#cravinsomethinsweeter

[kaleidoscopeminds]

Make me choose

@cravinsomethinsweeter asked: michael with coloured hair or natural hair?

[clumsyclifford]

I know I'm sending this super quickly but as soon as you said that I knew what lyrics I wanted to give you!! so, from glitter and crimson "caught in the tension, silent confessions at the foot of your bed"

WHAT lyrics GREAT CHOICE also bonus points cos this is a gay anthem atl said gay rights <3 thanks alex <3 this one’s for u <3 honest to god i was going to make this malum but then i was possessed by cake i dont know what happened ive never written cake before so this is my debut and what a debut it is also i must say im not sure how loyal this interpretation is to the song but bear with me

-

Luke, Calum decides, is a good person to fancy.

The decision comes together slowly, not all at once; more like a corroboration of a lot of different observations than just one thing. For starters — and this one’s the obvious — Luke’s just pretty. Objectively, anyone would be hard-pressed to disagree. His eyes are so blue it feels like drowning just looking into them, and his shy smile is so infectious, and he has these long fingers, perfect for playing guitar (and possibly holding hands), and now that he’s starting to push his hair up into a quiff Calum has to face the facts: Luke is cute. He’s just cute.

(That’s why Michael is jealous, at first, Calum is pretty sure. Michael is more than just cute, and anyway they’re completely different people, but that’s a whole different conversation.)

Also, Luke’s just really nice. Once he gets over the initial shyness — and once Michael stops glaring daggers at him — he’s actually a really friendly guy. Plus he’s funny, and his laugh is as captivating as his smile, and altogether Calum is convinced Luke is just some kind of simulation designed to test him.

It’s working. Calum feels officially tested.

They started out working on homework, but then Michael had to go home and help his mum with dinner, and things fell apart soon after that. Now they’re lounging on Calum’s bed, Calum against the headboard and Luke at the foot, both on their phones. Alone together. Calum sometimes likes being alone together, but it’s really more of a Michael thing; he wants to talk to Luke, wants to hang out and socialize and chat and stuff. Luke’s good for that kind of thing, especially because he’s kind of a pushover. It’s not enough to make him do anything he’s severely uncomfortable with, but he’s usually happy to go along with whatever Calum and Michael are doing. Calum wonders if that’s residual from when he’d had unsteady footing in the friendship — and the band — or if Luke is just genuinely an easygoing guy.

“Hey,” Calum says abruptly, cutting through the silence which had been going on ten minutes. “You don’t think Mikey and I are going to drop you, do you?”

Luke, laying on his back across the end of the bed, turns his head to look at Calum. “What?”

“Our friendship, I mean,” Calum says. He pushes himself off the pillows and bounces onto his stomach so his face is closer to Luke’s; Luke turns onto his side. “Are you worried we’re going to suddenly decide we don’t like you?” “I am now,” Luke says.

Calum shoves his shoulder while Luke giggles. “I’m serious, Luke. I just want to be sure that you don’t follow along with whatever we say because you think we’ll hate you if you don’t.”

Luke shrugs. “I don’t know, Cal. I kind of did at the beginning. Not anymore, though. You love me too much to leave me,” he teases, poking at Calum’s calf.

“I do love you a lot,” Calum agrees, and Luke blushes pink.

“Plus, I don’t know, I feel like we’ve got a team kind of thing,” Luke adds. “Me and Michael, and me and you. Is that presumptuous? Did I use presumptuous correctly?”

“Beats me,” Calum says. “But it’s probably not presumptuous, and I agree.” He pauses, and there’s a short silence. Calum can’t decide if it’s tense or not, but if it is he’d like to break it. “Don’t tell Michael I said this, okay,” he says quietly, “but I don’t think he’s used to, um, having more than one friend.”

Luke nods. “To be fair,” he says, “neither am I.”

Calum had kind of known that, that Luke had been alone and lonely for many years, but it’s like a punch to the face to hear him so matter-of-fact about it.

“That sucks,” he says, because it does. “I can’t believe — I mean, sorry, but I just don’t believe nobody wanted to be friends with you. I don’t believe that. You’re you.”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, but you’re so nice and funny and cute and charming,” Calum says frustratedly. “Why wouldn’t anyone want to be your friend? It just, it doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t.” Luke blinks slowly at him. “What?”

“You think I’m nice and funny and cute and charming.”

“Well. Yeah. Obviously.”

“You think I’m cute?”

Calum sighs. “Of course I think you’re cute, Luke. Have you ever looked in a mirror in your life.”

“Yeah, so that’s why I’m confused,” Luke says, and Calum sees his ears turning red. “Especially compared to you.”

“Hey, shut up,” Calum says, pushing again at Luke’s shoulder. “We’re complimenting you right now. Wait your turn.” Luke smiles a bit at that. He doesn’t do that shy smile too often anymore, much less inhibited these days than when he’d just become friends with them, but it’s back now, timid and uncertain.

“I think you’re cute,” Luke says. Calum doesn’t think it’s possible for the crimson in Luke’s cheeks to get any brighter, but now he can feel the blood rushing to his own, too. “Really.”

“Well, you can’t,” Calum says. “We can’t both find each other cute.” 

“Yes we can,” Luke says. “People do it all the time.”

“Not, like,” Calum gestures ambiguously. “Friends.”

Luke frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You don’t find your friends cute. That’s just a word for, like, crushes and stuff.”

Luke gapes, and Calum realizes he’s just exposed himself for crushing on Luke. He’s set to defend himself, possibly talk himself into a corner, when Luke says, “Well. I stand by what I said.”

This time it’s Calum’s turn to stare. “Even though you can only find crushes cute?”

“Even still,” Luke says firmly, averting his eyes away from Calum’s and playing with a loose thread on the duvet.

Calum takes a second to turn over this new information. Luke’s not exactly the king of subtlety, so if he fancies Calum shouldn’t Calum have noticed? But maybe the things Calum had taken for a general shyness had been disguising crush behavior. Blushing when Calum had first spoken to him; following him around like a lost puppy, ready to bend to Calum’s will; losing to Calum at Fifa but never seeming particularly disappointed by it.

“You fancy me,” Calum says, just to be sure.

Luke looks like he wants the bed to swallow him whole. “Maybe. Only if you do. You said —”

“I fancy you,” Calum reassures him quickly, “I’m just — I just don’t really believe you.”

Luke shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

“Well then this isn’t really going to go anywhere, is it?” Calum says dryly. Luke laughs nervously. “Okay. How about we both agree to believe each other?”

“And then what?”

Calum hums thoughtfully. “And then we play a prank on Michael about it?”

Luke grins, shyness gone once again. Eyes glittering, he says, “Amazing. I’m in. Can we stage a confession? Really dramatic?”

“We could have a fight!” Calum says enthusiastically. “And then you can yell, like, because I fancy you! and then I go you fancy me? I fancy you!”

Luke is giggling, and it makes Calum want to continue just to keep hearing Luke laugh. “Perfect. That’s perfect. And then we both storm from the room.”

“I think we should have like, a dramatic kiss,” Calum says. “And then storm from the room. They do that in movies, I’m pretty sure.” He can’t think of which ones at the moment, but he’s definitely seen it.

Luke’s laughter slowly fades. “You want to kiss for the first time in front of Michael?”

Fair point. “Okay, not for the first time, no,” Calum concedes. He looks at Luke and Luke looks back, the picture of innocence. “Should we kiss now?”

“Not if it’s going to be a chore,” Luke says, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up. You know what I mean. Can we kiss now?”

Luke pushes himself into a sitting position. “Okay,” he says, and then leans in to kiss Calum. 

Calum’s not kissed that many people, but Luke quickly tops them all, not that it’s a particularly overwhelming kiss or anything. It’s just that it’s Luke, sweet and gentle, chaste, warm lips on Calum’s, so very much Luke and nobody else, and Calum smiles as they break.

“That was nice,” he says, and Luke ducks his head, which means he agrees, probably. “Excited to do it in front of Mikey.”

Luke laughs, bright and with abandon, and Calum looks forward to hearing him laugh like that, again and again, and hopefully paired with that post-first-kiss blush. Luke’s just pretty, but that’s not even the best thing about him. Not anywhere close.

[kindahoping4forever]

okay that photoshoot reminds me: I KNOW for a fact there's another one where they're on a bed, but I can't for the life of me find it again?? sorry I don't have much to go on but I'm prettu sure it's also from the yb era and I think all the pics I saw before where in b&w?? could be just a filter but maybe it's a b&w shoot idk 🖤

Might you be thinking of these?

[allsassnoclass]

mashton + teaching them how to do something? 😊

This is actually part 1 of them teaching each other how to play their instruments.  Part 2 coming soon!

mashton: teaching them to do something

"Like this?" Ashton asks, bent over Michael's guitar, strumming with a palm mute and glancing at Michael for his approval.  They're in a hotel room in some random city, and Ashton has asked to officially learn how to play their acoustic version of "She Looks So Perfect" on guitar because they heard the song on the radio earlier and haven't stopped buzzing since.  A song that Michael and Ashton wrote was on the radio, and Michael doesn't think he'll ever get over it.  The whole band knew that the song was going to be popular, but hearing it unexpectedly in public hit that point home.  They're proper stars now.  Sure, they already were, with going on tour and appearing on TV and the screaming girls wherever they go, but this song is going to be the big one, and all of them can feel it.

He can blame the song for putting himself in this position: sitting cross legged facing Ashton on the bed, fumbling his way through teaching one of the most talented people he knows something that he's supposed to be an expert in and feeling like he's swallowing his tongue with every fumbled instruction.  Being asked to teach Ashton Irwin something is like being asked to stare directly into the sun and give it pointers on how to shine.

Michael almost wishes that Ashton was sharing with Luke today, so that Luke could be the one to teach him, but he also knows that if he heard about this his jealousy would flare up.  It's just hard to concentrate this close, and he keeps getting distracted by Ashton's fingers, and his arms, and the way that his hair is curling as it dries after his shower, and the way his brow furrows when he's focusing on something.

If Michael had half of Ashton's work ethic, he'd be the best guitarist in the world by now.  As it is, he spends most of band practices trying to keep himself from staring at Ashton and instead being subject to Calum laughing at him for letting his crush be so obvious.

"Micheal?  Am I doing it right?"

"Yeah, sorry.  That's it.  So after that you switch to a different chord.  It's... here, just let me--"

He reaches forward and slides Ashton's hand down the neck a few frets, positioning his fingers on different strings.  Ashton lets him do so patiently, fingers warm beneath his, and Michael realizes once he pulls back that he was holding his breath that whole time.  Was it obvious?  Is Ashton wondering why he's acting so weird?

The tip of Ashton's tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth as he strums the chord, and Michael might die.  He's certain that he's going to have a heart attack when Ashton plays through the chorus successfully the first time and beams at him.

He doesn't wish Ashton was sharing with Luke.  Even though this entire experience has made him feel weird and panicky and teaching your crush how to do something is stressful, he wouldn't trade being the focus of Ashton's smile for anything.  Besides, Ashton could figure out how to play guitar with a few youtube tutorials and sheer force of will.  Instead, he asked Michael, and that has to mean he at least doesn't think Michael completely sucks.

"Hey," Ashton says, startling him out of his thoughts.  "I'm really glad you're our guitarist."

"Enjoy it while you can," Michael says.  "The moment a better band has an opening I'm out of here."

"Shut up," Ashton says, rolling his eyes.  "I'm being serious, you dick.  You're a good guitarist and I'm glad you're mine."

Michael ducks his head, cheeks growing warm.  He wants to tell Ashton that Michael isn't anything special but Ashton is an insanely talented drummer and songwriter and basically their manager and that Michael is maybe a little in love with him, but he just hears I'm glad you're mine repeating over and over in his head.

"Shut up," he mumbles.  "I mean--thanks.  Do you want to learn Good Girls?"

"if you're willing to teach me," Ashton says.  His expression is soft.  Michael feels like he's about to combust, or lean forward and kiss him, or do something equally disastrous.  He clears his throat and turns his attention to the guitar instead.

They stay up way later than they should working through songs that Michael knows how to play.  Ashton dozes off with Michael's guitar in his hands, and he takes it from him gingerly.  It's impressive how he can be talking one moment and sound asleep the next, but he doesn't wake when Michael gently pushes him until he's laying down and does his best to tuck him in.

He looks so peaceful.  Michael should probably be taking advantage of this moment to draw something embarrassing on his face, but all he can think about is how much he wishes he could get under the covers with him.

He falls asleep alone in his own bed, images of Ashton's triumphant smile and the words I'm glad you're mine flickering through his head.

[nachtsfarben]

it’s that season, i guess!

[rebelwith0utacause]

ana the way I immediately knew which ot4 fic you were talking about 😂 dunno what to think of that tbh

That’s because of your big brain 😋😂 The only thing I can think of is thanking @fourdrunksluts and @reversecow for gracing us with such a fine piece of literature.

[redrattlers]

I think calum just because I used to always to think of you as like oh sweet thing cause you're pretty chill and don't say too much but then you get crazy in the tags and I'm like well damn 😂

HAHAHAHAHAHA yes I love this!!!

[calumcest]

do people actually say they don't like your accent???! I absolutely love it! also you specifically said Americans and I'm not American so maybe it doesn't matter but it sounds bloody cool if I may say so myself (sorry I like geeking out over british accents - yeah all of them- for real you guys all sound great xvscssc I love it)

YEAH SNDKFJSBND ive had a number of americans be like oh my GAHD i LOVE british ACCENTS and then im like wys fam and they’re like Never mind. SO i’m pleased to hear that somebody likes my accent she may have some rights somewhere <3 

[wastethen8]

LM5 for the album ask? 💌

sorry this took me a minute cause I was listening to the album again lol I take this very seriously 😅

Top: Think About Us & Monster In Me

Bottom: More Than Words & Motivate

this was tough...idk but bottoms are just way easier for me to decide on lol

anyways, thanks for asking!! ❤

[danswank]

oh great top 2 couldn't have said it better myself... wait wait I hope honorable mentions include cornelia street and death by a thousand cuts 😌 the contenders to your top 2

those would be like after london boy and paper rings tbh (but in the top half for sure!).... i can’t help but love the poppy upbeat songs the best on lover. but cornelia street from the lover concert?? that is top tier.

[poisonjaffas]

hey! do you think you could rec me a few songs from pvris? Like the ones you like the most? I listened to what's wrong and I like it a lot! Also if you know of any, like, good pop punk bands that are female led lmk!

Yes absolutely I can!!!!!!!!! Okay so my personal faves are Nola 1, No Mercy, Dead Weight and St Patrick!!! Some other rad bands w women that I'm vibing w atm - Doll Skin, Crimson Apple, Vukovi and Stand Atlantic ~~

[kaleidoscopeminds]

Favourite 5sos moments: 7/?

Harder than you’ve ever shred

For @cravinsomethinsweeter

[clumsyclifford]

intimacy prompts - 37 with mashton? feels like it would work for them

i got this idea and then i just felt like a compelling need to write it im sorry im not taking these prompts literally enough however this plot is absolutely crucial frankly i don’t know why it’s not employed in fic more often

-

“This stuff doesn’t work,” Ashton says.

Michael frowns. “You’re saying you don’t want to fall in love with me?”

“I’m saying there are better ways to fall in love than to just a bunch of questions,” Ashton says. “If I were going to be in love with you, don’t you think I’d have done it by now? I’ve known you for, like, seven years.”

“I’m pretty sure you are in love with me and you’re just in denial,” Michael says dismissively. “But that’s not the point. I’m just curious. Look, worst case scenario it doesn’t work and we just become closer friends.”

“And best case scenario?” Ashton asks, raising his eyebrows. He can’t really think of a best case scenario here, because falling in love with Michael through a series of carefully curated questions just feels fraudulent, and Ashton wouldn’t believe himself if it “worked.”

“We fall in love,” Michael says. “Duh.”

Ashton rolls his eyes. “Fine. But I want it on the record that I don’t think there’s any merit to this experiment, and I’m mostly doing it so I can have material to blackmail you with.”

Michael smirks. “Sure you are.”

(And maybe a little bit because he’s curious to see what will happen. If maybe it is possible to fall in love in thirty-six questions. If Ashton were going to fall for anyone this easily, he reckons it would be Michael.)

-

Some of the questions are kind of funny. When Ashton asks Michael, “Would you like to be famous? In what way?” Michael snorts before going off about how badly he wants to be a rock star, and how he’s worried he’ll never make it, because everyone in his band sucks and he doesn’t know if this song he wrote is good enough for any record labels. Then Ashton hits him and tells him that if they’re really going to do this, they have to be honest, and from there it gets, well. 

“If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future, or anything else, what would you want to know?” Michael reads, and then props his chin in his hand and looks expectantly at Ashton.

If Ashton had known just how probing these questions would be, he’s not sure he’d have agreed to this game. (If it can be called a game.) It’s not that he’s uncomfortable, but it’s hard to be open and honest like this, with no buffer, just him, Michael, and the truth.

“Nothing,” Ashton says, which is the only truthful answer he can come up with. Michael looks unimpressed. “I mean it. I wouldn’t want to know anything. What’s the point of life if you can just look up the answers? Why, what would you say?”

“I —” Michael purses his lips. “I’m not sure. But not nothing. I guess, I don’t know, I’d want to know if the band will last.”

“But if you knew the band would last, you’d stop working as hard to keep it together,” Ashton says. “And if you knew it wouldn’t, you’d just give up, wouldn’t you?”

“Would not,” Michael says, defensive, almost offended. “I’d do my best to make sure that future never came true.”

“It’s the future, Mike. It’s — it’s going to come true, that’s the point.”

“If the future tells me something I don’t like, I have every right to try and fight it,” Michael says stubbornly. “The band doesn’t tank unless I say it does.”

Ashton’s gut twists, although not in an unpleasant way. Actually, the dogged determination to protect what he loves is one of Ashton’s favorite things about Michael, and hearing him talk about the band like he’d rather die than lose it is making Ashton feel, well, something. He’s not sure what, and not sure he wants to know, although he has a feeling it’ll identify itself before the thirty-six questions are through.

They work through a few more questions in the second set. Then Michael, slightly strangled, says, “Uh. How close and warm is your family?” He clears his throat. “Do you feel your childhood was happier than most other people’s?”

“That’s two questions,” Ashton says. 

“It’s written as one,” Michael tells him, turning his phone around like Ashton won’t take him at his word. “Well, uh. Go ahead. It’s your turn.”

Ashton bites his lip. “You already know all of this about me,” he says, which is an evasion tactic, and Michael sees right through it.

“You — it’s part of the thing,” he says. “If you don’t want to answer it, I guess…”

“No, I just — I don’t think I’m going to say anything surprising.” Ashton sighs. “How close and warm is my family? Enough. My mum’s gotten better at keeping us close. I think it helps that I have money now. My childhood was unhappy until I joined the band. So, no. I don’t think it was happier than most people’s.”

“Until you joined the band?” Michael echoes, tilting his head. 

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Like, I didn’t really have anything pushing me forward until that. It gave me direction. And three new friends, which didn’t hurt.”

“You’ve never said that,” Michael says, studying Ashton. Ashton feels like he’ll wilt under Michael’s gaze, too vulnerable, too easy to pull apart.

“Yeah, well.” Ashton clears his throat. “It’s your turn.” He wants to avert his gaze but also really, really doesn’t, and is saved by Michael looking away to reread the question from his phone, and they move forward.

The deeper they get into the questions, especially in the third set, the more Ashton wants to crack a joke, and the worse it feels to do so. They’re in the thick of it now, and even if it’s just a test, to see if it works, it’s not exactly the kind of thing Ashton wants to laugh at — just in case it does. (It can’t. There’s no way it could, because Ashton’s known Michael all this time, and hasn’t been in love with him.

And yet.)

“Tell your partner what you like about them,” Michael reads. “Be very honest — say things you might not say to someone you’ve just met.” He gives Ashton a lopsided smile. “Good thing we didn’t just meet. Lay it on me, Irwin.”

Ashton licks his lips, which suddenly feel dry. “Okay,” he says. This shouldn’t be hard. There’s a lot he likes about Michael. But all of the things immediately flying to Ashton’s tongue are things he would say to a complete stranger; surface compliments, or basic acknowledgements of skill. You’re a good guitarist is ridiculously shallow, and even you’re very dedicated sounds too vague to be true.

“I like that you’re the kind of person who knows how to heal,” Ashton says quietly. Michael furrows his brow. “I mean, I like that you’re someone who doesn’t ever fully break. You’re — you’re so strong, and you put up with so much shit, and every single time, I think, this is it, this is going to be the one that breaks him, but I’m always wrong. I’m glad I’m always wrong. I don’t know what I’d do if you really did break, but I’m always amazed. I’ve never — I think I’m the type to shatter, but you’re not. You can pick yourself up. I admire that about you. I always have.”

Michael swallows. “Oh. That’s — that’s really, like. Thank you, I think.”

Ashton rubs the back of his neck. For some reason, he feels more like an open book from this question — which is really, for him, about Michael — than any of the other ones. “Yeah,” he says. “Uh, you go.”

“I don’t really know how to follow that,” Michael says lightly. Ashton cracks a smile. “Okay, well, um. Alright. I like that you have this, I don’t know, endless optimism. It doesn’t make any sense to me, because I feel like with all the shit you’ve gone through, you should be full of, like, hate, and anger, but instead you always smile, and you believe in people, and,” Michael gestures aimlessly, unaware of the way Ashton’s palms feel clammier every second, “I don’t know. You’re relentless in your optimism, even though you’ve been burned. More than once. I don’t think I could be like that if I — but you are. So…I admire that. It’s very — noble.”

“Noble,” Ashton murmurs, cheeks pink. “Thank you. That’s very kind.” 

“Not really,” Michael says. “It’s just true.” But that makes Ashton feel even warmer, a fizzing sensation building in his chest that he can’t really diagnose. He’s used to pressure like this, but usually it’s anxiety or something, not — whatever’s happening right now, doing this. This kind of pressure feels like it needs to be relieved by someone else.

They make their way through the last of the questions, and by the time they’re through, Ashton feels like he’s just been on the emotional rollercoaster of a lifetime. “I need water,” he says.

“Get me some?” Michael requests, with a halfway smile. Ashton chuckles and takes his leave, returning with two glasses of water.

“Well,” he says delicately, “how do you feel? In love with me?”

“It’s not finished,” Michael says. Ashton frowns; he’s pretty sure there are only thirty-six questions. “Now we have to look into each others’ eyes for four minutes.”

“What?” That’s just...strange. And the more Ashton thinks about it, the more nervous he gets. “Why?”

Michael shrugs. “That’s what the article says. Answer the questions, then look into each others’ eyes for four minutes.”

“Four minutes,” Ashton says hoarsely. “That’s kind of long.”

“I think that’s the point,” Michael says. “Shall we?”

Ashton’s panic response is kicking in, but he’s in too deep now to back out. “Sure,” he manages. Michael smiles, soft and small the way he only ever does for Ashton, and some of Ashton’s tension dissipates.

They sit across from each other, cross-legged on the rug, hands in their laps, and Michael sets a four-minute timer on his phone. “Ready?” he asks. Ashton’s not sure he’s ever going to be ready for this particular task, but it doesn’t really matter; Michael hits the start button and then he’s confronted with Michael’s eyes, gazing into his own, and the realization that it’s going to be this for the next four minutes.

For what feels like an eternity, Ashton twists his fingers around themselves, nervous energy manifesting in fidgeting hands, and he keeps wanting to look away, desperate to close whatever window is being opened right now, because he’s absolutely certain that Michael is seeing into his soul. Then Michael reaches across and gently wraps Ashton’s hands up in his own.

“Stop fidgeting,” he whispers. Ashton can feel the calluses on Michael’s fingertips skimming across the back of Ashton’s hands. He stops fidgeting, but Michael doesn’t take his hands back, and Ashton finds himself hoping he doesn’t decide to. 

Michael’s eyes are very pretty. Ashton zeroes in on that fact. They’re the kind of green that looks like sea glass, maybe, and they’re ridiculously easy to get lost in. Again and again, Ashton has to force himself not to look away. He’s never stared at anyone this intently, for this long, in this kind of silence that feels loaded with tension.

(Since when is it loaded with tension?)

Michael’s palm is warm against the back of Ashton’s hand, and Ashton thinks about that, about how Michael always feels warm when Ashton needs him to be, and thinks about the thirty-six questions, and wonders why they were supposed to make him fall in love with Michael. Most of those questions hadn’t been the kind of thing you’d fall in love with for anyone. Knowing that the last time Michael cried by himself was last night, watching Bambi, shouldn’t really make Ashton fall in love. It wouldn’t. 

Although the knowledge that Michael has been crying alone at all is pretty painful. So is the fact that Michael had clearly been relieved to share that information, as if, slightly less recently, he’d cried on his own for something a little heavier than Bambi. Ashton wants to know what it was. He wants to be the person who holds Michael together while he stitches himself up. Michael’s always had an instrumental role in his life — it had been Michael, in the first place, who’d recruited Ashton for the band — and Ashton could spend all his days trying to return that favor and still come up short.

The pressure in his chest, or the butterflies, or the sparkling soda, whatever it is is back with a vengeance, bubbling over until Ashton feels hot and cold all over. He tightens his grip on Michael’s hands.

The realization that they could kiss right now doesn’t so much hit as settle easily into Ashton’s already volatile mind. In fact, Ashton thinks, he kind of wants to kiss Michael like this. It feels like a natural extension of the questions and the staring, the next bridge to cross, the easiest way to communicate to Michael that — well.

It’s not that Ashton’s fallen in love with Michael, it’s just that maybe being in love with Michael has been Ashton’s reality for a little longer than he’d known.

As soon as that thought lands, the timer on Michael’s phone goes off, a breezy alarm song that startles them both. Michael tugs a hand out of Ashton’s grasp to turn the alarm off, and the eye contact breaks for a second, but Ashton stills feels like he’s in a trance, especially when Michael immediately turns back to him, eyes wide and questioning, head at a halfway tilt.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, which is not what Ashton had expected him to ask, and catches him by surprise, enough that he actually says what he’s thinking, though he shouldn’t, though it’s a dangerous train of thought, though it’s probably a mistake because Ashton still doesn’t really believe in the magical thirty-six (and a half) questions.

“I want to kiss you,” he tells Michael, holding unconsciously tighter to Michael’s hand.

Michael exhales, a sigh of…maybe relief. “Oh, thank God.” And he leans in, freeing his hand from Ashton’s grasp to put both palms against Ashton’s cheeks, fingers curling around the back of his head, and kisses him.

The bubbling pressure in Ashton’s chest feels light and airy all of a sudden. Ashton reaches for Michael, anything to get his hands on him, and settles an unsteady hold on Michael’s shoulders just to anchor them in place. The angle’s awful — they’re both still sitting on the floor — but the kiss feels like coming home, and it makes more sense to Ashton than most of the other things in his life. Michael is uncharacteristically gentle with him (Ashton’s seen him kiss other people, knows how rough and tumble he can be), and after a moment, not long enough, he breaks away, resting his forehead against Ashton’s. Ashton’s whole face feels too warm.

“Believe me now?” Michael teases. It takes Ashton a second to understand what he’s talking about.

“I’m not in love with you,” he says, but the way his heart sinks at that, and the way Michael flinches backwards, immediately disprove that statement. “Okay, I might be, but not because of the questions.”

Michael smiles, which turns into something of a smirk, but without losing any of its initial gentleness. “Well, it worked for me.”

Ashton finds that difficult to believe. “You can’t be in love with me now just because you know more about me.”

“Well, I already liked you a whole fucking lot,” Michael says easily.

Ashton does a double-take. “You did?”

Michael sighs. “Oh, Ashton. You’d be the worst if you weren’t the best.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Ashton says, although he fails to bite back a smile. “So now you’re in love with me?”

“I’d be an idiot not to be.” Michael pushes himself to his feet and then holds out a hand for Ashton to do the same. He doesn’t step backwards when Ashton rises, leaving virtually no space between them. “I want to kiss you again.”

“You can kiss me as many times as you want,” Ashton says breathlessly, and Michael does.

[kindahoping4forever]

okay this is probably a weird ass request but since you are very resourceful... do you think you could find pictures of michael with his kitten headphones? I need them for science or whatever you're supposed to say

I got you, I could never deny a fellow scientist in need 😂

[ghostofmashton]

hi! 😊 Is it okay to request a moodboard based on my blog? if you have time/want to of course 💞

HERE it is! :) 

Saw you liked Red Desert so of course had to use that photo shoot! Hope you like it! 

[pxrxmoore]

hi!! I just wanted to say thanks so much for your tags/comment on my fic they were very much appreciated 🥺 sorry I made you lose your mind 🤷‍♀️ also yay another mutual from europe who will be active around the same time as I am ahah xx

ahhhh I loved it so much 😍 I’ve been craving sub!ash fics right now too there’s rly not a lot and it was just perfect 😫 yessss good to see more Europe mutuals 🥳🥳