line of her lips tells you she’s still got a long way to go and so do you. Yet, Diana nods instead, the frustration slipping away just as quickly as it rose. “I’ll get it right eventually,” she returns, her words soft and choked. She wipes at her nose with the back of her hands. “Thanks for listening to me.”

A nurse comes by with a box of tissue and you both take a few to wipe your faces. You are here, in the rehab center, off to the side in the visitor center. You’re surrounded, others with their loved ones as well, the TV still playing just loud enough in the background. Somehow the interjection of the tissues brings you back down to earth. You should say something else. You know it, feel it in your bones that you should, but you don’t have the words on your tongue anymore. 

“We got the goods!” Teagan calls out. Her feet thud behind you but echo louder as she approaches. “I was told by the nurse I could collect you two!” she laughs but it cuts short just as she reaches you two. “Were there big feelings I missed?” Her voice falls into a whisper. 

“It’s all okay, sweetheart,” Diana answers. “Now what are these snacks, huh?”

Before Teagan gets more than two steps out towards the door to the side garden, she takes hold of your wrist. “No one gets left behind. Not with Oreos on the line.”

Tossing the used tissue into the trash, you slip your hand up into hers. “You’re right, kiddo. Thanks.” 

Later in the night, after collecting your car from the house and saying goodbye to Teagan and Charlie, and after you’ve slithered into bed, skin still warm from the shower, you think about what you could’ve said to Diana. You could’ve told her that part of you always wanted to fix it. You could’ve told her that you’re too scared to fail again. You could’ve told her about the gala and the painting that sold. You could’ve told her about the website that you’re about to start building; how it’s almost done. You could’ve told her that you’re working just for individuals first and then you’ll start taking on bigger projects for stores and companies. You could’ve told her how you’ve quite enjoyed your time working the bar. You could’ve told her that you didn’t want to work in the restaurant world forever. 

But you didn’t tell her anything. 

Calum turns, you can feel the bed shake and dip. His warmth pulls back just a little from your side. You know he’s asleep. His breathing is deep and even, the occasional snore slipping from his chest. You watch him sleep for the moment, a small sliver of moonlight slips in through the curtains and you can see the essence of him--just enough light to see his laughs, the full lips set underneath his strong nose. 

You feel like you’re hiding. You feel like you’ve always been hiding, especially when it comes to your parents. It was the easy option. It was the safe option to hide. You’re hiding now, in these sheets, away from the world that could so kindly embrace you. It could hurt. And it would--that part you were certain of. The world would always hurt you but you had to be bigger than that. You had to be more than the hurt the world dished out. You would be more than just the things that had hurt you. 

You ease out from the bed, careful as you crack open the bedroom door. Calum doesn’t stir, holds steady to his position and you slide out into the hallways. The light is jarring, forcing you to squint your eyes. But you know these hallways better now thanks to the months and take them down to the stairs. From the stairs, you head up one floor, to the library. The doors are still heavy and wooden but you’re prepared for the heave as you work the door open. The moonlight echoes over the floors from the large windows along the east walls. 

There’s enough light that you can make your way through the room towards the windows, which will lead you to the middle row of tables. You switch on the lamps at the desk and they give off just enough light that you can rummage a bit more safely. You find a legal pad left behind--you don’t know who it belongs to but you take it. Situated at the corner of the table is a holder with several pens inside. You pull one out--attempting to discern if it’s blue or black ink but in the dark, it matters not what color it is. As you settle into a chair, right under the soft yellow glow of the lamp, the words--all the things you could verbalize--feel a little bit easier to get out. 

Diana, 

I bartend at the moment. I do one night in the week in the kitchen, but most of my shifts are at the bar. It makes me an acting manager if no one else is there, but I don’t mind the added responsibility for now. 

I paint too. I auctioned a piece off for the Royal charity gala this year and it went for 135,000 dollars. The number still feels surreal to me. 

I’m building a website to take commission and paint more. 

I’m in love with a man, who happens to be the prince, but to me he’s still a man that prefers my cooking to his own and promises me he’ll learn. I think he says it so I don’t feel bad, but I’d never feel bad. Because it means a lot to me that he enjoys it. He’s cared for Teagan and Charlie in ways I have not had to ask him to care, simply because he sees how much I care about them. I’d like a quiet life with Calum, or as quiet of a life as we can get all things considered. 

I have friends--people who like me for all the dry humor and general stand-off behavior I exhibit. There are people who see my heart and want nothing else in return for it really. 

I have fears too. 

I’m afraid I’ll get hurt again by you, and by Melvin. You two will always be my parents. You two will always hold that space. But I am afraid. I’m afraid I’ll be the kid again begging you to pay attention and getting cast aside time and time again. I’m afraid that if I get too close it’ll ruin you and thus, ruin Charlie and Teagan too. I’m afraid I might have ruined you, and them too, but I know that I only made choices that I felt were right. 

I don’t want Charlie or Teagan to have to go through what I went through. I want them to remember their mom and dad as present figures, as parents that tucked them in at night, as parents there for the games, and the recitals, and the science fairs. I want them to have everything I didn’t. I want, for them, in ways I have never wanted even for myself. I want things for them that they cannot fathom, and sometimes neither can I. I do not know if this is the same love a parent has for a child, but it feels close. 

I know you want things for me. You want things for yourself. You want things to be different between us for yourself too. I understand. 

Yet, I have so, so, so much fear. I fear you’re trying to get better for all the wrong reasons. Not for me. Not for Melvin. I want you to get better for you. I want you to see how strong you can be. And maybe, maybe then things can change between us. Maybe they won’t ever change. 

I’m willing to see where time takes us, if you are. But I can’t make any promises. Are you okay without promises? Are you okay with time, however long it takes? 

The words stare back at you and you think you could say more, but what more could you ask of her or yourself? How much more until it became impossible?

“Where did you sneak off to last night?” Calum asks as you both sit at the long kitchen table over cups of coffee. His voice is thick still with sleep, but he watches you carefully. The  hot pan Valerie works over sizzles as she drops something--you think it might be shredded potatoes, as it’s become her own signature breakfast dish. You’d tried to take over when you two first entered the kitchen, but she swatted at your hands with the spatula. It was enough to make you heed the warning. 

“I thought I was quieter than that.”

“I woke up at one point to use the bathroom and you weren’t in bed. But your phone was still on the nightstand so I wasn’t sure if you went to get a snack. I might’ve fallen back to sleep faster than I anticipated,” he snorts. 

“I went to the library,” you answer honestly. 

“You couldn’t sleep, hmm?”

You shake your head and stare down into the mug. The coffee’s bitter--more so than usual. But you watched Calum pour the sugar into your mug. You watched him put in just a splash of milk like he always does. And maybe it’s not the coffee at all. From the pocket of your robe, you pull out the two sheets of paper you filled last night and slide it over to Calum. 

He takes them. “Look at me, please?” You exhale before bringing your head up. “Wake me next time, okay? When you can’t sleep.”

“What if it’s all the time?” you tease. “I’ve heard a man like you needs his beauty sleep.”

“Then I’ll be a man that just looks haggard. Wake me,” he commands again. You know he means it. The sincerity drips from his gaze and if you could watch the falling drops they’d land too in his own mug. You nod and take another sip of the coffee; it’s just enough for him to turn his attention back down to the paper--satisfied with your response. 

You watch him read over the lines, eyes darting left to right and then down another line. Left to right. Then down another line. He goes until he reaches the end. Calum flips the page over and sets it face down onto the table. You wonder if he does that with all documents too, as to not lose any pages or get them out of order. He finishes before you can truly come back to your senses and asks, “Are you going to send it? Or just needed to get it off your chest?”

You hear the sounds of the questions but it takes another few seconds for the words to unravel and make sense. “I’m going to send it off, yeah. She just…she unloaded a lot onto me and I didn’t know how to respond in the moment.”

“Until now,” Calum corrects. 

“Until now,” you agree.

“I’ve got stamps in my office if you need one.” His words are calm. But his eyes are wide. 

“Have I shocked you? Was it something I said?”

“Have you shocked yourself? Just a few months ago, I think you were more inclined to spit on her grave plot. Now you’re asking her to give you time to see what changes, if anything. I know what she’s done to you. I know that you don’t have to forgive her. I know all the things I said, and did, and even assumed that you’d want to fix this, that you’d want something more. And I think, with time, it’s less about what you wanted as much as I saw what time might do. But the question still stands: Do you want anything from her for yourself?”

That--that was the hard part. You wanted things, but they were always for others. You wanted Diana to get better. But that was for Charlie and Teagan. You wanted her to get better for herself too, so that she could prove to herself what she was made of. But you don’t know if you’ve got anything else left in you to want for yourself with Diana. 

“I just want peace,” you return. “But even I don’t know what that looks right now. So maybe I do want time to figure that part out too.”

“You can ask for that,” Calum encourages, sliding the pages back to your side of the table. “You can ask for a truce and you can want peace.”

“What if peace is always a chasm?” It worries you that Diana will never let you go. Not now, not when she’s so close. 

Calum takes your hands, fingers peeling yours ever so gently from the mug before slotting his palms around your single hand. He squeezes and you squeeze back. “That’s not your war to fight. If you want peace and you’re able to be respectful about it, then it’s Diana’s burden to bear to heal and live with that too. She doesn’t get to dictate the conditions of your life anymore.”

Part of you likes the idea of being closer to Melvin. While you didn’t think you’d ever be where Calum and his parents are, you like the idea of having Melvin have some level of access to you personally. He was genuinely sweet. He wanted to treat you like a person--not like a child anymore. But with Diana you wondered if she could turn it off, be not a mom for a little bit and just be a person with you. 

“What if it’s just her?” you ask in a whisper. “What if she’s the only one that can’t do it?”

“Not your fight,” Calum answers with a shrug. “You don’t have to carry her behaviors and consequences. You are not at fault for what she does. If you need it, take this as permission to stop fighting her battles. It’s time she handles her own mess.”

Had you been taking up Diana’s fight as your own? Or does Calum just mean that you no longer have to dance around her feelings? But no matter how it shakes, no matter what he means, something exhales. You feel it in your lungs at first and then your shoulders drop. He is right. Diana’s own actions would have their own consequences. She shouldn’t be shielded from them. 

“I’ll need that stamp, if it’s not too much of a bother,” you state, rolling your shoulders back just a hair. 

“Never a bother.”

[33-81]

The danger gets me high, and I can't help myself