#ashton irwin imagin

[inthepassengerside]

cockwarming with luke. he’s been wanting to try it and one day he gets the courage to ask you and you guys enjoy it for a little while before he whimpers and starts fucking into you and you enjoy that even more <3

can’t take it

warnings: cockwarming turning into eventual sex, dirty talk, mentions of overstimulation

a/n: this request had me shaking. it’s also veeeerrrryyy old so i’m sorry to the anon who requested this since it’s so late! the ending was hard for me to finish and it still sucks. hope you enjoy though! it’s not proofread

masterlist

It was a lazy Sunday for both you and your boyfriend Luke. You sat in the morning, enjoying your cups of coffee, watching the view from your shared apartment, and listening to a soft record spinning from the living room. It was ideal for the two of you, just being and taking in each other’s presence. You couldn’t ask for anything more.

Your day continued to look like this until the evening. Sitting, watching shows, snacking, some house work. All things that didn’t require much energy, just the driven energy from each other.

The only thing was, you could tell Luke was a little on edge. It made your weekly routine feel different than usual. You were unable to pin what exactly was going on, so you let it go.

Currently, the two of you sat upstairs in your shared bedroom. You were putting away laundry and Luke was fixing up the clutter around your bed. “Gonna go shower baby,” you said to Luke, making your way over to the connected bathroom. He walked over to kiss your cheek, “Okay love.”

As you undressed and got under the warm water, you couldn’t help but try and puzzle some of the reasons why Luke was acting the way he was today. Not that he wasn’t normally affectionate, but he was kissing and hugging you more than usual throughout the day.

You just wondered if something was up emotionally. But either way, Luke had come to you about those things before, so what was holding him back now?

You stayed in the shower for about 10 minutes, washing your body and doing a quick shave before shutting off the water. You stepped out and wrapped a towel around yourself before leaving the bathroom.

Luke was sat on the bed, in sweats and a tee, watching some reruns of How I Met Your Mother. Nothing irregular for the night time. You walked over and laid next to him starting to scroll on your phone.

About 5 minutes had passed before you got up and started changing, shrugging on some of Luke’s boxers and a tank top.

You had barely gotten the top over your head before you felt Luke’s arms wrap around you, burying his head into your neck. You didn’t even notice him get off the bed, but you melted into his touch anyway, “Hi baby.”

“Hi beautiful,” he whispered, pressing tiny kisses along the side of your neck and across your collarbone. You shuddered beneath him, throwing your head back, letting out a gasp.

Was this it? Was he just so needy?

You let him pull you back before your back hit the mattress and he fell over you. His eyes burning into yours and his chain dangling so close to your mouth. He moved down, kissing a trail down your stomach before shrugging off your bottoms. “Y’ love stealing my clothes, yeah?” You giggle, “of course.”

You pull him up by his chain, and his eyebrow raises tauntingly. You grab his neck and pull his head down to kiss him. The kiss is passionate, hot, and sensual. He pulls away to shrug off his shirt, throwing it somewhere along with the boxers to make a new pile of clutter he’ll have to clean up later.

Luke rolls you both over so you’re sat on his lap and you work on shrugging off his sweats. Once you do so, you press your palm against the obvious bulge in his black boxers. He lets out a whimper, “Oh fuck.”

You start to peel off your tank top, stripping until you’re bare and your boy lets out a groan. He brings up his hands to both of your tits, fondling them and pinching your nipples. You let out a squeak from the sensitivity.

He brings his mouth into the mix, running his tongue over your nipple, looking up at you. You push your fingers in his curls, “Fuuuuck Lu,” you cry.

He continues his actions, making you cry, the slurping noises that are coming from him feed into the heat of the moment. He repeats his actions on your other breast, taking his time.

When he’s done and your tits look more swollen and red than usual, he backs away and peers up at you.

Before both of you are aware, you start grinding into him. Luke lets out a groan, “Jesus christ.” You move your hips forward and backward, your clit nudging his covered length in such an intense way where you’re moaning too. You’re both starting to lose your breath.

You feel your cunt dripping. It’s soaking through his boxers, even the thick material, and you know he can feel it too.

You continue your movements, not slowing down, and it isn’t until you hear Luke gasp, “Slow down, baby, shit,” that you halt your hips. You pant too, looking down at Luke.

“Sorry, you’re just so fuckin’ hot sometimes. Can’t help myself,” you giggle, pressing a kiss to his lips. “I’m hot? I was about to come already from your soaked pussy.” His voice is deep and it makes your cheeks go red. You feel a faint smile creep onto your lips, in which he mirrors.

You rest your forehead against his for a little, silently agreeing to take things slow for the rest of the night.

Luke’s hands find your ass and palm your cheeks while you sit up again. “Can we try something tonight? I- I saw something online so I looked into it. It made me curious,” he spoke. Your eyes widened a bit. “Yeah, what is it?”

“I read about this thing… called cockwarming,” you let out a small noise at the name, “It’s just like, me inside of you..? I don’t move when I’m in,” he finishes. You notice his neck is pink and it’s creeping up to his ears. You don’t really say anything mostly because you were still thinking. Wasn’t the point of sex to release?

Luke takes your silence as a no, “Sorry, we don’t have to. I was just interested, I understand.”

“No, love, I want to try. Sorry, I was just thinking about it.” You speak quickly, hoping to calm Luke down. You could see his nerves become more visible, embarrassed. His eyes widen again, “Really? You sure?” He questions. You nod, “Yeah. It’s hot.”

You ask him about his off behavior today, “Is this why you were a little weird today?” Luke nods. You say nothing else, dragging your body down towards the band of Luke’s boxers.

You snap the elastic against him, eliciting a gasp. You tug his boxers off him, and immediately his cock springs free. Your eyes are filled with hunger as you make your way back up to stroke him. “Oh my fuck,” Luke whimpers. You smirk, unable to not notice the red tip leaking with pearly white liquid.

You drag your hand off of him and push it inside of yourself, letting out a pornographic moan. “Oh,” Luke breathes. You take your fingers out of your cunt and wrap your hand around Luke’s length again, your wetness serving as a lubricant. “Holy fucking shit, you’re so hot.”

You work him slowly, not wanting to get him so riled up before he gets inside you. You know you’ve already failed though. “Need you to sit on my cock now, love. Please,” he cries. You let out a breath and remove your hand from him.

You make your way back up his body and Luke’s hands find your ass again, caressing you and nudging you up slowly to sit on him. “Honey, you’ve gotta put me in. Can’t take it,” He cries. You reach down and grab is hard cock before pushing it inside of you as you sit.

There’s always going to be a stretch that you’ll never get used to. The burn of his long, thick member pushing inside of you. You slide down very slowly and peer up to see Luke trying his best to hold in his noises. Once your sat, Luke’s jaw is clenched as he tries to relax around you.

“Feel so good around me, honey,” Your boyfriend whispers as he grabs your waist with his hands. You clench involuntarily at his words, letting out a whimper, and he groans deeply. “F-fuck baby! Don’t clench like that, can’t take it.”

You mumble an apology, although it comes out as a moan. You try your hardest for your walls not to grip around him, but you’re like a vice. You can’t help it. His whimpers are becoming louder and louder, and you realize your ability to take the reigns.

“Bein’ such a good boy for me Lu,” your voice is shaky, trying to pretend that his cock inside of you, so deep, isn’t affecting you. But it is. His dick twitches at your words, “Mmmph,” he breathes.

Luke loved to be in charge. You both knew that. But when you were experimenting, he would always switch between between the two roles. Today, with the way he was behaving, you knew he wanted you to take power.

“Yes, yes baby. B-bein’ the best for you, yeah.”

You dig your knees further into each side of the bed, getting him to go impossibly deeper inside of you. Every movement made he swears it gets tighter. “O-oh,” he lets out in a small moan. You kiss his neck, trying to distract him from the pain that he’s unable to do anything—to use you to work himself to release.

Finally, you both are settled, truly feeling one another.

His breath is heavy. You’re able to contain yourself and stabilize your body, but Luke is the opposite. He really thought this would be easier. More enjoyable. Not that he didn’t enjoy being inside of you, but when he was so pent up, all he wanted to do was move.

Nonetheless you two sit like that for a while, kissing on each other, sucking marks into skin, and relishing in the other’s dirty words.

“Such a dirty boy for me, Lu,” you pant, your resolve slowly slipping. “So dirty for me. Your cock in my pussy, not movin’, mhmm feels so good,” you gasp, and he lets out a wail before letting his head fall atop your breasts.

He lays it there for a little longer, relishing in the feeling of you soaked and clamped around him. He focuses on trying to hold back, not to lose all his control and take you right here. But he realizes, he’s only be disobeying his own request, and while he wants to try that sometime, he needs to have you. Now.

Before you know it, Luke fucks his hips impossibly closer to yours, and you gasp. “S-sorry baby… feels too good.” He retracts his hips, pulling you up a bit, before easing himself back in.

Your breaths come out quick, certainly not expecting this, but thanking whatever compelled him to do it. Little did you know that it was you. Your little moans, your dirty whispers, and your soaked pussy. God, it had him in a spiral. If Luke could go now, he would.

His noises though, are what’s getting to you the most. Because even though he’s been bold enough to make his own decisions, he can’t suppress his little whimpers.

Luke’s eyes glass over, “Fuck, you’re so beautiful, could sit here for hours.” You cry, “Y-yeah? Would you like that, love? How about I sit here… and I take what I want. Cream all over your cock over and over again and let you sit here and cry, begging for a little taste.” It’s like your cunt soaks him even more and your own words. And he feels it. “And then you’ll be so sensitive when you finally do get to cum, because i’ll just keep going baby. G’nna end up milking you dry.” You meet your hips with his, beginning to work against his thrusts.

But, your erotic words only make him fuck up into you harder, losing your rhythm you were attempting to set. His cries become louder, and all you’re hearing are his gasps and some slurred “Mmmphs.” You love him like this. Completely at your mercy.

You both get close pretty fast. Due to all the teasing, wordplay, and attempt to cockwarm, all of your feelings are heightened. Everything feels so much better than it usually does.

Luke grips your ass roughly, pushing you further into his grasp. His lips find yours, and it’s messy, yet passionate. His lips trail down from your lips to your jaw, suckling and licking. He slows his pace of fucking you, as he knows you both are close to your orgasms, and he wants to make this incredibly enjoyable for the both of you.

“Baby… I-I’m close,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. He pushes his crotch farther up into you, truly grasping onto the feeling of his cock inside of you because he doesn’t want to take advantage of it right now. It just feels too good for him to comprehend.

You sigh against him, “I know my love, me too.” He lets out a breath of relief. Thank God, he thinks, because if you weren’t right there with him, on the brink of release, he wouldn’t be able to last another few moments.

You unexpectedly topple into your orgasm first, a near scream tearing through your throat. The clenching of your cunt sends him right over the edge with you. You both express your pleasure loudly through words that humble together and loud breaths.

Luke feels your pussy soak his cock once more, and he swears you’ve never been this wet before. He’s never felt it. And he thanks himself for working up the courage to ask you to try something new because he never knew he’d get you this good.

His orgasm, along with yours, feels like absolute bliss. Pleasure tears through the both of you in insane amounts. You feel him paint the inside of you, and it will always feel impeccable. Nothing will ever come close.

“Oh my gosh,” you start to giggle against him as you collapse your body on top of his. “That was amazing, Lu.”

He kisses the top of your head once he regains composure, “Felt too fucking good. Always so good for me, my love.” He pauses. “Never felt you that wet before.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever even been that wet before. Made me feel amazing, tonight Luke. Was so different.” You start tracing patterns along his chest, as he hums softly along your words.

He takes a pause and starts thinking before speaking up after a while.

“Im sorry about ruining the whole cockwarming thing, uh… got too impatient and it just felt too good,” He frowns, realizing he might’ve ruined it for you as well.

“You didn’t ruin anything for me, baby. Felt so good I don’t even care…” You pause, “Let’s just do it now? You’re still inside of me.”

Luke’s face flushes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. And when we wake up, take me,” and as soon as those words leave your mouth, Luke swears he’s hardening again already.

And you feel it. “Luke!”

“We need to go to sleep… like now. If I’m conscious for another five minutes I can’t promise I won’t fuck you again,” his gaze finds yours and his eyes darken.

You look up at him, meeting his stare, returning the same energy. “Can’t say I have a problem with that, Luke.”

[33-81]

missed but never forgotten 💔

[valentiyne]

𝖺𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 716 ❀ 𝗅𝗎𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"A baby turtle?"

"Andddd time"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Lucas are you sure you know how to-"

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

"Could always just use thumbtacks"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What rhymes with loud?"

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

"Cloud, hmmm,"

"Sound," we both say in unison.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/n,

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

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

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

love,

your rockstar

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

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

Mp3.ifwallscouldtalk.demo

[prettymonegasque]

i'll make up for all of your tears

Fic 1 of the 5 Seconds of Formula One series

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Reader

Song: Best Years by 5SOS

You've got a million reasons to hesitate

But darling, the future's better than yesterday

"This is a grade-F diamond, sir. It's 2 carats with a platinum band." The salesperson at the store started explaining as Max zoned out.

Being a Formula One Driver with multiple championships under his belt came with the perk of getting everything he wished for, and boy did he use it. However, the thing he wanted most, unfortunately, didn't come with a price tag on it.

He hated the name Y/N L/N, not the first part, the L/N part. He's been working tirelessly since he was 3 to change it to Verstappen and he's closer now than he ever was. Yet a little voice in him constantly whispered "What if you're not good enough for her?" Max knew that voice wasn't wrong.

2015

Max really missed his best friend. He was extremely grateful that he was on a flight home right now because he wasn't sure how long his sanity would last.

Max was ready to sprint to your house the minute they landed, but his father had other plans. Jos had arranged for a meeting with Max's team to discuss the season so far. Scoring points in his debut Formula One season wasn't something Max expected. He knew it was expected of him but never by him. Maybe it was beginner's luck or maybe he let it get to his head, he couldn't score any points in the last few races.

By the time the meeting was over, Max wasn't sure if he was still alive. He was tormented ruthlessly by his dad. He knew it was all for his good. Everything his dad ever did was for Max to become the World Champion one day. He understood that and he was beyond guilty for messing with that plan with his incompetency. Before he realised, his legs had brought him to your doorstep.

"Maxie! You're back!" The smile on your face was enough for Max. He spent the rest of the day in your room while you caught him up to speed with everything that had happened while he was away. "Oh and then Anton kissed me at the formal! It was beautiful, Max. He brought me flowers and everything" Max could feel his eyes twitching.

He wanted to be your first kiss. He knew he wouldn't be able to make it to the dance, but he didn't know he'd be losing you that night. "Anton kissed you?" he tried to remain calm. "Yes. Love Me Like You Do was playing, and it was all very romantic. You were right, Max. It was worth the wait. He even asked me out!" He was about to lose it.

Every time you complained that you hadn't had your first kiss yet, Max would ask you to be patient. He wanted to make something of himself before he kissed you and now it backfired on him spectacularly. "You let Anton kiss you?? That wimpy little bastard?" Anton wasn't going to win a beauty pageant any time soon but you liked him. He was your boyfriend.

"Don't call him that, Maxie. I really like him. He's nice to me."

"Yeah sure, did he have to use his inhaler mid-kiss?"

"Max that is so rude! Can you not be a jerk?" You tried your best to reason with him. "No no. I wish you and Anton a happy relationship. Don't come crying to me when you find out his dick is smaller than your pinky." Max stormed out of the room, slamming the door on his way out. He knew he crossed a line. He could hear you crying. He hated the person he was in that room.

I wasted so much time on people that reminded me of you

Gave you a million reasons to walk away

Present Day

He'd been to every jeweller in Monte Carlo. Not a single one of them had a ring that would be worthy of your hand. Max was getting frustrated. He can't screw up the ring. It's the only thing that matters in a proposal. No one ever asks "Can I hear the long lame speech Max said on one knee?", it's always "Can I see the ring?" He sighed as he entered another store, Chaumet. It was supposed to have some unique pieces. The same warm tight smile welcomed him in the store. He explained to the salesperson what he was looking for. He was shown the same basic rings he saw in the last eight shops.

"No. No. No, none of these are good. I'm looking for something unique. Something extraordinary. This person means everything to me and while the ring can never be worthy of her, I want it to try." Max was exasperated. His throat was starting to close up and he looked like he was about to strangle someone. The employee gave a polite smile and went to the back. He returned with a small box.

"This is a pear-cut Amsterdam diamond. It's our rarest piece. This isn't for public display but I think this is exactly what you're looking for." The salesperson had a smirk that was proud yet humble at the same time. Max hesitantly took a closer look at the ring. It wasn't huge but it surely looked rare and exotic, just like you. "I'll take it"

2018

As you've done every year, you showed up to the Kumpen Christmas Dinner. But this time there was a man by your side. Lo and behold, it was Anton. To Max's frustration, Anton had quite the glow-up. He was no longer the skimpy little kid with an inhaler. And Max couldn't bear looking at you look at him like he hung the fucking moon and stars for you. You were supposed to look at Max that way.

"So, Max, how are things in F1 world?" You made polite conversation as you cut your steak. "It's alright," Max replied. "You know, Anton works at Goldman Sachs. Aren't they a sponsor of some Formula One team?" You questioned. "Ah yes. We sponsor Mclaren." Anton smiled. "Maybe you two should visit Max during one of his races next season. Wouldn't that be nice?" Sophie suggested. "Oh, that would be fun! We should plan that, Max." You were excited by the idea.

"I don't know. Christian wouldn't be happy with letting in Mclaren people in the garage."

"We'd come as your friends"

"Yeah, I don't think so." Max stood up dropped his serviette and walked out the door. Of course, it wasn't his first time walking out of a room you were in.

Max knew it was a really bad idea to go to a strip club. He makes bad decisions even when calm and sober, who knows what will happen when he's angry and shit-faced. He was cold from walking in the snow for the last three hours and it was the only place open at 1 am on Christmas Day.

He couldn't see well in the dark but he sort of remembered tipping a stripper €1000 for a lap dance. He was getting angrier by the second. He was losing you by the second and there was nothing he could do to get you. He waited too long and everything slipped away from him. He had officially hit rock bottom.

"Hey, sexy. I'm Y/N. You here all by yourself?" Max thought he was hallucinating. There was no way you were at the strip club. He turned to see a blonde in a baby-blue bodysuit. It wasn't his Y/N. "What's your name?" Max slurred. "It's Y/N. But I can be whatever you want tonight." She started running her finger up his torso. "No. No. I want you to be Y/N." Max got up and dragged her to the private room.

I wanna hold you hair when you drink too much

Carry you home when you cannot stand up

Present Day

It's been a week since Max got the ring. He kept it safely hidden. He couldn't find the perfect moment to pop the question. He wanted everything to be perfect for his perfect girl. He can't mess this up.

2020

"He broke up with me" You stood in front of his flat. Max took a second to process the sight in front of him. You were clearly drunk and had been crying. Your makeup was running down your face. There was a dirty bouquet tightly clutched in your hands. Max simply brought you in and sat you on the couch while he went to grab some wet wipes.

He could hear your quiet sobs from his room. His heart broke to see you like this. He wanted to kill Anton. That motherfucker should've been dead long ago. He was spared for Y/N. Nothing was protecting him now. Max put away those thoughts for a bit and worked on getting you sober.

He walked into the living room. "I threw up." You said staring at the ceiling. There weren't any emotions in your eyes. You looked like a shell of the person you once were. Max carried you to the bathroom. He'd worry about the mess later.

He sat you on the counter and started wiping away your makeup and tears. You soon started to heave and leapt towards the toilet. Max held your hair back as you were throwing up. Part of him knew this was his redemption. This was his chance to make you, his. Unfortunately, he was raised better. He wasn't going to ask you out until he was worthy of you. He discarded those thoughts and carried you to the bed, pulling a duvet over you.

"Maxie, I'm still mad at you for not making it to the formal." He heard you mumble with your eyes still closed. "Me too, schatje. Me too." He whispered and turned off the light.

But I'll build a house out of the mess And all the broken pieces I'll make up for all of your tears

Present Day

Max could barely focus on the slides. He was stuck in an aero meeting, but his thoughts were all on the little black box burning a hole in his pocket. Of course, he carried it to Milton Keynes. He carries it everywhere.

He replayed every scenario where he was an asshole to you. You forgave him every time, but he knew he wasn't worthy of your forgiveness. You were too pure, too sweet for him. One misstep and you'll recoil away from forever. His stomach gurgled and he started sweating. He could feel his heartbeat racing.

"Excuse me." He walked out of the room with the little modesty left in him before sprinting outside. Fresh air and your voice are the only things that could save him now. 

“Hey. It’s me.”

2021

Everything was down to the last lap. This was everything Max had worked for. Every late night, every lashing from his dad, every missed formal, every second he spent away from you. It was all for this very second. As he turned towards Turn 16 in the Yas Marina Circuit, your face was all he could see. The chequered flag waved as he crossed the line. He’s won the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, he’s won the World Driver’s Championship. Most importantly, he’s won you. He’s finally worthy of you. 

He could not care less about the controversy surrounding his win. He parked his car in the No. 1 spot and ran towards his team. This was his moment, he wasn’t going to let some legal altercations take it away from him. 

He spotted you in the crowd from the podium, you were crying and screaming the Dutch National Anthem. After the champagne, he chucked the trophy at his physio and ran to you. He wasn’t going to wait anymore. No more missing anything. He was all yours if you had him. 

You were waiting for him near the Red Bull garage. “Y/N. I need to talk to you.” Before you could reply, he pulled you aside. “I’ve waited long enough. I spent the last 21 years making a better man of myself. I don’t know if that cancels out on all the times I’ve been rude and insensitive to you. But schatje, I promise, from this second I will do everything in my ability to make myself worthy of you and your love.” 

I promise, darling, you won't regret The best years I'll give you the best years

Present Day

You were gonna come home any minute. Max had spent the entire day cleaning the house and cleaning it again. He even pulled out some Christmas lights and decorated the living room. “Maybe I should light some candles” He wondered out loud. Jimmy jumped onto the sofa from nowhere, scaring Max and negating the candle idea. 

When he said he was going to ask you to marry him in your house, his friends and family considered it a bit unromantic. His mum and sister went as far as sending him blogs titled “Top 10 romantic spots to get engaged” But this house was more than just a house, it was home. The pair of you carefully curated and constructed this house, making it your very own. 

The Smart Home system alerted Max that there was movement in the garage. You were here. He did a quick sweep of the room and sighed. He wasn’t sure if the sigh was out of anxiety or happiness, but he was going to find out in about 5 minutes.

The front door opened. “Max. I’m home.” You called out like you did every day. You placed your keys on the little Lighting McQueen and Sally key stand on the wall. Sassy was already nudging at your legs begging for attention. “Hey, girly. Where’s daddy?” You cooed. The house was a little too quiet. Maybe Max was in the sim room. You walked to the living room and turned the lights on. 

“What the fuck?” were the first words to come out of your mouth when you saw the entire room glowing with Christmas Lights and Max on one knee in the middle of the room. You must be asleep. There is no way this is happening. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” You started to tear up.

“Y/N. I’ve given you a million reasons to hesitate, a million reasons to walk away. Yet you stayed by me, every single time. I couldn’t ask for a better friend, a better lover and a better wife to spend the rest of my life with. I’ve wasted so much time on people that reminded me of you when I should’ve been by your side. I want to hold your hand as we grow old. I want to carry you home when you cannot stand up. You did all those things for me when I was half a man for you. But darling, I promise, I’ll give you the best years. Will you marry me?” 

“Yes, Max. I want to marry you.”

A/N: Ahh!! The first fic is out now!! I truly enjoyed writing this. If you saw this being posted on Nov 2 instead of Nov 1, as per schedule, turn the other way pls thanks. Oscar x English Love Affair is next. See you all on November 8. Send an ask to be added to the taglist.

Love, Abby x

taglist: @evermoreandroyalblue  @stelena-klayley @honethatty12 @pippyth3hippy

[chrispydreams]

I fear.. my type might just be "coolest youngest in the group"

[calumsbiceps]

[kindahoping4forever]

x

[ughkat]

ur camera roll if ashton was ur boyfriend ❥

[sinning5sos]

masterlist ;)

Smut: 

Ashton: Ashton x Reader

Corrupt -> here

Freedom -> here

Punishment -> here

Too Hot -> here

Youngblood -> here

Unknown (story) | masterlist

Calum: Calum x Reader

Beautiful to Me -> here

Close -> here

Cocky -> here

Coworkers -> part one | part two

Club -> part one

Kinky -> here

Office Slut -> here

Roommates -> part one

Luke: Luke x Reader

Good Enough -> here

Golden Boy -> here

No Shame -> here

Worship -> here

Valentine -> here

#96 -> here

Michael: Michael x Reader

Afterglow -> here

Twitch -> here

Threesomes:

Cake: Luke x Calum x Reader

Have It Your Way -> here

Pool Part -> here

Choked (Have It Your Way 2) -> here

Lashton: Luke x Ashton x Reader

Be a Good Girl For Us -> here

Cashton: Calum x Ashton x Reader

Hot Tub -> here

Malum: Michael x Calum

Dare or Dare -> here

One Way or Another -> here

Fluff/Angst:

Ashton:

model -> here

moments | https://sinning5sos.tumblr.com/post/181472576794/moments-ashton

dating Ash would include -> part one

best years | part one

Calum:

back again | part one

best friends | part one

talk to me -> here

moments | part one

dating Calum would include -> part one

Luke:

Christmas gift -> here

piano lessons -> here

dating Luke would include -> part one

ghost of you -> here

stay -> here

Michael:

angst -> here

decisions -> here

dating Michael would include -> part one

Blurbs:

Calum:

surprise

lazy Saturday morning

thanksgiving

riding him

wedding blurb

punishment

father-to-be -> here

daddy Calum + stepmom

Ashton:

sugar baby -> part one

father-to-be -> here

birthday

how he knew -> here

possessive

Luke:

netflix & chill

teasing you

travel

attention

Christmas proposal

stand still

blowjob

boyfriend

fingers

father-to-be -> here

Michael:

father-to-be -> here

[storiesforallfandoms]

cover me ~ ashton irwin

word count: 1908

request?: yes!

“okay but ashton irwin size kink smut. like that man is over a foot taller than me and omg i would kill to be underneath him. like him manhandling you, picking you up over his shoulder and throwing you on the bed. i need it like i need oxygen, more than ever. so please”

description: in which his girlfriend is so much smaller than him, and they both get off on it

pairing: ashton irwin x small!female!reader

warnings: rpf, swearing, pet names (princess, baby), smut (unprotected p in v, fingering, oral m receiving, tummy bulge, references to other sexual activity but nothing in heavy detail), reader is described as being smaller than ash so i apologize if that is not your body type i usually try to be more vague for my fics but this was a request!

masterlist (one, two, three)

Ashton was obsessed with how much bigger he was than you.

At first, he just thought it was adorable. He stood at least a foot taller than you, and he loved to pick you up or give you piggyback rides. When he realized how much bigger his hands were, he teased you about it constantly. He’d put stuff on the top shelf just to watch you struggle to reach it, or so you’d have to ask him to get it for you.

He thought it was adorable and hilarious, until he realized how hot it was.

He could pick you up and fuck you senseless against the wall. His large hands could wrap effortlessly around your throat as he pounded you into the mattress. And occasionally there was a bulge in your tummy when he would bury himself completely inside of you that drove him absolutely wild.

When he realized how hot he found your small size, he just couldn’t stop himself from grabbing you whenever he was feeling needy. If you were in another room, he’d just pick you up effortlessly and carry you to your shared bedroom. Or he’d bend you over the armrest of the couch and make you stand on the tips of your toes so your pussy was the same height as his cock. Or he’d get you in the shower and pick you up to fuck you against the tile wall.

He was a horny bastard, and he’d be the first person to admit that.

It wasn’t always Ashton’s fault, though. You loved to tease him until he had no choice but to fuck you senseless.

Like the day you were at work and he was home, and you decided to tease him through text the whole day.

It started with an innocent enough picture in your work outfit, but you were wearing the skirt that Ashton went crazy for. For good measure, you had pulled it up a bit just for the picture, to make it look shorter. When he responded the way you had wanted him to, you followed up with a dirty text. You had him hooked, and you didn’t stop until you got into your car to drive home.

The second you walked through the door, you found yourself shoved up against the door and Ashton’s hand around your throat. He was squeezing just enough to make you feel lightheaded.

“You naughty girl,” he said, his voice husky with lust. “Do you know how difficult you made my day? I couldn’t get anything done because all I could think of was bending you over in this skirt.”

You squeaked as he slipped his other hand under your skirt. He ran his middle finger over your clothed clit. You whimpered.

“You’re already so wet,” he said. “Have you been fantasizing about having my cock all day? Is that why you were teasing me while you were at work?”

You nodded, but he squeezed your throat a little more. “Use your words.”

“Yes,” you whimpered as he relieved some of the pressure on your throat. “Yes, Ash.”

He was smirking. “You naughty, naughty girl.”

You gasped as he slipped a finger under the lace of your panties and started to run it through your folds. You moaned as he applied pressure to your clit and rubbed agonizingly slow circles. You were becoming lightheaded from the pressure he was applying to your throat, and that was making the feeling of him working on your clit more intense.

He slipped a finger into you and you cried out in pleasure. With your eyes screwed shut from the pleasure, you couldn’t see the look of satisfaction on Ashton’s face. He loved how good he could make you feel, especially when it was just with his fingers.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he asked. “Do you like these big fingers inside your little pussy?”

“Yes!” you cried out. “Fuck yes, Ash, it feels so good!”

He added a second finger, stretching you further. He curled his fingers to stimulate that soft spot inside of you that made you start to see stars.

Your first orgasm hit you without warning. You started to tremble and your vision went white as you clenched around him. You went slack in his arms as your body went numb. Ashton pulled his fingers from you and took hold of you so you wouldn’t fall. You tried to stand on your own, but your legs were too weak. Ashton picked you up to carry you to the bedroom. He laid you down gently onto the bed and pulled your skirt and panties off at one time. You could see the outline of his boner fighting against his sweatpants. You sat up to tug at the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them and his boxers down just enough for his hard cock to spring free.

He ran a hand through your hair. You looked up at him through your eyelashes and asked, “Can I suck you dick, Ash? Please?”

He groaned in response and pulled your head towards him. You took his cock in your hand and pumped him a few times before wrapping your mouth around the tip. You ran your tongue around the head just as slowly as he had been touching your clit early. His breathing was already becoming staggered as you did, and the hand that was resting in your hair still was starting to grasp at the strands. Slowly you started to take more of his length into his mouth. You didn’t want to over do it just yet, but Ashton involuntarily bucked his hips forward in pleasure and drove his cock into the back of your throat. You gagged and pulled off of him quickly.

“Awe, my little princess,” he cooed. “Can’t even fit this big dick in her little mouth. How are you going to fit all of it in your pussy?”

You ignored his comment and took him in your mouth again. You knew you wouldn’t be able to take the full of him, but something about his comment made you want to take as much as you could possibly handle. You wrapped your hand around the base of his cock, pumping whatever of his length that you couldn’t take in your mouth as you began to bob your head at the same time. Ashton threw his head back and groaned into the empty room, completely taken with the way your mouth felt around him. It was one of his most favorite feelings in the world, second only to the feeling of being buried balls deep inside of you.

You didn’t have him in your mouth for long before he was pulling at your hair, taking you completely off of him and pulling you into a kiss. It was sloppy and quick, and soon enough he was pushing you back down onto the bed.

“I can’t do any more teasing,” he said. “I need you.”

You stripped off your shirt and bra, and he took off his own shirt and kicked his sweatpants and boxers somewhere onto the floor. He climbed onto the bed, towering over you. You remembered how intimidated you felt seeing him like this for the first time. You knew Ashton was anything but intimidating or scary, but his height made it feel like he was towering over you. Not to mention the size of his cock actually had you worried at the time that he wouldn’t fit.

Now, though, the sight of him kneeling over you, his cock red and stood at full attention, was an extreme turn on.

He lined himself up with your entrance, running his tip through your folds to collect the moisture that was left from your orgasm. He pushed into you slowly, giving you time to adjust to every inch of him. One of your hands was gripping at the sheets beneath you, while the other was holding onto Ashton’s hand. He watched as he disappeared inside of you until his pelvic bone was pressing against your clit. He leaned down to kiss you, his entire body covering yours.

His thrusts started slow as he buried his head into the crook of your neck. He placed small kisses over your neck and collarbone. Each inwards thrust made his pelvic bone brush against your clit in a way that sent shocks of pleasure through your body. You could feel the pressure slowly building up in your stomach. While you didn’t want to cum again just yet, it was almost frustrating how slowly it was starting to build. You wanted to chase that high quickly once it had started.

Ashton pulled away from you to sit up on his kneels. He pressed a hand against your stomach and you gasped at the feeling.

“God, I love when I can see the bulge,” he said, looking down at where your bodies were connected. “Can you feel me deep in your guts, princess?”

“Y-Yes,” you breathed. “God, Ash, it feels so good. I’m getting so close.”

“Cum for me, princess. Let me feel you tightening around my cock.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit and started to rub circles until the pressure in your stomach became too much. You called his name as you felt yourself cumming again, this one somehow more intense than the first. Ashton groaned at the feeling of you squeezing his cock and it was enough for him to hit his climax, too. He buried himself completely inside of you as he spilled his seed into you. You were both panting messes as he slumped on top of you.

You giggled and pushed at him. “Ash, you’re going to crush me.”

“Can’t move. Feel too good,” he responded.

“You won’t feel good if you crush me to death.”

He pushed himself up on his elbows to hover over you. “I wouldn’t crush you to death. You’re dramatic.”

“Try having someone who’s basically twice your size lay their full weight on top of you, then tell me I’m being dramatic.” You sat up a little to kiss his nose before flopping back down onto the bed.

Ashton reluctantly pulled himself from you. You couldn’t help but pout from the empty feeling as he did so. He got up and went to the bathroom to get you both clothes to clean up with. He passed you yours, still nice and warm from the sink, and you quickly wiped yourself down. You grabbed his shirt from the floor and pulled it on while he pulled on his boxers.

“So,” he said, “got what you wanted, then? That was the idea behind sending the naughty texts?”

You grinned slyly at him. “Well, I did expect you to fuck me until I couldn’t stand, but I also just felt like being in a teasing mood.”

“I can’t believe you wore the skirt. I love that skirt. That skirt was supposed to be for me to see and me only.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back down onto the bed with you. “Other people may have seen it, but just remember you’re the only one allowed to bend me over in it.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your head. “That does make me very happy to think about. I may do that later once we’re both in the mood for round two, since I didn’t get a chance when you came home.”

[youngxcalm]

i love

[inthepassengerside]

luke wakes up in the middle of the night needy as ever, and there’s no reason for him not to help himself out and use his beautiful wife right next to him

warnings: smut -cnc, somnophilia , dirty talk, wet dreams, unprotected sex-

i don’t even know what this is i just got bored and horny

Luke was rutting his hips into the mattress that night. God was that dream so real. He was whimpering and needy and he had you tied up with your favorite vibe on your sore and swollen clit. You knew how much he was stressed and you loved being someone he could take his stress out on.

He was just watching you, slowly stroking himself because it felt so good he just needed to draw it out as long as possible.

You begin your third orgasm of the night as it washes over you and you even manage to squirt a little on the bed. Right away, he pushes his fingers into you roughly and makes you squirt more.

Your moans, oh your moans are what’s getting him off the most. He loves you and your body but your noises, the way you whimper at him, he loves it.

Just as he begins to push his tip into your tight walls his eyes open.

He lets out a heavy sigh once he’s aware of his surroundings. He’s incredibly hard. Luke doesn’t even catch himself when he starts pushing down his boxers and stroking his hard cock.

He sits up in the bed to see you laying on your back with your eyes closed peacefully. He smiles to himself before he peels the covers off of you to find you in a simple tank and panties.

Carefully, making sure not to wake you up just yet, he slips off your soft panties and spreads your legs. He was confused how you still haven’t woken up, but doesn’t dwell on it.

He pushes the tip in and let’s out such a breathy moan, it takes about two strokes before you’re moaning quietly, finally fluttering your eyes open and becoming aware of what’s going on. You’re alarmed at first, but you remember the conversation you had with Luke a few nights prior and immediately relax.

Soon, you focus on the pleasure and feel yourself stretching to his shaft.

“Hey baby. Had a dream. You’re so sexy I couldn’t wait till you woke up. Fuck.”

You giggle tiredly, “It’s okay baby. Love this. Love you fuckin’ me like this.”

His thrusts are deep and sharp and every time your hips meet he stays there for a few seconds, letting you feel his length inside of you.

Luke peppers kisses along your face and anything of your neck that’s exposed.

“You’re so tight holy shit. Can’t even fucking move.” He groans against your ear, softly nibbling at it.

You moan, “Ah. What was your d-dream baby?”

You feel your orgasm start to build up and you can’t take it. This whole moment is so much for the two of you and it’s definitely something new.

“Mm baby. Shit, I uh, had you tied up with a vibe on your clit. And shit it was so puffy- fuck, and you started to squirt all over our sheets. And you were making such pretty noises watchin’ me stroke my cock.”

You let out a guttural moan, “Shit t-that really is a dream,” You giggle.

Luke’s thrusts start to slow as you feel your orgasm. Your vision blurs as you’re already tired yet it’s probably one of the strongest orgasms you’ve ever had. It was such a sensual moment that it made the orgasm last so much longer and feel so much better.

He’s not far to follow, immediately spilling into you as you clench around him and your body shakes. He whines as he starts to suck along your jawline down to your neck.

He collapses on top of you, yet making sure not to crush you as you run your fingers through his hair. He groans against you as you tug on the curls.

“I love you. I loved that. Came so hard, Lu.” You whisper against him.

He shuffles his head along your chest. “Loved it so much baby. Loved it because it was you. Glad we tried it.”

“Goodnight baby boy. I don’t even want to check what time it is, but we should go back to sleep.”

Luke chuckles against you, “Goodnight my love.”

[33-81]

what your camera roll would look like when you're dating ashton

[valentiyne]

𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗌 & 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗒 𝗆𝖾𝖽𝖺𝗅𝗌 ☆ 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗎𝗆 𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽

Calum Hood x Famous!Reader Summary: Requested! After 4 years of agreed no contact, one phone call and song takes back all that you've worked for. Warnings: Mild Cursing, Slight of Explicit Content. Word Count: 1k (not rlly proofread lol) Copyright © 2023 Valentiyne. All rights reserved. This original work is not allowed to be reposted on any platform in any format.

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

"So, Y/n tell us more about Calum Hood"

A name I hadn't heard in exactly 4 years to the very date.

48 months, 1461 days, and 35040 excruciating long fucking hours.

My face immediately lights up at the name nevertheless, brushing my hair behind my ear nervously,

"Hood? I'm not quite sure what this has to do with my upcoming EP coming out at midnight", I breathlessly laugh out, my eyes locking with the interviewer in front of me. My new work titled, "Bittersweet" was launching at midnight, only containing 4 songs to go along with the 4 bittersweet years I've spent away from him. It was hopeless of me to write about him, but he was the only source of inspiration I could find.

"Well you two had a bit of chemistry as far as we know, is that right?"

Sure we did. We spent over 6 years together on and off, but always came back to each other. He was my rock, my everything, but ultimately we knew it wasn't going to work out.

"Sure we did, I mean it was nothing but a mere innocent crush", I cross my legs now, my shaky hands clasped on top of my knees. The crowd was silent as excited fans packed into the small room to hear the soft launch before midnight.

"Well it was surely more than innocent", she motions to the screen next to us. "This picture was taken four years ago in Bali during the second leg of their tour", I mentally roll my eyes but smile anyway. A few people from the crowd squealed as the iconic picture of us in cuddled up on the beach was displayed, the same one he posted himself as an excuse to have me on his page.

"Like I said- It was a small crush" I was trying to convince myself more than everyone else.

I watch as the slideshow continues on, the screen filled with every single moment in time that Calum and I were spotted together across the world. A few innocent ones of us walking next to each other, to one taken on the balcony of a hotel. We were just kids who didn't know what they were doing- lost in the moment together. He will always have a place in my heart. When things ultimately ended, we both agreed to never speak again- it was only weighing each other down.

"Well I thank you for your time, I hope everyone enjoys the album and finds some comfort in the chaos", I stand up abruptly, extending my hand to shake the interviewer's hand. The crowd cheered quietly as I walked off the stage with a slight wave. I needed to get out of here, I felt like a complete idiot working myself up over someone that I no longer talked to.

I slipped past the stage crew as I shuffled out past the backdoors and towards the parking lot, my fingers fumbling with my keys as I tore my driver's door open and plopped down dramatically. The door shut behind me and I sighed to myself loudly,

That was fucking ridiculous, they didn't even ask anything about me. Just about someone I never wanted to mention. Of course, I could talk about him until the end of time, but it wasn't my place to do so anymore. He was playing sold-out shows every other day and had no worry about a girl back home who happened to have matching tattoos with him, right? The tattoo we shared was of a small flower underneath our ribs, the same flower he gave me on our one-year "situationshipversary" as he called it. It was a silly gesture that I treasured, the California wildflower that he pulled over on the side of the Pacific Coast Highway to pick during peak traffic on the way to my house. It now lay inside a small glass bottle hung around my neck, all wilted like our history.

I pull my phone from my purse, scrolling down to the bottom of my contact list, and clicking on the "DO NOT CALL!!!!" number. I hesitantly dial his number and bring it up to my ear,

"Hey! You reached Calum, I'm away from my phone right now but leave a message!", He declined it immediately, either that or his phone was dead. Not quite sure which one makes me feel better. I roll my eyes at the stupid prepubescent voice and turn my phone off.

I tossed my phone down onto my lap and leaned my head against the wheel. I subconsciously wanted to log back into my Instagram and scroll down an update page to find out anything about him. I had no idea what he was up to or who he was with, it's been years since I've last heard his voice.

"You know this isn't good for either of us, Y/n", he rang through my head as I remember standing on his porch in late July.

"Calum, we've been through this so many times- why can't we just try?"

He runs his hand through his freshly cut hair and shakes his head, "It never ends well, I feel like a fucking lost dog who always limps its way back to you.. I just- Fuck- I can't do thi-"

The last thing I remember was the door closing in my face, leaving me all alone with no closure. I could hear him on the other side, a thump on the door indicating he was leaning against it. I tried for the handle, jiggling it a few times before banging on it, begging for him to talk to me. I couldn't stay mad at him forever, as much as I wanted to. I wanted to scream at him, slap him in his beautiful face, and kiss him all at once.

My phone vibrating snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked down,

DO NOT CALL!!!!

My heart skips a beat, staring at my phone on my lap buzzing away. I bit my lip softly, pulling it closer to my face as I accepted the FaceTime call.

The camera was pointing to the ceiling when I answered, his voice booming loudly as he spoke.

"Hello?"

I let let a breath I didn't know I was holding, trying to gather the right words to say. What was I supposed to say after all this time?

"Cal?", my voice is softer than I had hoped for, the word slipping past my lip like it's begging to finally be let out.

"Holy shit", the camera shifts and he props it up against the wall, waving at me with one hand. Calum sits in his studio chair with his old bass in his lap, headphones pushed back against his long curly hair. His eyes are wide as he raises an eyebrow, "Shit, long time no see."

I adjust the camera against my steering wheel and scoot my seat back, allowing for a better view of myself as I smile innocently with an awkward wave. "Hi Cal, how ya been?" I see his eyes travel down to the necklace around my neck, my fingers dancing around the bottle as I speak.

"Shit, Y/n if I'd known it was you calling I would've answered way faster, I just had deleted your number-", he stops himself, looking up with a sympathetic crooked smile before sighing. I raise a hand up to reassure him instead, "Calum", god saying his name tugs at my heartstrings, "It's okay, I get it... we don't have to dance around it.. now what are you up to?"

He was lying, Calum hood was bluffing to my face and I had no idea. After all this time, he still had my contact listed as "My wildflower", but he couldn't dare admit to me that he didn't answer sooner because he was scared.

Scared of what I was going to say

Scared id tell him I found someone new

Scared of seeing or hearing me again

"I'm actually working on a song right now", he laughs and holds the iconic bass up, a small spot right under the strings that once had a star sticker I placed on it- now scraped off.

I make a face, reminding myself that that was the past and I shouldn't dwell on it too much, but seeing him happier without me didn't make me feel like I thought it would. A part of me wished he was as miserable as I was, cooped up in my room writing stupid songs that were confessing my raw feelings.

"What's it about?", I chirp up as he bends down to play a few notes on the keyboard next to him, assuming it's the intro.

"It's about someone that was in my life, uh someone you don't know- she came around afterward", he says slowly, not meeting my eyes through the screen. I just nod in agreement, opening my mouth to speak.

"Would you like to come over for dinner sometime this week?", The words flow out before I had time to think about it. As I wait for his response, I pick at my nails- a habit he absolutely hated. He would smack my hand out of my mouth every chance we were together, telling me "I'd get worms in my belly" I did stop for a while, but my bitten nails were the only reminder he was actually gone.

"Yeah, I would love to!- Look I'll let you go but we'll keep in touch alright?", He speaks quickly, his hand flying down in one swift movement. With that, he ends the FaceTime call and I'm left looking at my reflection. I looked dumbfounded, smiling to myself as wide as I could.

I couldn't let myself fall for this again, for him- we both knew it wasn't going to end well for either of us. But hell it's been 4 years and I've changed as a person, and by the looks of it, he has too.

My phone buzzed once, twice, and then three before I looked back up at it to see three new messages from none other than Hood.

DO NOT CALL!!!!: I kinda lied, you do know the person I wrote it about

DO NOT CALL!!!!: mp3.wildflower.calumdemo.rec

DO NOT CALL!!!!: my wildflower ;)

[prettymonegasque]

5 Seconds of Formula One Masterlist

Formula One x 5 Seconds of Summer

Max Verstappen x Best Years

I'll make up for all your tears - November 2

Oscar Piastri x English Love Affair

A Hideaway in Mayfair - November 8

Charles Leclerc x Older

One-Way Ticket for 2 - November 15

Carlos Sainz Jr x Money

Take my money - November 22

Lewis Hamilton x Ghost of You

Too Young Too Dumb - November 29

Send an ask to be added to the taglist!

[sunshine-daisies-library]

starry eyed lies | ashton irwin x pop star!reader

author's note: had been cooking this one for a while, might be really sloppy bc i had zero time to work on it lol

summary: as a publicity stunt to boost the popularity of five seconds of summer, ashton is forced to fake date you, a rising pop star that has stolen the hearts of listeners around the world.

warnings: fighting, social media, cyber-bullying?, swearing, mentions of weed, fake dating trope, Ashton is labeled a "bad boy" lol, angst

word count: 11.0k

It was supposed to be a simple “fix-all.” Following the tour for Sounds Good Feels Good, the boys were running on a high. Their names were known all over the world, and they were loved by all girls for not only their music but their looks, too. But with a running high, things must come to an end, as the boys began to falter on their positive fame streak. From negative articles to drama tabloids being released about them, the boys were torn apart by critics and haters alike for their rock star-bad boy attitude. Wherever they made a mistake -one drink too many or ending up in another drama with other celebrities- the press was right there to pick them and prod them where it hurt. The boys’ hands were tied, and it looked like it was the end for their band as they knew it. 

“I’m really at a loss here,” their publicity manager sighed, holding a news article in her hand. On the headlines it stated “Aussie Punk Rock Boys Strike Again: Another Party Gone Wrong.” Depicted in the photo were Luke and Ashton’s headshots taken by the L.A.P.D. It was yet another public disturbance report with additional fines allotted because they were under the influence. On top of that, Luke was still underage and not allowed to drink. 

“I mean, really,” she pressed, tossing the paper onto the coffee table. “Another disturbance report? I thought I told you guys to cut down on parties and alcohol. What were you thinking?”

And to be completely honest, they weren’t thinking. With press on their backs and paparazzi following them everywhere they went, the boys felt completely constricted. Stress was building up in their systems and they lacked an older figure -someone more knowledgeable in the music industry- to guide them through their early onset of fame. One mistake after the other just egged each other on, leaving them feeling hopeless and self-destructive. It got to a point where Ashton considered doing one last big stunt to end his career entirely. At least then he’d finally get to go back home and away from the drama. 

But he couldn’t do that to his boys. His best friends he more so considered brothers had dreamed of moving to L.A. and making music for everyone to hear. Hell, it was his dream, too. He couldn’t possibly throw all of that away for his own selfish desires. Ashton still had to admit that he was getting tired of constantly being under the spotlight with little reward from it. 

“I’m sorry Manuela,” Luke said, hanging his head low. “It won’t happen again, I promise.” 

“I hope I can count on you guys when you say that,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Because there’s only so much I can do on my end to get you guys out of the hole you put yourselves into.” 

Michael leaned over his knees, determined to make things right. “Tell us what we can do,” Michael insisted. “We can clean ourselves up, we swear. We promised to take this break as a time to fix ourselves and really focus on our music.” 

“See, that’s the thing,” Manuela pointed out. “Taking a break is the perfect opportunity to get out of the spotlight and focus on bettering yourselves. But, completely escaping the press and media will make you guys fade out of the music industry. So we have to find an even balance between the two.”

“How?” Calum asked curiously. A frown rested on his tired face. Anyone could tell the bad press was getting to him. It was getting to all of them. “Everyone practically hates us.” 

Manuela grabbed the remote from the table and turned on the TV, connected to her computer. “That’s where we come in,” she started, sharing her screen to the boys. “What we need is a fresh face that’s receiving positive feedback to get you guys on everyone’s good side again.” She flicked through meaningless graphs and percentages of social media engagement and views on YouTube for their tour diaries and music videos. Ashton winced at the downward trend for each graph. “My team’s first option was One Direction. But considering the break they decided to go on, it’s obviously not a viable choice anymore.” 

“So who do you have in mind?” Ashton spoke up, flicking his hand up to ask his question. 

Their publicity manager clicked the remote to change slides. On the screen was a beautiful girl, smiling at the paparazzi. You looked shy, definitely new to the L.A. music scene but confident nonetheless. 

“Woah, y/n l/n?” Michael awed. “I’ve listened to her music before. She’s sick.” 

“And also America’s new pop princess,” Manuela informed them. “After touring with Taylor Swift as her opening act for the 1989 tour, she’s gained considerable popularity. She’s just moved to L.A. and records at the studio a couple blocks down. She’s new to the industry, but she’s promising.” Manuela switched  off the TV and turned to the boys. “And she’s probably your only option.” 

“Hold on,” Ashton said. He was struggling to wrap his head around this. “What do you want us to do with her? Record a song with her? Not to be rude or anything, but her music genre doesn’t mix well with our type of stuff, and I don’t feel like writing lovey-dovey shit.” 

Manuela chuckled at his immediate disgust at the idea. “No, we weren’t thinking that,” she reassured him. “For now, at least. What we need is a good influence in your lives for the public to see. Someone like y/n.” 

“So what now?” Ashton raised an eyebrow. “We just knock on her door and become best friends?” 

“Ash,” Calum scolded him, smacking his knee. “Be nice. y/n and I are mutuals on social media and she’s had nothing but nice things to say about us.” 

Manuela snapped her fingers. “Exactly,” she agreed. “Calum and Michael are already acquainted with her. We need a bigger step to bring you guys into the limelight.” The older woman turned to Ashton, ironically the one member that was most against this whole ploy. “We need you to date y/n.” 

The four boys let out shouts of differing emotions. Michael was shocked, Calum was confused, Luke was jealous, and Ashton was no doubt opposed. 

“Why him!” Luke whined. “He doesn’t want to do it, let me! I’ll gladly date her.” 

Manuela shook her head, adamant on her decision. “It’s gotta be Ashton, I’m afraid,” she said. “His “bad boy” persona is the most detrimental to your overall image. He’s got to be the one. Not to mention, y/n requested him specifically.” 

“Oh great,” Ashton groaned, voice dripping in sarcasm. “The plan is to sell me off as some pop star’s boy toy? How come she’s in on it and I have no choice?” 

“That’s not the plan,” Manuela told him firmly. “It was created in agreement between her team and yours. She needs all the publicity she can get to boost her fame and, well, you guys are aware of your own situation. It’s all for show, Ashton. All we ask is a few dates in public and even a kiss or two for the press.”

Michael snickered. “He won’t have a problem with that,” he muttered under his breath. 

“But,” Manuela cut the boy off. “We’re not asking you to marry her. It’s just a few months and then an amicable split. She’s going on tour at the end of the year, and you boys are going on your writing retreat. By then, both of you will be able to part ways and your relationship will be a thing of the past. She gets the publicity, your reputation gets fixed. It’s a win-win situation.” 

“Not for me,” Ashton fought back. He wanted nothing to do with this. Hell, he didn’t want anything to do with the band anymore. Each night, he plotted excessive plans to escape his prison called L.A. and fly back to Sydney to be with his family. He was sick of the lights, the glamor, the fame. 

He glanced back at his friends. His heart clenched at the dark bags under Calum’s eyes, and Michael’s uncharacteristically extra pale complexion from the lack of sleep. Anxiety had riddled the entire band, and it was clear on Luke’s hands where he had been picking at his fingertips. They were a wreck, and Manuela made it seem like he was their last hope. If he said no, they could pack up their things and go home. He’d get what he wanted all along. But Ashton couldn’t let go of the sparkling looks in their eyes when they received word from One Direction that they wanted them to open up for their concerts. He saw hope in their futures, saw something bigger in store for them. In some way, Ashton could still see that innocence in their eyes, blocked slightly by their stress and nerves. He was their last chance to bring that optimism back. 

“I’ll do it,” he gave in. The boys let out whoops of joy, tackling Ashton into a hug. Ashton was frustrated beyond belief, but he faked a smile just to see his boys get their spark back. 

–

Ashton was immediately regretting his decision the moment he stepped foot into the restaurant. The restaurant was too expensive for his taste, the kind of eatery that sold mediocre food primarily for you to post on social media for your “friends” to envy you. If this place was your idea as Manuela mentioned, it was only a mere insight of your personality. And without even meeting you yet, Ashton was beginning to loathe you. 

The musician checked his watch again, keeping his head down and away from any prying eyes. You were ten minutes late, and if you kept this up, Ashton predicted you wouldn’t even show up. Ashton swore under his breath, growing more and more annoyed by you. He never should have agreed to this plan. 

Suddenly, you came bursting through the door. Your eyes peered around the store before finding Ashton’s, immediately heading to the table he had saved. Ashton fought the urge to roll his eyes at your lack of sunglasses or hoodie. It was like you were begging for attention. Which, now he thought, you probably were. 

“I’m so sorry I’m late,” you apologized profusely, setting your bag on the ground and pulling out your notebook. A waitress immediately went to your table to take your orders. Ashton had only wanted water, but you ordered one milkshake and a side of cannolis. “Traffic was terrible, as per usual in L.A. I suppose. And then my publicity manager asked me to get my hair down for today, then she scheduled a nail appointment-” You took a deep breath, running out of air from talking so quickly. “I feel like a dress up doll,” you joked, giving the Aussie a sheepish smile. 

Ashton, however, was not amused. He barely returned your smile, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Whatever,” he murmured. “Let’s just pretend to look happy when the press gets here. We were supposed to have a ten minute prep time but since you decided to be late-”

“I didn’t decide to be late-” you fought back incredulously.

“We only have three minutes max to plan something good for the press to take a picture of,” Ashton finished, sending a glare your way for interrupting him halfway. 

You huffed, deep in thought before concocting something paparazzi worthy. “Just follow my lead, okay?” you said, watching a swarm of paparazzi approach the restaurant. The waitress set down your order and was about to dash off when you asked for two straws. 

Ashton raised an eyebrow at your idea, not exactly following along. You stuck the two straws into the glass, taking a healthy sip from it. You let out a moan of delight, smiling to yourself at the taste. Ashton fought the urge to chuckle at your almost innocent-like demeanor. He coughed to cover up his laugh, still stubborn enough to maintain his grudge against your tardiness. 

You took the paper wrapping of one straw and glanced up at the drummed in front of you. Tying the wrapper together, you raised the knot up. “Tug the other side,” you instructed. 

Ashton gave you a pointed look but pulled the wrapper nonetheless, pulling until the paper gave way and snapped in half. The knot remained on your end, making you cheer in victory. 

“I still don’t understand what the hell you’re doing,” he grumbled. 

You ignored him, closing your eyes and whispering to yourself. Ashton leaned back, not fighting back an eye roll. “Great,” he muttered. “I’m on a date with a weirdo.” How was this supposed to get the band good publicity? 

Opening your eyes again, you set the wrapper down. “I was just making a wish,” you explained as if it was the most obvious thing. “You never did that before? Tie a knot in the straw wrapper, pull, and whoever gets the knot gets to make a wish.” 

“That’s,” Ashton took a deep breath. “The biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard in my life.” 

You scoffed playfully, cocking your head to get a good look at the paparazzi. More photographers approached the windows, taking hundreds of photos of the two of you. “Try smiling more,” you told him. “Maybe people wouldn’t crown you with the “bad boy of the band” title if you did.” 

“I’m not the bad boy of the band,” Ashton retorted, smiling nonetheless. It was a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it satisfied the press who started flashing their cameras more frequently at the sight of it. 

Snorting, you took his hand and weaved your fingers together as you took another sip of your -now shared- milkshake. You let out a quiet giggle despite no one saying anything funny.

“You’re terrible at this,” Ashton deadpanned. 

“I’ve seen people do this in movies,” you responded, shaking your head as if he said something unbelievable. 

“Doesn’t mean it’s a good idea,” he said back, responding to your head shake with a chuckle. 

You hummed, turning away and muttering under your breath, “Look who’s talking.” 

Ashton couldn’t help but be amused by your clever comebacks. He never expected you to be able to keep up with his sarcastic comments. But here you were, dishing them out faster than he can create one. 

“Anyways,” you continued breezily. “You’re so the bad boy of the band.”

“What makes you say that?” he asked, readjusting his position in his chair to prepare himself for whatever response you’d curated. 

You took a pause to collect your thoughts. You took a bite of your cannoli as you thought to yourself. “First off,” you swallowed the remaining bits of the pastry. “In your first album, you’re the only one looking away from the camera frowning. Luke’s looking away, but at least he’s smirking a little bit. That’s big bad boy energy. And the bandana? Come on, you’re trying so hard to be edgy but I see your smile behind the drums.”

Ashton rolled his eyes for the millionth time that day. “Good to know you’ve done your research.”

“I have to get to know my new fake boyfriend,” you waved him off jokingly. “What am I supposed to do? Go into this blind? Surely you’ve done some research about me.” 

The Australian musician hesitated to respond. “I may have skimmed the binder?” he responded, a little bit embarrassed. He didn’t expect to have to know everything about you and your career. 

You squeeze his hand, reminding him you were still intertwined. “It’s okay,” you assured him. “We’ll have plenty of time to get to know each other later.” 

You both turned to the windows and noticed the swarm of photographers only grew in size, all of them in huddles behind cars. “You think we gave them enough to look at?” you asked. Not waiting for a response, you placed a couple bills on the table and pulled Ashton up with you. 

“Where are we going?” Ashton questioned as you both braved the outdoors, instantly getting bombarded by the paparazzi. Taking on a protective boyfriend role, Ashton wrapped an arm around your shoulders and lent you his sunglasses to wear. 

“Don’t worry!” you said, raising your voice a bit due to the loud calls of interviewers calling out to them. “I know a place!” 

You sprinted down the street and took a sharp right, tugging Ashton along with you. Impressively enough, you were fast enough to lose the press. Soon enough, you found the place you were looking for and dove in. 

The drummer blinked a couple times, trying to regain his sight after the millions of flashes nearly blinded him. Once his vision turned back to normal, he looked around the room to see a relatively empty restaurant. The lights were dim and gave the feel of a speakeasy but also had sweet handmade decorations adorning the walls. The place was endearing to him, somehow, because of how unabashedly unique it was. 

You directed Ashton to your favorite table in the back corner while you went up to the counter to order for the both of them. By the time Ashton had gathered his bearings in his seat, you returned with a tray full of food. 

“Welcome to the “Quilted Corner,” you introduced him to the cafe. “Everyone’s favorite eatery in the darkest corner of Los Angeles. And by everybody I mean probably just me and five other people.” 

Ashton nodded dubiously, understanding the unique name for the place once he got a good look at the grandma-esque decorations. 

“And what do you have in your tray of horrors?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at the assorted foods.

You began to divide the food between the two of you, the mountain of greasy foods slowly turning into a valley and then nothing at all. 

“I’m going to change your goddamn life, Irwin,” you declared, taking a napkin and wiping your hands with it. “This is the order Granny Stevenson -the owner- recommended to me when I first came here. I was lost in the city looking for a place to duck and cover from the paparazzi and came across this lovely place.”

You gestured to the spread of foods. “This is the “homesick cure,”” you told him. “It consisted of two double cheeseburgers, a side of fries, and a milkshake. All completed with Granny Stevenson’s special sauce.” 

“And a heart attack,” Ashton deadpanned. 

You ignored his statement. “This place is really special to me,” you confessed. “It actually cured my homesickness and Granny Stevenson is a grandma-away-from-home to me. This place is where I go to write songs or just get away from it all.”

Ashton poked at his order, a thin film of oil coating his fingertips. “I don’t see the inspiration factor here,” he said, his nose scrunched up. “It just looks like another fast food place in America.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, sad mis-fed rockstar,” you said with a smirk. You pointed at the one last item you didn’t mention. “Behold the Grandpa Stevenson special.” You held up the dish and smelled it deeply. “A blueberry cheesecake made in-house with all the love this place can put into it. Name a place that sells that kinda love, Ashton.” 

“I’m pretty sure Burger King sold that at one point in a mall food court,” he snipped back. 

You narrowed your eyes at the pessimistic drummer. “Not sold with love,” you reminded him. “Besides, they actually make this stuff here. No processed shit, only love.”

Ashton scoffed, turning his head away from the table. Love. What a load of bullshit. If you were gullible enough to buy into the “love” this restaurant sold you, you definitely wouldn’t make it in the cut throat music industry. You were too innocent. It was only a matter of time until those producers and media companies tear you apart like they did with him and the band.

Despite his negative attitude, he took a fork and tried a piece of the cheesecake. The light dessert just about melted on his tongue, the flavors of cream, blueberry, and cinnamon dancing along his tongue. It was the best thing he’s ever tried.

“Told ya,” you sang, eating your own meal with a knowing smirk on your face. 

Ashton feigned a look of disgust. “You didn’t tell me shit,” he grumbled. “It tastes like every other cheesecake.” That was a lie. It wasn’t like anything he’d ever tasted. Somehow, it tasted like home. 

You tried to wipe your messy face with a napkin. “No one that thinks this is an average cheesecake makes that kinda face.” When Ashton didn’t understand, you sighed, preparing to make the same face. “It’s the look you get when you touch down in your hometown after an eleven hour flight. Or the face you make when you write a banger bridge for a song you’ve dedicated weeks to. Or it’s the look you get when everything makes sense in the world.” 

Ashton stabbed his cheesecake and shoveled more of it into his mouth. Pure Heaven. “Whatever,” he huffed. 

The two of you finished the rest of your meal in silence, aside from sighs of content from you because the food was that damn good. You finished off your milkshake, but not before picking up the straw wrapper and tying a knot, just like you did at the cafe before. 

“Pull away, rockstar,” you instructed. Reluctantly, Ashton followed suit and tugged at the paper, the knot ending up on his side this time. You cheered, clasping your hands together. “It’s your turn now! Your first wish that shall be granted by the straw gods.”

Ashton shot you a look before tossing the wrapper to the side. “I don’t really care for wishes,” he stated plainly. You frowned at his negative attitude and that look alone made Ashton’s heart lurch. He instantly felt bad for the way he’s been treating you; it wasn’t your fault the press hated him. But still, he couldn’t help but put some blame on you. It was better than wallowing in self hate, he supposed. 

“It’s okay,” you collected yourself. “You can save that wish for when you need it.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m not going to need it,” he responded sarcastically.

You chuckled, taking a bite out of Ashton’s cheesecake. He let out a shout of protest but you paid no attention to him. “Trust me,” you assured him. “There’s always a time when you need a wish in L.A.”

–

“She’s weird,” Ashton grumbled, readjusting the cuffs of his button up. The boys were preparing for their interview with Buzzfeed in their shared dressing room, fighting for space in front of the mirror. 

It’s been a total of three months since you and Ashton started your fake relationship and the media has been eating it up. They followed the both of you everywhere you went, hiding in cars and in alleyways to get a glimpse of the so-called happy couple. You played your part well, holding his hand in public and kissing his cheek whenever you had the opportunity. From the public’s point of view, Ashton was just as taken by you as you were with him. The media fawned over his boyish grin and blush whenever you’d readjust his beanie in the winter cold. 

On your end, you were genuinely falling for the boy. Behind closed doors, he was just a boy from Australia, new to the fast paced life of being a celebrity. You saw through his cold facade, slowly cracking through the walls he put up around his heart, and you had a feeling you were growing on him. He’d still quip sarcastic comments and roll his eyes, but you didn’t miss the small smile that would rest on his face when he thought you weren’t looking. As rare as his genuine smiles were, you relished those moments because it was the only times you’d see the real Ashton, not the one he’s put out for the paparazzi. 

Ashton, however, was still holding out his grudge against you, albeit very weakly. His tough exterior was indeed toppling slowly. Your kind nature was just too sweet to not find you a little endearing. Ashton would never admit that you had grown on him a little, and a small part of him possibly looked forward to your weekly dates. He learned so much from you, it was as if he never wanted to stop listening to you. Not that he would tell you that, though. 

“That’s all you’ve ever said about her,” Michael shot back, glancing at the mirror to check his hair one more time. “Come on, mate, it’s been three months. Surely you have something new to say about her?” 

Calum agreed wholeheartedly. “Yeah, she’s come to the studio during her breaks from recording. That’s not even in your dating contract but she still does it.”

“Not to mention she gets us coffee every time,” Luke piped up. “That coffee is addictive, where does she get it?” 

Ashton couldn’t help but smile at the thought. He knew you’d always stop by the Quilted Corner -no matter how far of a walk it was- to pick up some coffee. And he knew you always tried to be slick about it, but he’d always catch you tucking away a slice of blueberry cheesecake in the band’s fridge, just for him. He’d never mention it, though. He wanted to let you have your fun. 

Calum let out a shout, pointing at the drummer accusingly. “Aha!” he cheered. “I knew she was growing on you!”

“What the hell are you going on about, Cal?” Ashton demanded, exasperated by his friends’ antics. 

Calum continued his childish shimmy, the other boys gleefully joining in. “You got that dumb smirk on your face,” Calum smugly pointed out. “You’ve got it bad for y/n, don’t you.” 

Before Ashton could respond, the director shouted, “Five minutes till shooting!” Glaring at the boys to keep them silent, Ashton made his way to the chairs in front of the camera, silently praying for this interview to be quick and over with. 

“Welcome to Buzzfeed, boys,” the director’s assistant approached them with a smile. She was petite but her voice was strong and insistent. “Make sure to always look at the camera, but above all, smile and don’t look down. The viewers want to see your faces, okay?” Nodding in confirmation, the boys readied themselves for the camera as the assistant swiftly moved out of the way. 

“Yeah Ash, don’t doze off dreaming of y/n,” Luke snickered into his ear, making the other boys chuckle along with him -aside from Ashton, of course.

–

The interview went as well as one could expect. The questions about the boys’ past were still continuously brought up but the boys answered the questions with grace they could only credit to Manuela. Luckily enough, the interviewer seemed to enjoy their responses, noting a significant maturity in the boys. They seemed to have gotten over their party phase and turned into serious musicians during their break from tours and parties. 

“Final question is for Ashton,” the interviewer shuffled through their papers. “Sources have spotted you and new singer songwriter y/n l/n around L.A. quite a bit following the end of the North American 1989 tour. Now, you both have confirmed your relationship and made it very clear you two are together. Has y/n been an influence in the reshaping of your image in the media?” 

Ashton bit the inside of his cheek. Just remember what Manuela rehearsed with you, he thought. 

“Yeah, y/n’s been great,” he answered, trying to not sound as monotone as he did during his practice runs. “She’s been such a great influence to me and the boys, always keeping a positive outlook on things. I learn a lot from her, and I’d like to think she’s learned quite a bit from me, too.” 

“Like jumping into the neighbor’s pool at midnight?” the interviewer jested, referencing the one time Ashton had drunkenly trespassed his neighbor’s home while they were on vacation. 

Ashton tried not to cringe at that one memory, heavily wanting to keep that part of him in the past. “Definitely not that,” he laughed awkwardly. “But definitely in a sense of navigating newly received fame and things like that.” 

“That’s great to hear,” they hummed. “Should we be expecting anything from you guys? Maybe a collaboration of some sort?”

The drummed shrugged his shoulders honestly. “It’s all up to her,” he responded. “We’re still taking a break from touring, but we do have an album in the works. Writing music with her is definitely on the table, for sure.” 

Ashton wasn’t sure what word vomit was spewing from his lips. Last time he checked, it wasn’t up to you whether or not you wanted to collab with the boys (you were clearly apprehensive about invading his space), he didn’t want to write music with her (possibly due to the fact that the last time you had a joint writing session, he was stuck staring at you curled up on the other side of the couch; you were just mesmerizing but he’d never admit that aloud), and he hated lovey dovey shit (because he hated the warm feeling brewing in his stomach whenever you’d smile or laugh at his jokes). But it wasn’t like he liked you, right? He had to focus on his career, his boys, his life. Not a relationship that’s destined for failure no doubt because of the media. 

 “I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for you guys, thank you so much for coming to our studio today!” The interviewer finished off the closing statements for their interview while Ashton was left inside his head. 

Truth be told, he was conflicted. He had, in fact, gotten significantly closer with you, closer than he’d expected to be at the very least. He still tried to be closed off, tried to push you away from him so he wouldn’t get attached and heartbroken in the end. You just made it so damn difficult. 

“Nice responses, Ash,” Michael patted his shoulder as they gathered their things in their dressing room. “Really downplayed how much you liked her there.” 

Ashton raised an eyebrow while picking up his phone from the side table. He was stupid enough to not look at the text messages. Particularly the ones from you that stated you were on your way to the studio for your own interview. 

“What are you saying, Mike?” Ashton asked tiredly, tired of the relentless teasing and questions he’s gotten about you all afternoon. 

“Mike’s saying that we know you’re in so deep with her,” Luke spoke up from the back as he slipped on his jacket. “Like, L-word close with her.”

Love? Why the hell would he love you? This was all a fake set up for their careers, why didn’t they get that? 

“Can you guys knock it off?” Ashton snapped, finally raising his voice. “I don’t like y/n and I never will. I don’t even like her as a friend. She’s obnoxious, annoying, and so unbelievably difficult to work with; the two of us will never work out. And thank God for that because if I have to spend more than 10 months with her to save your asses’ careers, I’m leaving the fucking band.” 

“Ash-” Calum said meekly.

“No!” he cut him off harshly. “I’m sick of being pushed around like a fucking doll for publicity. The band was doomed from the start because the press won’t leave us the fuck alone. And using y/n as a last Hail Mary is as stupid as it is useless. She’s going to be nothing more than a washed up young celebrity like the rest of us and fade to the past.” 

“Ash!” Michael stopped him. “That’s enough, we get it.” 

Ashton didn’t piece together their hastiness until it was too late. He turned around to see you standing before them. He didn’t even hear the door open. Your eyes were welling up as your mouth was slightly opened by his outburst. 

“Hi guys,” you weakly greeted them. 

Ashton took a step forward, freezing when he saw you stagger back. “y/n,” he whispered, unable to know where to start with his apology. 

“I have an interview in ten minutes,” you informed them quickly. “I’ll see you around later, yeah?” 

You seemed to have taken that as final as you pushed them out of the dressing room and closed the door shut. You didn’t move from the door until you heard all of their footsteps trail off and out of the studio. You let out a shaky breath you didn’t even know you were holding in as you hang your head low. And to think you thought he actually might have liked you, too. 

A knock interrupted your thoughts. “Ms. l/n?” a voice spoke up. “My name’s Ryan and my buddy Shane and I wanted to know if–” 

“Sorry,” you said, opening the door sheepishly. You hoped your face wasn’t giving away your embarrassment and hurt you were experiencing. “I-um, I think I need to be alone for a sec.” 

“Oh!” the taller one exclaimed. “To call Ashton? I think I saw him walk that way.” 

You bit your lip, nodding painfully slow. “Yeah,” you croaked. “Thanks, I’ll be headed there soon.” 

You didn’t leave any time for debate or questions as you pushed through the pair and walked in the opposite direction, straight to the bathroom. The two men glanced at each other in concern. 

“What’s up with her?” Shane asked.

Ryan only shrugged his shoulders. “I guess it’ll remain unsolved,” he mused wisely.

“That’ll be a great name for a show one day!”

“I know right?”

–

You were lucky that there was enough conflict in both of your schedules to postpone your date to three weeks after the interview. To say you were anxious was an understatement. You picked at your fingernails as you waited for Ashton to arrive at the park. 

You were conflicted with the entire agreement. A part of you wanted to end the agreement, rip the contract into shreds. Ashton was right, wasn’t he? This plan was useless, and your fifteen minutes of fame were almost up. It was only a matter of time until you were no longer relevant. Then what would you do? You’d have to go back home and start over, and maybe that’s better than what you had for yourself now: a fake relationship for attention. 

But at the same time, you had fallen hard for Ashton. Behind his rough exterior was a shy musician that was passionate in what he did. He loved music, but loved his friends and family more. You admired him for that, realizing that he only had a harsh image because he was protective of who he loved. You only wished that he saved that part of himself for you, too.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” a soft voice spoke behind you.

You turned around on your bench to see Ashton standing, hands sheepishly in his pockets. His cheeks were red from the cold as his eyes were trained on the ground. 

“Of course I did,” you responded somewhat brusquely. “It’s part of the contract, afterall.” 

Ashton scoffed, making you raise an eyebrow irritatedly. You had every right to be a bitch to him. He was the one bad mouthing you in the first place. Your mixed emotions had sat in your stomach for the past few weeks. Your anger was winning out the heartsick feeling. 

“What are you scoffing about, rockstar?” you quipped, disgust filling your tone instead of affection as it usually was in the nickname you gave him. “I signed that paper as much as you did.” 

“It wasn’t like it was my fucking idea,” he shot back, frustration fueling his voice. He pulled at his hair and laughed, but there was no humor behind it. “In case you forgot, I was forced into this bullshit! And to think I was actually going to apologize to you.” 

“About which part?” you shouted back sarcastically. “The part where you called me obnoxious and annoying? Or how about when you couldn’t stand to spend any more time with me or else you’d quit the band? Oh I know! How about when you called me a washed up celebrity? Take your pick, rockstar! You’ve got plenty to choose from!”

“Don’t fucking call me that!” he raised his voice higher than he ever had before. “God, I’m fucking sick of you and your “holier than thou” bullshit! You’re only in this shit for the money and the fame. I’m tired of playing this game and being a fucking plot device to launch your career! Maybe if you actually had substance instead of putting up the “innocent girl from a small town” act, people would like you more! Because Jesus fuck I don’t!” 

What Ashton failed to realize was that your ten minute grace period between meeting and the paparazzi coming was up. The photographers circled around you like predators stalking their prey, starving for anything to satisfy their appetites. You were too caught up in your argument, too, oblivious to the prying eyes of the public. 

“Don’t act like you’re so perfect,” you spat. “You want my honest opinion about you? I think you’re nothing but a stuck up member of a boyband who’s pissy because the attention’s no longer on him anymore. Face it, Ashton! You’re just like everybody else here! Self-centered, fucked up, and ignorant as all hell. Maybe that’s why the media fucking hates you! It’s not because they twist your actions, you just are a fucking terrible person and it’s about time you realized that!” 

Ashton silently seethed, opening and closing his fists as he tried to find the right words to say. “You really think that?” he asked in a low tone. He wasn’t really sure if he wanted to hear your response. Despite his harsh words, he truly craved your validation and he knew that he wasn’t going to hear what he wanted. 

“Yes,” you swallowed. “I do.” Silence filled the cold air as you stood at a standstill. The air filled your lungs like icy needles, not yet thawed for the seasonal change that was yet to come. It was like a test between the two of you. Who was going to be the first to bite the bullet and say what’s been on your minds? 

You made your decision. “Let’s end this,” you said, voice wavering. “Let’s put the both of us out of our misery and end this once and for all. I think we both got enough of each other.”

Ashton was taken aback. He thought the same thing, but he didn’t think you’d be the one to say it. If he was being honest, he didn’t want to end it. If he could spend the rest of his life on a tightrope, teetering towards anger and frustration for eternity just to be with you, he’d do it. But he knew he was hurting you as much as you were hurting him. He knew what he had to do.

“Good,” he agreed, mustering enough strength to not cry right there. He really was losing the one good thing he had going for him. And it was all his fault. “I’ll have Manuela reach out to your manager. You can..lose my number, I guess.”

“If that’s what you want,” you told him smoothly. On the inside, you were crumbling apart.

Ashton forced a nod. “Yeah, that’s what I want.” 

–

He didn’t expect things to get as bad as they did. Ashton knew the paparazzi was everywhere, he always did. But dammit, he got so lost in his anger that it slipped his mind. And the one time it did, everything went wrong.

But for the first time, the blame wasn’t on him. Not in the eyes of the media, at least. 

Is America’s Sweetheart y/n l/n Actually a Monster? 

Pop Princess y/n l/n rips Australian Musician Ashton Irwin Apart

End of an Era: Irwin-l/n Break Up is Messy and Unexpected

Even on Twitter, you couldn’t catch a break. 

#y/nl/nisoverparty

#y/nl/nisasnake

#y/nisthebiggestbitch

#y/nl/nisOVER

On every magazine and gossip column was a picture of your encounter with Ashton at the park. Lucky for Ash, the media only got a glimpse of your rant at him and didn’t get any footage of him yelling back at you. To the public, he looked like the innocent party while you looked completely wicked. 

Oh God, Ashton thought. I just ruined her life.

The weeks that followed were rough. Manuela called for a group meeting and told them that their ratings have gone through the roof. 5 Seconds of Summer were finally back on the good side of the press and were labeled as the “innocent boys from Australia” that got “led down the wrong path.” Manuela was happy that her plan had worked; 5SOS is back on track, but she was disappointed at what it cost. 

“Is there anything we can do to help her?” Michael asked at the end of the meeting. 

Manuela pressed her lips together. “I’m afraid not,” she sighed. “y/n’s manager cut off all ties with us. I think we got the message that she wants nothing to do with us.” 

Calum checked his phone, cringing at the amount of tagged posts he was in. All of them bashing you and everything you’ve worked so hard to create. 

“We have to do something,” Calum pleaded. “She’s not just a coworker; she’s a friend. She’s always been there for us, even if Ash wasn’t here, she’d come by. We can’t leave her hanging like this.” 

“Ash,” Luke turned to his friend, blue eyes pleading and desperate. “Can you talk to her? Maybe we can work something out. Anything.” 

Ashton stammered before he responded. What could he do? He was the very last person you’d want to see right now. He got you into this mess and painted you out to be a monster. The blame should have fully been on him. You wouldn’t have yelled at him if he didn’t push you over the limit. 

“Why should it be me?” he asked. “She hates me.” 

Michael scoffed at his friend, clearly upset at his poor attempt at weaseling his way out of this. “You’re joking,” he deadpanned. “She adored you. Whether you liked her or not she was your biggest supporter. When you weren’t around at the studio, she talked the world about you. You may have not liked her, but she loved you. So you have to fix this.” 

“Boys, relax,” Manuela insisted. “I’m certain her publicity team has a plan set for situations like these. She’s probably going to keep quiet for a while then re-emerge into the public scene again once the public wounds have healed. So it’ll be in her best interest and yours if you keep quiet and not cause a scene. Not when the public finally has a positive outlook on you.”

“That’s so..” Luke huffed defeatedly. “Wrong.” 

Manuela patted his knee comfortingly. “That’s the music industry, love.” 

–

You truly fell off the face of the earth. Ashton was at a loss. After the presumed “silent break” you took, he thought you’d get back into the swing of things. Media tabloids had died down, and it seemed like the public had forgotten about your argument and moved onto the next interesting thing. But you didn’t come back. Not even to your studio, the place remained empty. You didn’t respond to his calls, all of them going straight to voicemail. Your manager only picked up her phone once, insisting he stopped calling if he knew what was best for him. Not even your friends answered his frequent dm’s. 

Your instagram was dormant. The last post was of Ashton a month back, playing his guitar and smiling down at his lyric book. He didn’t even realize you took that picture until you posted it. He was a little shocked that you kept it up, considering all things, but at the same time you didn’t post anything anymore. You used to post everyday, updating everyone about your hectic life. All that was left were the photos that remained on your page. Ashton had caught himself too many times scrolling through, just to see your smiling face again. He beat himself up over the fact that his last glimpse of you in person was nothing but a broken shell of who you once were. 

Ashton pushed the door open, entering the last place he thought of that you could possibly be in. The smell of the restaurant was the same as it always was, full of spices and sweets that made his mouth water. But he had to stay focused. He needed to find you and talk to you. 

Behind the counter, an older couple approached him. Ashton immediately recognized them as the Stevensons, the couple you adored more than their own food. It seemed like they recognized him too once they reached the counter space. 

“You must be Ashton,” the older woman said, readjusting her glasses. Her wrinkles appeared as she greeted him with a smile, a sign that she lived a life full of laughter and smiles. The kind of life you confessed you wanted desperately. “y/n has spoken so highly of you.” 

Ashton ducked his head, blushing at the compliment. Even when you were gone you still managed to light up the room and make him seem like a better person than he actually was. “That’s actually why I came here,” he told them. “I was wondering if you had seen y/n come by.” 

The gentleman beside Mrs. Stevenson shook his head. “Afraid not, son,” he responded. “Not for a while, actually. We were quite disheartened about that, but that girl is always so busy, isn’t she?” Ashton smiled, trying not to wince as he cringed on the inside. 

“Let me make you something, honey,” Mrs. Stevenson insisted, rushing to kitchens before he could refuse. 

Mr. Stevenson ushered Ashton to the booths, away from the restaurant regulars. Ashton ran his fingers through his hair, the rain soaking his brown locks. Spring was a bitch with the rain, but he knew how much you loved it. “What brings you here, son?” he asked. “You usually come with y/n. Don’t tell me she’s in any sort of trouble now, is she?” 

Ashton sat down, dusting off his jeans. “Not exactly,” he answered honestly. “H-have you not heard in the gossip tabloids?” 

“Oh no,” Mr. Stevenson waved his hand. “We were never one for those magazines. Sarah is always strict on rechilut.” 

Ashton nodded along. “I did something wrong,” he confessed heavily. “And I hurt y/n. Not physically, but honestly it feels worse. I want to make things right, but I don’t think she even wants to talk to me.” 

“That’s nonsense,” Mr. Stevenson insisted. “y/n would never cut ties with people like that. Especially you, she was very fond of you.” It seemed like everyone knew that except for Ashton himself. “y/n talked to me like I was her own grandfather. Now, all my kids are grown up and moved out of California, so they don’t come around much. I appreciated her company, and I know for a fact that you shouldn’t give up on her.” 

The drummer’s shoulders slumped guiltily. “I don’t think I deserve that,” he told him. “I was awful to her. I did everything wrong. I don’t think she’d believe me if I told her I loved her all along.”

“Do you really love her?” Mr. Stevenson asked him softly. 

Ashton looked up into the older man’s gray eyes. He saw so much life, so much wisdom in them. If he looked deeper, he saw himself in his eyes, the him he missed all along. “Yes,” he answered truthfully. “I really do.” 

Mr. Stevenson patted his shoulder affectionately. “Then lead with that,” he advised him. “I’ve lived a long life, Ashton. And most of my life has been spent with my dear Sarah. If there’s anything I learned from that, it’s that sometimes you need to shut the hell up and let your love speak for you.” 

Ashton let out a tearful chuckle at his advice. Mrs. Stevenson rushed out of the kitchen, a steaming plate in hand. The older woman set it on the table in front of him. 

“I hope you don’t mind that I guessed what your homesick cure was,” she said sheepishly. “Artie said I should stop guessing but I had a gut feeling on this one. I was right for n/n, I hope I was right for you.”  

Mrs. Stevenson set down the plate to reveal a healthy serving of spaghetti and a glass of water on the table. Ashton’s heart clenched at the sight. “Did I get it right, dear?” 

Ashton couldn’t even respond, he just nodded wordlessly like a child on Christmas morning, eager to play with his toys. Mrs. Stevenson chuckled at his response, ruffling his hair gently like a mother would. “Eat it while it’s hot, honey,” she told him. “And I’m sorry, but it seems like someone forgot to order another package of straws. You’ll have to drink from the glass, I’m afraid.” 

Artie stood up from his side of the booth, playfully rolling his eyes. “I’m on it, honey,” he responded, following closely behind his wife. Before leaving to the kitchen, he turned around and gave the boy a wink. 

Left to his own devices, Ashton tucked his hand into his jacket and nearly jumped out of his seat in shock. Pulling it out, he realized it was the knotted end of the paper straw wrapper from so long ago. Turns out he really did need that wish. 

“Let me make things right,” he wished in his head. “I just want one last chance to do the right thing.” 

Setting it on the table, all Ashton could do was hope that whatever was out in the universe heard him.

– 

Soon enough, you did emerge from the shadows of your hiatus. You were lucky to have a loyal enough fanbase to keep you afloat, and your tour was still set for that summer. You were grateful for the fans that stuck around, and the new ones that came along the way. It was a rough journey, but you tried your best to power through it to the best of your ability. 

Now, you were in your dressing room at the venue you were expected to perform in, an absolute fucking wreck. You were curled up on your couch, trembling and unable to even raise your head from your chest. Sobs filled your room, but you insisted to every manager and passersby that you needed to be alone and fix it yourself. 

To tell the truth, you never truly recovered from the media frenzy that took you and Ashton by storm. You knew you had every right to turn the tides on him, revealing to the world that he wasn’t the perfect saint everyone painted him out to be. But you didn’t, and no one on your publicity team was able to figure out why. 

 The reason was that you were still unexplainably attached to Ashton. Somehow, even though he put you in the situation where everyone started to hate you, you couldn’t help but now be able to understand why he acted the way he did. How he was overprotective of the boys and acted out of self preservation simply because of how cruel the media could be. By no means did you excuse him for putting you in that situation, but you still grasped some understanding. 

The difference between you and the drummer, however, was that he had a support system: his boys. You were practically alone to deal with the mess, cornered and vulnerable. 

You were shaking frantically in your room, unable to free yourself from your thoughts. Only one look at your phone caused your entire psyche to crumble. One fucking tweet about you shook your confidence. Some anonymous user critiqued your music, only attributing your success to your past “relationship” with Ashton. Those simple words broke down the walls you were just beginning to rebuild, and now you were stuck in your dressing room, thirty minutes before you were called onstage. 

Meanwhile, Ashton was navigating through the maze backstage looking for you. A bouquet of your favorite flowers were in one hand, a handwritten card in the other. He figured you’d be somewhere backstage, prepping for your show. He didn’t count on you being in your dressing room since you told him in the past that you loved to watch the crowd from behind the curtains. 

But to his shock, you were still in your pajamas hyperventilating on the couch. Ashton has witnessed this before; he’s experienced this before. But seeing you go through the same struggles he and his boys went through caused his heart to ache even more. 

“y/n?” he called out to you. You didn’t respond, eyes still trained on the ground as your grip around your legs tightened. Ashton set his things down on the side table, instantly kneeling in front of you. 

“Ashton?” you finally spoke, voice raspy and exhausted. For a split second, you thought you were actually hallucinating, envisioning the one man you needed but feared the most. But his cologne wafted into your nostrils, alerting you it was him in the flesh. “What are you-” You heaved a deep breath, choking out a sob. You could barely take the overwhelming stress towering over you like a deadly ocean wave. It was only a matter of time until it took you under and swallowed you whole. 

“Love, I’m going to need you to breathe,” he instructed, his hands finding yours. In your anxious state, you were able to distract yourself from your worries at the mere touch of his calloused fingertips. It was a silent calling to you, gently beckoning you back into reality but not quite succeeding. 

Ashton took your hand and pressed it against his chest, tucking it underneath his slightly unbuttoned shirt. His warm skin electrified your palm, making your heart race -not from the anxiety- but from butterflies. “Pay attention to my breathing and try to copy it, okay?” 

At first, you struggled to listen to his instructions. You worked on your anxiety with your therapists over more sessions than you could count. You tried box breathing, yoga, and even journaling but nothing ever calmed your nerves, especially after the media went after you. 

But suddenly, you concentrated on the slow rise and fall of Ashton’s chest. The way his chest hair tickled your palms in a way that made you want to scrunch your nose at the feeling. How his heart was beating nearly out of his chest but you could tell he was trying to minimize it so he could attend to your needs first. 

You felt your Ashton. 

Moments that felt like hours passed until your breathing went back to normal and your tear stained cheeks dried. Ashton kept your hand against his chest, occasionally squeezing it to bring you back to reality when you teetered back into spiraling. This time, though, he rose from the ground and sat beside you. You let him move your legs over his lap as he practically held you against him. His smell was overwhelming. You could smell his cologne and shampoo, even the faint scent of weed from off his lips. He was intoxicating. He was the drug, dangling above your head, and you were weak, enthralled, captivated, addicted.

You found yourself leaning in to kiss Ashton, a real kiss this time. No corner of the lip bullshit that the press ate up every time. You didn’t expect him to kiss you back with the same fervor as you, hand wrapping around your waist and the other behind your head. It was sloppy, wet, and all shapes of perfect that you couldn’t describe. The taste of tea and weed transferred from his lips to yours as he pulled you in deeper. You gripped his shirt in your fist, hoping in your mind to mold your body against his and disappear from the world, anything as long as you were with him. His love was your poison and, at the same time, your cure. 

Reality began to sink in, making you push Ashton away forcefully and standing on your feet. He flew back into the couch, eyes wide and lips swollen. His perfectly slicked back hair was a gorgeous mess, curls gracefully falling down his face. Confusion riddled his face as he watched you curl back into yourself. 

“What are you–” 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” you whispered, unsure if you were saying that to him or yourself. “Why did I do that?”

Ashton stood up and reached for your hand, only for you to jerk back. “D-don’t touch me!” you exclaimed, scared of your own volume. Anxiety began to knock at your door once again, creeping in like a deadly virus into your system. “How could I be so stupid? Haven’t you put me through enough?”

You started to pace around your room, Ashton watching you move frantically back and forth until he got dizzy. You murmured to yourself not so quietly, scolding yourself for your stupidity and cursing him out for his enticing nature. All over again, Ashton was seeing you crumble.

“y/n, stop,” he ordered firmly, gripping your shoulders. You jerked to a stop, pausing to look Ashton in the eyes. You found yourself getting lost in the pool of hazel, wide eyed and entranced. “You’re going on stage in twenty minutes. Whatever’s going through your head right now, quit it. All of that can be put on pause until after the show, you hear me? And if that voice in your head brings it up while you’re out there, shut it down. What matters now is you, your music, and your fans. Fuck that voice telling you you’re anything short of great.” 

In his empowering speech, you forced yourself to listen to his words, ignoring the person those words were coming from. Taking his advice, you cleared your mind of the past few months and only focused on this moment: your first concert of your North American tour. 

Rushing to get ready, you scrambled around your room to prepare your hair and makeup. Ashton picked out your clothes for the concert, something simple that you absolutely adored but you paid little attention to the way your heart pounded at the thought. And in those twenty minutes, you were set for the show.

Your microphone in one hand and guitar in the other, you made your way straight to the stage. Ashton followed close behind you to ensure you didn’t misstep or forget anything. Mere inches away from the stage, you whipped your head around to meet his gaze just one more time.

“Thank you,” you whispered gratefully. “I know we haven’t talked, but thank you. Can I look for you after the show?” 

Your heart shattered at the shake of his head. “I’ve got a plane to catch right after your show so I can’t come by after,” he told you remorsefully. “But if you’ll have me, I’ll be right here when you come back from tour. Maybe then we can start again, correctly this time. None of the cameras, scripts, or any of that, yeah?” 

The sound of your name being chanted by the crowd was nearly deafening, but his words reached your ears and you smiled softly at him. In the corner of your eye, your stage manager pointed at her watch to inform you it was time to go up. Wordlessly, you pressed your lips one last time against his. 

“Don’t be a stranger, Irwin,” you told him, turning on your heel and pushing through the curtains. The crowd shrieked and screamed at the sight of you, instantly bringing a proud grin to Ashton’s face. 

This was only the beginning of something new and truly beautiful, Ashton thought to himself, hands in his pockets as he made his way to the VIP section.

–

Several months have passed since your North American and European tour and it has been almost a full year since you started your publicity stunt with Ashton. Throughout the tour, you and Ashton -and the boys, of course- kept close contact with each other, never going more than a day without a phone call or video chat. Over this period, you felt like you finally got to know the real Ashton, not bits and pieces he’d accidentally let slip when he first got to know you. This time, he was real and genuine, and that only made me love him more.

You tiredly dragged your suitcase up your apartment complex’s stairs, heaving at the ridiculous weight as you made your way down to your apartment. You didn’t expect to see a certain hazel eyed drummer standing behind the door when you unlocked it.

“Surprise,” he said sheepishly, balloons and blueberry cheesecake in hand. Tears instantly filled your eyes, you dropped your suitcase and wrapped your arms around his neck, nearly causing him to drop the dessert. 

Truth be told, you weren’t expecting to see him so soon, if at all. Your journey with your mental health has been a long one, and there were plenty of ups and downs. A part of you -one you were a little ashamed of- didn’t expect him to keep to his word that he’d be here now. Despite the plenty of calls and talks you had to rekindle your relationship, that nagging voice in the back of your head kept on asking “what if?” What if he took back what he said about wanting to start over? What if it was all in your head, and he never wanted to see you again? But without fail, Ashton was there, willing to rebuild your relationship into a close-knit friendship. And now he’s here, asking to make it something more. 

“You’re here,” you murmured into his chest, taking in his smell that you missed so dearly. “I didn’t think you’d come this soon. How did you even get in?”

Ashton pulled away, holding up your spare key. “Your friend gave it to me today,” he explained. 

Grinning you brought him back down into a hug before settling in and opening the box of cheesecake. Taking out two forks, the two of you ate straight from the box and caught up on everything, though there wasn’t much considering how often you both talked while you were away. 

“I’m really grateful you let me back in,” Ashton spoke up once the box had emptied. 

You were half listening, polishing off the plate of its sweet crumbs. “You let yourself in, silly,” you snorted, not quite understanding what he meant. “You’re the one who got a hold of my apartment key.”

Ashton chuckled, shaking his head in disbelief. “Not that,” he laughed. “I mean letting me back into your life. I still don’t think I deserve it.”

“We talked about this, Ash,” you leaned back, setting your fork down. “We both said things we didn’t mean that day. We recognized it and we worked from it. We’ve moved on, and we’re friends. I think you deserve it as much as I do.” 

Ashton’s cheeks were tinged red as he tried to think of the right words to say. “I know,” he started. “But sometimes, I wish we had..more.” 

“More?” you raised an eyebrow. It took another second of you watching the drummer blush in embarrassment and vulnerability before it finally clicked. “Oh.”

Ashton stood up abruptly, wiping the invisible specks of dust off his jeans. “You can forget it,” he rushed in humiliation. “I-I just couldn’t stop thinking about that night of your first concert, how it felt, how you felt- and-”

“Ashton, slow down,” you giggled, standing up, taking his hand and tugging him toward you. A small smile rested on your face. “I still think about that night, too,” you confessed honestly. “And I want that, too. Whatever it is that you want.” 

The drummer looked up from your intertwined hands and into your eyes. He swore he saw stars in them. “Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked. “Again?”

You pulled him down into a kiss, your lips craving his all over again. “Yes,” you answered confidently as soon as you backed away to catch your breath. “I will be your girlfriend. Again.”

The two of you shared a laugh, enjoying the silent but welcoming comfort of each other. Standing in the middle of your kitchen, lips coated in sugar and blueberries. 

“What was your wish?” Ashton asked, pulling you closer to him as he broke the s. “Back at that restaurant when we first met?”

You hummed in thought, eagerly pressing your lips against his one more time to relish the moment. “My wish was that whatever we had back then,” you whispered, letting him in on your secret. “turns into something more.” 

“Well your wish came true, didn’t it?” Ashton smiled, a warm feeling bursting in his chest. 

You leaned your forehead against his, eyes fluttering closed. “Yes, Ash,” you said. “Yes it did.” 

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