#even ashton ripped the sleeves come on!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1994sunflower · 4 years ago

Text

heaven to you. (m.c)

pairing: michael clifford x reader

genre: smut, fluff, angst (if you squint)

word count: 8.1k

involves: bad boy!michael, college!au, jealous!michael, established relationship, a lot of cursing, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex, daddy kink (really mild), choking, dirty talk, pain kink (slight), size kink, thigh riding, face slapping (consensual), hair pulling, spitting kink, throat fucking, impregnation kink, praise, degredation/name calling, innocence kink, virgin kink (kinda), smoking, mentions of drugs/drinking, maybe more but nothing too big just pretty filthy ngl

summary: your high school classmates come over to michael’s house in hopes of being friends with the famous bad boy on campus. this includes your one-sided high school crush that may not have been so one-sided after all. unfortunately for him, michael is not someone to piss off. fortunately for you, michael’s anger and jealousy isn’t always so bad, at least for you.

part two

“Tell me again why we’re going to this guy’s house?” Justin asked his two childhood friends. At least, they were up until high school. Now, as they went to different colleges, they felt more like strangers. But that was part of the reason he took the multi-state trip down to their university: to mend that rift.

“We’ve been telling you man, Michael is the man on campus to be friends with.” Chris punched one of his hands into his other palm for emphasis.

Charlie nodded beside Chris, both standing in front of their front door, ready to go. “He gets into the best parties, gets the hottest chicks and is the most feared guy on campus.”

“And that’s a good thing?” Justin raised his eyebrows.

Chris opened the door, shaking his head. “Yeah, dude. No one messes with him because he’ll beat the shit out of them.”

“He’s done it a few times already.” Charlie added.

“There’s rumors he used to be involved in a gang or something and that’s why he’s like that. Either way though, he gets whatever he wants.”

Justin’s lips curled up a bit in disgust. He came from a wealthy background, wealthy family and wealthy school. Though he never let that get to his head and he never looked down on someone because of it, this stark contrast to his normality was difficult to shrug off.

But he did as he followed both Charlie and Chris out.

Charlie was still raving about ‘Michael’ as they walked out of the cramped dorm room to the unfamiliar winding paths of their university. “I mean, imagine being friends with him. You’ll get all the benefits he gets.”

“I’m sorry, if you aren’t friends with him, how are we going to his house?” Justin trailed behind the two slightly.

Chris looked back, “Turns out his best friend is in my accounting class and he invited us over to play video games. How lucky is that?”

“Yeah, lucky.” Justin looked away. He wasn’t going to admit that as they crossed the street across the student union, the whole concept of meeting someone with a reputation as rough as this Michael character was daunting and just a bit scary. In fact, it didn’t take a genius to look at the three boys all wearing vineyard vines khakis and polos, and know they didn’t mesh well with what he supposed Michael was like.

They didn’t even mesh well with the college neighborhood they were entering. The small houses looked worn and crumbled down and the streets were even worse. The only thing that calmed his nerves was the knowledge that the scariest people on the block were tired college students.

“Have you even talked to him before?” Justin kept asking questions to calm himself down and stop himself from looking around at the neighborhood in disdain.

Charlie shrugged, “I talked to him at a party once, he didn’t say much though.”

Chris smirked, “I walked with him to class once.” He paused. “Well, I was walking with his friend, Ashton? And he joined. But it still felt cool. Everyone was staring and making way for us - well him”

They filled in all the holes in knowledge of Michael. How he never lost a fight (even though he was involved with them often - evidenced by his perpetual bloody knuckles), how he rarely went to class (and when he did, how he sat alone, always), how his fashion consisted of black, chains and more black and finally, how he would go home with a different girl every party (but how that didn’t happen anymore as he had a girlfriend, though her identity to them remained a mystery).

Justin nodded as he listened. But as more and more was added to the infamous Michael, he felt less and less inclined to meet him.

Time, however, to turn back had run out. Because as his friends turned into a rubble pathway leading up to an equally rubble house, he knew he was about to be face to face with the myth, the legend, Michael himself.

The things he would do for his friends. If he didn’t hold such a sentimental place in his heart for the boys he had grown up with, he definitely wouldn’t be there, standing in front of a (turning green) door, waiting for an answer. They were different, it was obvious in high school that they had become different types of men; he valued education, science, and was a romantic at heart while they valued alcohol, parties and were willing to screw anything they found ‘hot’.

But that didn’t deter him from valuing their friendship.

It occurred to him that the only thing his friends had failed to fill him in on was Michael’s appearance. So, when the door opened and a boy slightly shorter than even Chris, the shortest of them (though Justin was 6’5 and Charlie was 6’0 so really, Chris being 5’11 wasn’t that short) and messy brown curls covering his head and forehead, he was shocked to say the least.

But that didn’t last long as Chris dapped him. “Ashton! What’s up man?”

Ashton smiled big and nodded in acknowledgement to the rest of them. “Nothing much bro, took you a while.” But he moved back into the small house, a signal of welcome for them to come in but close the door behind them.

So, as Chris and Charlie followed Ashton in, talking about who knows what, Justin made sure to shut and lock the door before trailing behind.

The house was bigger than he pictured in his mind. The living room and kitchen were divided by only a pillar and the counter. But it was spacious enough to fit a flat screen (granted, it was on the floor) and a black winding couch (granted, it had cracks all over it). The only light came from the kitchen and the tv, which was set to the beginning of the game.

Ashton already sat down on the couch, grabbing a game controller casually from behind him. He was wearing a black t-shirt that had it’s sleeves cut off to the point where you could see his whole side torso through the giant holes. His gray jeans were equally ripped and Justin was sure his shoes would be too, if he were wearing any but just gray socks adorned his feet. He had spiked bracelets on his left wrist. Maybe this was the reason his slightly tanned, innocent face looked strange. His big eyes and friendly smile was a stark juxtaposition to the rest of his body.

Chris looked around as his large figure slumped beside Ashton, “Where’s Michael?”

Ashton didn’t look at him when he answered, “In his room with his girl. He’ll be out soon, I think. That is if they don’t start going at it.”

Charlie laughed as he sat on the other side of Ashton, picking up a controller from the ground. Justin was left to sit awkwardly on the edge of the couch, closest to the kitchen. He felt out of place, just like he suspected and it didn’t help the darkness that surrounded the room, even through the lit kitchen and blue tv screen.

He didn’t get to think much on it, though, because not a few minutes after he sat down, did the bedroom door behind the couch open up. Light streamed into the dimly lit room.

Justin stood. It was a force of habit, really. He was used to standing up whenever someone knew came into the room to introduce himself. But when no one else stood, with Ashton not even bothering to look behind him, he felt awkward. It was too late to sit back down, though.

Charlie and Chris looked back, though, with big grins. “Hey, Michael! What’s up, man?” They said as if they were close friends.

And thus, Justin came face to face with Michael himself. And this time, he looked exactly like what he expected.

Michael was towering, though his height was nearly equal to Justin’s. His shoulders so broad that they nearly filled up the entire doorway of his bedroom. His t-shirt was plain black and so were his jeans, which had three chains adorning them. Two sleeves of tattoos ran down both of his arms to his hands and fingers , one of his hands reading F U C K in big bold letters, with a few peeking out on his neck as well. His black messy hair matched him well and fell onto his forehead.

But through that intimidating appearance, none of those things were what caught Justin’s attention. No, it was Michael’s eyes that did it. Though they were light in color, somehow they still seemed dark. The coldness in them was frightening. There was no hint of warmth, of friendliness, in them. In fact, as Michael held direct eye contact, saying nothing at the still standing Justin, the aggression his eyes held was enough to make Justin take a step back.

It was that step that seemingly broke the trance Michael had put him in. Because just like that, Michael looked away and moved forward into the living room. He nodded in acknowledgement at Chris and Charlie, still silent, before shouldering past Justin to go to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottled beer, opening it with his bare hand on his way back.

Justin was going to sit back himself as he saw Michael head to the couch but was stopped by a second, much smaller figure exiting Michael’s room.

The girl was petite, especially compared to Michael, standing at a proud 5’1. Her straight black hair was parted down the middle and hung perfectly over her shoulders. She wore a dainty white sunflower dress that contrasted beautifully with her olive skin which made her, along with her kind smile and bright brown eyes, look like the epitome of innocence. Quite the distinction from Michael who seemed to personify danger.

She was beautiful.

And she was his good friend.

“Y/N?”

Your legs were stationed at each side of Michael’s torso as you straddled him. Your hands were cupping his face and while one of his hands was on your ass while the other was gripping your long hair, pulling just enough for it to be pleasurable.

Your mouths melded into each others deeply and you couldn’t tell which one of you were more desperate for the other. You’d been making out for a while and your body was on fire. You felt like his touch was both burning you and exactly what needed at the same time.

It only took one slow grind of your hips against his that did it for him. He flipped you over so that you landed directly on one of his thighs, the chains of his jeans rattling in the process. His body was flush to yours, you could feel his hardness against you.

You looked up at him with wide innocent eyes, just how you knew he liked it. And you were awarded with a deep groan and a taunting smile before his lips returned to your body, this time to your neck. You moved your head to give him more access and as he got more into it, sucking and biting, you couldn’t stop the moan that escaped. You knew he was going to leave a mark (probably many) because he liked to have something that claimed you as his.

One of his hands wandered to your lower body, traveling under your flimsy dress to flip it over. He gave your ass a swat to command you to move. He didn’t have to tell you twice. Your hips starts moving, slowly at first against his jean-clad thigh. But as the pleasure started to build up at the friction, you began moving faster, desperately, moaning loudly.

Michael watched you silently, a smirk on his face. The only touch was his hands on your hips, guiding your pace and your movements. Otherwise, he just watched you get off on him.

“Did you wear this dress for me?” You nodded desperately against him, wanting nothing more than push against his finger but knew better.

His hand pulled your hair harshly, hard enough that it hurt but that just made you moan louder. “I asked you a question.” He growled, he had begun to move his leg up and down, making everything that much pleasurable.

Fuck. “Y-Yes, all for you, daddy.”

“Good girl.” Was all he said before his lips claimed yours again. His kisses were fervent as he bit and sucked on your bottom lip. Your hips were still moving violently against his thigh and you could feel your climax start to build up. It was almost too hot for you to handle. But you could tell he was going to give you what you wanted soon.

Or he was. A loud banging came from his bedroom door across the room. “They’re here!” Ashton’s voice rang to you from behind the door.

You sighed deeply as you pulled away from Michael and away from your release. Michael groaned and fell, face first, into the mattress. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Maybe later.” You giggled, pushing him up to lay on his back. He looked up at you and a mischievous smile, the one you had grown to love, adorned his face.

“Or we can continue.” His hand was already reaching to your wrist to pull you up to straddle him again but you held back, shaking your head.

“Mikey, you have guests.” But still, you leaned over and pecked his lips quickly.

Michael groaned again, this time out of annoyance. “Fuck them. I don’t even know who they are, they’re Ashton’s friends.”

You smiled at his attitude. Your hand was tracing his neck, following the ink lines. It was a vulnerable position he was in, and something he only ever allowed you to do. When he was with you, it was so easy to forget how different he was with other people. How mean he could be. It was almost comical to see the difference in how he was right then to what he was just a few minutes ago.

“Be nice.” You chastised. “They’re here for you too, don’t bother trying to kid yourself.”

You heard Michael whine, “Come on, baby girl.” He took a hold of your wrist again. As he pushed himself up to a sitting position, he easily towered over you and he used that to his advantage. Pushing you against the wall next to his bed, he cupped one of your cheeks. His hand took up much of that side of your face, “Let me get you off.” His voice was deep with want.

You’d be a liar if you said that you weren’t wet. The way he was looking at you, the way you felt so small in front of him, you wanted to let him do whatever he wanted with you. But as you heard the front door close, you couldn’t. Not only would it be embarrassing because you were never quiet, Michael made sure of that, but it would be impolite.

Michael would never admit it but you both knew the guests were here for him. He was somewhat of a legend throughout the campus, especially among frat boys and wannabes. No matter your disdain for people like that, they came all this way for him.

So you pushed against his chest just slightly, knowing that would be enough for Michael to let you go. And when he sighed and moved away, you got up from his bed and moved to where there was a mirror hanging next to his closet. Your hair was a mess and so was your makeup. You looked fucked out and you were in awe for a moment at how Michael managed to make you this way with just a make out session and a dry hump.

Fixing yourself, you couldn’t help but smile at the pouting boy, still cross armed on his bed. Turning to him, you motioned for him to get up. “Come on Mikey.”

He stood and immediately, you had to crane your neck to look up at his big height. Even his shoulders engulfed your entire figure. Michael knew what he did to you so it wasn’t much a surprise when you felt one of his hands wrap themselves around your neck, the one with his bruised knuckles, but not hard. “After this, you’re mine.”

You think your smile was enough to tell him how excited you were at that prospect.

Michael gave you a weak smile. He didn’t tend to smile much, even when it was just the two of you. In fact, except the fact that he was a lot chattier and warmer with you, he was still always in his head and rarely expressed much emotion outside of bed besides anger, horniness and the rare affection. But you were okay with that. Your emotions were enough for the two of us.

He gave you peck on the lips, “I’ll see you out there.”

You nodded up at him, smiling before going back to fixing your makeup and adjusting your dress. Ashton had a couple of friends over ever now and then. Most, if not all, coming to see Michael. Though, you tried to not be there whenever they came over, Michael seemed to prefer it for you to be with him. To give him something to actually look forward to. He hated meeting new people and he hated their interest in him. He was popular without wanting to be. So you were often there to remedy that and you became the center of his world in those moments. Though, really, that was how you were most of the time you were with him.

Only a few minutes passed after he left the room that you followed him out.

But as soon as you left the room, you stopped when you saw someone standing in the living room, looking at you. In that same instance, you recognized him. Justin. A good friend from high school and an even better human being.

As your name left his mouth you grinned, coming closer to hug him. It had been so long, years, actually. The last you saw him was at your graduation when you swore you’d miss him. And you had. After all, he was the boy that plagued your heart all throughout high school - not that he’d known.

“Justin!” The hug was quick and you had to get on your tip toes to do it. You could tell he was just as surprised to see you. He was smiling wide and his eyebrows were shot high like they did whenever he was interested in something.

But just as soon as you pulled away, the weirdness of the situation seeped in, “What are you doing here?”

Justin blinked as if he, too, just became aware of the weird circumstance you were meeting in. “I, uh” He scratched the back of his head, unsure of how to answer and gestured to the couch. “I came with Chris and Charlie.”

Your brows furrowed further as you glanced at the couch where, sure enough, your high school classmates sat, looking back at you. They waved, slightly confused. You tried to ignore the fact that even Ashton had torn his eyes away from the tv to stare at you two. Which, considering how hard it was to take Ashton away from his video games, was saying something.

All you could think was that you wanted to crawl into a hole. The boys that you always said peaked in high school and made you so upset when they transferred to your university were now at your boyfriend’s house, trying to be his friends. It was truly a worst case scenario.

Excluding Justin. It’d been so long since you saw him, it felt nice to be in his presence again. You appreciated him as a person and the kindness he radiated - even to you, someone so much lower in economic status than him.

“But I thought you went to Washington?” You fiddled with one of your bracelets as you spoke.

Justin nodded, stiffly. “I do, we’re just on Spring Break a few weeks before you so I thought I’d visit.”

You smiled, “You should’ve gotten in touch!”

You think the situation had gotten a hold of him because while he otherwise would be rambling on with questions and stories, Justin had gotten quiet. “But why are you here?”

You blinked. Now you felt uncomfortable. It was as if you finally noticed everyone’s eyes on you, including Michael’s glaring ones. Yeah, this is definitely the last time you were going to be there when someone else was coming over.

Ashton turned back to the tv and scoffed, “Please, she practically lives here.”

Your nose crinkled when you smiled and made your way to Michael, who had taken a seat and motioned you into his lap. You shrugged, looking at your high school classmates. “This is my boyfriend’s house.”

Justin sat down slowly, his eyes just as wide as Chris and Charlie’s. Most people on campus knew you were Michael’s girlfriend. So the shocked reaction had been diminishing. You were almost starting to become used to not seeing it.

Almost.

You don’t really blame them. You are very different. Michael is aggressive, angry and cold while you tended to be bubbly, shy and school-oriented. But that’s what you liked about each other. You just fit so well together. Opposites attract, right?

Ashton spoke up again, knowing Michael would likely not talk the entire reunion if he could help it. “How do you know each other?”

You took one of Michael’s hands in yours, your hand looking almost minature in his large one, and traced the tattoos you loved so much, “We went to high school together.”

Ashton nodded, “Oh the private one?”

Charlie nodded, glancing at Michael before looking at you, “I didn’t know you were dating Michael Clifford.”

You smiled weakly, we’re not friends, that’s why you didn’t know is what you wanted to say.

Michael took a chug of the glass bottled beer in his hands. It was like a silent signal because after, the three boys began playing their game.

You made a grab for the beer but Michael moved it out of your reach, his free hand slapping the side of your thigh in warning.

Your eyes widened. “Michael!” You hissed under your breath. Not in front of everyone. But he just stared at you, unsmiling. The only hint of humor came from his twinkling eyes.

He didn’t like you trying anything he was into: drugs, cigarettes, weed, alcohol. It was all off limits to you and he made sure everyone knew it. It was his way to preserve your innocence, even if dating him made that seem sort of like a paradox. Sometimes, though, it was fun to mess with him even if you were never interested in actually experimenting with the things he did.

“So, Michael…” You were brought out of your own little world by Charlie. “Are you going to Epsilon’s party tonight?”

“No.” Came Michael’s curt reply, his thumb drawing lazy circles on your arm.

Ashton was the one who saved the moment (and Charlie’s feelings) by filling in Michael’s blanks. You think that’s why they were such good friends. “Michael hates parties. He’d rather be here with Y/N and do it like bunnies.”

You weren’t sure if you wanted to die or if you wanted to kill Ashton. Maybe both.

Because as soon as those words left his mouth to your high school classmates - and high school crush - you felt your face heat up. You didn’t have to look to know that Michael was smirking.

You saw Justin blush and look away and for a moment, you felt worse. There was something about feeling completely humiliated in front of someone you hold at such a high regard that does that to you.

Ashton and Chris both exclaimed at something on the tv at the same time your phone chimed. You unlocked it to read the text.

kelly (stats)

hey girl! are you on campus? i’m at the library and wanted to see if you wanted to work on the project.

The project. It was due in a few weeks and while you had finished your portion, the rest of it was definitely not done. You sighed, knowing you’d have to go and lose the rest of your day with Michael.

You felt Michael shift under you, moving up from his slouched position to be able to read your text fully. He kissed your shoulder when he did.

“I’ll be right back.” You whispered to which he nodded. You got up from his lap and moved to the kitchen, moving to call Kelly and sort out the details.

“Hello?”

Justin’s eyes followed your movements as you left to the kitchen, though certainly not missing the way Michael’s hollow eyes watched his every move. Michael, sitting slouched, didn’t even stop staring when he took a chug of his beer, the red of his healing bloody knuckles on full display.

Justin definitely understood what made Michael so scary on campus. What he couldn’t understand is why Y/N was with him. Sweet, innocent Y/N. Had you changed so much in three years that this is who you would fall for?

He could feel Michael radiate hostility but Michael remained quiet, simply choosing to observe Justin, which somehow seemed more terrifying.

When you came back into the room, Justin actively tried not to watch you. He kept his eyes on the tv with his only glimpse of you being your bottom half as you walked by him, your dress falling to just below your mid thigh. He couldn’t help but listen to his friend’s chiming voice as you spoke in a lower tone.

“I’m going to go to the library to finish up a project.” He couldn’t hear what Michael answered, if he even answered. But he heard you continue. “No, I might just walk. It’s still light out. I’ll call you when I’m heading back.”

Then, as if the afternoon didn’t already feel surreal enough, he saw you out of the corner of his eye, bend down and plant a kiss to Michael’s lips, one of your hands were on his abdomen, holding you up. It almost felt jarring to witness. Not only to see Michael allowing such a thing but to see the girl that had taken up much of his mind, and heart, in high school willingly put herself in that position with a man like Michael. It had taken him a while this afternoon just to put the pieces together and understand that Y/N was Michael’s girlfriend but to see it laid out in front of him was disturbing nonetheless.

When you straightened up again, you regarded the boys in front of you with the kind smile Justin knew so well. “I’m heading out, nice to see you guys again.” Though you didn’t really sound like you meant it.

Justin didn’t think his next actions through. All he was thinking was that it was an out. An out to leave this house that made him so uncomfortable and an out to not be in the same room as Michael without you to mend the tension.

So he stood up without much thought, “I’ll head out with you.” And as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back immediately. They came out wrong. He knew it and so did everyone else in the room, evidenced by the pausing of the video game and the multiple set of eyes on him.

You blinked up at him, processing what he said for a moment before he quickly added, “I mean, I left my phone back at Chris’ room so I was going to leave anyway. I was just thinking I’d give you some company.” That didn’t sound any better either.

But he trudged through the awkwardness of his phrasing by refusing to look at Michael. Justin had a feeling that would make everything a million times worse.

But you didn’t fail him, “Oh, sure.” You smiled warmly, looking back at Michael quickly before moving towards Justin and the door, “We can catch up on the way.”

Chris and Charlie were looking at him with wide eyes as he left, likely cursing him out in their heads for messing up any chance they had at being Michael’s friends. But as he followed his friend back out to the open world, outside of the dark and cramped house, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

You looked up at the tall blond boy beside you as you walked down the sidewalk that would lead back to campus. You were still in awe that he was there beside you, walking and talking to you after so long. Well, not so much talking. You think he was still up in his head about the situation.

“So did you really leave something in Chris’ dorm room?” You smiled knowingly up at him.

To which he let out a chuckle and lowered his head sheepishly, “No, I…I just had to get out of there.”

You nodded like you understood, which you did. You talked a lot when we were in high school and you knew his limits, what he was used to. “Yeah, I know that house can be a lot for some people.”

“It’s just cramped.”

You didn’t say it but that kind of bothered you. It wasn’t a mansion and while it wasn’t exactly nice, it was cozy and it felt like home. Michael made it feel like home. But you knew Justin couldn’t see it that way. He was the richest boy in high school, after all. And popular because of it. Though, looking back, you couldn’t think of a time where he had let that get to his head.

“So, you and Michael, huh?” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his khakis and looked over at you. His blue eyes clouding with worry.

Now, it was your turn to chuckle. “Yeah. It’s okay, a lot of people have the same reaction.”

“It’s just different, I guess. Have you heard his reputation at all?”

You got on the bus that would lead straight to the middle of campus at that point and found two seats right next to each other.

You nodded, “I guess. But Michael…Michael’s different from what you think. He can be sweet. You just have to get to know him.” You tried to tame the big loving smile that was threatening to explode at the thought of Michael, the version of him that you knew. You were well aware of how vicious and even cruel he could be, gaining him the rumors that constantly swirled around him and now even you. But he wasn’t like that with you.

“I heard he’s in a gang.” Justin whispered.

Your eyes shot up at him in alarm, “Of course he’s not.” Unfounded rumors like that did bother you, they whittled down all of Michael’s past struggles to be theatrical entertainment for those looking in, not to mentioned demonized him even further for no reason. Though they never really bothered Michael, you had too much respect both for him and for yourself to be okay with them.

“I just don’t think I expected him to be your type.” He explained, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Well he wasn’t, not at first.” You calmed down and instead bit your inner cheek, trying to decide whether you should let him in on your little secret. “Actually, you were my type. I had a huge crush on you in high school…”

“What?-”

“…Don’t worry, I’m over it now.” you quickly added in when you I felt him freeze behind you in surprise. It was embarrassing but it didn’t make much sense keeping it from him anymore.

“I had no idea.” His voice dripped with honesty. He pulled at the collar of his polo shirt.

You shrugged, “I made sure of that. I don’t know, you were just so nice to me even though you were so out of my league. You were rich, popular but so respectful and socially aware. Plus you weren’t a republican.” You laughed before looking down, “And I was the shy scholarship kid.”

It was obvious Justin was trying to think of what to say so you helped him out, “But you know three years of college really changes you. I’m a lot more outspoken now and I found a great boyfriend.”

Justin nodded, still seemingly shocked, “That’s great.” His voice was soft and, as you made eye contact, there was something more in his eyes that you couldn’t read.

But you didn’t have to think of it much because you got to our destination and you both made your way off the bus, onto the campus you loved so much.

“Okay, I guess I’ll see you around?” You were already moving back slowly, desperate to get to the library quickly so you could head back to Michael faster.

Justin nodded, not moving to go to the dorms, “Yeah, I’ll be here for two weeks or so.”

You practically skipping when you reached Michael’s house again. The sun had set and part of you were upset at how long it had taken you in the library. But as you opened the door to Michael’s room and saw him laying on his bed, headphones on and wearing a black hoodie with only the tattoos on his hands peeking out, those feelings disappeared and were replaced with much more primal feelings.

Michael, slipping off his headphones gently, seemed to mirror your feelings because just a bending of his index finger in a ‘come here’ motion, was enough to have you closing the door behind you and nearly jumping onto him.

You were smiling but asked before anything else, “Ashton-?” You always felt bad he had to deal with you constantly at each other with only thin walls separating Michael’s room from his.

“He went to that frat party.” Michael muttered, uninterested. His eyes were instead trailing your body, figuring out which way was best to take off your dress.

You were on all fours as you crawled your way to him, stopping when you were in between his spread legs. “You should’ve gone.” Even if you didn’t love parties, they were still a big part of who he was, before dating you he would be at them drinking the night away every other day, and a part of you felt bad for taking them away from him, even if unintentionally.

But still, he couldn’t look like he care less when he reached over and pulled your dress up to uncover your ass, his hands trailing down the curve of you sensually before giving you a small spank that made you jump in surprise. “I have better things to do.”

Now that deserved a reward. Your hand rubbed over the noticeable bulge in his jeans. Michael’s hands undid his belt, the sight of that action almost making you want to moan right then and there. Your hands trailed up to undo the button and zipper. He eagerly pushed his hips up to help you take his jeans and boxers off.

His long and thick length stood out horizontally and you felt your mouth watering already at the thought of taking him in your mouth.

One of his hands took a hold of the gold necklace you were wearing, twisting it and pulling at it to force your face closer to his.“Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

When you first started having sex, you were shy and inexperienced. Words and talk like that would have had you shaking nervously. And while you would still likely react that way in public, with enough time with Michael and in the privacy of his room, you didn’t even blink when you answered.

“Always.” Your hand wrapped around him before you took his dick into your mouth. Michael groaned immediately and threw his head back, eyes closed. This only proved to spur you on. You took him as deep as you could, stopping only when his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag and pull back.

But the vibrations only seemed to have him moaning louder and led to one of his hands to collect your hair and push himself back into your mouth. “Fuck that’s good, take it.”

You didn’t even notice when he had taken off his shirt and hoodie. His tattoos, which ranged from his fingers to his entire torso and neck were on full display and you felt yourself get wetter at the intricate ink that adorned his beautiful body. It was a contrast to your body that was completely bare of any tattoos.

Up until then, he was still controlled. When you looked up at him with the innocent eyes you knew drove him wild and moan against his length as you bobbed your head, his control snapped. There was something about you looking pure, especially in that angelic-looking white dress, at the same time you were doing something so dirty with him that sent him ablaze. Even more knowing that you were only like that for him.

Immediately, he tightened his grip on your hair with both hands, holding you in place. He thrust up into your mouth at a fast pace, fucking your mouth harshly. His groans increasing in volume. He thrust into your mouth deeply, your nose nearly touching his stomach, and kept himself there. Your throat closed tightly against him.

“Do you like that?” Your jaw hurt and you felt tears in your eyes as he pulled out enough for you to breath, his cock was messy with your spit. Then he continued, thrusting into your awaiting mouth and murmuring dirty nothings under his breath. You wanted to trail your hands down to your pussy to soothe the ache it had for him but you refrained. “Do you like me using your mouth like a dirty fucking slut?”

You moaned involuntarily. You needed him. You could feel yourself soaking through your panties. Michael gave a sharp tug at your hair and pulled you off of him. He tilted your head back painfully to lock his eyes with yours.

“Do you like being used like a toy?” His voice was cold and mean but it was a turn on. You nodded your head submissively and one of his hands reached down to your cheek, giving you a sharp slap. Enough for you to feel the sting and enough for it to feel good. “Open your mouth.”

You did what he said immediately. Your tongue poking out in anticipation. Michael leaned down before spitting into your mouth. You closed your eyes, moaning when you felt another slap at your cheek.

“Dirty whore.” Michael muttered under his breath before pinning you down to his bed, tearing your dress off as soon as hit the mattress and then doing the same to your bra and underwear.

Part of you wondered what had gotten into him. Being rough and kinky in bed isn’t something out of the ordinary for you two but he usually wasn’t like this out of no where. Not that you were complaining.

On all fours, you swayed your ass to him enticingly and looked behind you with a virginal smile, “Fuck me, daddy.” You said innocently.

He didn’t say anything as he flipped you over quickly and ran the head of his dick teasingly along your entrance, slapping it onto your pussy twice. A load moan of his name left your mouth when he finally entered you. He wasted no time in thrusting at a rough pace into you. Your moans were cut off and stuttered at the pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” One of Michael’s hands reached up to your throat and pressed tightly. The feeling of his inked hands around your throat amplified the pleasure. Your walls clenched around him. “No matter how many times I fuck you"

You saw his eyes be fixated on your breasts, the way they bounced up and down fully in pace with each of his thrusts. He leaned down and wrapped his warm mouth around one of tits, flicking and twirling his tongue around your nipple.

Your eyes closed involuntarily and your back arched in pleasure as he continued to slam his hips into yours. The only sounds in the room were the sound of skin slapping, your moans and his grunts.

“If only those boys could see you now, their innocent little classmate, so submissive and desperate for my cock, letting me fuck you like my bitch.” Michael’s voice was taunting and you could barely get your mind out of the haze of pleasure to question what he was talking about.

“But they’ll never see you like this. This is the only cock you’ll ever get, your first and your last. No one will ever be able to please you like I can. Do you think that blondie can make you feel this good?” You closed your eyes in pleasure, too far lost to even understand what he was saying, just shaking your head in answer. You were blushing like crazy at his words, which only served to make him thrust faster.

“Look at me.” He hissed and you did just when his thrusts’ vigor increased even more which left you whimpering and writhing underneath him. But still, you opened and kept your eyes on him, your mouth open as moans filtered out of you. “Tell me you’re mine.”

Though your mouth was open, you couldn’t formulate words. But Michael’s hands on your throat pressed harder and his other hand slapped your cheek as a warning, “Tell me.”

“Y-Yours. I’m yours, Mikey. Only yours.” His mouth was on yours in a heated kiss while his pace never faltered as he pistoned in and out of you.

“That’s right.” Michael praised, “Mine.” Then he said something he had never said before. “I’m going to knock you up, get you nice and pregnant. Everyone would know then, that you’re fucking mine.” He almost sounded delirious with the prospect.

He didn’t mean it, he couldn’t mean it. Even if he did, you were on birth control. But you moaned loader just at the thought of his love for you reaching those lengths.

“You want that, little one? Want me to fill your tight little cunt with my cum?”

A chorus of “Yes, yes, yes” left your mouth, you couldn’t speak anymore than just repeating that. The thought of being pregnant with his child and the reminder of just how small you were compared to him was enough to put you on another planet.

“H-Harder.” You were shaking as he complied with your request, his thrusts moving faster and rougher into you. Your arms wrapped themselves around his torso and scratched at his back, desperate for a way to express the nearly overwhelming pleasure you felt. He hissed in pleasure at the pain, his body above you engulfed nearly your entire figure.

“Open” His rough voice commanded and you opened your mouth obediently. Moaning again as he spit into your awaiting tongue once again.

Your throat was starting to be raw with your screaming and begging to come. “Cum for me, princess.”

You clenched your walls as you came around his big cock and that seemed to be the only thing that took for him to release after you.

He released inside you, filling you and leaking out after he pulled out. “Such a good girl.”

He was still coming when he pulled out and ribbons of cum adorned your face, which you graciously accepted. Michael watched your face and groaned to himself when you licked some of his cum off that was at the corner of your mouth and swallowed.

His eyes were closed in pleasure for a moment before he released his grip on your throat. You didn’t doubt the image before of you, blushing and covered in his cum did wonders for his libido.

He cleaned you up but you had a feeling it was just an excuse to be able to give you a passionate kiss. “You did great, baby girl. I love you.”

His praise made your heart swell. “I love you, too.”

Before you knew it, your kiss had gotten much more frenzied and his hand was trailing to your sore entrance. But you stopped before it could lead to a round two.

“I’m sore.” You mumbled before nuzzling into chest. His arms wrapped around your body protectively and kissed the top of your head, gently, so different from how rough he was just a few moments before.

You looked up at him quizzically just to see that he was already looking at you. “So, are you going to tell me what that was about?”

Michael looked genuinely confused, “What do you mean?”

You rolled your eyes, moving up so you were at eye level with him. You ran your fingers through his soft black hair, noting how his eyes fluttered at the sensation. “You know what I mean. What wound you up so bad?”

“Nothing” But at your pointed look, he sighed in defeat and muttered, “Those little rich boys. The tall one, he’s into you and I couldn’t do shit about it.”

You sputtered, “Justin?! No way is he into me.” You shook your head, giggling as you leaned back to lay your head on his shoulder. “Actually, in high school, I was the one into him.”

You probably shouldn’t have said that. You knew it as soon as Michael’s eyes hardened and his body stiffened. “What?”

Shaking your head, you stuttered out, “But I got over that years ago, he’s just a friend.”

But Michael couldn’t let it go, “You liked him and he was in my fucking house? He left with you for fucks sakes Y/N.” He moved as if he was getting up and you placed a hand on his chest to stop him (only doing so because he let you, otherwise his strength would quickly overpower yours). If he were to go after Justin, there would be little you could do to stop him from beating him to a pulp.

You kissed him deeply to calm him down because you saw his eyes start to shut down. They started to look like the same eyes he had in public, the cold, angry ones. And you couldn’t let him go there, not with you.

“We were only with each other for a few minutes, we took the bus.” You reasoned with him.

Michael locked his jaw tightly but he was starting to calm down, “That bitch ass couldn’t even look at me but I was watching him. He kept looking at you like he knew you, like he knew you how I know you.”

He looked at you then, with a mocking smirk. “Like he knew how sweet and moral you are and that you shouldn’t be with your big bad boyfriend. Too bad he didn’t see you begging to have your mouth and pussy filled by your mean boyfriend’s cock. Or that he didn’t know I was the one that took your virginity,” He moaned at the memory, “What do you think he would say if he saw innocent little Y/N like that?”

You didn’t have to be looking at him to see the delight in his bright eyes and sneering smile. It was obvious he enjoyed corrupting you.

You whined at his words, embarrassed, as if you didn’t hear much worse things come out of his mouth when you were underneath him or even when he was in fights with others.

“Are you sure Ashton isn’t home?” You changed the topic.

“He’s out.” Michael repeated, “Why, did you want him to join?”

He was teasing you, you knew he was but you whined again, blushing (something you knew he loved) and shook your head no.

He chuckled, a warm and joking chuckle, “Good, because I’m not sharing you. Remember that.”

Michael settled you in between his legs comfortably, giving you his phone to busy yourself with games or take photos. He kissed the top of your head, that reached just to his chin. Meanwhile, he grabbed a cigarette and a lighter from his nightstand, placing the white stick in his mouth and lighting it. The scent overtook your senses uncomfortably. But you were used to it so you didn’t do much besides raising your hand jokingly, to ask for a puff.

But Michael, who never took those things as a joke, squeezed your thigh. “I don’t want you getting into the shit I’m into.” He said, “I want to keep you pure for me.”

Because as much as he loved corrupting you, he loved your innocence even more.

so i think i’m going to make this into a two part series with each part having two stories involved. if that makes sense, let me know what you think!

#5sos #michael clifford smut #5sos smut #michael clifford x reader #michael clifford #bad boy smut #jealous smut #bad boy michael #luke hemmings smut #luke hemmings #calum hood #ashton irwin #calum hood smut #ashton irwin smut #5sos imagines #michael imagine #college au

767 notes · View notes

talkfastromance4 · 4 years ago

Note

Hii Hailey ✨ I’m so excited for your Halloween blurbs 🍂 could I ask for a 12 enemies to lovers smut with Ash, pleaseee 😍❤️

I’m so happy you’re excited! I hope you like this and thank you for sending in a request🥰

warnings: slight dom!ash, a sexy maids outfit and a brief voyeuristic experience.

12. “Oh, bite me.” “Don’t tempt me.”

@littledrummeraussie i’m tagging you because of a conversation we’ve had about werwolf ashton, i hope thats okay🥺👉🏻👈🏻

• • • •

Ever since you turned into a werewolf, the Alpha, Ashton has been nothing short of hostile towards you. He’s always calling you out when you’re late for pack dinners at his place then quips back with how bad whatever dish you brought. One wasn’t vegan enough, or one had too much sugar in it.

He’d always have you run mundane errands for him like picking up his laundry from the cleaners or delivering a package back home to his family. One time he made you wash his precious car Frankie that you were oh so tempted to spit on rather than clean it.

He always pinned you out of the rest. Not once did he ask any other pack member to do his chores for him. Because he was Alpha, you couldn’t put him in his place without facing consequences.

Halloween is quickly approaching and you came home to a white box sitting perfectly on your bed. Ashton’s scent lingered in the room and with a huff you approach the box. On top of it is your name scratched in his scrawl on a folded piece of paper. Flipping it up you read what he wrote.

“For all the help you’ve done for me. Costume’s on me.”

Confused, you toss the note aside and lift the box tearing away the tissue. You set your jaw and a low growl emits from your chest as you stare at the black and white ruffled ensemble complete with a feather duster and little bonnet.

He’d given you a damn maid’s outfit.

Furious, you snatch the skimpy fabric in your fingers and stomp your way towards Ashton’s office which is adjacent to his bedroom. Without knocking, you barrel through the door and find him in a compromising position with some female. A female you’ve seen at other parties that belonged to another pack.

Ignoring his bare ass and the female’s shocked expression, you glare at the smirk on his face.

“Found my gift then, yeah?” he asks tousling his hair.

“What is your problem with me? Is this some kind of crude initiation that only I have to go through?” you snarl. You almost want to toss it in his face.

“Just showing my gratitude.”

“Go to hell,” you sneer then spin on your heels.

“Hey!” he barks, his Alpha voice booming through. You have no choice but to turn when he uses that tone. “You don’t speak to me like that, Omega.”

“I don’t care anymore,” you scoff, “Some pack family mentality you have in thinking you can single me out. I’m not your maid.”

You saw anger flash in his eyes at your defiance against him. No one speaks to an Alpha like how you are. Ever.

“Ashton,” the female whines trying to turn his attention back on her.

“Shush,” he commands and she squeaks into silence. “That outfit says otherwise. I expect to see you in that on Halloween.”

“Oh, bite me.”

“Don’t tempt me.”

With a final glare down, you spin out of his office and slam his door in your wake. As you stalk back to your room an idea springs in your mind. You lay the maids’ outfit on your bed noticing the length of the skirt would go just to your knees and the bell sleeves on the shoulders were a bit obnoxious. Smiling to yourself, you decide you will wear the outfit after making a few adjustments.

It’s Halloween night and you’re taking a last minute look at your outfit in the mirror. You shortened the skirt so that it just barely covered your ass cheeks which you had on a ruffled black pair of panties. You added more tulle so the skirt bounced while you walked and you pulled on some fish net stockings with tall black stilettos. You chopped off the bell sleeves so they would hang off your shoulder and you got a push up bra that accentuated your breasts.

You finished the look off with red lipstick and fake blood smeared all over you. Some if it dripped perfectly between your breasts and you couldn’t wait to see Ashton’s face. As if he knew you were thinking of him, your phone buzzed in the tone you’ve set for him.

“We’re low on drinks.”

Rolling your eyes, you toss your phone to your bed then make your way downstairs. Green and purple lights flash across your skin as you descend the stairs. The party is loud and the people are enjoying themselves.

You sniff the air for his scent and find him near the small bar along the wall. The female he was pleasuring in his room earlier in the week is hanging off him in a skimpy outfit but his eyes lock with yours.

He’s in a simple suit with some blood smeared on him as well, was he a mobster? To bait him even more, you do a small twirl before strutting up next to him. You tell Michael your drink order, he’s the bartender for the evening, then tap your nails on the counter.

“What the hell are you wearing?” he asks lowly in your ear. The timber in his voice makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up but not in an intimidating way.

“The outfit you gifted me, isn’t it nice?” you smile up at him.

“That’s not the one I bought.”

“No, I made it better. You see, the blood here,” you point to your forehead, “and here,” you trail your finger down the drip into your cleavage. His eyes follow the movement slowly. “Is from the maid’s master of the house. She couldn’t take the abuse anymore and murdered him.”

Ashton growls and his female friend tugs on his arm. He holds up his hand to her face, palm up signaling her to stop her antics. You touch the blood that’s on his shirt.

“Are you the master I killed?” you ask then grab your drink and walk away before he can answer.

You could feel his eyes on you for the rest of the night as you danced, took shots, and flirted with some of the males in attendance. When you start to feel a bit warm from the party and the alcohol, you head outside in the back and make your way to the other side of the pool near the pool house.

When your back is turned to the pool house, you’re suddenly lifted off your feet and dragged inside the through the door. You start to scream and snarl at the attacker but then you’re pressed against the wall with a firm hand over your mouth.

As your eyes adjust to the darkness you’re staring into Ashton’s eyes. They’re filled with something you’ve never seen before, his cockiness is present but something else you’re unfamiliar with.

“Do you have any idea how mad you’ve been making me in this outfit?” he mutters releasing his hand from your mouth. You exhale loudly.

“That was the goal,” you smirk and he slams his hands on the wall on either side of your head. You laugh at how riled up he is then when you feel his hardened member against your fishnet covered thigh, you glance down. “This part doesn’t seem so mad.”

“Damn, you’ve got a lip on you all of a sudden,” he growls pressing himself against you. You moan at feeling his hot member on your leg and he smirks. “Seems like someone else is riled up. You’ve really been tempting me all night, do you know that?”

“No, how would I possibly tempt you when you have that female begging for you constantly?”

“Because you’ve been tempting me ever since you turned. You really think I sent you on those errands because I hated you? Oh, no,” he tsks shaking his head. “I did that so I wouldn’t be distracted from leading the pack. And I gave you that outfit as a joke but then to see you in it like this?” His eyes take you in and he trails his finger down the fake blood drip in between your breasts. “It took all of me not to take you in the middle of the floor in front of everyone.”

“What?”

He chuckles darkly then leans forward, his lips just barely touching yours in a teasing way. His breath tickles your lips and you desperately want him to close the small space. His one hand is still pressed against the wall by your head while the other one travels down your waist, his touch is burning you through the fabric until he pushes apart your thighs.

“I’m surprised you have anything on under here, little one,” he condescends then in one swift motion rips apart your ruffled panties. The pieces fall to the floor and you feel a slight chill then his hot finger presses against your center. “You smell so good right now...”

His middle finger slips between your folds and you jump at the contact, your hands grasping at his biceps. He laughs against your lips, his tongue teasing along the seam of your mouth. You open your mouth willingly but he pulls back slightly.

“Oh no, you’re going to have to use your words, little one. Wanna hear you beg for me.” The tip of his finger presses against your hole and you let out a cry at the tease of entry.��

You mouth the word ‘please’ and he pulls back further, his finger stilling.

“Oh no, no, no. I need to hear you,” he commands.

“Please,” you choke out tugging him closer by the collar of his shirt. “Please, touch me. Kiss me.”

You pull the same time he pushes and your lips are hot and fiery on his while his finger plunges inside you. He’s quick to add a second and you’re moaning in his mouth as his fingers twiddle against your spongy wall.

“So wet,” he mutters moving his lips to your jaw, fingers still scissoring you. “You’re dripping down my fingers.”

You rock against his hand, rolling your hips and he latches his mouth to your breast. When you feel your orgasm approaching, Ashton moves his fingers faster, faster, and faster until--

You growl loudly when he removes his hands very quickly.

“What the hell?” You hiss watching him slip his two fingers in his mouth. He hums, eyes closing.

“Such sweetness.”

You hear the zip of his pants and then he has your legs wrapped around his waist, the head of his dick nudges your entrance and his hand creeps up your neck. He gives your throat a slight squeeze, not enough for pain but enough to make you gasp quietly.

“I want to feel you come around me, feel you drip down my cock and I don’t want you to be silent. Understand, little one?”

You nod the best you can, he smiles. The same time he presses his lips to yours, he plunges into you and you let out a loud groan at being filled. He keeps you suspended in the air with one hand below your thigh and his other still on your throat but his fingers push your lips together so he can slip his tongue inside your mouth.

He pounds into you at a quick speed, his hips snapping against yours as your back jolts against the pool house wall. Your moans become louder as he hits that sweet, sweet spot and his teeth close down on the skin of your neck. You scream his name, fingers pulling on his hair as he fucks your orgasm out of you.

You’re whining in his ear and when another electric shock of pleasure courses through you, you bite on his ear. He growls against you from the slight pain and then you feel him spill inside you. You’re hot all over, burning from the inside out yet you need more of Ashton. How were you supposed to go back to the party now?

As you both catch your breath, you’re clenching and unclenching around him and he groans.

“Give me a few minutes and we’ll go again, little one. Stop clenching.”

“Sorry,” you whisper.

He lifts his face from your neck then gazes at you in a different sort of way again. You’re seeing many different things in his eyes tonight but you want to explore more.

“I had a feeling you’d listen well,” he smirks then pecks your lips and rubs his nose against yours. “Would you want to continue this upstairs in my room?”

“How am I going to go upstairs when you ripped my underwear?”

“Run fast, sweetness,” he giggles and kisses you before you can retort. You melt into him once more.

Needless to say, you don’t head upstairs until two more rounds later and he offers you his suit jacket to cover up your bare lower half.

“You’re my sweetness now, no one else can have a peek.”

• • • •

Taglist: @calpalirwin @thecurlsofgod @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @banditocth @dezzym17 @koalacal @lukeisbaby @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey @wastedheartcth @atlcalm @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @babylon-corgis @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @lanternlover2 @istaywithmyjonas @calteahood @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @frontmanash @philthepegacorn @mantlereid @lukedorkyhemmings @addietagglikesbands @kikixfandoms @sanrioluke @mayve-hems @morguelth @haikucal @thatscooibaby @meghanrose05 @idontneedanyone @dinosaursandsocks @haveufoundwhaturlooking4 @suchalonelysunflower @burstintocolor @zhangyixingxing1 @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @everyscarisahealingplace @stardust-galaxies @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @lovelybonesetc @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops

#13 nights of blurbs #ashton blurb #ashton irwin blurb #alpha!ash #alpha!ash smut #werewolf!ash #werewolf!ashton #ashton irwin smut #ashton smut #ashton smut blurb

97 notes · View notes

alexwritesfiction · 4 years ago

Text

hear my heartbeat? (just focus on that)

words: 2370

genre: fluff, angst, mlm friendship

tw: a bit very sad hmm

a/n: i love this idk why. i really shouldnt be writing so much angst holy hell. please read it!

—

in which michael can't sleep because if nightmares and ashton helps him.

—

Michael hated sleeping. He couldn’t even think about it. Just the thought of closing his eyes sent shivers down his spine. He used to love sleep. Heck, that was all he did back when he could. But things change, especially for him they did. He started to play in a band. With his best friends, no less. And he couldn’t have been more elated.

He needed to sleep, he craved to. Every night he’d lay down, terrified but with a bit of hope that maybe, just maybe he’ll sleep. Maybe, he won’t wake up in the middle of the thrashing and sobbing.

All he could do was hope, and he was running out of it at an alarming rate. For the past couple of shows he’d looked horrendous, as if his eyes had been painted red. He didn’t recognize himself in the mirror anymore. Didn’t feel like himself anymore.

He kept feeling worse and worse every day. It only doubled whenever he was struck with the realization that he should be happy that he even made something out of his career.

Lord, if Ashton could hear him right now, he would’ve no doubt broken down. And Michael couldn’t afford that. He needed Ashton to stay strong the way he was. He lived vicariously off him.

He thought Ashton didn’t know. But then again, he was the band dad after all. It was his job to protect his family. Where the band is, home is.

Today they were going to be playing a show in Copenhagen. The venue they were staying at only had two rooms, which means they’d have to share one each.

Sure, they’d shared rooms before, even beds, all four of them. But, this time, it was different. This time, Michael was different.

This scared him further. If he didn’t sleep alone, they’d know. He couldn’t bear the thought of having a nightmare while one of his bandmates was sleeping beside him. He could picture the disappointment on their faces. They’d hate him for not being okay. He was supposed to be fine. Michael had always been the chill, happy go lucky guy. The soft one, but strong. Oh, how untrue it was.

He may have been fine from the outside, but he just about was erupting like a volcano inside. And the lava ruined him every day. It was like he was the sun: bright from the outside, but just a big ball of black in the inside.

“C’mon Mike, we got to go,” Calum’s voice bounced off his door and he knocked. Michael currently sat in his stage clothes, trying to calm himself down as he curled into a ball. There was some shuffling outside the door, and then it burst open.

He looked up to see Ashton barging in with a wild look on his face. His face fell as he saw Michael curled up. But Michael, ever the tension diffusing machine, stood up faster than light and flashed a bright smile at him.

“Let’s freaking rock the stage tonight!” Michael grinning, hopefully throwing Ashton off track. He couldn’t let him know. But he could see it in Ashton’s eyes that he did. The look was gone as fast as it came, Ashton returning a soft smile.

Michael smiled gratefully, walking out the door, only to be held back by his arm as Ashton pulled him back and crushed him into a hug.

Michael inhaled sharply. He felt safe in his arms. He could breathe a bit better, even though it might just be a casual hug. His arms tightened against Ashton and then slowly tried to pull away. He knew that if he stayed like this any longer, he’d cry. And tears were weak. They weren’t manly. Especially not just before a show.

“It’s okay to not be okay, you know,” Ashton whispered in Michael’s ears, his voice cracking a bit at the end. Michael trembled, recognizing the words he’d said to his band whenenver one of them had felt bad. Michael took it upon himself to cheer them up. If only he could do that to himself.

“Ashton,” Michael said. Because what else was there to say, really. Nothing made sense in Michael’s mind. Other than Ashton.

“Boys, we really do gotta go!” Luke yelled from somewhere.

The hug just ended like that. Ashton held Michael to an arm’s length, scanning his face for any sign of weakness. He knew Michael was sad, but one thing he didn’t know that Michael had one of the best poker faces. And right now, the most heart-breaking thing was that he wanted to die, but his smile said that he couldn’t be happier.

Ashton, finally satisfied, nodded at Michael, signalling at him to go on stage. Michael heaved a sigh of relief. He just merely got out of that one, he thought. If he gets paired with Ashton to sleep on the bed, he would be doomed. He could feel it.

But he couldn’t risk messing up on stage. So, he stood and thought of how rainbows were magical and how kittens could make his heart melt. And when he finally felt ready to go, he did. And he rocked it.

---

He’d messed up. Bad. One of the best shows and it was his fault it messed up. He ran down the stage and to the backstage, ripping the guitar off his chest. Hot tears streamed down his face as he fell near the washrooms. Sobs wracked his body. His bandmates came after him, yelling his name.

“Michael, it’s okay",” the hushed him, standing tall over him, and peering down with pity in their eys. Michael hated pity. He didn’t need pity. He needed to just let it out.

Next thing he knows, he’s being lifted and engulfed into a hug by his best friends. This only made him cry harder. He should’ve stopped, should’ve calmed down. But he just couldn’t. The emotions kept erupting, the lava kept erupting and Michael wasn’t in control of his poker face anymore.

He heard Ashton say that he’d be rooming with Michael tonight, and he was so caught up in just breaking down that he was powerless.

“Let’s go” Ashton stated, and Michael barely nodded, wiping his endless tears with his long sleeves. One could have said he looked adorable even while crying, and Michael would have laughed at them. Right now, he could just imagine Ashton giving him a lecture on how to get better or think positive. But that's never helped. Still, he was determined to not let Ashton down. He was the one person to have cared for Michael even in the darkest times, when Luke and Calum and Ashton rose to shine and Michael was overlooked.

They reached a door, and a man, possibly a bodyguard opened it up, eyeing Michael up and down like he couldn’t believe someone could be so wrecked. he had disgust in his eyes, and Ashton noticed it too.

“You’re fired. Go home” Ashton said in his taking-no-shit voice. The man spluttered before rapidly nodding his head and looking at Michael one last time before walking away.

“Stupid freaking humans,” Ashton muttered, and Michael couldn't have agreed more. He giggled in between his crying, and it sounded like a frog wailing due to his croaky throat.

And then they both were laughing uncontrollably at the atrocity of it all. Michael didn’t know how much more he could cry, so he started laughing, and Ashton joined in until they were in peals of laughter, just laying on the bed,

Ashton laid back down, head on the pillow, Michael using Ashton's stomach as a pillow, and it didn’t feel awkward. Not one bit.

They calmed down after a few minutes, the hazy tension returing. Michael braced himself as he heard Ashton take a deep breath. His stomach bloated beneath Michael and he chuckled.

“You can't sleep, can you, Michael?” Ashton asked, his voice reflecting that he already knew the answer. Michael just chose not to answer that question. Ashton already knew, there was no point in saying anything. Except one.

“Go on, tell me how I should get better,”

Michael hadn’t meant for the words to come out so bitter and he sat up straight as hurt flashed in Ashton's eyes. But he recovered quick. He knew Michael hadn’t meant those words.

“I- I'm sorry – I didn’t – I didn’t mean that-” Michael struggled to explain, his hands flailing in different direction, once again on the verge of crying.

“Hey, hey, calm down. Shh. It's all right, Michael.” Ashton sat up and rested Michaels hand to his sides.

“I know you,” he breathed, and with that, Michael confirmed his suspicions. He was shaken for a second. He did not know why. Why was he so affected? He already suspected Ashton knew.

Michael’s mind was a hurricane, and it was spinning faster and faster. He couldn’t think of what to say to Ashton, how to handle this situation. That got to him, his ability to diffuse tension suddenly not acting.

“I can't sleep, Ash,” he said brokenly. Ashton locked eyes with him like he wanted to tear down the mask in his eyes and pull Michael out of whatever hole he falling into before it was too late. Michael already thought it was too late, but Ashton believed it never was. He hoped it was true.

It all comes down to hope, Michael thought, everything always comes down to hope. He hated that word now, with every fibre of his being.

He wasn’t aware that tears had started falling again, he just stared like a pale dead body at Ashton.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” Ashton said suddenly, surprising Michael with his words. He didn’t believe Ashton. How could he not hate someone so…sad?

Michael truly was a contradiction of himself. He could believe Ashton had his back and that he hated him simultaneously. That’s how he worked.

“I love you, Michael,” Ashton whispered into the dead silence of the room. His hands reached out to Michael’s cheeks, wiping away the drops that showed his weakness. Michael couldn’t hold himself in, he flung his weight onto Ashton, almost attacking him. They both fell back onto the pillows and Michael held onto Ashton for dear life.

Ashton sighed, softly rubbing Michael’s back until his tears dried and he could pass out from exhaustion. But Michael couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes, not when he’d cried so much.

Ashton had closed his eyes when Michael shifted his face from his stomach to look up at him. Ashton hummed in acknowledgement as if to say that he’s still there. Just…there. For him. And weirdly, that was all Michael needed to feel confident in telling him what he was about to.

“Hey, Ash?” he poked Ashton’s cheek repeatedly. Ashton didn’t respond, mocking him for being cute.

“Ash, Ash, Ash,” he kept chanting, finally cracking the curly haired boy up and making him pop one eye open. The tension that had been there had been dissipated as soon as cheeks were poked.

Michael had a soft smile on his face as he gazed up at Ashton. He blinked a few times, realizing they hadn’t even had the time to change their clothes. He still felt comfortable. Nothing other than Ashton could make him feel that way right now.

“Yeah?” Ashton murmured, raking his hands through Michael’s hair, which oddly felt like heaven.

“I can’t sleep,” he repeated his sentence from earlier, making Ashton confused. Why would he say that again?

“You already said-” he started, Michael cutting him off almost instantly.

“I have nightmares.” He stated. He felt Ashton inhale sharply at this. Ashton could never have imagined the extent of his acute insomnia. His hands stilled in Michael’s hair.

“God, Michael,” he stammered, “when were you gonna tell us?” Ashton asked, quietly as if the prospect of Michael keeping it to himself had hurt him. And it had, but he couldn’t focus on himself right now. this was about Michael, and he would be damned if he didn’t help him.

“Probably never,” Michael said truthfully, still lying on Ashton’s stomach. He grabbed Ashton’s hands from his hair and held them preciously between his own.

“There’s so many things I want to say to you right now, Mike. I just don’t know if I should say them now.” Ashton explained, and Michael understood perfectly. He’d known that feeling all too well.

“So, don’t,” Michael chuckled.

“Come here,” Ashton said in a voice that left no questions. Michael crawled up and lay his head on Ashton’s chest. He could feel a steady thumping beneath him and sighed and he put a hand over Ashton’s waist, cuddling up.

“Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that.” Ashton said after a few seconds. And he did. He paid attention to ever heartbeat, the feeling calming him down. He felt like the volcano had erupted and now it was just calm, like a boulder had been lifted off his chest. He knew it would last, but he couldn’t bring himself to get away from Ashton. He believed then that Ashton was the one he could go to without hesitation.

Michael smiled, his eyes unconsciously fluttering close. Ashton peered down after a few minutes when he heard small snores. And he saw the best sight he could’ve seen, as Michael slept cuddled up to him. Slept because he felt safe. In his arms.

Ashton couldn’t quite believe his eyes, and he had to do a double take before finally letting a grin spread on his face. He adjusted the pair of them so that they held hands, Michael on his chest with his other arm on Ashton’s waist, and Ashton’s hand resting on Michael’s head. He fell asleep too, in a while, the thought of Michael still on his mind.

If someone had seen them now, they’d have seen a couple. Two boyfriends sleeping. But it went far deeper than that. They were best friends. Brothers, more accurately. And neither of them could care enough as to what anyone thought they were.

Because that’s what they were, in the simplest words.

Michael and Ashton.

read it full on ao3 here :)

taglist under the cut! leet me know to be added!

@petitpancakes @skinni-ciggis @bubblegum18 @cbfjdx @fckingpernico @5sos-taylor-b99 @dumbsouvenir @i-like-5sos @heartbreakgirlisagoodsongcalum @neptune-falls @metanoiamorii @thescatteredscribbles @little-boats-on-a-lake @talesofsorrowandofruin @w-l-ink @baguettethebooklover @euphoniouspandemonium @wannabeauthorzofija @lady-of-himring @the-writing-avocado @ink-fireplace-coffee @your-local-bi-disaster @a-completely-normal-writer @felonyfairy @cool-but-confused

#ao3 #my writing #my works #excerpts #excerpts by me #hear my heartbeat? (just focus on that)

29 notes · View notes

littledrummeraussie · 4 years ago

Text

rewrite the stars.

Word count: 2300+

Warnings: Ashton x genderneutral!reader (I think I was finally able to do it). soulmate fic, but not exactly. angst. small bit of fluffy feelings in the end.

Author’s note: This just happened. One moment I was listening to the song, and in the next one we were here.

masterlist.

- - - - -

Ashton laughed at the story you’ve just told him about one of your professors, making dimples appear on his face, his smile wide and beautiful – and you just felt yourself falling in love with him a little more. He took a sip of his coffee as you fiddled with the sharpie in your hand, drawing flowers and stars on an empty paper cup that you took from the counter. His eyes followed the lines of the pen, smiling fondly as you wrote your name at the bottom, pushing the finished art piece in front of him so he can take a proper look.

As he took the cup from you his eyes suddenly flickered to your wrist, catching a smudge on your skin, and he furrowed his eyebrows. You pulled your hand back, tugging on the sleeve of your shirt and resting it in your lap, already knowing what he has seen. The paper cup slightly crinkled under his fingers, his gaze only skimming over the drawings he would usually study and examine with the professionalism of a scholar. He set it back down between the two of you, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket as well, just like you did moments ago.

”It’s not me,” you whispered, a sad smile on your face.

”How long?” Ashton sighed, eyes finally meeting yours, and you shrugged a little, pulling on your sleeve again.

”A little while now.”

* * *

Soulmate.

A word that was whispered between little kids on the playground and between teenagers in school hallway. College kids claimed they’ve felt a pull to go to schools just because their soulmate might be there too. Parents told their tales how they’ve met each other even though it was hard when there were so little opportunities to get out of small towns or across the globe.

Like everyone else you’ve also craved to find the one person who was meant for you. You were 11 when your mark appeared on your wrist, and for the first few months you’ve tried to check everyone else’s around you, hoping you will find them soon enough. But as time passed your search subsided, telling yourself that you will let fate do its job, and you’ve welcomed the thought that your soulmate will step into your life unexpectedly.

Years later you were still dreaming about them, sometimes catching yourself looking at the people passing the coffee shop’s counter, some hiding their marks under their sleeves or their watches, bracelets and band aids put over them for privacy. Others proudly showed them off, giving a chance to wandering eyes to catch a glimpse of the small tattoo painting their skins. You were one of those people who liked to keep your mark to yourself, thinking of it as something precious that you only shared with one other person in the Universe.

When Ashton came around you were sure you have found the one – he was everything you’ve wanted in a soulmate, and when he came back to the shop day after day, lightly flirting while you were making his coffee, you let yourself hope and dream. He started asking you to join him while he sat outside, enjoying the sun and his favourite drink, and the two of you started to schedule your days around your little dates. Your heart skipped a beat whenever he crossed the threshold, the bell signalling his arrival, and your co-workers gave you a smile, letting you have your break until he needed to be on his way again.

It was on a Friday afternoon in the midst of the afternoon crowd when you’ve learned that Ashton wasn’t your soulmate. He only had a few minutes as he asked his coffee from you, giving you an apologetic smile while already turning back to the conversation he had on his phone. The sleeve of his leather jacket left his wrist uncovered and your eyes landed on the small symbol painting his skin, the tattoo looking nothing like the one on your own wrist. You gave him a tight smile as he left the coffee shop, holding back your frustrated tears until you were in the silence of your dorm room, feeling stupid for letting yourself build up a fantasy in your head.

Ashton came back on Monday, once again asking you to join him, and you didn’t have the heart to tell anyone that the two of you will never end up together. You felt selfish, wanting his time and attention for yourself until he realized that you were not who he was looking for. Yet you couldn’t help yourself – maybe this was the pull people have talked about before, a connection with someone that felt so easy and natural. Your dates with Ashton were always the best part of your days, and you were not ready to give up on those. Not yet.

* * *

Ashton’s eyes were searching you, then slowly held his arm out to you, tugging up the sleeve of his jacket and shirt. You bit your lip as you looked at his mark, then reached for your own sleeve, pulling it back to your elbow and put your arm next to his. There was nothing similar about the two tattoos, the dots and lines painting different shapes on your wrists, and you couldn’t pretend anymore: it was clear as day that you two weren’t meant to be.

Soft lips pressed against your mark, and a shiver ran down your spine, tears prickling at the corner of your eyes as Ashton lightly traced the shape with his fingertips. He kissed your knuckles, pulling your hand against his face, brushing another kiss on your mark. His eyes were sad, and you perfectly understood what he was going through – you were familiar with the heartache this little revelation caused.

”Can I still see you?” he asked in the end, fingers still tangled together. ”Just until I find them. Can I see you?”

You nodded, still feeling selfish for holding onto someone that wasn’t meant to be yours, but it was clear that Ashton wasn’t ready either. Letting someone special go always felt like they’ve taken a part of your heart with them, but with Ashton it would have felt like someone just ripped the whole thing out of your chest.

* * *

”I’ve found her.”

It was weeks later when Ashton has finally confessed that his soulmate appeared in his life. He looked distracted and was mostly quiet during your coffee dates, and you were sure that something like this could be behind of it all. You knew what this meant, and you were mentally preparing yourself to say your goodbyes to Ashton. You squeezed his fingers in yours, giving him an encouraging smile.

”I’m sure she’s wonderful,” you made yourself say the words, their taste bitter on your tongue. ”I’m happy for you, Ash.”

”Will you be alright?” he sighed, pulling your hand into his lap to run his thumb over your mark. ”I don’t want to leave you like this. I feel like I’m… like…”

His chair scraped on the concrete, moving it next to yours so he could lean closer, resting his forehead against yours. You felt your breath hitch – he’s never been this close to you. Your heart pounded in your ears, but his closeness made you feel calm. Ashton grabbed both of your hands, eyes searching yours as he bit his bottom lip, his voice only a whisper.

”I don’t want to give up on you.”

”You’re not, Ash,” you shook your head, but he just huffed.

”I have something really special with you. You and I – we have so much in common. These last months have been so wonderful and I just can’t stop thinking about you. How do you expect me to move onto someone whom I don’t even know?”

”But she’s your soulmate,” you felt a tear run down your cheek, and Ashton lightly brushed it away. ”You should be with her. It’s not me Ashton. I can’t be that for you.”

”The Universe really fucked this up,” he let out another sigh, nuzzling his nose against yours as he did. ”Can I kiss you? Just once in my life. Just to know what it feels like.”

”I wouldn’t be able to let you go,” you pulled away, quickly getting out of your chair. ”I think it’s better if you go now. Bye Ash.”

You were sure that was the last time you’ve seen Ashton – he never came back to your coffee shop again.

* * *

The guy smiling at you made you stop in your tracks, and as he pulled a few bills out of his wallet you’ve caught sight of the tattoo on his wrist. The same pattern looked back at you, the one you have seen every day of your life since you were 11. You’ve seen him a few times already, and he did come back regularly, always being nice to you, sometimes stumbling around his words as he tried to flirt with you. You made sure to tug your sleeves down to your wrists, not wanting anyone to see your shared marks – you’ve been waiting for him since forever, but it didn’t came close to what you’ve had with Ashton. Maybe some people weren’t meant to be together. Maybe some soulmates weren’t meant to find each other. Maybe living a life alone would be better than living a lie every day for the rest of your life.

* * *

”I’m sorry, but we’re closed.”

The footsteps didn’t fade, and you huffed out a frustrated sigh, ready to tell the person coming into the shop to leave before you’ve said something you shouldn’t have. But as your eyes looked up at the stranger, you needed to realize that you know those hazel eyes staring back at you, have seen them daily for months – have fallen in love with them every time you had the chance to look into them.

”Ashton?”

”Hey, do you mind if I wait here until you close up?” he pushed his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

You nodded at him, and he sat down at the counter, silently watching as you cleaned up after your shift. He fiddled with the rings on his fingers before he picked up a paper cup and a pen, drawing patterns on it until you finished. As you stepped next to him to tell him that you should go, you caught sight of the cup in his hand – it was covered in your own mark, the lines and dots perfectly captured on the paper.

”Who said that…” he started, taking a deep breath before continuing. ”Who said that you can only have one soulmate? That the one should be someone you share a mark with?”

”Countless people before us,” you sat down next to him, resting your hands in your lap.

”What if you have nothing in common with them?” Ashton finally looked at you, eyes boring into yours.

You wanted to tell him about your soulmate, the guy with the nice smile and the stuttering flirting, the boring coffee order and how he didn’t make you feel anything at all. Ashton tapped his fingers against the counter, and you reached for his hand, covering it with yours.

”I’ve told her,” he said, and you nodded in understanding. ”I’ve tried to love her, but I– I couldn’t do it.”

”She will forgive you,” you squeezed his hand, but he just shook his head, turning towards you.

”No. No, she won’t. I’m not going back to her,” he kicked his foot against the leg of the chair. ”I refuse to be with someone who just doesn’t make me feel anything. Not when I have someone who makes me feel everything.”

”We’re not meant to be, Ashton,” you tugged his hands into your lap, and he scooted closer, legs bracketing yours. ”That’s not how the Universe works. At least… that’s what they tell us.”

”Let me decide my own fate,” he slowly leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours and you welcomed the feeling; new, but still so familiar. ”Let me give the middle finger to the stars and let me love you on my own terms. Be my soulmate, the one I have chosen. Please.”

You tipped your head forward, nose and lips lightly brushing against his until you felt his soft lips melt against yours, kissing you slowly but surely. His arms circled around your waist, pulling you as close as he could, tongue slipping in your mouth and fingers tangled into your hair. Ashton lightly nipped your lips, peppering it with little kisses until you rested against his chest, face buried in his neck, his body warm and comforting against yours.

”Will you be my soulmate?” you whispered against his shirt, and Ashton nodded, his lips pressing a kiss on your temple as he held you close.

”Maybe we could get our own mark,” he squeezed your hips, and you’ve looked up at him, his eyes sparkling with love and hope. ”What do you say?”

”That there’s a tattoo shop just a block away,” you giggled, tugging on the collar of his jacket. ”The guy gets his coffee from me every morning.”

”And I just have the perfect mark for the both of us,” Ashton grinned at you, leaning closer to press another kiss on your lips.

* * *

As Ashton wrapped his arms around you that night, spooning you from behind like you have imagined it so many times before, you let your gaze slide to your interlocked hands. He chuckled behind you, fingertip running over the healing tattoo on the inside of your middle finger, and you lovingly did the same to him before kissing him goodnight. The two little black stars rested next to each other as your fingers intertwined, a reminder that sometimes you can choose your own fate, no matter what is written in the stars.

- - - - -

@mymindwide @loveroflrh @sadistmichael @notinthesameguey @babylonashton @talkfastromance4 @dead-and-golden @fuckyeah5sostakemehome @karajaynetoday @myloverboyash @sexgodashton

#ashton irwin x reader #ashton irwin #ashton irwin fanfiction #soulmate!ashton #fiction time #afic: rewrite the stars

155 notes · View notes

squishycalumxo · 4 years ago

Text

The Date. Ravenclaw!Calum X Hufflepuff!reader

Part two to “Pinky Promise”

Summary: Calum and you go on a date and drink butterbeer and talk about life

Warnings: some swearing

Word count: 1.6K

You wake up the next morning, refreshed. It's Saturday, finally. “Holy shit” you whisper to yourself, realizing that you have a date today. “What?” you hear from the bed next to yours. Its your friend, Y/F/N. You look at her with a huge smile and before you can respond she starts speaking “it's almost like that cute Ravenclaw boy asked you on a date… What's his name?.... Column? No that's not it”

“His name is Calum and yes he did ask me to go on a date. today actually” you say happily

“Holy shit Y/N is finally going on a date” she says jumping up and down on the edge of her bed that she's sitting on

“He's so cute and sweet. Were going to Hogsmeade” you say even happier

“OMG! That's where Cedric and I went on our first date too” she gushes about her boyfriend and you slightly giggle. You love, love.

You start getting ready once your friend leaves. You put on a little bit of makeup, some eyeshadow, blush and some lip gloss. Do your Y/H/C hair, and finally get dressed into a yellow sweater with a grey skirt and sheer black stockings. Last but not least a pair of black flats. As if on cue there's a knock on your dorm room door. You answer it to see Ashton Irwin standing there

“Your date is here” he says with a wink. You giggle a little bit hugging him

“Thank you” you say with a huge smile. You meet Calum in the common room. He looks so amazing. His brown hair falling onto his tan forehead in damp curls like he just got out of the shower. His blue button up shirt has 3 buttons undone and the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. Is black jeans ripped at the knees, and lastly his brown eyes looking at you almost in awe.

“Hey love” he says, noticing you staring at him. He holds out a large hand for you to take. When you do he tangles your fingers together. Your hand fits in him perfectly. You blush a deep crimson, causing Calum to chuckle a little bit.

“Hi” you say simply, like a total loser. “You uh look really good” you stutter. Nervously playing with the hem of your skirt.

“You look beautiful Y/N” he claims, causing a blush to spread across your cheeks.

“Thank you Calum” you say with a playful curtsey. He laughs making you smile wider than you were before.

“Well let's start going” he says, leading you by your hand.

“Hiya love birds” you hear a cocky voice from behind you. You both turn around to see the other Ravenclaw keeper, Michael Clifford.

“Hey mike” Calum exclaims letting your hand go so he can do a crazy complicated handshake with his friend. You laugh at them, you have tried to make a handshake with the twins, they can never remember them after. They turn their attention to you and Calum introduces you. Michael holds his hand out and you shake it.

“Calum talks about you all the time” he says with a cocky smirk on his face. Calum elbows him in the side “i take it i wasn't supposed to say that” he adds with a laugh

“Well we're gonna be going now” Calum says quickly before Michael can embarrass him further.

When you finally get to Hogsmeade, you walk straight to the three broomsticks. Calum tells you to sit down at one of the booths. While he goes to order your drinks “butterbeer?” he asks you

“Yes please” you answer to your handsome date

“Two butterbeers please” he asks the pretty woman at the bar of the three broomsticks. While you wait the bell for the door chimes. You look up to see your two idiot best friends. They both spot you in your booth and pile in the side of the booth you're sitting on.

“You guys better not be embarrassing” you dare. They know you won't do jack shit but they also don't want you to be mad at them.

“Don't worry Y/N/N” they sing. In unison, like everything else that they say. They practiced talking in unison for so long when you were young. The twin telepathy was already super evident they just had to practice. Pretty soon Calum comes back to sit with you. He sits at his own side of the booth and he looks warily at your two ginger friends.

“Just ignore them, they'll go away” you joke. Causing them both too look at you with their hands over their hearts. Calum just kind of chuckles, the sides of his eyes crinkling slightly.

“Bloody hell, I guess well fuck right off” Fred sasses getting up “obviously were not wanted here Georgie”

“Well be going now” George adds. You just flip them off and laugh

“I'll see you later guys, love you” you declare to them

“Love you too Y/N/N” they say almost skipping out of the shop.

“I'm sorry about them, they're idiots. We've been friends since we were like babies. Our mums were friends from school” you say with a laugh “they're kind of like brothers now”

“It's sweet that they care about you so much,” Calum decides. You just kind of nod

“Yeah I guess.” you say pausing to take a sip of your hot beverage in front of you. "I really love them, they just super annoy me sometimes” you joke.

“I have friends like that,” he admits. “Mikey” he adds with a laugh. You laugh as well.

We finish our butterbeer and talk about our lives. once the drinks are gone, we get up and we go to Zonkos. Where we run into the twins with Calum’s friends. Not knowing that we're right here they're all talking about us really loudly. You clear your throat and they all turn towards you, their faces turning a deep red. Fred and George promptly start apologizing to you and so do Calum’s friends. Ashton, Michael and the Gryffindor who you've learned is called Luke. you just laugh.

“You should have seen your faces” you say, throwing your head back in laughter. Calum laughs a little bit too.

You all talk a little bit. Calum’s friends are really nice. You leave and the guys split up from you and your date.

“Lets go to a spot” you exclaim, leading Calum by his hand.

“Where“ he inquires with a laugh.

“Just come on” you laugh

Eventually you make it to the top of the hill where the shrieking shack is at. At this point the sun is starting to set. You guys sit down on the cold grass. You shiver a little bit due to the chilling air and the cold ground. Calum starts to scoot over so that your hips are touching and he throws his muscular arm around your waist.

“Thank you for this date Calum” you mutter happily. Looking over at him you see that he's already looking at you and due to your closeness you almost bump noses. You both fall back onto the grass laughing.

When you both sit back up you resume your position touching hips with his arm around you. “You can call me Cal” he says unexpectedly

“Alright Cal” you admire with a small smile. “We should probably get going” you mumble sadly. He agrees with a nod. Scrambling up onto his feet. Reaching a hand out to you so that he can help you up off of your butt. You dust your skirt off when you stand up and you both start walking hand in hand towards the Hogwarts castle.

“This was an amazing date.” Calum says when you finally get back into the castle.

“It really was” you say with a large smile on your face.

“I guess this is your stop” Calum sighs

“Yeah I guess it is” you mutter looking into his eyes. The brown is now a golden honey color in the dim oil lamp light of the Hogwarts hallway. You feel yourself leaning closer to his plump lips. When they finally meet a spark shoots through you. Fireworks go off around you. You never want this moment to end. Calum is the one that pulls away for air.

“Woah” he says simply leaning in for another kiss, this one turns out to be just a peck.

“Woah is right” you add with a breathy laugh. “Thank you for today Cal” you say with a large smile

“No thank you for today” he says wrapping his large arms around you in a hug

“Do you wanna meet tomorrow in the library after breakfast?” you ask awkwardly

“Of course” he says planting a peck on your lips before walking away leaving you frozen in place.

“Oh my god” you whisper excitedly to yourself. You walk into the Hufflepuff common room after tapping your barrel the correct amount of times and climbing down the ladder. You’re greeted with a burning fireplace and Cedric and Ashton sitting on the couch. You walk over and sit between them. There's a smile evident on your swollen lips and a contented sigh leaves your face as you plop down. They both look up from their books to look at you.

“What's up” Cedric quizzes

“Calum just kissed her” Ashton answers causing you to do a finger gun at him

“Okay then” Cedric says turning back to his book” you stare dreamily at the fire for a moment before getting up, saying goodnight to your friends and heading to bed.

“So how was your date?” your friend Y/F/N asks sitting up in her bed when you walk in.

“Amazing!” you exclaim causing you both to squeal

“OMG” she yells in a high pitch

“I know” you tell her. You happily tell her about your date and how he kissed and she fangirls a bit before you both go to bed. There's a content smile still evident on your face as you fall asleep. You couldn't be any happier.

Hogwarts!Calum masterlist

Taglist. @albinoclifford

#5sos #harry potter #calum 5sos #calum hood #fred and george #fred and george weasley #fred weasley #5sos imgaines #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum hood imagine #george weasley #Harry Potter #hogwarts au #5sos au

30 notes · View notes

punkandsnacks · 4 years ago

Text

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Two; Outsider.

Author: @punk-in-docs & @adamsnackdriver

Also on AO3-

Trigger Warnings: Implied violence, sexual thoughts and some emotional abuse.

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

Night falls dark and still over the landscape brushed with snow. Westwell’s gardens seemed crushed under the icy weight.

It seemed the heavy blanketing of it muffled and blotted out all sound. But it’s a peaceful intrusion.

The huge square windows of Westwell Manor are flaked with frost and each square of glass glimmers gold with the tall candle holder placed in each one. A stick of fire and gold warding off that indigo night that shrouded heavy and deep in the sky above. Trying to spill into the window.

Iris is sat in her small bedroom. A tomb or a cell, really, was how it felt to her some days. Wall to wall draped in pretty Morris flowered wallpaper of white sprawling flowers with navy and blue birds and country vines.

Her double bed with twisting pillars of dark mahogany twine up to the wheat thick canopy that is draped over it. The mattress is layered in a fluffy champagne coloured eiderdown and white embroidered scalloped-lace pillows. The floors are dark walnut wood, and they creak wildly. Groaning. Cold and heat seeps easily through the cracks between them in winter. Chilling her toes. And in summer the warmth of the creaking cracking house bleeds upwards.

The walls of her bedroom are sparse but some have photo frames of embroidery or pressed flowers she’s collected over the years held neatly in small wooden frames. She has a small stool by her bed with the tapered candle lit on a brass holder. Apricot flame coming off the long drip of the Chantilly candle. Casting pools of orange up the warm-ivory-bone of the walls. A jug of dried wildflowers sat on that little stool spices up the air. Dried lavender and clary sage, wild shasta daisies and a green-pink hydrangea bulb. Her little stack of modestly worn books lay piled neatly on the floor next to her bed.

Iris is sat at her dresser, pulled near the window. With the roaring fireplace just to her left. Above the mantel hung a gilded mirror on the chain. Candlesticks alight, set on the dresser and on the alcove of the sash window. Two candles flank the oval of the mirror she’s sat looking into.

Mother is behind her, dressed and ready in her purple muslin gown and her white fichu. Stabbing pins into her daughters hair. Every time she sticks in another pin, Iris winces. Blinks through the stinging pain of it. She was attempting a more fashionable colonial coiffure. Easier to produce.

“Your hair is much too thick to curl properly.” Her mother addresses her idly. Snappily. Tugging back a section back behind her ear.

“Posy and Flora have much finer hair.” She offers.

As ever. Iris doesn’t know what to say to that. Should she offer an apology? Should she agree? Disagree? She fails to know how to be.

So she remains silent and watches her mother’s reflection in the looking glass as she almost crossly dresses her hair.

Caroline Ashton was maturely beautiful woman. With skin as clear as fine porcelain - like smooth cream. Even if sporting wrinkles by her mouth and eyes belying her later age. She had hair exactly the same as Iris’s. Except her mother’s was such an opulent shade of cinnamon-black. Stroked with streaks of silver like lightning bolts had struck through. Her eyes were clear silver. Two discs of shining moonstone. Very mysterious eyes, Iris had always thought.

Lately those eyes seemed permanently hardened over like rainstorms. Clouded over with disappointment at her eldest.

Always wishing she could do more to see more of the love that used to linger there. Nowadays it seemed like Caroline could only look at her and see the blemishes. Only see the wrongs.

The frown lines seemed deeper. The cutting remarks appeared more frequent. She was always telling her to sit up straighter, correcting her posture. Smoothing out the wrinkles in her dresses. Always picking. Forever finding something lacking.

Iris likes to think she was doing it out of an abundance of love. But it’s becoming clearer and clearer to her that it’s really about the opposite. It’s not about her wanting to provide for Posy or Flora or Father.

It’s purely selfish. It’s all about her ensuring they don’t lose any respect in the ever omnipotent eyes of society.

If her mother thought less about their image; perhaps Iris could love her more.

As it is. Coldness and distance lay weighty between them. Thicker and frostier than the snow outside. The ground between their geniality and affection lay strewn and twined with thick vines of barbed thorns. No way to tread such hallowed ground without drawing blood.

“Posy and Flora have had their hair in bows all day.” She points out. She shuts her eyes and grits her teeth as another pin slams into her skull. Yanking her hair right at the roots.

“And they’ve taken all week to fret over choosing their dresses.” Iris adds.

She looks up to see those steel swords of mama’s eyes cutting into her in the reflection. Mouth was a grim line.

“You should know by know what’s expected of you, Iris. And not take the matter so lightheartedly.” She warns.

“They can take balls seriously, as real chances of finding matrimony. Why can’t you?” She asks with a cruel tone.

“Mama. Flora and Posy haven’t taken anything seriously since they day they were born.” Iris insults plainly. Speaking truth.

“You know they only delight in attending ball’s and assemblies because they wish to make greater spectacles of themselves in front of soldiers from the militia, and get flirted with, by any creature sporting breeches.” She adds.

“Atleast they try.” Caroline cuts in.

“And I do not?” Iris asks. Flatly exasperated. She huffs.

“You only danced with three men at last months assembly. It’s simply not good enough. You must try harder. Your sisters may have prettiness and confidence in unholy abundance. And they apply it. You wither away and that will never gain you a husband. For heavens sake- What upstanding man wants to marry the silent wallflower?” She declares gruffly.

She fiddles with her new satin gloves sloped in her lap. Her dress was ivory silk printed with frail gold flowers and embroidered scalloping on the hem.

There’s Van Dyke pointed lacing around her neckline and the same embroidered trim on the three-quarter sleeves. White helped ‘lift’ her ash eyes apparantly. It was fresh out it’s box from the dressmakers, Madame Larousse, on Pembleton high street. Indian printed silk and Italian lace. The most expensive fabric in stock.

Their maid, Julia, had earlier laced her stays so tightly over her cotton chemise, Iris worried she broke several ribs. Her nails stung into the wood of her bed post.

Mother was stood getting her gown ready on the other side of the room. Watching her eldest have the breath thumped right out of her lungs. “Tighter.” She ordered. Iris clutched a hand at her stomach.

“A man could go a long way without seeing a bust like yours Iris. We must take advantage of it.” She comments wryly. Julia tugs tighter on the strings. Iris’s jaw clenched all the more.

By the time she’s finished her waist is tucked right in and her breasts clasped high on her chest, almost so high they hit her chin and there’s scant space between her cleavage and her areole tumbling free, this gown is so low cut.

She tugs it up higher when mother isn’t looking. Spectacles of her fertility not quite on such prominent display now.

She fancied this silk of it was so fine and thin - and clung so tight to her body, one breath of wind would closely reveal her wide hips. And doubtless her chemise and garters could be glimpsed through the thin sheer sheen of it.

And here she was now, submitting to her mothers inspection and brutal torture. Laced up in her silken gown. With her best stockings, and slippers. Earlobes dropping pearls, and a head full of silver decorative pins and an ivory comb.

Speaking of which, the latter is just being wrestled into the weave of her coiffured braided bun, at the back.

“There...” Her mother says. Fussing with a few strays. Tucking them in where they should belong. As she picks at Iris’s mud hued hair. She idly asks her questions.

“Will you be dancing with Armitage tonight?” She asks. Insinuated, more likely.

Iris averts her eyes and pats the back of her hair. Checking it in the glass.

“Will he be in attendance?” She asks offhand. As if she had no clue.

“Of course he will. Brendol knows the Hearst’s very intimately.” Her mother shrilled.

“You will dance the first minuet with him and I’ll hear no more fuss about the matter.” She orders. Cold eyes finding her daughters in the mirror.

Armitage Hux was the son of a strict local army colonel. Tall, dashing, hair as brilliant as copper and eyes as cool as teal sea-foam in contrast. He was lean and willowy in stature. Always bedecked finely in his uniform. Buttons gleaming, blushing blood of a red coat brushed and pressed to within an inch of it’s life.

He’s not a bad man - he doesn’t drink or laugh at her. Or try and fondle her in a darkened corner.

He just strikes Iris as being incredibly vain and undeniably haughty. He thinks all the world should be owed to him.

He only wanted to talk medals and glory and rank. How he was a model soldier. And so admired the bravery of gunfire and glory in battle. He’d never even seen battle - his father bought him a conscription and shook hands and pulled favours to get him a high rank in the military. Sergeant Hux, he now was.

He didn’t seem to be able to equate soldiers and uniforms and weapons with actual war or combat. But liked to boast about how deadly he was. His sharp reflexes. His skill as a swordsman and marksman. Iris felt like stuffing cotton in her ears - or sticking her eyes with pins all night - anything but listen to Armitage spew out his toy soldier reveries.

“He is a very agreeable man. You would do well to land him, Iris. He would make a most affable husband and a good match.”

“I barely know him, Mama.” Iris pointed out.

“You don’t need to know him. That is no hindrance to a proposal of marriage.” She says crossly. “You need not know your husband. You merely have to do your wifely duties by him.” She reminds.

My duty of keeping my mouth shut and my legs and womb wide open, Iris thinks.

“I thought I heard he was courting Mary Simpson?” Iris pipes up. Uncurling two tendrils of delicate hair from in front of her ears.

“She has barely a thousand pounds a year. Brendol would never stand for him marrying such a girl.” Caroline declares mightily. Speaking in derision of the girl who was beneath them in every sense.

“Besides. Lord Hearst says there will apparently be a very rich gentleman from the continent in attendance tonight too. A Lord Ren, from Bavaria. It would do well to seek him out.”

“Every matronly mama worth her salt will be throwing their daughters in his path. I do hope he doesn’t trip on the sheer number of them crushed underfoot.” Iris says lightly. Pulling on her gloves.

“And if he is a Lord, why has he deigned in all his lofty power to grace us with his presence, and to come to a small county rather than go to vastly over stocked marriage mart in London?” Iris questions.

“Don’t be so blockish, Iris. Maybe he has business here to attend. Mrs Wilson told me this morning that he’s bought Hellford Park out in its entirety. Now that takes an extraordinary fortune.” She corrects.

Iris looks directly at her mother. She spies the gleam of want in her eyes. The hunger that such a sum she could snatch up in her hands.

“Lord’s marry Heiresses to sugar mills who are poised for ten thousand pounds, or widowed old Duchesses with vast crumbling estates. Why would he in his lofty state and means, lower himself to wed a girl of simple country gentry, with a barely three thousand pound dowry?” Iris sarks.

Mama gives her a pointed look. Like a ream of needles pressing in her skin.

“Then you will make a even better spectacle in front of him. And show him how elegant and courteous country girls can be and see if you can’t win him over that way.” She insists direly. As if she were plotting a serious military offensive.

“If he is a Lord, he will be titled. Titled means landed money and dignity.” Her hair is yanked yet again. “He could well be the answer to all our prayers.”

Your prayers, Iris points out rudely inside her head.

“He could be a hideous old letch.” Iris says, rightly.

Mother stabs one final pin into her head. As if in revenge. “Looks aren’t everything- Money. Station, and respect? That is forever enduring.”

So are things like love, intimacy, friendship and happiness. Those things endure too. But Iris can’t imagine her acerbic mother has ever felt happy or loved a day in her life; she likes to think her marriage, when it comes, shall be different.

She ends the conversation on that dazzling note. Iris’s scalp is on sore-fire by now.

The door opposite them creaks as it’s burst open. Impending footsteps barrelling down the creaking floorboards of the corridor shortly before signalled their arrival. Flora and Posy.

Fully gowned and gloved and perfumed to high heaven, with their hair pulled in elaborate coiffures on their heads. They had perfect curls. Perfect flounces and ruffles on their dresses. Cheeks a healthy pink. Eyes wild bright with excitement.

They look like blooming silk roses in a summer garden. Iris feels more and more like a singed daisy in her own gown.

Flora was dressed in a cobalt muslin, with a roller print of dandelions laid in pinstripes down the fabric. Posy was in a demure blush pink cotton. With lace trim tumbling over the neckline. And Iris sees she wins the honour of wearing the rose silk slippers. Flora is in some ivory ones that have seen more mends and fixes than is earthly possible. For silk slippers didn’t come cheap.

Both her sisters have much lighter colouring; they both still have the chowder grey Ashton eyes.

Flora’s hair however, is darkly mousy brown. Golden like toffee leaves that come off the trees in autumn. Posy is far more chestnut red. Blazing bonfires and russet red embers. Overall more enchanting than that of Iris twigs and sticky-mud hued locks.

They are a barrage of noise and silliness as they barge into Iris’s room. Flora flops onto the end of the well made bed and Posy nosily inspects herself in the looking glass over the fireplace. Preening. Voices overlapping.

“Mama! Did I tell you what Fleur told me earlier today?” Posy insists. Flora speaks louder over her, in order to be heard.

“Mama....Have you seen my pink silk shawl for I’m sure I left it in the drawing room.”

“I haven’t seen your shawl, Flora. You should take better care. And what did Fleur say, my dear?” Caroline asks in a soft voice.

Whilst fixing strayed hairs at Iris’s nape. Pulling and pinching. She had no softness reserved in store for Iris. She rather wants to roll her eyes at that.

“There will be a gentleman of certain lordly magnificence at the ball tonight.” Posy sing-songs. Aiming her teasing words at Iris. Who gives her a cutting look at her bubbly behaviour. Steel daggers made of her grey eyes.

“He’s said to be most handsome, sable haired, and devilishly tall. And he’s single. And Lord Hearst says he’s a recluse who barely leaves his castle, so we’re very honoured he’s coming and he has eighty-thousand a year.” She awards with great enthusiasm. Flora giggles.

“Maybe you should set your cap at him, Iris.” Flora jabs teasingly. “We could all be vastly improved by such a match you know. I could finally stop wearing these hideous thin old slippers.”

Iris wished to point out that she wasn’t being induced into matrimony merely to vastly improve the quality and state of her siblings footwear.

And quite wondered if he sister knew all that she’d have to undertake in making such a match - all she’d have to give up to be some man’s wife. All she’d have to do-

“She won’t. For she’s already got a suitor whose madly in love with her.” Posy insists.

“Hux is not in love with me, Posy. Don’t be ridiculous.” Iris says. For starters she wasn’t his red uniform or his army commission. Those were the things he was resolutely enamoured with.

Standing from the dresser as she speaks, and going to where her new slippers were laid out by the maid on the bed. Flora eyes the silk things with jealous disdain. Iris fixes her satin gloves up over her elbows. Disappearing under her sleeves. Mother is too busy fussing with Posy’s neckline - tugging it up to cover more of her second youngest’s chest. She protested so at the action.

Iris took the opportunity to slide a small pearl hair comb into Flora’s hand. Her favourite one. The one with coral flowers and paste amber gems on it.

Iris flickers a look over the mother and a silent understanding passes between the sisters. ‘Put it in, in the coach in the dark. So she doesn’t see.’

Flora smiles awfully wide up at her sister. Grateful that she shared out her pretty things. Flora was the youngest - the youngest daughter deserved nice trinkets too.

“If you’re all ready we’d best be off soon. The roads are icy. It will take an age. I won’t have us be late.” Mama orders out to all her girls.

She turns her head to Iris “Fetch your things and the velvet cloak. And for heavens sake don’t be long. We don’t have all night.” She frets.

Marching out the room after rearranging some of Posy’s curls. Barking at Flora as she passed to fix the wrinkle in her gloves. The door grated and whines as she shuts it, lock rattling in the frame.

Iris savours the silence - the crackling of the fire. The owl hooting off in the tree tops outside her window. She lets it soothe her. Let’s out the deepest sigh as they’re now left alone.

She crosses to her wooden wardrobe cabinet by the door, and opens the door to search for her blue velvet cloak. She throws it around her shoulders and ties it up. Posy hands her sister her cream silk reticule.

“She just wants you to marry well.” Posy says with some attempt at comforting.

Iris nods, glumly stroking her sisters hand in thanks. Looking into her earnest young face. Still so full of innocence and hope.

Her heart shaped little face so full of impish naivety.

“She might do not to make me feel exclusively like a breeding mare to be sold to the highest bidder for marriage at every conceivable turn.” Iris says wryly.

Angrily shoving a meagre few possessions into her reticule from her dresser. She looks down at her empty dance card that mother would see absolutely filled with names by the end of the night.

She wipes away an angry tear from the corner of her eye with a handkerchief that Flora gives her. Her anger crowded and crackled the room. These two didn’t deserve her ire, after all.

She sighs yet again. Letting the churning anger eating at her bleed out. Frustration filtering away. She plasters on a smile. Posy steps forwards to her exasperated sister.

“Can I borrow your diamond droplet earrings? They’d go very well with my dress...” She asks coyly. With her hands behind her back.

Iris rolls her eyes. Maybe they did deserve just a little bit of ire after all-

“You are both enormous pests.” She says. Guiding them out her room.

“Come on. Lest we hold mother up and I don’t much fancy our chances then.”

She corrals her pests of sisters downstairs. Makes sure they too are cloaked and ready. They have their gloves and she does uncurl Posy’s palm as they’re heading out the door, dropping the diamond and earrings into them. They sparkle in the moonlight.

“Lose them and mother will have your head.” She whispers to her in caution as they alight the warmth of the house into the cold sting of the night air.

Snow crushed under their slippers as they make for the coach. Slipping to step up inside the cold wooden enclave of it. Rubbing their cold hands together to create some heat.

It was just the Ashton ladies in attendance tonight. Father cared little for balls. Something mother sniped at him for regularly. Ernest Ashton would far rather stay home of a night with his ledgers and his books and his brandy than subject himself to the silly gossip and frivolity of idiotic society people present at balls.

Her father was a tall, quiet man. Sturdy and aged as an old oak. Strong and strapping figure even in his later years. He quietly took interest in the world where her mothers inclination was to devour it.

He had an open broad face. With tame blue eyes and thick greying hair. He was a studious man. Often kept to his study or the gardens. He enjoyed his ornithology and his Entomology books. He collected butterflies. All pinned out in cases in his study. Lining the walls.

It was a place she found infinite comfort in. Wandering into her fathers study. His entomology collection like dots of silken colour in their cases. Old leather books and volumes and manuscripts. Edifying proud in their papery silence. The old wood of his desk worn by years and years. The smell of the study. Of old leather and pipe tobacco. And peppermints from the little jar he kept on his desk.

He didn’t press Iris in the same way her mother always prevails to do. But then she sees the frayed gems and worn and mended holes in his clothes. The faded material in his waistcoat. How he hasn’t bought himself new shoes in two years.

That’s how she can put up with every snipe and every cross word that spits out her mothers mouth.

Iris sometimes quite wondered how her parents ever stood each other for any length of time to bear any children. They were entirely separate people whose interests did not align. They agreed on very little. And settled for that.

It’s so cold in the coach they can see their breath as they bump and shift along the icy roads. Trees make terrible dark shapes in the near distance, beyond the frosted glass of the coach door window. Iris sits, peering out. Watching the full bowl of the moon slither white off the silver and black landscape. Off the snowy fields and perched on the roofs of the hamlet of houses they pass by.

The carriage crawls slow up the winding drive of the Hearst’s three acre estate. Horses hooves hitting the hard paved path. Clopping in the night air. Skipping over the frost. They’re but mere minutes from exiting the coach, when mother decides to speak up and issue a few last desperate words of strict orders upon her eldest;

“Take every opportunity Iris. I won’t have it said in the gossip sheets tomorrow that you didn’t even try.” Caroline insists. Fussing with her own thick muslin cloak draped over her lap.

Iris looked at her mother then. Across the dark carriage as she tuts at the specks of lint sullying Flora’s cloak where she’s sat next to her. Picking it away.

She strongly suspected Caroline Ashton could have the whole world in her palm or on a string; and even then she’d find fault in it. Pluck displeasing bits of it out like loose threads.

She has that irate frown darkening her features. Cloudy set in her eyes. Posy’s little gloved hand reached across and held her sisters tight. Squeezing it in comfort sat there in the dark. Iris turns and looks to see Posy’s heart shaped face beaming up at her.

“You should let us introduce you to Captain Clifford’s friends Iris. They really are the most splendid fun. I’ve heard many of them say they quite fancy you, you know.” Posy grins. Whispering hushed to her sister to keep her spirits buoyant.

Iris strokes her hand and she can’t help smiling. More at her always sunny hopes. How bright her outlook on life was. She saw ball’s for the fun they were meant to be.

A dance, a party, a celebration.

Posy wasn’t yet tarnished by the knowledge that her hopes for future happiness depended on her behaving well and taking things seriously. It stopped being fun and became a chore. Iris lost her starry eyed wonder about ball’s years ago.

She hoped she could help Posy keep her gleaming eyed wonder and fun for just that bit longer. She would suffer every second of misery to keep it that way if she must.

She squeezes her hand back. “Thankyou. That’s very sweet. But I fear I shall be otherwise engaged in dances.” She excuses.

Besides, most of the young Militia men she met were very wet behind the ears. And all madly enamoured with exhausting dances and infatuated with every beautiful young lady in attendance. Declaring they fell head over heels with every girl they so much as walk past. She finds their overeagerness and exuberance a little trying.

Before long, they draw up the grand old stone columns abutting the front of the huge house.

An immense hulking beast of a thing. Lit with autumn-blaze torches in the night. The coach lurches to a creaking uneven stop. Jolting. And a helpful gold liveried footman in a powdered wig steps to and opens the door to help the ladies out.

Caroline doesn’t even glance at the man. Looks right through him. Flora flutters a flirty smile. Posy and Iris offer a polite snippet of thanks.

The Ashton ladies make their way up the torch lit steps and into the greatly heaving bustling foyer of the Hearst’s grand house.

Renford Manor was one of the finest houses in the county. The gardens were splendid. There was a maze and a famed marble garden gazebo.

A great split imperial staircase opens into the large cool foyer. All ivory marble. Hues of Eggshell and ice. Imposing, echoing and cold. Footsteps rattle like claps up to the ceiling. Distant notes of the small orchestra float through the air like zipping flapping insects.

Everything glimmers. The chandeliers that drip with gold and crystal. The old pearl and sharp onyx pointed tiles on the floor look like they’ve been scrubbed raw. They gleam almost too brightly.

They hand over their cloaks to more footmen to be put away. Letting their ball gown splendour come forth. Iris is almost crushed by the amount of people there are in attendance here tonight. Lady Hearst was known to stuff her parties to the seams. The whole county, and all of the two neighbouring ones, had most likely been invited.

Mama encourages them all up the staircase. Idly smiling greetings in passing to her matrons of her acquaintance. Iris skims one hand along the smooth cold of the marble banister. Holding her skirts up as her slippered feet hit each step. Steps firm and steady.

They come to one of the big main ballrooms. Looking through the scope of many double doors, leading onto another room and the next and the next furniture pushed aside. There was such a crush of so many ladies and numerous gentlemen packed in. Coats of all colours on the men. The spectrum of silks and cotton dresses so vast, it quite made her head spin.

Flora excitedly giggles and slips away. A flurry of laughter erupts and she joins hands with a little gaggle of her more intimate friends.

Iris raises a brow at her behaviour, not surprised to see that she caught a glimpse of a fair few red coated members of the militia in that particular direction. Mother huffs and gruffly tells Flora, through gritted teeth, not to linger too long.

Iris and Posy linger by mother as they chat to an elderly companion. Mrs Bishop. An ever worrying woman, Who ventured the world was going to end if there was slightly too much rain. She was practically apoplectic about the snow. Iris shares a look of pain with Posy. Who excuses herself with a bob of a curtesy to go find Flora.

“Pest.” Iris smiles at her as she slips away from conversing will dull matrons about the impending end of civilisation and the earth as they knew it. Anymore and Iris will be forced to rush for a vinaigrette of smelling salts to revive the poor dear when she swoons.

Iris stands with her hands folded demurely in front of her. Her eyes wandering over the party in full swing behind her.

The crush of noise, music and heat and bodies. Candies flicker doomed shapes copper and black up the light walls. The tall windows are guarded with heavy emerald draperies. Cascading waterfalls of apple green. Spilling and tumbling like grassy hills.

The windows glimmer like yellow square gemstones from the candles in their stands dotted everywhere. The dark floorboards glow with it too. Patches of orange inbetween the shadows.

The ballrooms, of which there were three, all adjoined by French pocket doors, are kept fairly dark. Lit only by the honey slither of candles reaching apricot slithers of light at every corner. People chatter and laugh to the din of a faint violin chorus of Mozart.

Laughter, Baritone gruff and the sparkling light of ladies chuckling delight flutters up to the ceiling. The room seems to burst at the seams with it all. Like a room full of butterflies. The heat, the noise, the voices and music. It was almost too much. Everything is palpable and it stings and rips at her eyes and ears.

They eventually depart from the hysterical Mrs Bishop. Leaving her fanning herself on a settee. Trying not to succumb to a fit of the vapours.

They make their way through the ballroom. Chatting and conversing and being mangled in the almost too heaving crowds. She loses count of the amount of times her toes get stepped on. Or elbows sharply prodded into the soft of her back as people pass.

Eventually; much to her mother’s delight, Iris is propositioned by a young gentleman from the militia, into a dance. There seemed to be no sight of Hux yet. Much to Mama’s chagrin.

He’s very polite and puppyish, delivers her safely back to her mothers side when the polka dance is through. Kisses her hand, declares her daughter a fine dancer, then is off onto the next partner.

They are lingering on the far side of the dance floor, just idly watching. In full view of the doors and the adjacent ballroom. Through the two sets of double doors either side of a great roaring stone fireplace. It’s light casting copper over every dancer.

“We won’t waste our time on him.” Mother harrumphed when he leaves. Looking with disdain as they watched him ask Primrose Charleston to dance the next.

“Mama. It was merely a dance.” Iris points out with a futile smile. “Don’t tell me you were picking out wedding attire and embroidered initial pillowcases.” Iris mocks.

That earns her a sharp look. She smiles in forbearance right back at her mother.

Her cheeks now pinkened and her eyes bright from the exercise. She likes dancing. When her partner isn’t a clumsy one, or reeks of port or body odour, or wine, or has wandering letching hands. It’s actually rather enjoyable.

“We should be setting our sights rather more higher than some penniless officer.” She insists. Watching the couples twirl and sway in front of them.

“Heaven forfend I dance with a man sheerly for the joy of it.” Iris concludes.

Caroline tuts in exasperation. Mumbles under her breath. “You do so vex me greatly sometimes, Iris. Even worse than your sisters.” She grumps.

Deep down inside, Iris is a little proud of that accomplishment.

A flurry of footsteps and squeaking squeals and suddenly Flora and Posy burst into view where Iris and her mother are stood.

Their voices are high pitched and they’re panting with excitement. Flora slings her hands into Iris’s and twirls her around with elation. Iris stumbles in the circle Flora leads her in. Posy is stood by Caroline grinning up a storm.

“Mama, Iris. He’s here! He’s here and he’s coming this way!” Posy giggles. Iris and her mother remain perplexed.

“Who is, my dear?” Caroline seeks. Frowning a little.

“He is surely the most handsome man I ever seen. And so tall. Did you see him Flora? That chest...” Posy flatters.

“Taller than any man I’ve ever met. And so well built. Such stature.” Flora says back.

“And he has dark eyes, Did you notice?” Posy asks.

“Of course I noticed! Very dark eyes. They are positively enchanting.”

“Bewitching.” Posy giggles.

“And his shoulders in his coat. So large.”

“For goodness sake, lower your voice-“ Iris chides at the both of them, glancing around the ballroom. Trying to decipher who they were so flustered and flapping about.

Her eyes don’t make it past the door-

The room seems to have slowed. The dancers are distracted. People around the fringes of the ballroom chatter louder. Deafening din rising. Gossip flourishing.

For Lord Hearst is at the entrance of one of the double doors, conversing with someone, and that someone walking by his side, is one of the broadest and most strapping men Iris has ever seen in her whole life.

He wasn’t just a man.

He was entirely too much, man.

“That’s Lord Ren. The handsomely rich one all the way from Bavaria.” Flora hisses to them all. “I’ve never seen a gentleman more strongly built, or beautiful.” She giggles loudly.

“I beg of you, lower your voice.” Iris chides. Pearl earrings jitter as she moves her head. Ash eyes governed by lintels of her brows creased up in a light frown.

Everyone’s eyes in this small stale society, is fixed solid upon the sight of this newcomer. Hungrily devouring this unfamiliar brooding man.

Obsidian jacket. Snowy shirt. Scarlet cravat like a bloodied noose around his neck, with a seers eye of a winking diamond pin studded in the knot. He radiates charm and magnificence. And masculine appeal.

“He’s in mourning to be wearing such dark colours.” Mother presumes. “How unusual for a man.”

“Don’t fret, Mama. Lady Hearst assures me he’s most certainly single. Now, Iris might have her chance at him after all...” Posy cackles.

Iris rams an elbow into the bony cradle of her sisters petite hip.

“Do try and endeavour to behave.” She chides to Posy. Whispering harshly.

This mysterious Lord is unfashionably attired in all black. Perhaps he is in a state of mourning? Ink black breeches cling tight to his strong thighs and wide wide hips and shining boots come to his knees - the wrong sort of footwear for a ball but he doesn’t appear to notice. Or even care.

He had an air about him that couldn’t be ignored. The dark clothes. Sable hair. It was long too. Far too long by societal standards. It curled at his neck. Swept in tumbling waves back from his face.

He’s scanning the room like he hates everything and everyone in it. A soured scowl on his face. The softness of his full lips are pursed and there’s a predatory quality to the way his eyes flicker around the crowds. He seems above it all. Distant. Untouchable. He was a Lord - he held himself superior as one as if a different species.

“Fleur told me he’s quite the scandalous man....” Flora begins.

“I heard he was married. Once before, but she turned mad and killed several servants. So he locked her in the dungeons and she’s still here raking her fingers to the bone at the stone walls to get out.”

Iris wants to roll her eyes. Now it’s Posy’s turn for interjection;

“And I heard that his castle is haunted and full of ghosts. And he seduces young noble women and then sacrifices and feeds them to the devil. Maybe he’s prowling for next victim?” She gasps frenziedly.

“You two need to stay clear away from anymore novels.” Iris scoffs.

She lets her eyes slip back over this Lord’s frightening exterior. She focuses on the dark pits that were his eyes. They seemed oddly familiar. As if she’s glimpsed them before. In a fanciful daydream, maybe- or maybe it was a dreadful nightmare.

They’re too far away to make out their true colour. But it must be a truly dark for the way they eat up all the light and glitter like rough cut gemstones lost to shadow.

His arms folded behind his back pulls his coat right across his chest. Exposes the musculature of him: he is big and beastly. There was no denying; his figure is redoubtably masculine. Intimidating and strong- meaty arms, no tapering away at his waist. He was entirely built of great slabs of muscles.

A warriors figure through and through.

Iris thought that such a body frame belonged in a previous age. A more ravening one. A cutthroat one. That stature was suited to a gigantic rampaging viking or a crusading knight in steel armour.

Quite why she thought so she can’t fathom. That big shape of his seemed unsuited to the setting of a dainty English ballroom. It seemed more natural for him to be on a battlefield slicked up and splattered in the blood of his enemy’s.

She watches as he boredly sizes up the room before him. An arcing sweep of his eyes and he’s done with it. Thrown aside all interest. Devouring all pitiful excuses for life. As if he’s looking or searching for something...

Then he looks right at her-

His eyes spear directly into her. See’s her. Meets her grey gaze and keeps it. Steals it away beyond her reckoning.

One side of his lip curls up. His eyes churn to look nearly honey gold in the light. Trick of the mind. All in her head. It was surely just the candles malforming the shade-

But it seemed more than him just seeing her. It was as if he could gaze right through her. Pierce her skin. Puncturing her very soul - she’s sure.

Her whole body feels his looking at her. She thrashes and aches.

If she has one. Some flimsy scrap of quivering human spirit in her, it is quaking and trembling now, and very much intoxicated by this man.

Her cheeks flush and she feels that betraying annoying heat slither down her neck and flourish at her breast. She swallows and blinks and tears her eyes away. She looks at her shoes cause she’s suddenly got a spinning head and her mouth is woolly.

That look and those savage eyes had set a flame blazing right down to her bones. There’s something she feels deep down that almost seems strange. Uncertain yet resolute. A tug on her stomach. An unknown yearning.

She realises quickly that this was the same pair of eyes that stole her breath this very afternoon. The gentleman from the imposing black carriage. Twice now she’s locked eyes with him and stared.

He must think her either a raving simpleton or a gawping lunatic.

“Iris. I do believe he’s staring at you.” Posy hisses with a wide impressed smile.

“Oh he is! He’s definitely staring.” Flora squeals. Tugging and shaking her sisters hand.

“Iris. Stand straight. Stop stooping. Chin up for heavens sake- look decent.“ Mother shrills through a gritted smile. Smiling demurely in the intended direction of Lord Ren. Preening herself like a flustered hen.

Iris dares another look up. Clasping her hands together delicately in front of her. At the front of her skirts. Him and Lord Hearst are mere feet away now.

“He’s coming this way! Mama! He’s coming over...” Posy grins. Flora laughs with her.

By now, Iris’s heart resembles a mad creature clawing at its cage, desperate to be free. Thumping and thudding her neck. Quivering nervous breaths leave her lips. Heartbeat hammering and pulsing in her ears.

He’s looking at Posy or Flora, she thinks. He must be. They always draw men like magnets. He’s not looking at me- he’s not. Really. He’s not-

They are closer now. Lord Hearst and Lord Ren are mere metres away. The entire room seems to be holding its breath. Another dance starts up and she’s glad for that distraction.

Her cheeks remained flushed and she raises her eyes when the air shifts around them. She can scent the brandy and violet water coming off Lord Hearst. There is his stout waistcoat and his perfumed wig. Lord Ren appears unscented. But a fusion of aromas simply pour off his vast body.

Sandalwood oil. Probably used on that thick rakish mane of his. There’s something else too, something earthy darkly rich, that mingles with the musky new wool of his coat. Peppermint or spices. She can’t tell. It’s damnably distracting.

“Praise the lord in heaven. We are saved.” Her mother mumbles gladly under her breath. Smile wide and gentle. Artificial and superficial to hide her truer nature.

Lord Hearst and Lord Ren are right before them now. Right in front of them. “Mrs Ashton.” Lord Hearst begins in greeting. Iris watches her Mama curtesy politely to the old lord.

“Might I have the pleasure of introducing you to Lord Ren. An old acquaintance of mine...”

Iris looks from the doddery old form of the red faced Lord Hearst, up and up up, into the face of the dark stranger. The top of her head would barely come to brush at his collarbones. His eyes are still fixed on her face. A shock jolts through her like she’s been burned.

“Lord Ren, this is Mrs Caroline Ashton. And her daughters. Miss Posy Ashton. And Miss Flora Ashton...” Lord Hearst introduces. Flora and Posy bob demure little curtseys at him. Bowing their heads and smiling prettily like fools.

He barely glances toward them. His eyes were fixed on Iris.

“And this is her eldest daughter, Miss Iris Ashton.” Lord Hearst beckons to her. Stood back behind her two sisters, and almost guarded by her mother.

She curtseys. Chin to her chest and she bows her neck in a manner she hopes comes across as graceful.

Lord Ren smiles. It’s terrifying in its power and beauty.

It moves the corners of his lips. And he comes in a step closer. Advancing.

Posy and Flora flatten back a little. When one hand comes around from his back, Iris could see he had thick leather gloves on. As if entranced she reached out where his hand beckoned to hold hers.

She slipped her satin gloved hand into his big offered dark palm. It sits right in the middle of the wide thing. So dainty in comparison.

He brings her silken hand up. Bows down and lays a kind kiss to the back of it. His eyes hadn’t left her since he entered the room - they didn’t start shying away now.

This is a man who is not shy. Not any bit of him.

He draws her hand down, very slightly. Freeing his lips.

“Enchanting to meet you, Miss Ashton.” He says.

Iris never knew a voice could be so deep. His voice sunk right to the core of her. Right through flesh and bone. Sinking deep. She’d expected a Bavarian accent. Or a continental lilt. But his accent is precise, crystal-cut English.

She blinks. Remembering she had a verbose vocabulary to make use of.

“It’s an honour to make your acquaintance, Lord Ren.” She gasps out with some hint of strength in her voice. When she lets her hand slips from his, her body feels strange. Her whole arm is left tingling.

She finds herself sighing as she pulls her hand back. He straightens his back with ease. She knows her mothers eyes are looking sharply at her so she remembers her politesse.

She feels like the whole world is watching them converse.

“Are you, enjoying... your time in England?” She seeks. “I understand you are recently arrived.”

“Very much.” He looks amused. “I haven’t been on these shores in- quite an age.” He says. She can’t help but feel there is something cryptic to his meaning.

“Do you mean to stay long, in Hampshire, your lordship?” Flora asks. Batting her long lashes up at him so much she could fan out a chandelier of candles if she’s not careful.

His eyes calmly flick across to the smallest Ashton sister. But linger back on Iris.

“Not long. But after tonight I think I’ve found sufficient reason to extend my stay.” His smile twitches smoothly once again.

“Are you enjoying Hellford Park, your lordship? Surely it is the finest house in the county, is it not?” Posy enquires.

Another flicker of those charcoal eyes to the other little Ashton. Really, there were too deuced many of them, Kylo thinks.

“It is an immaculate house. The snowy woods are very pleasant this time of year.” He agrees.

“Of course. The climates in Bavaria are surely similar. I imagine there is much snow on your own estate, your lordship?” Iris asks.

He seems pleased with her interjection. As if she were the only soul whose voice he wished to hear.

When he looked at her, it was like they were the only two people in this room. The only two that mattered. It’s just them, in the candlelight, cast by flame. As if no pairs of eyes are watching - when in reality there are hundreds looking in.

“Indeed. The summers are short, and the winters are long and frigid. I am somewhat familiar with the clime of snow. It falls more gently here than in Bavaria.” His eyes glare warmly across at her. Increasing her blush.

Caroline steps in with a saccharine smile that showed far too much teeth. A leer it could rightly be called.

“You must come and dine with us at Westwell, Lord Ren. We would be honoured to receive you. We can promise you an elegant dinner service, and cards. Why we dine with six and twenty great and fine families around the county. We would be very much favoured with your visit. I wager you won’t get finer, prettier companions or better conversation elsewhere...” Mother boasts.

He smiles right at Iris and it spears into her hot chest like an iron poker stoked too long in the fire. Red hot.

“Indeed. I Thankyou greatly for the invitation. Madam.” Then his eyes grow blacker. “You have very fine daughters. God has blessed you three times over.”

Flora giggles a beaming smile. Posy bats her lashes and grins. Iris fiddles with her hands and examines the floorboards, reddening at his charm.

“I often think so, myself.” Mother preens.

“Of course all my girls are immensely beautiful. But, it is my Iris who is revered around these parts as a local beauty.” She lies.

“Mama.” Iris blushes crimson. Averting her eyes.

“A rumour well circulated indeed.” Kylo’s looking at her. And to her amazement. She bravely looks back.

“And she deserves every such compliment I can bestow.” Kylo adds.

“You are too kind, Lord Ren.” Iris smiles slightly at him. It makes his chest pound harder. Watching her bosom heave at the neckline of her dress.

His mouth waters. That same scent from this afternoon hits him square in the jaw like a rounded fist. He all but moans at the erotic pleasure of it. Of her sweet scent drifting up his nose. Stoking at his eager hunger.

He will tear something apart tonight, rip it limb from limb, and glut himself on that sweet penny-metal flush of blood spilling down his parched throat. And as he does- as he feasts and drinks and crimson drips from his maw, he will think of this moment; of her aroused scent tangled in his nose. Stirring his own lust to boiling point.

He bids the Misses and Mrs Ashton’s a goodnight.

Lord Hearst had more introductions for him to make. More simpering sickening people to meet. All the same. Savagely polite and viciously boring. Their superficial kindness and flattery turns his stomach.

A bevy of swans the lot of them. Preening and pathetic. He could barely hide his disgust at the stench of rotten perfume that beat off each one of their hot pulsing throats. All the vapid girls that desperate Mother’s shoved in his chest to make introductions.

It was like the sheep throwing their own sweet little lambs out into the slobbering wolves.

If this were a less guarded age he might have already slipped away under guise of a romantic tryst in the garden, to drink a few of them dry.

Posy and Flora squeak and shake Iris’s arm after he passes. He is led around the ballroom, that great vast man. Introduced to all the good and the great. They gabble and squawk at their sister about how she’ll be the next Lady of Hellford Park.

She shushes them and sees it makes Lord Ren lock eyes with her from over where he towered loftily across the ballroom crowds.

Her heart starts beating wild again. A demure smile and she takes her eyes away elsewhere. And that heartbeat calls out to him like the pound of a war drum. A bell summoning him to worship.

Oh yes. He thinks. She is the one.

And she’ll do splendidly.

~ ~ 🥀 ~ ~

#kylo ren #kylo ren x oc #vampire!kylo #vampire au #very wolves and doves #Iris vibes 🕊#Lord Ren vibes 🐺#Draegan vibes 🥀#vampirelovestory #vampire #demon #ao3 fanfic #lovestory #angst #smut #slow burn #regency era

30 notes · View notes

be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years ago

Text

Drummer!Cal

-is very thoughtful in interviews. Always engages theories and questions and anything about production. Takes his time to consider the process for the music and the fact that several writers are at the table in the band and it’s not so much about getting every idea out perfectly the first time but about collaborating and making every idea the best version of itself.

-However, comma, the second Calum steps out onto that stage and climbs onto the riser and his foot is thumping away at the bass drum, it’s all over. He literally becomes an animal on the drums. One show, he breaks not just one, not two, but three drumsticks. The guys make a joke that all the tour budget is going towards replacement sticks.

-The thing is, on stage, Calum’s not really Calum. It is Calum, but it’s not Calum. His awareness is different. All he can think about is the music, the thump under his feet and the sticks in his hand. Literally nothing else matters. Doesn’t matter if he dropped his sandwich that day on the walk back to the bus. Doesn’t matter if he got lost exploring the city and missed ten minutes of sound check. Doesn’t matter if in the middle of FaceTiming or video chatting with his S.O. that his laptop dies and it takes him nearly ten minutes to find the charger again. Nope, none of that matters on that riser, on that stool, during the set.

-A lot of photos of Calum drumming of him smiling. Hard. The eye crinkles are out in full effect and he’s just so damn happy to be playing music with his bros. Videos will show him almost dancing on the drum stool, swaying along as his biceps bulge beneath the sleeves of his shirt.

-Speaking of shirts, they don’t last long. Calum got too excited once, caught the arm of long sleeved shirt on one of the bolts to his drum kit and there went that long sleeve tee shirt into a muscle tee. Ocassionally, Calum opts for a mesh shirt while performing. Yes, that mesh shirt.

-Back to performing, he gets into it into it. Calum will stand from the stood, sticks in hand, mic pressed to his lips, pointing out to the crowd, “You’re not loud enough for me tonight. I need you to scream!” And the crowd, roars. It’s still not loud enough, so with his index finger and middle finger he motions for the crowd to get enough louder. They do. “Nah, nah, nah, I said I want you guys to scream for me tonight!” Calum won’t let a crowd off the hook until he’s positive someone’s lost a voice in the crowd.

-Even though Calum is mostly smiley on stage, a few interesting pictures surface, mostly from the tour diaries. A drum cam is set up and Calum plays to it all the time, pointing with his fingers or stick. He’ll turn to it, tongue out, rocking out to the song. The screenshots float around after every show of anyone get the famous Calum photo drumming: Calum, standing from the stool, pointing to the crowd, two fingers motioning with his tongue out. It happens at least once a show. Always more though.

-And then in interviews, if he’s asked about what fuels his performance style and if they comment on the energy levels being different, Calum usually responds with, “Shows are different. People came out to have a good time, to have some fun. I want to make sure they had a good time and had some fun with me that’s all. In interviews it’s more relaxed.”

-If his S.O. visits while he’s on tour, he always tries to get them to settle down on the stool and give the drums a whirl. “Oh, you can do it, I know you can.” And they give it a whirl, always because it’s Calum with those big brown eyes that look like the night could swallow them up and they’d happily go into that good night. And as Calum hangs back, teaching them a thing or two, he plants a kiss to their cheek. And maybe sticks get forgotten and hands explore bodies under t-shirt until someone bumps up against the symbols and the crash sounds and the drum lesson ends for the day.

-Backstage before a show, Calum’s running drills on his pad, along the wall, on the cases of their clothes and even he knows how annoying it is, so he always steps out from the room to do it. Literally everyone is like, by god my dude, it’s your instrument no one’s mad. But to be honest, Calum likes the alone time. It kind of reminds him of right before a big football game, his blood would thump in his veins and he’d find himself floating. But not in a spacey way, like he was losing focus, but floating from everyday Calum who doesn’t talk much, keeps quiet into the man that shines on stage that’s an animal on the drums, that’s completely transformed--a showoff, cocky. But through it all, Calum knows it can go at any moment. He can blink and it’s all done. So he tries to make each show unique. He tries to make each show worth coming too.

-There’s nothing better than looking out at the crowd, singing back the words you wrote, jamming out to progression and chords and beat that you made. And the sight almost always produces a tear or two in Calum. Because, godamn he’s so goddamn lucky to be doing this with his life. And he never wants to take it for granted. And sure whenever he gets a moment to talk during a set or joke with the audience, he makes a joke about how his skills aren’t that great and that he’s blessed to see such a full crowd. And it happens, without fail, at every show because at every show, Calum is floored at the outpouring of love and support by fans.

-People compliment Calum about his drumming and the joke about all the ripped sleeves/shirts, about the times halfway through a set he’s quickly shedded his shirt and let all see the tattoos and sweat glisten down a toned chest, and Calum always turns blushy. He accepts the compliment and dodges it all at the same time. And though him and Ashton joke about the rhythm section holding the whole band together, Calum is quick to offer praise to Luke and Michael as well. Because he knows without his other three brothers, Calum alone, as the drummer, is nothing but noise. He is a storm alone on a sea if Ashton, Luke, and Michael aren’t there playing and writing alongside him. He’s grateful for the three of them.

-And when the stage hand leads him up to the riser in the dark, only the light of the flashlight in hand, guiding them, Calum lets himself go. The wood in his hands and between his fingers feel like extensions of himself and with one hand on the stage hands back, they go-half jogging together towards the drum riser, the stoll, the crowd waiting eagerly and maybe even desperately for them, for him that night. They run towards paradise. And the thing about paradise is that it don’t always last forever, but as long as it happens, is all that matters.

@notinthesameguey @calumscalm @pinkbubbles-and-bigtroubles

Works Cited Page

H, A Collection of the Muse, 2020.

A Happy Bub, 2018.

#calum hood #calum hood blurb #calum hood headcannon #calum hood imagine #5sos #5sos blurb #h writes #you're welcome #drummer!calum is NEXT LEVEL #drummer!calum #i have to go into hiding bc of school soon but i'm messy and want to wreak some HAVOC before i go

48 notes · View notes

bandsanitizer · 4 years ago

Note

27, 33, 37, 38 -notinthesameguey

hi! thanks for the asks!! this is a bit long LOL

27. If you could switch everyone’s instruments, what would they play?

I’m not sure if this includes the “lead singer” role but we’re going to say it does...

Luke -> bassist and/or synth (I have this thing about luke and keyboards)

Calum -> drums (arms. ARMS. IT’S ABOUT RHE ARMS)

Ashton -> lead guitar (I think this is also about the arms)

Michael -> lead singer/rhythm guitar (listen. all I want is more michael vocals. taking away a guitar from him would be a crime tho)

33. What is your favorite thing about each of them?

Honestly the thing about the band I love the most is them being themselves. The way that even as they’re less involved with the fans now, when they do interact and such it’s all very them. Specifically...

Luke -> all of him? nah nah I’d say it’s his duality. he’s always this mixed bag of absolute soft dork nerdy dude and very bro? I can’t explain it but it’s the vibe of his snapback and sweats to makeup and silk shirt video thing. his willingness to openly share that and just the little ways of how he makes jokes that are dad jokes and also shade just... maybe similar to what I explain for ashton but more implicitly?

Calum -> his brain? like... the lyrics and poetry he writes. some of the things he shares in interviews... his mind is just...... very poetic I think and it’s really really great. I’m sorry this one is short but I can’t really put it into words

Michael -> it’s whatever it is that makes it seem like michael is going to take on the world—not out of over-confidence—but this sense of passion that he’s not going to give up on a chance, on an opportunity. it’s that thing that made him vouch for the band and drop out of school. it’s that thing that had him convinced they could record the killer queen cover with all four of them singing in each take for the harmonies. it’s this fire he has and this sense of michael being very unapologetically himself.

Ashton -> his kindness and his openness that are very intertwined... perhaps it’s a “wears his heart on his sleeve” thing. this is going to feel a bit nostalgic to ashton pre-YB but he’s always appreciative? and showing his love and appreciation for people? whether it’s his band or the fans or family... he loves people wholeheartedly and earnestly. what we see is different than before the hiatus but it ALWAYS seems important to him that the people who are important to him are aware of that.

37. If you could steal one thing from each of them (clothes, hats, etc) what would you take?

I can’t tell if this includes instruments? but it seems clothing/accessory related so...

Luke -> there is only one correct answer and it’s the purple pants. the purple pants

Calum -> his yellow short-sleeve button up that he wears in the majority of the Singapore tour diary video. like I just love the color. the blue and white beanie with the pompom that everyone thought was luke’s comes close tho

Michael -> okay muke definitely have the most enviable wardrobes for me but hands down one of the BEST items the band has ever worn is the ripped jean jacket from the slfl era. like this jacket is sooooo good

Ashton -> I cannot find the picture for the life of me but there is a 2015ish picture where ashton is wearing an olive green jacket (maybe denim? and it has a lot of pockets) and he’s posing next to luke and holding his hand on luke’s chest with his watch being showed off and essentially that is my favorite ashton outfit and basically this is a long story about wanting the jacket.

38. If you were sharing headphones with your fave which song would you play first?

So my fave is Luke and I’m always embarassed about sharing music, but I’d probably go with flights by twentylove. It’s definitely a favorite and I think Luke might like it? Maybe. It’s definitely closer to earlier an earlier 5sos sonic but the artist has similar influences to the band so like I think Luke would enjoy the song 🤷🏻‍♀️

send me 5sos asks?

#i dont have a tag for asks so i guess i’ll make it this #notinthesameguey #about me #ask game

5 notes · View notes

1994sunflower · 4 years ago

Text

heaven to you. ii (m.c)

pairing: michael clifford x reader

genre: smut, angst, a bit of fluff

word count: 7.4k

involves: bad boy!michael, college!au, jealous!michael, established relationship, language, oral (f receiving), fingering, exhibitionism, dirty talk, daddy kink, choking, size kink, face slapping (consensual), hair pulling, spitting kink, praise, degredation/name calling, innocence kink, virgin kink, mentions of drinking, michael is kind of really cruel in this one

summary: michael trusted you. but it was hard to feel comfortable when the picture-perfect man was trying to move in on his girlfriend. it was even harder to think that y/n would probably be better of with him than with michael. so he did what he had to do, even if it was cruel, even if it could end with his girlfriend thinking he was the monster everyone else saw him as.

part one

It was sufficient to say that Michael had been pissed off for weeks. Even more than he usually was. And he knew exactly what the cause was. Which somehow made it worse, because he couldn’t do anything about it. Not unless he wanted a very angry girlfriend on his hands.

Michael was proud of his distance from most people, he didn’t like the drama or the vulnerability that came with them. Unfortunately, his best friend Ashton, did not share the same sentiment. No, when he took a liking to someone, he was around them often. And, unfortunately, Michael was often along for the ride.

So even though he hated Justin from the moment he saw him, which was only invigorated when his connection with Michael’s girlfriend was revealed, he still had to see and hear an awful lot of him. Even after all his attempts to block him out, including demanding that him and his two friends no longer be allowed over. Too bad he was demanding it from the only person that didn’t seem to be scared of him.

Every time Michael finally decided to go to class, after much begging from you, he saw the guy walking around and touring campus. Every time he went out to eat, he saw the guy on the same street walking out of another store.

Every time Ashton had Chis and Charlie over, he would hear about who Justin was. He had a feeling Ashton did it on purpose, to push his buttons, asking those two about the one person Michael did not want to hear about. Even when he wasn’t in the room, Justin was still there.

He heard all about how intelligent he was - top of his class in high school, valedictorian, student council president - and how rich he was - living in a mansion in the best neighborhood, neighbors with the fucking governor. He even heard about his philanthropy work - how he networked with multiple charities even as a teenager (including founding his own) and was the planner of any and all fundraisers in the area.

And frankly, Michael was sick of hearing how you and Justin were perfect for each other. Sick of thinking how much better off you would be with someone like him. Even if they never explicitly said it, he could tell by the uncomfortable glances thrown his way that they were all thinking it.

It had gotten so bad that the only moment where he didn’t feel angry was when he was with his girlfriend. It felt so solid, real, when he had you in his arms that he nearly felt content. Which is not an emotion he felt often. So as he sat then, with you next to him on the patio of a campus cafe with his arms draped across your shoulders and you sitting half on his lap and half on your chair, he didn’t have an angry scowl on his face. Instead, he had something that could likely pass as a smile and soft eyes that looked down at his small girlfriend lovingly.

He watched you pick at your muffin gingerly, eating only bits of it at a time as you read from a notebook in front of you. But he could tell your mind was somewhere else. You had that faraway look in your eyes that you always had when you were thinking. Or daydreaming. Your black hair was pulled back in a high ponytail with two long strands in the front to adorn your face, the wind blowing them peacefully. He pushed one of those strands behind your ear so he could take a better look at your face.

Even though it’s not something Michael would say in public, you looked beautiful. But you always did, really. Every time he looked at you, he couldn’t help but admire you. Even when he didn’t see you. When he just saw your name light up his phone in a text or call, when he just heard your voice, it was enough to have his heart start beating just a little faster.

He would do anything for you, anything to keep you happy. He was whipped and proudly so. You were, quite easily, the best thing that ever happened to him.

But if hearing about Justin from his acquaintances or seeing him a couple yards away bothered Michael, he hated when he heard his precious girlfriend mention his name. You didn’t mention him often, because you knew how much he didn’t like it (though that didn’t mean you understood it).

“Don’t forget that Justin’s going away get together is in a few days.” You said casually as you placed a bit of muffin into your mouth, looking up at him expectantly. You spoke in that sing-song voice that always seemed to calm him.

It would have in that moment as well, if it weren’t for your words. He looked down at his small girlfriend, taken aback. “When did I agree to that?” His words sounded harsh and Michael wished, not for the first time, that he could be kinder, at least to you.

But luckily, you knew him well enough not to be offended by his tone.

“Mikey, you know he’s my friend. I haven’t seen him in years so I want to go to say goodbye, and I want you by my side.” Your eyes were so bright and pleading and as he set his colder ones to yours, he knew he couldn’t refuse.

You smiled brightly, kissing his cheek in a thank you. Michael didn’t miss the glances the couple were sent by passing by students, likely in surprise that the Michael was so calm and allowed someone so close. But you were the only person that really mattered to him at that moment.

Michael watched you close your chemistry notebook and slip it into your backpack. “Don’t forget, you have class in 15 minutes, you should head over there now so you’re not late.”

Just like you helped him study for his classes, you reminded him every time his class was about to start. You knew his schedule better than he knew it. There was no doubt in his mind that he wouldn’t go to any class if it weren’t for your constant reminders and begs. Even with those, he still likely would’ve skipped if not for the fact that he didn’t want to disappoint you. There was a lot about him that could disappoint you, he didn’t want to add to the list.

Michael nodded obediently at his girlfriend. Partly to appease her but also partly because he was actually planning to go, even if he was just going to be wasting 55 minutes of his time since he lacked any materials for class - including a backpack.

You smiled lovingly as you slipped your own backpack onto your back, your own chemistry class was about to start.

“Love you.” With one final kiss to his lips, a kiss that Michael very much wished was longer and deeper, you stood up and began walking to your class like the good student you were. You were the embodiment of goodness.

Michael waited until he couldn’t see you anymore before he stood up himself and began walking in the opposite direction. Though he went to such a large university, he never really had an issue with crowds or foot traffic. No, people made way for him without him having to get to that point. Maybe it was his reputation that did it, his ripped attire or maybe it was his sleeves neck full of tattoos that were in full display under his black t-shirt.

As he walked, he noticed the usual whispers that traveled everywhere he did. Many coming from girls that smiled at him flirtatiously as he walked past. Though he didn’t so much as glance at them as he passed by them, uninterested. Even if he did, he would look with angry eyes that made them flinch and couldn’t help but worthlessly compare them to his Y/N, knowing no one could really pair up.

Instead, his mind traveled to the blond boy that was getting to close to his own good. The boy that had once captured the heart of the love of his life and though he knew he should probably let it go, just the reminder of how Justin gazes at her, how he was everything you could want, had Michael clenching and unclenching his fists.

You had tried to stop his violent habits. But in moments like these, the only thing that Michael needed was to punch something and to punch something hard. He needed to get out the anger that was bubbling up in his body more and more by the minute.

So as a brunette boy on a skateboard hit into him roughly before falling to the ground, Michael watched him crawl to pick up his skateboard and apologize in a shaky voice before he set out, walking fast to behind the university gymnasium building.

He wasn't really lying to you when he told her he was going to class, Michael reasoned to himself as he followed the boy behind the building. He was just going to be a little late due to a detour.

“Hey!” He called out in a gruff voice

All it took was the kid to turn around for him to throw a heavy punch, with the hand whose fingers read out ‘Y O U’, smirking wickedly when he heard a satisfying crunch.

“What happened?” That was the first thing out of your mouth when you saw Michael again.

He didn’t flinch when you picked up his hand, though you certainly would’ve expected him to. His knuckles were bloody, bits and pieces were missing skin and you could see hints of gravel.

But instead, he just regarded you stoically, cooly. “I told you I’m fine.”

You squeezed his hand sharply to which he finally let out a small hiss of pain. You shook your head, “Fine, huh?”

He leaned closer to you, smirking. “Now, you’re just trying to turn me on.”

However, you didn’t let yourself get swept away by his sweet voice. Instead, you moved out of his room to the bathroom. He was constantly getting into fights to the point where he had plenty of gauze lying around. When you came back, he just held out his hand again in defeat.

You graciously began to cover his injury up. “You’re unbelievable” You chastised. “I tell you to go to class and what do you do? Beat someone up. You were fine when I left you!”

Michael was in a strangely good mood, maybe it was because he had let out all of his frustration or maybe it was something in the way you were doting and attending to him, but he did something he rarely did. He said a joke. “In my defense, I went to class.”

When you, not only didn’t laugh, but made a move to leave, he actually even laughed and collected you in his arms. His laugh was so lovely that you smiled, even if you didn’t want to.

“Come on, baby. I’m sorry.” His wrapped hand came up and he used to thumb to pull your bottom lip down, “Let me make it up to you.” His eyes got slightly darker as his eyes trailed down to your lips.

You’re eyes trailed down to his tattoos that made him look like a piece of art, tempted. But you refused to give him a reward. It was actions like what he did that day that made him so feared and the object of so many horrifying rumors. He had been more restrained with his violence since you started dating. He fought less and less and it was only to keep you happy. But he didn’t stop completely, and you understood that, though that didn’t mean you liked it.

You didn’t even let your mind wander to the poor kid he did this to. You think your heart would hurt to think of it, it would hurt even more to think the guy you were so in love with, the one right in front of you was the one that inflicted that pain.

“Great then, make it up to me by going to my house and picking up my textbooks, I’ll work here and help you study today.”

That was not the answer Michael was expecting or wanting. He looked confused as he stared into your eyes, looking for a hint of humor to indicate that was a joke. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope, hurry back.”

Michael wished he could say he couldn’t believe he was doing this. He hated leaving his house when it was unnecessary. He hated even more to go to your house where it was surrounded by people who didn’t fear going outside and listening to loud music on their yard, unlike his neighbors who had gotten to know Michael’s preference of silence a long time ago.

But it was for you so he could definitely believe he was walking by the annoyingly crowded yards to the modest apartment at the end of the lane.

As he climbed up to your floor, he already had the spare key you gave him in his hand, separated from the rest of the keys in his keychain. It was easy to distinguish as you painted it your favorite color - baby pink. He just looked up when he was about to get to her door when he saw something he definitely did not want to see.

Justin. Fluffy haired, blond Justin standing in front of his girlfriend’s apartment door. He was wearing boat shoes and a salmon polo shirt. At that moment, Michael hated him. He wanted to punch his face in.

Justin was fidgeting, moving his feet left to right in a pacing manner. Small murmurs left his mouth as if he was practicing something.

‘Like…I like…no, that’s not right…I…’

But Michael had heard enough so he made his footsteps very loud and noticeable as he closed any distance between them.

Almost as soon as he reached them, Michael had all but thrown him against the wall behind him. His fist was buried in the collar of Justin’s shirt, twisting. Any and all anger he had released that day came back at double the force.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Michael sneered in his face and he took only slight satisfaction at seeing Justin’s eyes widen in fear and his mouth floundering pathetically trying to figure out what to say.

“I-I just came to give Y/N my organic chemistry notes.” He held up a green notebook as proof, “I already took the c-class so I wanted to h-help.”

Somehow, the thought that he could help Y/N in something Michael couldn’t, academics, made it worse. He was furious, furious that Justin was so perfect while Michael was so damaged, so fucked up.

Michael pulled and pushed him by his shirt, causing Justin to hit the back of his head against the wall, “No, I heard you. ‘I like’” Michael mimicked, before pushing him even harder again, “You like what?” His voice escalated and when Justin didn’t respond, he was all but yelling when repeated, “You like what?”

“Y/N” Justin yelled back, but more out of fear than anything, “I like Y/N.”

He didn’t know whether or not to be impressed that blondie finally grew a pair to tell him the truth, despite knowing what Michael was like. All he knew was that he had also grown confident enough to be willing to tell you about his feelings. Michael wanted to beat the shit out of him, even worse than he beat that skateboarder a few hours ago, worse than he’d ever beat anyone in his life.

But he couldn’t, so he didn’t. He knew you wouldn’t be as easy to forgive him for that like you did in the past. If he was a less selfish man, he would probably give Justin a fair chance. You deserved better than Michael and everyone knew it. Even Michael.

But he was never known for being selfless.

He leaned in closer to hiss out his words, so only he would hear. “You will never be with Y/N. Do you wanna know how I know? Because I ruined her, I ruined her for you and I ruined her for all other men.”

“When I met her, she was a blushing little virgin. Do you want to know what she does now?” Justin looked away at that point but Michael grabbed the back of his neck to force him to look him in the eyes for his next words. He wanted to see the impact they had on him.

“Now, she begs me to fuck her with my cock while she calls me daddy.”

Justin curled his lips and his expression was that of pain that Michael loved to see. “I took her virginity. And it felt so fucking good. She was so tight that I could barely fit inside of her. She was a blushing mess under me, it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.”

“I’m the only one who’s ever touched her. She gave me the thing you’ve always dreamed about. Me. The monster with tattoos, anger issues and a bad past. I took away that innocence you liked her so much for. She fucking creams when I call her my bitch and my whore, when I tell her I’m going to knock her up.”

“I know exactly what she likes. She’s so submissive for me.” He couldn’t stop. Michael couldn’t hurt Justin physically so he wanted to hurt him every other way he could. “I’ve fucked every part of her that you fantasize and jack off to. And when she talks to you, know that I fucked that mouth just moments before.”

He spat his final words. “So I want you to know that she would be nothing but unsatisfied with you, she would always be thinking of me, wanting me, needing me to get her off, to make her happy. She’s mine.”

When Michael finally let him go, Justin’s eyes were glistening but he didn’t move from against the wall. Even with the freedom to leave, to run out of there like Michael expected him to, it looked like he was in shock. He was barely blinking and he couldn’t seem to get his mouth to fully close.

Even after Michael went into your house and picked up all your textbook and notebooks, Justin was still out there, staring out into space.

Michael didn’t stay and watch as he silently abandoned Justin to the cruel words echoing in his mind.

Michael had been acting weird for two days. Every time he saw you he would ask if you’d heard anything interesting. Considering he never really asked about anything deeper than how your day was, preferring to live in the moment, it was concerning. It’d gotten to a point where you were worried he did something illegal, or worse, if that were possible.

But each day, it was the same answer. No, you hadn’t heard anything new and he seemed to drop it just like that.

“Alright, what did you do?” You asked one day as you laid with your head on his lap on the couch. Ashton was a few seats away from you two, staring at the tv. You glanced up at your boyfriend quickly before knowing he wasn’t going to answer so you looked at Ashton. “What did he do?”

“I thought you already knew he beat up that freshmen.” Ashton swatted at your foot.

You kicked him in retaliation, “That’s it? That’s all he’s done?” You weren’t convinced.

Michael ran his long fingers through your hair, soothingly. “What other kind of trouble did you want me to do?”

An embarrassed blush dusted over your cheeks, “N-Nothing, I just thought…”

At the sight of your red cheeks, Michael tugged you up to sit on his lap, “Thought what, baby girl?”

Ashton stood almost immediately, “You guys are disgusting, I’m going to the Union.”

Michael didn’t look back as the front door opened and closed. Instead, he stood with you still in his lap, making you squeal and wrap your laps around the middle of his torso. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders. With his hands holding you up by your ass, he guided the both of you to his bedroom, only putting you down once you were directly in front of his bedroom.

Now you stood directly in front of him, your eyes just reaching the level of his upper torso so you had to look up to see his face. His figure was eclipsing your entire body. Something about seeing you below him, so much smaller than his figure and so easy to manhandle, definitely did something to him. He wanted to destroy you. It didn’t help that your blushing face made you look like a school girl about to get fucked for the first time.

“God, you’re so innocent” His rough groaned out, making you wet almost immediately. “Sit down for me, little one.”

But you shook your head, your arm raising just slightly, enough for your hand to rub over the bulge in his basketball shorts, feeling the outline of his length. You looked back up to him seductively, “Let me suck you off.” You bit your lip in a plea.

To your surprise, he shook his head, looking down at you, and pushed you to a seated position. He wasn’t one to say no to a blowjob so this really took you off guard. You were almost laying down, holding yourself up just by your elbows when he leaned closer to you. Two fingers, each one with the letters ‘F’ and ‘U’ tattooed respectively on them with further ink details trailing to his arm, prodded your lips. You opened your mouth to take them in.

He moved them in and out and your head bobbed accordingly with his pace. His light eyes watched your every move hotly and you couldn’t help but moan against his fingers.

Without double thinking it, you took a hold of his wrist with both of your small hands, stopping his movements. Your big eyes were kept on his before taking his entire digits in your mouth, effectively deep-throating his fingers.

“Fuck.” He whispered before standing up to his full height again. You smiled at the fact that you pleased him.

He pushed you down to fully be laying down as he got down on his knees in front of you. You were wearing shorts this time so he undid the buttons and pulled them off of you, along with your black underwear. He threw them behind him distractedly.

You couldn’t really prepare yourself when he put in the still glistening fingers that were in your mouth into your entrance. You pushed yourself up as you arched your back in pleasure.

When his mouth found its way onto you to lick your sensitive nub while his fingers thrusted in and out of you, your face scrunched up in pleasure and your hands searched anything to try to hold onto. One of your hands clutched the blanket under you while the other found its way into his dark hair, pulling with the intensity of the pleasure.

But as you pulled and as the pain it caused him increased, so did his actions. He pulled away just enough to watch your face as he thrust his fingers in and out of you faster. His fingers curled just slightly inside you which had you gasping and then moaning louder in pleasure. His free hand came up to slap your pussy sharply. You gasped and jumped to close your legs in surprise but he held you in place by your inner thighs.

He spit down onto your cunt before starting to eat you out again. His tongue flatly licking your every crevice ravenously before sucking on your clit, making your eyes roll back in pleasure. Your head was thrown back onto the mattress as you closed your eyes.

“Please, please.” You felt your release approaching and as you sat up slightly, your back arching in pleasure, to look at him. You pushed his face deeper to you, which he graciously accepted. His nose sometimes rubbed against your clit which sent a shock of pleasure through your body.

All it took was for his fingers to separate inside of you for you to come directly onto his fingers and face. You didn’t even get to feel embarrassed before he stood, chin shiny with your wetness and cum, and placed those very fingers into your mouth and you had to taste yourself on them. It was so dirty but you couldn’t help but blush harder.

But he wasn’t done with you. At the sight of your blushing and trembling figure, he took off his shirt and shorts easily, letting them pool at his feet before he took a hold of your hips. “Bend over for me.”

He grabbed you by both your hips and forced you on all fours, pulling you back so you were right in front of him. He was strangely quiet when he spread your legs just enough and placed one of his legs onto the bed, the other staying on the floor. Like he was savoring the moment.

You felt him line up to your entrance from behind you and you cried out in pleasure when he finally entered you, his position somehow putting himself at just the right angle. You whimpered out, “So big.”

He moaned at your tightness and held onto your hips roughly as he began thrusting at a bruising pace. One of his hands gathered both of your wrists and pinned them behind you, causing your face to fall down to the mattress. Your moans and screams were muffled by the blanket below you.

The pleasure was almost overpowering, making you writhe forward, almost away from him at, your hands reaching out to the mattress in front of you. But he kept bringing you you back by pulling on your hips and wrists. You pushed your hips back in rhythm with his thrusts, or as much as you could in the steel grip he had you in.

Michael moaned loudly, “Good girl.” He praised as he let your arms go and slapped your ass hard, making you moan louder. “Fuck yourself on my cock.”

And suddenly he stopped his thrusts. You picked up your head to look behind to him, whining at the loss of friction and desperately thrusting back on him, moving yourself up and down on his hard length. Your hair was sticking to your face uncomfortably but you didn’t care. His hand found its way to your neck, choking you from behind deliciously. Every sensation suddenly felt heightened. The tattoos circling his hands and fingers looked beautiful adorning your neck.

He leaned himself down, pressing his front directly to your back, covering much of your body with just his upper half. He whispered into your ear, “Look at you getting yourself off like a bitch in heat.”

“Please.” You whined in response, needing for his rough thrusts to start back up again.

“Beg for it.” He stayed completely still.

“Please fuck me, fuck me.” You moaned loudly, “I need you to fuck me, fuck this pussy daddy.” Your words were filthy enough to make you blush but you were almost delirious with desire at that point that you didn’t care.

Michael chuckled at you tauntingly, “Look at you blushing like a shy little girl even when you’re begging for me to ruin you."

He had just begun thrusting again, thrusting at an almost violent pace when a phone rang.

“No!” You cried out in desperation at the interruption. You could barely breathe with how wanton you were.

You felt Michael pause for a moment before your phone fell in front of you. You picked your head up just to read the name on the screen: ‘Justin’. You went to toss it aside but Michael’s voice stopped you.

“Answer it.”

“W-What?” You couldn’t believe what he was suggesting.

But he had an enticing smile as he persuaded you, “Come on, you don’t have to say anything, just let him listen. Doesn’t that make you wet to think of someone listening to how good I make you feel?”

You couldn’t believe you were even considering it. “If he asks about it, you didn’t even realize you answered.”

You wanted to say no. It would be gross and disrespectful, but you couldn’t deny the large part of you that was turned on with what Michael was saying. So your fingers swiped the answer button before you could change your mind.

As soon as you answered, it was like something snapped in Michael because his hips pounded into yours with a new vigor. The sound of skin slapping against skin loud and obvious. You were planning on just burying your face in the mattress as you had been doing to mask your moans but Michael grabbed a hold of your hair in a makeshift pony tail and pulled, forcing your upper body in the air.

Instead, your loud stuttered moans filled the air as Michael’s showed you no mercy. It was even hotter knowing someone was listening. With your face pulled back, you tried to keep your eyes open and level with Michael’s, which were staring directly at you, examining your face.

Michael’s gravel voice sounded through the room, “Keep looking at me like the submissive slut you are. Let it out.” His tone had become almost soothing, “Look what I made you become.”

“Harder. Fuck me harder.” You screamed out, unashamed but barely managed to get the words out out.

His hips shifted, allowing him to get even deeper than before, fulfilling your wish. He was nearly growling when he spoke, “That’s right, fucking take it, bitch.”

Then he grunted, “Who’s cunt is this?” He spanked your ass once again to put emphasis on his question.

You whined and moaned at the same time, “Y-yours, it’s yours, your pussy daddy” He pulled harder at your hair which caused a particularly loud moan to come out of you, “Only yours, Mikey.”

Michael pulled your hair enough to have your face directly below his and kissed you hotly. He sucked and pulled at you bottom lip. His tongue finding its way into your mouth, kissing you gently, a contrast to how roughly he was currently fucking you. When he pulled back, you opened your mouth before he even said anything. He spat into your mouth, some of his spit landed on your chin.

“You’re such a fucking slut, look at you covered in my spit.” You gave a naughty laugh, biting your lip, to which he responded by slapping your cheek, the sting making you let out an elongated moan and clench around him.

“Yeah, you like that?” He moaned out as you clenched around him. “That’s good, princess.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” You closed your eyes in pleasure.

The sound of a call disconnecting sounded and a sickening realization dawned at you. You assumed Justin had hung up the moment he heard the sound of slapping skin or your moans. But he had just heard all of that.

Michael didn’t give you much time to dwell on it though because he hit a particular spot that had you seeing stars. “Cum for me, think you can do that, little one?”

As he said that, his hand reached down to your pussy, masterfully stimulating your clit, which, along with his thrusts, made you gasp out. You came around him almost instantly as he continued thrusting. But he didn’t stop hitting that spot, but instead rode out your orgasm by thrusting even deeper. He didn’t even stop when his thrusts slowed down and become sloppier. So by the time he was coming in you, you were practically sobbing at the overstimulation as you came for the third time that night.

“Beautiful.” He let out a satisfied moan as he pulled out, letting you drop fully down to the mattress, as you didn’t have enough strength to hold yourself up.

Michael patiently moved you to a more comfortable position, giving you the best spot on the bed as he dressed again.

You looked over at him sleepily, body glistening. “I honestly don’t know what’s gotten into you lately.”

He gave you a secretive smirk before nodding silently before leaning down to give you a languid, gentle kiss as he was holding your face in both hands. It was a loving kiss and it was moments like those that reminded you why you loved him so much.

Justin’s going away party was tomorrow and Michael couldn’t believe his luck. The rich kid would leave soon enough and everything would be back to normal. He wouldn’t be constantly on edge and he wouldn’t have to leave the house every time Ashton had Chris and Charlie over.

And, as it turned out, Justin was too big of a pussy to tell you what he did after all. He was on top of the world. He hadn’t even gotten into a fight in days because of it. To top it all off, his girlfriend texted him that afternoon.

my girl

Come over, now.

He was on his way to your apartment, forgoing any classes he had at the middle of the day. Not that he would know if he even had any. Even if he did, he would drop everything and anything for you.

He didn’t expect, however, to hear your angry voice as soon as he walked through the door.

“How could you?” You yelled. He was usually the only one that yelled, the only one that got angry. That was when Michael knew he did something wrong, bad enough to get his sweet, soft-spoken, girlfriend to yell with an angry expression on her kind face.

And he had a feeling he knew exactly what he did.

You knew it too because you continued, keeping a big distance between the two in your spacious and clean living room. “How could you say those things to Justin? Do you have any idea how personal those things are? How embarrassing it is to know you said something so private and intimate about me to him?” You were yelling and by the end of it, Michael could swear he saw some tears.

He stepped forward just to have you put your hand up, palm facing him to stop his movement. “And to top it off, what we did to him over the phone?” You were definitely crying now, “Michael, that was just cruel. I never would have agreed to it if I knew what you had done.”

Your hand went up to cover your mouth, as if to stop the cries from pouring out.

Michael, on the other hand, felt like he had just gotten kicked in the gut. The sight of your tears and knowing he had single handedly caused them hurt him more than he could imagine. He wanted to blame Justin, blame his stupid big mouth, but he couldn’t.

“Just, w-why would y-you do some…thing like that?” You were looking at him like he never wanted you to look at him. You looked at him like he was a bad person, like you were finally seeing him the way everyone else always had.

He wanted to wrap his arms around you and apologize, not letting you go until you forgave him. To stop you from looking at him like that. But he let you get out your thoughts. You deserved at least that much.

“When Justin told me, I wanted to disappear. You made me f-feel so small. Like I was just some sex trophy you can show off like a poss-ss-ession.” You shook your head, your tears streaming freely down your cheeks, “Why would you take something so intimate and make it so awful?”

Michael couldn’t even respond. Why would he do that? Was he that big of an insecure asshole that he couldn’t think of how his actions would affect the one person that mattered?

“I’m sorry.” His voice was soft and he took a few tentative steps closer. “He was going to tell you he liked you and I thought you’d choose-”

“-I told you he’s just a friend!” You exploded. Your eyes were still filled with tears but there was a definite anger in your expression. “Why can’t you just trust me and feel confident that I’d choose you even if he did confess.”

He wasn’t good with non-violent confrontations. With you, he wasn’t good with confrontation, period. You never fought much, and never to this extent, so his instincts were off.

“Why would I?” He yelled back but with a lower level of anger and a higher level of desperation than usual. “Why would I think in a million years you’d pick me? When he’s fucking perfect for you: you have a history, he has the brains, the looks, the money. He has the life I could never give you!”

He was talking fast and breathing faster because he felt like he was about to lose the love of his life and he couldn’t let that happen. You couldn’t break up with him. He loved you too much and he wasn’t planning on letting you go, ever.

You opened your mouth but he continued talking, his hands swiped at each of his arms, “Look at me, am I someone you want to take home to your mom? You want to show her how you’re dating a big, inked up, fuck up who has been to juvie more times than he can count and barely made it into college?” He shook his head, “But I bet your mom loves Justin, doesn’t she?”

You didn’t answer so Michael repeated himself, he needed you to understand him. “Doesn’t she?”

“She likes him but-”

Michael cut you off, “Exactly. You deserve someone that actually has the emotional range to be there for you, someone you have more things in common with.” He looked away before sighing, “Look I fucked up, I’m sorry, but…please, don’t leave me.”

You couldn’t believe it when you heard his voice crack at the end.

It was one of those rare moments he let his guard down, where he was vulnerable to you.

Maybe that was what made you change your tone because the next time you spoke, your voice was much softer and your expression held a hint of pity.

“Mikey…” This time, it was you who moved closer to him and while it wasn’t a lot, it meant the world to Michael who felt like the cracks in his world were slowly starting to pull themselves back together. “Don’t you think I feel the same way sometimes?”

The confusion Michael felt was obvious on his face.

“I see the way all the girls on campus look at you, more experienced girls that can probably please you a lot better than I can. Girls you’re probably more used to since you’re a lot more experienced than I am.”

Michael’s jaw dropped “What?”

How could you possibly think he would want any other girl or that any other girl could possibly measure up to you in bed? He wanted to tell you that he loved how inexperienced you were in the beginning, that it was a turn on. How he loved to be the one to teach you everything you knew while knowing he was the only one who’s ever touched you. Sure you were different, but that’s why he liked you so much.

But you continued, reaching up to cup his cheek. He couldn’t help but lean his face into your touch. “But I know you love me so I don’t even flinch when you go out to parties by yourself or a girl flirts with you in front of me, because I trust you. You have to do the same for me instead of psychologically torturing people.”

He couldn’t think of a time a girl flirted with him in front of his girlfriend, or it was more likely he was just not paying attention. When he was with you, he often stopped thinking of much else.

Only one thing was on his mind as he lifted your hand and kissed your palm. “Do you forgive me?”

He wasn’t one to apologize, ever. But he was willing to go on his hands and knees for the woman in front of him. He was willing to beg for you. Fuck everyone else.

His heart constricted just a tiny bit when you didn’t answer right away. But then, you nodded gently.

For the millionth time since they started dating, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was.

When he wrapped his arms around you, holding your small frame tightly against his own, he definitely felt a difference. You didn’t melt into him like you usually did, but you didn’t push him away.

“I know I’m mean and aggressive and that I should probably treat you better, take you out more. But I love you, you’re all I have.” It was true. He didn’t have much but he had Y/N, the sweet girl that found a way to look past his rough exterior. That was all he needed.

When Justin’s party finally arrived, Michael wished he could say your words made him change his mind about the guy. But, as he thought of the everything the tall boy personified: uncertainty his visit caused his relationship, the very real threat of taking his girlfriend away, he didn’t think anything could change his mind about the blond boy.

So he couldn’t help the twisted satisfaction he got when he saw Justin’s face light up when you entered Chris’ dorm room, where the party was held, wearing a pretty pink dress, only to watch it fall when Michael walked in right behind you. He watched it grow even darker at your interlocked hands (because though you forgave him, you were still not happy enough to let him wrap his arms around your shoulders or waist like he would’ve wanted).

The two of you didn’t speak but Michael kept by your side anyway, silently drinking the beer that was handed to him when they came in. One had been offered to you but he stepped closer threateningly to the guy holding it out. The drink was promptly removed. He saw you give the guy a heart-warming smile as a token of your apology for his actions.

You were never interested in drinking or drugs and he was not going to allow your exposure to them because of him be your downfall, he couldn’t deal with knowing he was the bad influence he never wanted to be for you. You were the best thing that had ever happened to him, the best thing in his life, and he didn’t want to ruin that like he ruined everything else in his life.

Many guys tried to approach him, speaking to him as if they were friends and that was all they needed to start up a friendship. He barely talked, his words coming out short and snippy. They were taking time out of his night to spend with his girl. Usually, they took the hint and left, but others, like Charlie, stayed for longer. When Michael’s cold glaring eyes finally moved to meet his, Charlie’s face got visibly whiter before he quickly excused himself. Michael had told you that he should be nicer, but that only really applied to her.

When you left his side to say goodbye formally to Justin at the end of the party, he smiled, a mix of cruelly and victoriously.

Justin had lost. Michael had won.

So when he finally left through the door and out of their lives, he wrapped his arms around your body from behind you. Feeling much relieved to be able to still do so, to still have you. Even more so when you leaned against him.

Leaning down, he pushed strands of your loose hair away from your ear with his nose before whispering, “Let’s go home.”

end of story 1

—

again, i’m planning on making a second part to this series but it will focus on a completely different obstacle! it’ll be a brand new plot just with the same characters and dynamics as this one. like another big moment in their relationship.

@imagines-to-die-for

469 notes · View notes

slut4cashton · 5 years ago

Text

“I’m in” a gangster Calum smut

Pure smut, gangster, daddy, choking and some other stuff. Enjoy!

You light your cigarette, taking a drag. Looking across the bar full of bandanas and leather jackets, he’s still not here, you think to yourself looking threw the bar for the blue haired boy. Some curly haired guy tries to talk to you about how he use to be a drummer or something, “look kid,” you flick the ash from your cigarette, “does it look like I care?” He still continues to talk unphased by what you said.

The door to the bar opens and you catch a glimpse of his hands and you know it’s him. Everyone greeting him as he makes his way to you.

“Hey good looking” you hear him whisper in your ear and you can’t help but smile from ear to ear.

You turn around, “You don’t look too bad your self, handsome.” You lean forward wrapping your hands around the back of his neck and as you lean in to kiss him he notices the man sitting next to you.

“Who the fuck are you mate?” He says directly at the man you’ve been ignoring.

“I’m Ashton.” The man says turning putting his hand out for calum to shake. Calum just looks at the man a little sideways.

“The fuck are you doing sitting next to her?”

“I was just trying to have a chat sorry lad didn’t realize she was taken.” The man spits back at calum. He looks as if he’s about to charge at him so you stand up rather quickly pressing your hand against his chest pushing him back a bit. You can feel the anger radiating off his body. You press yourself against him, “forget about this guy, I need you right now cal.” You whine moan into his ear. Taking his hand you drag him back to the bathroom locking the door. He looks at you taking you in your little leather skirt and fishnets, your cherry red crop top and your braided matching blue hair.

“Fuck” you hear him whisper under his breath as he licks his bottom lip. He pushes you up against the counter grabbing behind your neck and roughly kissing you, no rhythm all passion. He bits your lip and you yelp out at the unexpected pain, he places his hands under your thighs grabbing so you can sit on top of the counter. He starts to kiss along your jaw placing his right hand around your throat adding pressure while kissing down your neck you grab ahold of his wrist and moan, “holy shit baby” he says between breathes “you look so fucking hot right now.” He slides his left hand under your skirt “no underwear?” You shake your head no, biting your lips.

“Fuck you want daddy don’t you.” He yanks on your braids.

“Yes daddy yes I want you.” You let out really fast the anticipation wearing you out.

He takes his fingers and rips your fishnets between your legs, you let out a moan at the sound and the bit of friction. You grab calums bicep to help keep yourself up, he looks right at you as you feel his fingers slide into you. His face mimicking yours, both of your eye brows furrow. He starts to do the come here motion and you throw your head back moaning out “Fuck”

“I didn’t come here to play baby.” He says as he furthers his fingers in you hitting right where you’re g-spot is. You start shaking a bit just at the anticipation of it all, you grab the back of his neck pressing your foreheads together, jutting your hips out closer to making him hit you deeper. You let out a small moan as your noses glide over each other, “fuck baby.”

He speeds his motions and it isn’t long till you’re crumbling under his touch. You feel it coming so you grab on to his flexed forearm and let go around his fingers. Your eyes rolling back from enjoyment, your body shaking as you dig your nails into his flesh where ever you can grip on to. He exhales a harsh breath. You get over it, immediately attaching your lips to his, “fuck cal that felt so good” you said between kisses.

“Well these babies haven’t failed yet” he says sticking them in his mouth and sucking on them. You were so sensitive you could’ve gotten off again right then and there just off of that.

“You know the rules, knees.” He snaps at you.

You slide off the counter trying to gain your balance, he offers his hand to help steady you. You kiss his cheek to say thank you. You bend down on your knees, undoing his belt.

You look up at him watching him watch you. He grabs your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. “You’re such a pretty little girl baby” he says, sticking his thumb in your mouth grabbing onto your jaw, “you’re my pretty girl right?” He tightens his grip a bit. You shake your head, “Sorry I can’t hear you baby.”

“Yes, I’m yours. Just yours.” You said his thumb still gripping your mouth.

“That’s right baby all mine.” He crouched down a bit to kiss you. You go back to undoing his belt and pants your jaw a little sore from his grip that he had. You shimmy his pants down his thighs and you already see the tent that is formed in his boxers. You glide your hand over his boxers, he winces back. You push his boxers down his cock now in your face, you lick your hand to add moisture and lightly grab ahold of him. He lets out a low moan as you pump him. His jaw visibly clenching from the ecstasy. You start to take him in your mouth slowly and you can feel him being irritated, “Baby hurry or you’ll be punished.”

The thought of him bending you over his knee made you almost not listen but you decided to speed up. You take him as far as you could in your mouth, your eyes watering at the feeling of his dick buried in your throat. He grabs the back of your head as he starts to thrust himself in and out of your mouth. A few deep guttural moans slip past his lips. You suck your cheeks in feeling him move against them, looking up at him looking down on you. You hear a moan borderline whimper fall as he bites his bottom lip. He takes the back of your head forcing you forward and taking all of him in. Your nose flesh with his pelvic area. You feel his warm cum slide down your throat as he falls apart above you a mess of curse words and compliments. Your face covered in tears and saliva. Standing up he wipes the side of your mouth sticking his thumb in your mouth once he was done. You stare at him trying to recompose himself when all of a sudden you’re being pushed and bent over the counter. You throw your hands out to grab onto the mirror a bit to stabilize yourself when in the reflection you see cal tear your fishnets even more and bend down and bite your ass cheek. That’s gunna leave a mark. You scream out in enjoyment as he wraps your braids around his fist pulling your head back.

“God you look so pathetic like this,” he whispers in your ear “it makes me so hard baby.” He kisses right below your ear. A whine slips from your lips. He throws one of your legs on the counter to get a good angle. He then lines himself up with your entrance and plunges himself in you letting a throaty moan escape your mouth well a grunt comes from calum. His ring clad fingers reach around you and wrap around your throat and you could’ve came right then. He sets a sporadic pace lighting your tummy on fire with pleasure. Every time you close your eyes calum puts more pressure on your throat and yells at you to open your eyes so you can “see how beautiful you look in such an euphoric state.” He starts to grunt louder as he says, “you close baby?” And reaches his hand around your hips and starts to aggressively rub on your clit. You shake your head. “I’m sorry I couldn’t hear you” he says and stops rubbing your clit. You frantically speak up your voice a bit hoarse “yes daddy yes I’m close” he goes back to what he was doing. The harsher he rubbed the harder he pounded into you and the hotter his breath got on your back. “Can I cum daddy?”

“Beg” he demands

“Please daddy I need to cum, I wanna cum all over your cock please daddy” you whimper our trying to keep your orgasm at bay.

“Fuck, yes baby girl cum” and with that your tummy came undone and your walls clenched, both his hands came around to your waist to help steady himself as he came inside you. The warm feeling added to the ecstasy filled moment as you became a whimpering mess on top of the bathroom counter your body shaking from the tremors of your orgasm. Calum removes himself from you and dresses himself. You slide your leg off the counter and lay there collecting yourself when calum just rips your stockings off your legs so you didn’t have to go back to the bar with them ripped. You stand up fixing yourself when calum holds onto you just in case your legs were wobbly, “I’m fine babe thank you” you said to reassure him. “Okay,” he lets go “oh I almost forgot to tell you, I’m officially in.” He rolls up the sleeve to show off the freshly tatted dagger tattoo. You stare at it not knowing how to feel about it, “it’s pretty” is all you have to say on the subject because you knew how excited he is. “Why don’t we head home and we can take a bath and get clean.” He offers to you. “Or I was thinking we could head home and go for round two.” He smiles so big he gets the eye crinkles “fuck I love you” he says cupping your face in his hand and kissing you.

266 notes · View notes

calumance · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Right Here - A.I.

Warnings: death of a loved one, depression

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Ashton finds the shell of the woman he loves locked in her apartment after an absolute tragedy struck her heart.

A/N: Please read with caution, this blurb does talk about losing someone close. If this is found to be too sensitive I will remove it. Feedback and requests are always welcomed (want to be tagged? Let me know)

Masterlist

Ashton hadn’t slept right in the past week, unable to find the woman who made his heart warm every time she came around. As he laid in bed, trying to sleep, he closed his eyes and thought about her. They originally met three years ago when they physically ran into each other in the grocery store. He remembers the way she smiled at him, her smile could light up a whole room. She tucked her hair behind her ear shyly as her cheeks flushed every time he would compliment her. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. So, he flirted with her shamelessly, eventually asking her to join him for coffee the following morning. For the first two years, they spent their time getting to know each other, and just hang out as friends, it wasn’t until nine months ago that they had finally moved their relationship forward, when they found themselves tangled in his sheets after a long night of sexual tension.

The only thing that Ashton could never understand about her was her ability to close off the entire world from her emotions. Instead of opening up to Ashton about her feelings, she’d hide. Not just hide her feelings, but she would physically lock herself in her apartment and not come out until she was ready. Never once had she hid away from him for more than a day or two. The last time he couldn’t find her, she had found out her mom was ill. After not being able to find her for the past week, Ashton was beginning to fear the worst. Phone calls continued to go unanswered, and texts continued to go unread. Every time he asked their mutual friends if they’ve heard from her, they always returned a solemn ‘no.’ Ashton was starting to lose hope, and his heart was starting to crumble. The last option he had was to go to her apartment and see if she was there. He tossed the comforter off himself and threw on some clothes before making his way out the front door.

She sat on her couch, the one she had moved so that it was facing out the window, instead of facing the TV. Her eyes burned from the amount of tears she had shed over the past week, no longer able to find the strength to cry anymore. Instead, she sat there, her knees pulled to her chest, not blinking as she stared at the city in front of her. The city wasn’t the same anymore knowing that her best friend was no longer in it. Her mom was her best friend, and without her here, there was no point in going on with life. Why couldn’t it have been her instead of her mom? As she shut her eyes, feeling the pain overtake her body again, she noticed the light in her heart had been completely blown out. Not only was the light gone, but her heart had completely stopped hurting, because it had become completely numb. She squeezed her eyes together as tightly as she could as the tears began flowing like a waterfall and a sob escaping her chest.

Before Ashton had left his house, he remembered the key she had given to him four months ago. The spare key to her apartment, just in case he ever needed somewhere to go that wasn’t his own home. He had slid into his pocket as he walked out the front door. The night air was hot, even though the sun had gone down hours ago. Ashton rolled his window down and ran his hand through his hair as he drove. His heart skipped a beat as he noticed her car in her normal parking spot. Frantically, he closed his car door and ran through the complex to her apartment. His trembling hands made it hard to grip the key, but somehow he managed to unlock the door. His throat worked as he placed his hand flat on the door and pushed it open. As he walked through, her apartment was a mess. Dishes were piled high in the sink, clothes strewn through the hallway leading from her bedroom. Assorted papers, such as mail, and school work spread across her table. After he closed the door, he made his way through the short corridor and found her sitting on her couch, facing the window.

He dropped the key back into his pocket and made his way to the couch. As he rounded the couch, he sat in the empty spot next to her. She didn’t move, but he could see the tear stains on her cheeks, the rims of her eyes permanently stained red. Her knees where pulled close to her chest, her arms crossed over the top of her knees, and her face from her nose down buried into her arms. Ashton’s fears came true the second he looked into her eyes, the sparkle he had grown so accustomed to, gone. He lowered his eyes to his hands and swallowed the knot in his throat, the only words he could find being, “Nobody’s seen you in days.” It wasn’t the right thing to say, but nothing was right in this type of situation. She stayed completely still and he looked around her apartment for another time. He looked at her again, she was broken, but she was never the type of person who asked to be fixed. Instead, he ran his hand down her back before standing and starting to clean up.

He started at her table, organizing the papers into neat piles. Then he moved down the hallway, picking up all the items of clothing around the hallway and throwing it into the hamper just inside her bedroom door. Once the hamper was full he set it by the front door, noting to take it with him when he left so he could wash her clothes tomorrow and then bring them back. The last thing he cleaned was the kitchen, starting with the dishes, and then eventually moving to the counters. Suddenly, he saw her standing in the doorway into the kitchen. He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. Her eyes were sunken into her head, black circles sitting under her glazed over eyes. She was wearing a tattered cardigan over a plain white t-shirt, her hair pulled back messily, looking as if she hadn’t washed it in a while. The sweat pants hanging on her hips ripped and covered in stains. The socks covering her feet and a hole in the toes, but her toes managed to stay covered. It was her, but she looked like a ghost. He stood up straight and tossed the kitchen towel over his shoulder. “What are you doing?” She asked through a hoarse voice.

Ashton moved his eyes from her and back to the counter he had been scrubbing. “It looked as if you needed some help, and I wanted to help.” Ashton wasn’t expecting her to thank him, or give him any type of thoughtful response. He just wanted her to know he was there for her, even if she didn’t want him to be. She nodded and ran her sleeved fingers under her eyes. He continued to scrub down the counter as she stood in the doorway. It was more than a surprise when he felt her move his arm out of the way so she could tuck herself in the side of his body. He wasted no time, dropping everything onto the counter and scooping her into his arms. Her body went limp and he slowly guided her onto the floor with him as she sobbed uncontrollably into his chest, her fists balling the material of his shirt. She mumbled into his chest, asking him not to leave over and over again. “I’m not leaving, baby, I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.” He continuously ran his hand up and down her back and she continued to sob.

He sat on the floor with her until she eventually fell asleep from the exhaustion of crying. As soon as he felt the soft breath falling from her mouth, he wrapped his arm under her knees, and his other arms around her shoulders. As he lifted her, he made sure her head rested against his shoulder. His lips connected to her forehead before he walked down the hallway to her bedroom. He laid her down in her bed, pulling the covers up and over her shoulders. After he was sure she was tucked into her bed, he shed his shirt and climbed into the empty spot next to her. His arms snaked around her as he pulled her as close to him as physically possible. After he got comfortable, she stirred, lifting her head so she could lazily place her lips on his. Although he was surprised, he kissed her back. Her head fell back onto the pillow and she placed her forehead against his chest as she mumbled a quiet, “I love you.” In response, he kissed the top of her head, then placed his head on the pillow, instantly falling asleep.

50 notes · View notes

mayve-hems · 5 years ago

Text

Old Me | Ashton Irwin x OC

Type: IMAGINE | ONE SHOT | MULTI CHAPTER

Summary: It all started with a lie. One that tore the two Ashtons apart from each other the day before graduation. Five years later, Ashton and Kalypso are showing up to Calum Hood’s wedding, prepared only a little for what is about to come. Ashton is determined to prove to his ex girlfriend that he never has, and never will, stop loving her.

Word Count: 14.7k

Note: I love my friend Anna because she helped me so much with this and she will forever have my heart.

Warnings: selling/use of weed, drinking, lots and lots of cussing

Normal

Flashback

Kalypso ducks her head underneath a bathtub of water. Her chocolate brown hair billows around her like she’s a sea creature or a mermaid goddess watching over Mount Olympus. If she were a few years younger, she would’ve stained the rim of the bathtub with a hair dye concoction straight from a box.

Resurfacing, she scrubs paint from her fingers, arms, legs, and face. Stuffed deep under her nail beds, she reaches for Paris Pink paint. She hisses, separating her skin and nail, but admires how nice they look. Plain, long-stained black, and mostly healthy. Making a mental note to look up nail salons for a much needed acrylic manicure, she hears a pawing at the bathroom door.

Even though she’s single and lives alone, she knows there’s no privacy in her small apartment. Magik, a black cat she found in a dumpster, is clingier than Kalypso’s little sister, Stella. She has three seconds to stand and pull a towel around her body before she sees her hallway through a newly opened door and a quiet mew enters the bathroom. Magik is too smart for her own good.

“I’m glad it’s only you,” Kalypso sighs and steps onto a blue bath mat right out of the clawfoot tub. The linoleum is cold underneath her toes from her air conditioning, so right out of the bathtub, she never stands directly on the bathroom floor without something there. Kalypso forgets her slippers once again so she maneuvers a leap from the bathmat, through the semi-opened door, and onto her pretty white carpet. “Thought I’d have to deal with Stella,” She smiles once she’s on the carpet.

“Heard that!” Stella, Kalypso’s younger sister, says over her shoulder in the kitchen. Her hands busy themselves with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The bathroom is at the end of the hallway, with the kitchen having a sharp pivot to the left when you enter the living room, meaning that if she talks loud enough, Stella can hear everything Kalypso may say about her. “I was giving you time not to smell.”

“I hate you,” Kalypso sighs and turns left into her bedroom. A dream bedroom-- one with 70s rock and 80s pop -scratched- record glued to her ceiling, and blankets covering her bed. Hung LED lights and paint pretending to melt from the walls where the ceiling attaches and the aroma of vanilla incense. “Do you ever go home?”

She’s filled milk crates with vinyls that are used, right next to her bed, underneath the table holding the record player. To the left of her bed is an enormous window showing her a view of the city laid out in color and sunlight. Along her floor, she’s left clothes and other things out instead of cleaning them up.

Pulling her closet door open, two empty canvases tumble from beside her dresser. She picks them up, shoves them back into their designated place, and drops her towel to the floor. Kalypso isn’t worried about the windows on the top floor or her sister inside of her apartment.

Her fingers brush the sleeves of colorful shirts, over her dresser, and pays no attention to the art supplies she’s included inside. Above her hanging clothes are packing supplies and canvases she still needs to send out.

Kalypso owns her own ‘company’ called AKM_arts. AKM, after her initials, and arts because that’s always been her passion. Drawing, coloring, painting, crafting something into the way she’s feeling and letting the world see her so raw. She began as an instagram artist, Ashton Kalypso Montgomery, but quickly started selling custom pieces.

“You’re so pale,” Stella says, watching Kalypso pull a pair of jean shorts up her legs. Her plan for the day was to purchase more circle canvases when the shops finally opened. She needed to start more tie-dye nameplates. A man requested one for his daughter, Auzilynn, which Kalypso couldn’t seem to pronounce. “How are you Australian?”

Kalypso loves showing off her tattoos to the world; her mother's initials tattooed on the inside of her right shisn, a koi fish down her thigh, a single bee painfully placed behind her knee, a feather falling from hip to thigh, and several things in between. Her body is a canvas for anybody that deems themselves good enough.

“You’re two years younger than me, why do we look like twins?” Kalypso pulls a black shirt over her head that leaves the word ANGEL tattooed on her clavicle. “Is this cute?”

“You always looks tupid,” Stella replies, rolling her eyes. “But you’re still pale.”

“We’ve established this,”

“I got your mail for you,” Stella takes a bite from her sandwich, tearing the crust from the rest of the bread. Kalypso and Stella look a lot alike, besides their hair color. Kalypso always opted for a darker, more vibrant color like her natural dark brown. Stella, blonde, preferred pastels when they were in school.

Kalypso snatches the letter from her younger sister’s hand. Addressed for Ashton Kalypso Montgomery, apartment 607B. Stamped with a dog photo, and sealed with red wax. “It’s from Calum Hood.”

“Yeah, I got the same one,” Stella smiles at her sister. Kalypso and Calum’s friend group were close at one point, so Stella hung around as much as she could. The nuisance in the same grade as Calum and Luke that joined everything they did with Kalypso. “He’s getting married.”

“Married?”

“Yeah, his fiance is beautiful,”

Kalypso rips open the packaging. The location, the date and time, and a picture of Calum and his future-wife standing together in front of a brick wall. Stella’s right, Calum’s fiance is beautiful; curly brown hair, a hand placed over Calum’s chest, and a perfect smile. “Cool,” Kalypso tosses the invitation and the envelope in the trash. “Hope he has a good wedding.”

“You’re not going?”

“I love Calum and all, but I don’t want to see Ashton,”

“It’s been five years, Kal, get over it,” Stella brushes her blonde locks from her long face. “Please? I want to talk to Luke.”

“It’s been five years, Stel, get over it,” Kalypso bends down to look into her paint drawers unit for a certain color. Auzilynn’s name plate requires a rainbow painted into a tie-dye pattern. Kalypso isn’t sure if she has the correct shade of blue. “What would I do with my cat?” Opening the drawer dedicated the blue paints, she has more than enough.

“Alexander could watch Magik,” Stella replies, thinking about the guy just down the hall she’s trying to date. They’re in the flirting stage so far, and she hopes they’ll progress further eventually. “And I’m not trying to hook up with Hemmings. I’m trying to get my laptop back from him. It’s been way too long.”

She’s a year younger than her sister. She graduated with Luke Hemmings and Calum Hood. At the end of the day, she was a part of their friend group, including her sister Kalypso, Kalypso’s childhood best friend Michael Clifford, and Kalypso’s boyfriend, Ashton Irwin. WhenKalypso graduated from school, she was ready to take off and leave Sydney, never look back at the place that reminded her of her entire high school career. Stella was permitted to graduate halfway through her last year of school and they moved into the same apartment.

“He probably doesn’t have it anymore. It’s been five years,”

“Ashton probably doesn’t have feelings for you anymore, Ashton Kalypso. It’s been five years,”

Since they’re sisters, it didn’t take long for Stella to finally reach her limit and move into the apartment next door. They enter each other's homes whenever they want.

Kalypso rolls her eyes. “Do you ever stop?”

“Are you going to go?”

“Hell no,” Kalypso lets out a loud chuckle. “You’re hilarious,”

Returning from the store, Magik greets Kalypso at the door. Dropping four reusable bags on the floor, she greets her loud cat with pets and kisses. Canvases, paint, stickers, glitter, paintbrushes, all equaling way too much money from Kalypso’s wallet covers the entrance of her apartment. After greeting the cat, she gets started on cleaning her room and putting things away.

She throws the bags on her bed to straighten out the messy place. Clothes are folded or thrown into a laundry basket, blankets are folded or placed on her bed, canvases that turned out bad are put in a repaint pile where she turns them black and makes galaxies, and the craft massacre in her closet becomes properly organized. She puts canvases into an organizer with different sizes for different canvases and anything involving paint bottles or paint brushes directly is thrown into the messy paint drawers. She’s got way too many bottles of the same shade of blue that she needs for the rainbow tie-dye, but adds another into the drawer.

Quickly, though, she has to get to painting. Swirls of orange and red chase each other around an oval canvas. Swirling inward then out, mirroring each other. She goes in order of the rainbow, leaving one strip of purple on the narrow inside of the swirl. Tie-dye on a canvas. After it dries, she free hands the same. The person that ordered it chose basic cursive writing, which is easy with the help of muscle memory. Auzilynn, weird, but interesting.

She prints a label for the canvas and gets the packaging supplies ready so she can slip it inside and put it into the pile of canvases that need to be shipped off. She has eighteen wrapped canvases to go out of Australia, but only a few are staying inside. One, Auzilynn’s, isn’t going farther than the apartment complex a few blocks away. If Kalypso makes it in time, she can get Auzilynn’s out by 11 AM and have it delivered within a day.

Kalypso has over 100 orders to do, and only a few days until they need to be shipped off. She can’t take a few days off for a stupid wedding, it’d be worthless.

Although, she could use the break.

No! That’s stupider than anything else she’s thought of. At the same time, she could show off her glow-up and amazing life. Painting all day and night, scheduling her working hours, deciding what she gets to do. She has things to get done. Her paintbrushes need to be cleaned, canvases need to be organized and shipped, and her apartment is a disaster.

Taking a break from painting, Kalypso pours wet cat food into Magik’s bowl next to the refrigerator . The cat digs into her md-morning breakfast as if she’d never eaten before.

Across from the refrigerator, Kalypso pours a sink of hot water from the tap. Her paintbrushes are already in the sink, waiting to be cleaned. Browns, pinks, and blues explode from between the bristles. Galaxies dropped onto the stainless steel bottom like a picture.

She was thinking long and hard about going or staying. The one thing blowing her mind was Ashton Irwin and how he would have progressed. Was he still tall and handsome? Curly hair and eyes the color dewy grass? Married? Single? Still toying with the bad boy scene? She’d changed after moving away- rebellious tones and sassy remarks blossomed into doing whatever the hell she wanted to, but without so much hatred toward everyone. Weekly-dyed hair turned into natural brown on pale skin. Nobody could stay the same, so would Ashton still love her?

They broke up the day before graduating, Kalypso initiating the conversation, Ashton entirely speechless when she said the words. Kalypso had heard that he slept with a girl named Sage Miller, who was in their grade, the night before while at a party, from Luke. A cut-and-dry breakup where Kalypso blocked her ex boyfriend from her life. At graduation, Kalypso smiled, but every time she looked away from the cameras shoved in her face, broken pieces cut themselves along her throat.

She didn’t want to hear Ashton’s excuse when she broke up with him, she didn’t want to hear what he might have tried to come up with or how it wasn’t his fault. Kalypso, a girl that still knows her worth, realized that sometimes you don't need a guy to be happy.

Kalypso dials her sister for a video call. Continuous rinsing and scrubbing from her paintbrushes, laying them on the counter that wrapped from the sink to the fridge. She heard the dial tone end and her little sister picked up the call. Stella could only see a white ceiling.

“What do you want, Kal?”

“How long do you think Alex will watch Magik for?”

Ashton Irwin could still be single.

For Ashton Irwin, he's known about Calum's wedding since he proposed to the woman, but still put off packing until the day before he left. One suitcase full of men's clothes for a week's stay, and one smaller bag of his four-year-old daughter's clothes.

"She's not going to go," Luke remarks, looking at his fingernails. Painted orange with a highlighter by Ashton's daughter. He has a soft spot for his favorite four-year-old, but she likes destroying Luke's nails. "She hasn't even RSVPed yet and weddings in a week."

"You don't know that," Ashton replies. "She could just be Stella's plus-one."

"She's Kalypso, she's not the type to dwell on the past and wait around for peoples weddings,"

"You're kidding me," Ashton throws a dress at Luke. "She dragged me to thirty weddings in four years." Their flight leaves in only a few hours, and Ashton's slowly falling more and more behind on what he needs to get done. He needs to dress himself and his daughter, get a carry on bag ready for her, and manage to get to the airport. Luke's attention was diverted to grabby hands and a soft mewing, his name toward him. "She could've changed and now she's more sentimental or some shit. I did."

"Yeah, and how exactly are you going to explain Auzzie?" Luke lifts her from the floor, sitting her on his lap. They both stare at Ashton from the toddler bed. "Sorry that Sage Miller told you that I cheated on you because she kissed me at a party and you broke up with me. It didn't actually happen and I was so heartbroken I made myself believe her and hey, this kid came out of it. She died two years ago but it's okay because she was a drug addict and had nothing to do with Auzilynn. You want to get married?"

"Yeah, actually," Ashton moves across his room to get into Auzzie's dresser, searching for more than the few clothes he can find. Her toys are thrown everywhere and her clothes are torn from their drawers. He didn't have time to clean it up. "Is that so bad?" He starts pulling shirts and pants sets from the piles of clean clothes and a dress that she wore almost every day.

"What do you think, Auzzie?" Luke asks, shifting to pull her higher up. She looks just like Ashton, with a small mixture of her mother. Curly blonde hair in space buns, eyes that sparkle like glass, a crooked smile that could get her out of trouble. "Is daddy being ridiculous?"

Auzilynn nods her head. Her fingers toy with the part of her white tank top that's rolling up. "I want Doritos."

"You want Doritos?" Ashton asks. He decides he has enough outfits on his arm and in the somewhat packed back that he should start folding everything together. As long as it fits, he'll be happy.

"And fruit snacks!"

"Auzilynn Marie, you're not going to ruin your dinner," Ashton demands. "We're going to be at grandma's house in a few hours, can you wait until then?"

Auzilynn shakes her head then cups her fingers around Luke's ear. "Are we still growing fruit snacks?" She says in a hot-breathed whisper.

"Are we still growing fruit snacks?" Luke asks Ashton, wondering what he should answer. "Are they still growing?"

"Yes," Ashton groans. He ran out of fruit snacks three days beforehand and every place seemed to be out of the special type that Auzilynn liked. He told her they had to grow, and he was so happy children were susceptible. "They're still growing."

"Have you ever been to Sydney Auzzie?" Luke asks. His fingers search under her arms and around her neck for ticklish spots that cause her to giggle the most. Her body tenses up playfully. "Are you going to play with Uncle Mike tonight?"

"Yeah!" Auzilynn replies. Michael's still back in Sydney but visited often. He's probably Auzilynn's favorite.

"Back to Kal," Luke says. "How do you think it's such a good idea to talk to her."

"Because I know for sure that Stella's going." All he's wanted for the past five years is to tell Kalypso what happened that night, not some messed up version Sage had created. He plans to use Calum's wedding as a way to talk to Kalypso. A two-for-one deal; see Calum again and get back on good terms with his high school girlfriend. "If I can talk to Stella, she'll at least let Kalypso know that we conversed."

"How do you know? She could just lie and say you didn't show up,"

"They're sisters. They tell each other everything,"

Ashton has only been told stories about what happened to Kalypso after they graduated. She stopped hanging out with Calum, Luke, and occasionally messaged Michael. Stella became her best friend and her sister in one, and they moved several hours away.

Ashton had once been her drug and suffocated her when they broke up. The butterflies he had created turned into caterpillars that filled her lungs with goo and half-eaten flowers. Rumors told Ashton that she nursed herself with whiskey and sleepless nights from graduation on. He would see her driving around with Stella in the middle of the night, hoodie and messy bun-- when she looked the best.

"Stella probably won't listen to you either,"

Ashton and Sage pulled up to a stoplight in the middle of the night, returning from a party, almost a year after Ashton and Kalypso broke up. Kalypso pulled up right next to them, right before the light turned green, and rolled down her window. She screamed, "fuck you!" at the top of her lungs with a stern middle finger pointing straight at Ashton. She sped off when the light turned green. Something that irked Ashtons somewhat-of-a-girlfriend at the time, but to Ashton, that was a Kalypso thing to do.

"Can't you be positive?" Ashton folds another one of Auzilynn's dresses and sets it lightly in the suitcase. He's prepared for anything to happen, including several changes of clothes. "Can you fold the rest of those while I-" A ding runs through the room. Ashton's phone at full volume vibrates Luke's leg. He grabs it quickly to check who it is. Pleasantly surprised, he swipes the notification away. "That was fast."

"What was fast?"

"For Auzzie's birthday, I ordered this painting thing with her name on it," He clicks on the pattern he chose and flips his phone for Luke to see. "They shipped it already and I ordered it last night."

"Watch it be shitty," Luke laughs.

"I paid $50 for that thing," Ashton shakes his head. He prays that he didn't just waste his money entirely and that hopefully, the creator spelled his daughters' name right. "It better be good."

“I guess I can’t say the joke anymore,” Kalypso sasses, looking the large white house up and down. A porch that wraps all the way to the back door, into an over spacious backyard. She tilts her head to one side to comb all of her hair over her right shoulder. “Can’t really fuck your wife, Cal,” Calum glances up from his cement table and leans back in an outdoors chair. He looks like an older version of himself, rather than a completely different person. “Sorry, Mike told me to come up to the front.”

“Kalypso?” Calum asks. Brown hair thicker than life itself, large eyes that sparkle underneath any light, and a hoop through her right nostril. Somehow, she isn’t as intimidating as her high school self had been, but at the same time, she is worse.

Kalypso crosses her arms. In Calum’s high school eyes, there’s no way that the woman standing on his porch is his friend Kalypso. As an adult, he questions how she could’ve changed too much but remained the same. “Are we calling me Ashton again?”

“Huh?” Calum wonders. He is just amazed that she was coming after not returning her invite. She must be Stella’s plus one.

“You said Kalypso as if you are trying to get me to start going by Ashtonn again,”

“No!” Calum stammers. Kalypso used to be an avid member of not wanting to go to formal events. She skipped her own prom to go on a boat with Ashton, still in a prom dress. She barely showed up for her own graduation, and she’s voluntarily going to Calum’s wedding? She must really care about him. “I’m just surprised you showed up. Two days early.”

No hair dye, no lip piercing, no eyebrow slits, and she isn’t wearing a full face of makeup anymore. Gauged ears, a white shirt tied in a knot above the band of a black skater skirt, and tons of freckles.

“Was I really that bad of a friend?” Kalypso wearily asks. “If I was, then I’m sorry.”

“No,” Calum shakes his head and finally decides to stand up. He’s several inches taller than Kalypso still. “We’re going to Melbourne to see my sister next month and I was going to have a little celebration there. I didn’t expect you to come to the wedding.”

“Should I go home then?”

“No!” Calum sighs. “I’m just thinking of you from high school. You didn’t go to shit so I just thought you wouldn’t sit through a wedding.”

“I’ve changed,”

“Yes! I see that,” Calum smiles and gestures to her clothes. She wasn’t the biggest fan of skirts when they were teenagers. She’s gone through a tedious development of her character. “You look nice.”

“It’s Stella. If I had my way, I’d be wearing thigh highs,”

“There’s my Kaly!” Calum holds his arms out for an overly-zealous hug. Kalypso has never been near his height, nor all of his friends, so bear hugs are always expected. His heart beats in his chest like a rhythmic song. “What’s new? I haven’t heard from you in forever,”

"I gave birth to seven children and I'm married to John Mulaney," She looks around the porch, wanting to see what Calum's like now. There's a garden off to the side of the house, vegetables on the right side, fruit on the left.

Calum pulls a chair out for Kalypso to sit down in. He moves the documents on his table to the side so he can focus on her. "Really, huh?" They both chuckle and smile brightly. "Our group finished the kids bet."

"The kids bet?"

"Remember when we had a bet on who would have children first? We all tried to bet on you and Ashton,"

"Did I win? Who was my bid?"

"Michael's won," Calum answers. Michael guessed Ashton in general, Calum guessed Kalypso, Luke guessed Michael, and Ashton guessed Luke. "You bet me."

"Then who has the kid? Luke or Ashton?"

"Not important!" Luke says, clapping a hand on Kalypso's shoulder. She turns in the seat, excitedly. She almost tackles him to the cement out of excitement. How did she think that she couldn't go to the wedding? "Children are sticky and that's gross." She's gone five years without hanging out with her group every day of the week. Kalypso feels like a teenager again.

"Liar," Calum says. "You love Auzzie."

Kalypso laughs harder. Who names their kid Auzzie? "You and Michael babysat my brothers for years, and you enjoyed it."

"Kal, I don't need your opinion," Luke shakes his head. Michael and Luke were suckers for the Montgomery boys. A pair of twins seven years younger than Kalypso. "So, seven kids, huh?"

"Yeah," Kalypso starts to count off her fingers "Pride, Envy, Wrath, Gluttony, Sloth, Lust, Greed, and Wrath,"

"Some people I could get along with," Luke smiles. He too is surprised by Kalypso's personality shirt. She was a classic skater girl with weed bags and a scale in her car. How did she turn into a perfect art freak? "But for real, husband? Wife? Any babies from them?"

"I've got a house, a cat, and my little sister,"

"Really?" Luke gasps.

"Just not that social anymore," She was once a sociable person, which is concerning to the boys. Ashton has had that big of an impact on her. "So, um, Michael or you got wives, Lu?"

"We're Auzzie's favorite single uncles," Luke smiles. "I mean if you're trying to give me your phone number I wouldn't-"

"-I'll give you my phone number in a friendly way. I'm not getting into your pants, Hems," Kalypso smiles and grabs his phone out of his hand. She unlocks it with the same password he's used since he was twelve. "So do I get to meet Auzzie? I feel left out."

"She's inside with Mike and Ash. If you want to concur that battles," Calum answers. He points to the screen door next to the table. Just inside, Kalypso can see two figures standing tall, shadowed onto a nice hardwood floor.

Kalypso is the leader of the broken-up group, even after five years of going solo. So badass, so intimidating that people didn't want to mess with her. With the five-year glow-up on her shoulders, she's a soft intimidating person. She still falls for hugs and attention, wrapping her arms around Luke's middle. He's grown at least three inches in five years.

"How's your mom? I was going to see if I could visit before I go back to Melbourne," Luke asks, letting go. Kalypso's torn from smiling and feeling depressed. She lives in Melbourne too, the irony of it all.

"She died," Kalypso folds both of her ears over to show the boys white ribbons. Pretty tattoos, but hidden. "Lung cancer got her a couple of years ago." Kalypso and Luke finally sit down in chairs.

"Oh," Luke's face falls. He wasn't that close to Kalypso's family like Ashton or Michael were, but he was still welcomed at any point in time. How did he not know that Mackenzie Montgomery died? "I'm sorry . . . I had no idea."

"It was just family at the funeral. Jasper almost didn't go," Kalypso was close to her mom her entire life. Kalypso, Stella, Jasper, and James' father left and never came back after the twins were born. Growing up from a seven-year-old, Kalypso made her mom into one of her best friends. They did almost everything together.

"Your brother Jasper?"

"That's the one,"

When Ashton and Kalypso broke up, Mackenzie and Michael were Kalypso's main support. A lot of times Stella or Luke were involved, and occasionally a couple of jokes from Calum, but Mackenzie never let her daughter feel alone. A beautiful woman, taken too soon.

"Why?"

"Too hard for him to face,"

Mackenzie called Kalypso and Stella every night after they moved to Melbourne. They'd talk about everything underneath the sun, except for the disease that was ruining Mackenzie's body. She never told anybody about that.

Kalypso clears her throat. "So did you guys ever make a band?"

Luke's face lights up. "We didn't start a band, but I have an apprenticeship at a recording studio."

"Really!?" Kalypso smiles. Luke's second choice in life was to become a music producer, even if he couldn't make it into a band. "I'm so happy for you." She claps her hand into Luke's for an achievement. "What about Michael. Any big breaks?"

"He streams video games,"

"Hey, at least he gets to do something he likes,"

"Are you talking trash on me!?" Michael screams, finally walking out of the house. "Holy shit it's Kalypso." Kalypso pivots in her chair to stare down the blond man. He looks just like he did in high school. "Ashton and I had a bet that you wouldn't come because he's here."

Kalypso's head drops. "Of course. Was I really just that bad of a friend?" Inside, she feels terrible, like she messed up as a person that not even her friends expected her to show up to Calum's wedding. She didn't think she was that bad at socializing."

"No, it's just . . . he's here so we thought you wouldn't want to come."

"I'm an adult, Michael, I can get over things."

"I'm not trying to be rude, 'Lypso, I just- you still go by Kalypso, right?" Michael asks. He hasn't heard either Calum nor Luke say Kalypso, because he wasn't listening. Ashton or Kalypso, he knows her by both names. Kalypso nods her head. "Good. I don't know if I can go back to calling you Ashton."

"Somebody say my name?" A thick Australian accent asks, following behind Michael. Kalypso wants to curl up into a ball, scared of Ashton. Ashton, the boy she was and still is in love with. Ashton, the man that cheated on her two days before they graduated. In his arms, a little girl with flowy brown hair smiles. Kalypso's heart fractures. "Oh,"

Luke reaches his arms out to grab Auzilynn from Ashton. Auzilynn practically jumps from Ashton's arms, but he's too distracted staring at Kalypso. She can't bring herself to look at him. Calum and Luke share uncomfortable looks. The tension can't be cut with a knife.

"Auzzie, can you say 'hi' to Kalypso?" Luke asks, setting her on his lap. Auzilynn is a mini-me to Ashton beside her darker, grown out hair, and softer versions of his features. Kalypso has no idea who her mom may be.

Auzilynn looks toward Kalypso. A wide, toothy smile forces a small smile from Kalypso. She has to admit that the two-year-old is pretty cute. "Hi, K'lyso!"

"Kalypso, babe," Ashton corrects. "Kuh-lip-so."

"K'lyso!"

"It's fine, Ashton," Kalypso says. "Hi, uh, Auzzie." She hesitates. She looks to Calum for an answer about Auzilynn's name. "Is it short for something, or-"

"Auzilynn," Luke informs her. "Auzilynn Marie Rose Irwin."

Kalypso looks back at Ashton, questioning the child's name. Normal middle names with an off-the-wall first name. Ashton smiles a closed-mouth smile, dimples showing and obvious frustration in his face.

"Sage named her," says Ashton. Kalypso feels herself falling apart even more. Suddenly, she can see Sage in Auzilynn. The way her eyes shaped like almonds, her bottom lip tucks underneath her teeth the smallest bit when she smiles, her nose looks as if she were a Who in How The Grinch Stole Christmas. With Ashton mixed inside of her, she manages to be adorable still. "I wanted to name her Marie Adair, but Sage said we were going to move to America when Auzzie was a year old and it would tell everyone she's Australian."

"Are you guys visiting from America?" Kalypso asks. She just wants to know if Sage is in the picture, if Ashton's moved on so much. He has a kid, meaning that he's opened up his heart enough for another woman to enter his life. Knowing her luck, Kalypso wonders if there would even be a place for her anymore.

"We've never even left the country,"

"Then where's Sage?"

"Hopefully the cemetery," Ashton replies. "She died when Auzzie was only a few months old. Drug overdose. Never even met Auzzie after signing the birth certificate."

"Oh, I'm so sorry,"

Feeling guilty, Kalypso finds it sort of funny that Sage was the one Ashton cheated with but Kalypso was more successful than her. Karma is a bitch.

"Are you talking shit on me?" Fourteen-year-old Ashton Kalypso Mongtomery asks Ashton Irwin. She slides down the end of the leather couch in the school atrium to sit closer to him. He smells like cedarwood and bonfire smoke. "Afraid of a little competition?"

"What are you talking about?" Ashton Irwin asks. The Ashtons have heard of each other, but never talked directly. All they know is that they're both friends with Michael Clifford, but not the same friend group. Ashton Montgomery spends more time with her sister in the year below than with Luke Hemmings or Calum Hood. "I don't even know you."

"Bull!" Ashton Montgomery snarls. Ashton Irwin watches the ball in her lip move to the side when she gets sassy. He swears she didn't have that yesterday during English. "Stop talking shit, or we're going to have beef."

"We can't have beef if I don't know you!"

Ashton Montgomery's tongue rolls over the fresh piercing in her lip. "Watch your mouth." She disappears into a messy hallway, blue hair dye lost in a sea of students, as quickly as she'd shown up.

Ashton Irwin was held back a year, while Luke and Calum skipped one. All of them -Michael, Luke, Calum, and both Ashtons- were in the same grade. Ashton Montgomery stays strictly with her sister Stella or Michael, with the occasional visit with Luke, while Ashton Irwin is known as the new kid Luke, Calum, and Michael adopted.

"So was she hot?" Calum excitedly asks. He's not very well acquainted with Ashton Montgomery. Michael forbade him to try and date her when he first expressed feelings, and the rule still stands.

Stella and Luke are dating and have been for two years, crossing the groups over just enough for Ashton Irwin to be the only one not knowing about Ashton Montgomery. Surprisingly, though, the whole school knows of Ashton Montgomery and her intriguing reputation, so how does he not?

"Who?" Ashton Irwin questions. He lays his hand next to him on the couch, trying to draw a boundary line from Calum to him. Calum still edges closer on the blue fabric. "Can you get me some tape?" He asks Luke. Luke, sitting in the chair next to the couch, grabs a roll of duct tape out of a drawer. "Calum, if you don't back off, I'll tape you to a wall." He rips a piece of tape off loudly.

"I'm talking about Montgomery!"

"Who?"

"Ashton!"

If Calum or Luke had to pick one person to be afraid of, Ashton Montgomery would be in the top slot. She's five-foot-nothing, full of pure sass and piercings. Ashton Irwin has seen his name twin in the hallway a few times and wants to learn about the abyss of Ashton Montgomery.

"Wait, you talked to Ash today? Tap some ass?" Luke asks. He thinks maybe, just maybe, Ashton conquered his fear of ripped skinny jeans, a grey tank top, and a red flannel. Ashton groans. "What? You're the one that wants her.

"And so does Calum,"

"Yeah, but they don't share a name," Luke smirks.

Ashton rolls his eyes. "When is the guy supposed to be here? I need to smoke so I can no longer hear you."

"Ask Mike," Luke answers, shrugging. He's no help. "He's the one that knows him."

"But he's showering,"

"Looks like you'll have to wait a little while then,"

Ashton is ready to kick some thirteen-year-old ass.

Luke stands up from the porch table, bored of painting on a canvas. Capturing her attention, Kalypso looks up to make sure nothing is wrong. He's got all 10 fingers, no paint is spilled, and his section isn't complete. "Calum can paint this himself," he says, stretching backward.

Kalypso looks down at their progress. Hood is written in fancy cursive and half painted silver with black outlining. "What time is it?" She asks, throwing her paintbrush into a cup of water. The canvas Calum chose is bigger than the table and one of the most agitating, simple paintings Kalypsos ever made.

"It's quarter till nine,"

"Oh shit," Kalypso jumps up to look at her phone. "I was supposed to call Stella." She quickly dials up her sister.

Luke focuses on the painting instead of Stella Montgomery's voice. So sweet, so soft, so silky smooth and calming like lavender perfume she uses every day. Secretly, Luke missed Stella and everything about her; the way she smiles over the stupidest things, her singing voice, how she whispers his name right before falling asleep.

When Kalypso ends the call, he has to distract himself. Quickly, before he falls in love with teal blue bedroom walls and indie songs. "Are you going to Calum's bachelor party?"

"Isn't that for . . . Guys?"

"Yeah, but you're like, one of the guys so it counts."

"Is there a stripper?"

"It's just Cal, Mike, Ash, and a few other guys. If you want to strip-"

"-I'm good. No worries,"

"So do you want to go?" Luke asks again. He pounds the bristles of a cheap paint brush into the bottom of a plastic cup to remove silver paint. Pounding, pounding harder and harder until he's afraid of destroying the brush. "It's just a sit around and drink beer type of night,"

"Yeah, I guess," Kalypso starts typing. "Let me tell Stella."

The paint water is dark grey, diluted with tons and tons of silver and only a few bristles of black. How does Kalypso spend hours just painting? Luke's back feels terrible and they haven't cleaned up yet. She must be a trooper to be able to do this all day every day, he thinks.

"Ready?" Kalypso asks.

"Yeah,"

"Ashton, answer the door," Michael commands. His eyes are glued to the TV, trying to beat Luke at Mario Kart. There's no way he's going to lose.

"It's your house,"

"It's your weed,"

"He's two hours late, it's probably shit too. Answer your door,"

"Pussy," Michael murmurs. He pauses the game while Luke whines about stopping, and stands up. A door leads right into the basement of Michaels's house from the outside, which is lucky because even though Michaels's parents love her, it's easier for Ashton Montgomery to walk into the house that way.

Michaels's hand rests gracefully on the door handle. His heels rise to check the peephole to make sure it is Ashton Montgomery. Unlike all of his friends and everyone else in his grade, a ground-breaking growth spurt still hasn't happened. His right leg is a hair shorter than his left, so he's anticipating it soon.

Michael opens the door to warm air and the smell of honey and vanilla shampoo. His childhood best friend claps her right hand into his. They move into a Bro Hug and let go when she reaches for the baggie in her hoodie pocket with her left hand. The price falls from her lips.

“Got it,” Michael slips the money carefully into her hand. “Hangout for a few?”

Ashton Montgomery nods and walks into the pathway Michael has opened up. She finds a spot on the couch, opposite to the spot Ashton Irwin has taken over.

"So you're still talking shit on me, Irwin?" She asks, pulling her feet into the couch too so she can sit in the fetal position. Michael sits on the floor to play Mario Kart again but turns around to hand her a sugar cookie his mom had made. "My time is not good enough for you?" Her initials are frosted in blue on a white background.

"Wait, so you're the-"

"-plug? Yeah." She slips the corner of the square cookie into her mouth. It tastes delicious. "I heard you're trying to compete."

"I'm not trying to compete, I'm just-"

"Selling? I don't need helpers." Another piece into her mouth, but this time, it's a straight bite from the cookie. Ashton Irwin looks her over, remembering that she's Michaels friend. She's not some stranger Michael invited inside. His mom made her a cookie.

"Will you let me-" Ashton Irwin starts. Ashton Montgomery opens her mouth to interrupt, but a stern finger in her face shuts her up. "-talk. You can't take up the whole neighborhood. You're 14."

"Fifteen," She corrects. "I turned 15 three days ago."

"Yes, of course," He rolls his eyes. "15 and a drug dealer. How could I have thought any different?" Ashton Montgomery takes a larger bite of her cookie, trying to fit the rest into her mouth. A tiny corner remains. "Let me guess, your favorite alcohol is straight vodka, your favorite movie is American Pie, you overcharge on eighths, and you're the baby of your family.

Michael glances back at Ashton Montgomery to see what she has to say. She swallows hard and dusts her hands on her black sweatpants. She doesn't have to prove herself to someone that doesn't need an answer, but she's sassy.

"I'm the oldest, I don't drink, I don't overcharge, and my favorite movie is Cars,"

"Cars?" Ashton Irwin repeats back.

"Mack is under-appreciated and needs more love despite his mistakes. He didn't mean to leave McQueen behind. McQueen made him drive all night and-"

It was Ashton Irwin's turn to interrupt. "-I've never even seen Cars."

Ashton Montgomery takes her finger and points at him angrily. The rest of her cookie goes into her mouth with her other hand. "You're missing out." Her hands move to push back falling hairs from the messy bun underneath her hood.

"You only like Mack because your dad used to call you Mini Mack," Michael pauses the game of Mario Kart again to turn and face the Ashtons. Luke unpauses the game and waits for Michael to realize.

"Mini Mack?"

"My moms' name is Mackenzie-"

"-and she looks just like her. Mini Mackenzie," Michael finishes.

"Can we not talk about this?" Ashton Montgomery covers her face with her hoodie sleeves, wanting to just crawl into a hole and shy away from everyone.

"Is it like a sore subject of something?"

She jumps up from the couch. Sweaty palms dry themselves on her sweatpants. "We're oversharing." She shoves her hands into her pockets. "Don't get too close to your d*g dealer." She turns to leave.

"I'll walk you out," Ashton Irwin stands up off the couch too. Lucky for him, he's hit a growth spurt. He's taller than her by almost a foot. "Did you walk here?" Ashton Irwin is barefoot and not wanting to go far in pajama pants and a shirt.

"I live next door," He watches her piercing move as she sasses him. Just the smallest movement to the side. "I can walk myself home safely."

"I'm being gentleman-ly,"

"I'm being independent,"

"If you're going to be like that, then I'm just trying to ask for your phone number, Ashton,"

"Well you suck at it," Ashton Montgomery pulls her phone from her sweatpants pocket and smiles. A wad of twenties fell back into her pocket. "Here."

"I think this is the most confusing encounter we've had in a long time," Luke says, trying to figure out how to talk about the two without having to say full names. Ashton One and Ashton Two?

"Yeah," Ashton Montgomery accepts her phone back from him. He'd texted himself and inserted his last name into his contact information on her phone. "Still 'wanna walk me home?"

"Of course," he reaches his hand for hers.

Luke pops the top off a bottle of beer and hands it to Kalypso. She takes two large gulps from it and grimaces when she remembers she hates beer. It goes down sticky and leaves an aftertaste she's not fond of.

"Oh shit," Luke says after retiring into a lawn chair with his beer. "I forgot how much you hate beer." He takes a large drink to indulge in the tension.

"Bro, I could've told you that," Ashton laughs and sits across from Kalypso. There's a bonfire raging in between them, screaming in flames and burning sticks. Kalypso wants to jump into the fire so she can burn alive. She wants to disappear from Ashton's view.

Without thinking about the gross taste, the way it feels when it hits her stomach, the way too much too quickly twists her light-weight head. She downs the rest of it and throws the bottle into a bucket of glass far away. Ashton sassily looks away as if he were cursing Kalypso out in his mind and sips. He's not much of a drinker either.

Kalypso stands up from her chair and sets off to find Calum. If she can get away from Ashton, she'll be okay.

"Where are you going?" Like asks, getting ready to stand up too. Calum's backyard is spacious, equipped with a pool, a deck with a hot tub insert, and tons of play area for his dogs. Kalypso would be the one to get lost.

"I'm giving Calum his wedding present," Kalypso replies. The chairs they're gathered in aren't far from the door, tucked into a barren area you wouldn't see without a roaring fire, so if she turns the corner the spotlight should illuminate Calum. "Leave me alone."

She walks a few steps to the corner and notices everything. She's only walked from the laundry room door to the fire pit, instead of the glass door to the wholesome part. "Aye! Cal!" Kalypso calls to gather his attention to her.

The dark-haired man looks up from his phone, obviously distracted from walking to the fire. He waves her over with a smile. "'S up?"

She pulls her right hand out to clasp into his and he feels something burn into his palm. He pulls his hand away to examine what it is. Green nuggets inside of a baggie.

"No fucking way, 'Lypso," he grins wide and starts to open the baggie.

"Should be about five grams, maybe a bit more,"

"Oh my god I've never loved you more than I do right now," he pulls her into a close hug, pressing Kalypso uncomfortably into his chest. Calum hugs, as everyone calls them. He forgets about how small people can be, and sometimes just squishes them.

"Good to know that I'm only good for weed,"

"You're good for so much more than that," Calum rocks them both back and forth in the hug, wobbling on his feet. An extreme Calum Hug. "So much more."

"Like making Ashton Irwin uncomfortable,"

Calum squeezes tighter. Kalypso can barely breathe. "That's the highlight of my year, bitch. I've never seen one man so on edge by a tiny woman."

"Calum you're killing me,"

"Oh shit," Calum finally lets go. Kalypso's insides fall from their squeezed positions back to their regular programming. "weed mans still got weed, huh?"

"What type of person would I be if I didn't?"

Calum high fives her. Right hand to left. "Why do you always dap up with your right, but you're left-handed?"

Kalypso smiles. Calum surprisingly smells beer on her. "You see," she says, running and pulling him to the fire. "Because you're right-handed, and he's right-handed, and he's right-handed, and he's right-handed." She points one by one to Michael, Luke, and Ashton. "You just learn how to."

"I guess so," Calum answers. "So since you don't drink, you want something else? I can load a bowl if you want?"

"Sure," Kalypso smiles. She hasn't smoked with close friends in years. Before walking into their graduation, Kalypso, Michael, Luke, and Calum all smoked a joint in the parking lot. None of them remember graduating. That was the last time they all hung out.

"Ashton!" Mackenzie Montgomery yells when she enters their homey kitchen from the garage. Jasper and James, Ashton's twin little brothers, enter in behind her. "What's for di-" Mackenzie stops to survey the scene. Both Ashtons dressed in matching band shirts at the dining room table, enjoying some type of dinner. Two scented candles burn in between them. "I didn't realize you were having friends over. You're supposed to tell me."

Ashton Montgomery wipes her mouth with a paper towel. "You weren't answering your phone. I thought it would be okay." She picks up a shrimp from her bowl of Alfredo and pasta to put into Jasper's mouth.

"This is Iron Man," James holds up an action figure missing both legs. Ashton Irwin nods his head and takes another bite of pasta. "Who's your favorite superhero?"

"I'm sorry, I was just really busy," Mackenzie sighs. "Sorry for my disheveled state, sweetheart, I just got off the ICU floor so I'm done for." Mackenzie sets her belongings on the counter a few feet behind the wooden table. "Boys, leave Ashton and her friend alone for once please."

The twins are identical, including their need for glasses. Jasper's wispy brown hair falls in his face and into his black frame glasses while he munches on the shrimp his sister gave him. He's the so-called 'nicer' twin.

"You look like you like Superman," James tells Ashton Irwin. Ashton smiles at the young boy.

James is the outgoing of the two. He swoops his hair to the side to free up his tiny forehead, unlike Jasper. He's more sociable, open, and willing to meet new people. The Stella of the boys. He flirts, he makes friends with, and charms most girls he runs into. Including Calum's sister.

"Where's Stel?" Mackenzie asks, moving from the counter to the sink. "Ashton Kalypso, I'm going to beat you if you don't learn to put things into the dishwasher." She picks Tupperware the shrimp Alfredo had been in and rinses it out. The dishwasher opens, and clean dishes shine. "Ashton!"

Ashton Montgomery rolls her eyes and slides her food to Jasper. James steps away from Ashton Irwin to start eating out of his sisters' bowl. Neither of them uses a fork, causing Mackenzie to groan.

"It's not my fault when Stella doesn't empty the dishwasher," Ashton Montgomery sasses. The lip piercing moves with her lip, and every time it does, Ashton Irwin just wants to stare. Sass is her biggest quality, the thing she's the best at. "Like, ever!"

"She's twelve, give her a break,"

"She's actually thirteen, Mother, but if you say so,"

"Ashton Kalypso Montgomery, can you please not be so sassy all the time? Do you know how to be normal?" Mackenzie turns from the dishwasher and remembers that there's a guest in the house. "I promise I'm not bullying my child, I'm just joking around." She takes a deep breath. "I'm Mackenzie, Ash's mom, but Michael just calls me mom like every other damn person I run into."

"If you're hungry, help yourself, blah blah blah," Ashton Montgomery slumps back in her chair. "I already gave him the rundown."

"So if you make a mess?" Mackenzie asks.

"You clean it up," Ashton Irwin answers.

"Ah! I like you already!" Mackenzie says. She pulls her black hair from her face and into a ponytail. And Ashton Irwin can see the resemblance entirely. "I'm going to go get freshened up. Don't give the boys any dessert, please. And, oh! I never got your name."

Ashton Irwin stands up to shake Mackenzie's hand. She's taller than her daughter, but Ashton Montgomery is an exact carbon copy of her mother. "I'm Ashton." He holds his hand out.

Mackenzie takes it. "Ashton?" She looks at her flushed-faced daughter slumping further into her chair. Mackenzie's eyes go wide. "Oh! I've heard about you."

"Is it bad?"

"Not my place to tell,"

Ashton looks over at Ashton at the table. "Really, huh?"

Taking in a breath full of smoke from the end of a pipe, Kalypso leans backward in the lawn chair. Calum's got those expensive lawn chairs with cushions, and a fire pit built into a table. Kalypso's body is warm from the fire and the guys surrounding it. Calum to her left, Luke to her right, Michael on the other side of Luke, Ashton between him and Calum. Laid out in front of her, past Ashton's head, she can see the city she grew up in. Lights that never seem to turn off. Cars and people that will never know it's her sitting on top of the hill, her back facing an expensive house.

She lets go of the smoke in her lungs, a cloud falling from her mouth. So thick and warm it blends in with the smoke from the fire. Luke snaps his finger in her direction, garnering her attention from the pretty lights in front of her. She blows the remains of the smoke in his face, turning toward him. He's chewing on the edge of a cinnamon-flavored graham cracker.

"Truth or dare?" he nods his head toward her. He leans his head back to take the last of his graham cracker. Luke's hands rubbed themselves together to get rid of crumbs and he finally rests them in his lap.

"I'm twenty-three, Luke, not twelve," Kalypso answers. She's not interested in the game.

"Just pick,"

"Fine," she presses the opening of her pipe back to her mouth, ready to ignite her personal flames again. The fires of her drug reflect in the eyes of Ashton's, and he dreads the flick of her thumb on a blue lighter. "Truth."

"Wimp," Luke smiles at her and her lighter ignites. Ashton can't help but watch her, ignoring Michael and Calum's conversation. "Where do you work?"

She breathes in deeply and pulls away from the glass. "I paint custom canvases for people." She lets go of the smoke, turning her head to her right shoulder so she doesn't hit Luke in the face with it. "Follow me on Instagram, a-k-m-underscore-arts."

"Wait," Ashton pauses. He waves his hand in the air to cut her off. "I think I just ordered a canvas from you for Auzzie. Auzilynn, A-u-z-i-l-y-n-n,"

Of course, Kalypso thinks. "Yeah, I think you did," She doesn't want to talk to Ashton. She wants to forget he exists. Kalypso wants the broken gems inside of her to fuse back together, but she can't do that. She doesn't know why. "Uh . . . Mike, truth or dare?"

Michael glances at Kalypso. "Dare?"

Kalypso blinks quickly, forgetting the feeling of a spinning world from her low tolerance. Her eyes close for a few seconds when she balances herself and sets the pipe down on the table surrounding the fire. "Go jump in the pool fully clothed."

"Now you're the one acting twelve," Michael laughs. "But bet. It's hot out here anyway."

“Look at the moon," Ashton points a steady finger to the glowing globe in the sky, lighting their way down the bumpy sidewalks. Eventually, Ashton hopes he'll have a car, and when he and Kalypso hang out, they won't have to skate back to either house. "It's so pretty,"

"Not prettier than you," Kalypso blows a kiss toward him, just a few feet ahead. Her skateboard is smaller than his, but the bottom is scratched up and doesn't have as much paint as it used to. Emblems from Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Sublime, AC/DC, and Nirvana's smiley face were once painted over a pink sunset. Scratches from skatepark equipment are starting to fade the emblems.

Ashton catches the kiss in a hand and releases it to the sky until a horrific scream brings him back. Lying on the cement a few feet away from a crack in the cement, Kalypso's lying on the ground. Ashton stop's his skateboard and discards it in the grass. The moon illuminates her clear left cheek.

"Are you okay?" He slides to the ground next to her and grabs her left arm to shift her to her right side. Somewhat of a rash on her right cheek, her wrist cocked oddly, and she just giggles. "'Lypso, are you okay?"

She continues giggling, her chest bubbling from the ground and bouncing her curled hair. "It hurts like a bitch," Kalypso giggles when she's hurt, Ashton realizes. "You should kiss it and make it feel better." An odd coping mechanism, but at least she's not crying.

"Kiss what?"

"My broken fucking hand,"

Ashton presses his lips to her hand. Soft buttons of pink kiss lightly. "Better?"

"Oh second thought, I think I busted my lip open too," Kalypso smiles. Burning, stinging is flowing through her wrist and she winces when she tries to move her fingers. "It needs a kiss." It would be impossible to explain to Mackenzie, to tell her that Kalypso wrecked her skateboard and still manage to ride when she heals. Mackenzie will want to ban skateboards from Kalypso, Stella, and the boys.

Ashton doesn't think, he just does what she asked. As humans ruin everything they touch, Ashton and Kalypso ruin each other in ways that make growth. Like destroying the ground to plant a blooming tree or trimming long hair so it will grow longer and healthier. Ashton's lips ruin watermelon lip balm on Kalypso's, and Kalypso ruins Ashton's wonder of what it tasted like.

A fire ignited between the two, leaving them both breathless after a two-second kiss. Flowers grew from both of them, sprouting beautiful things. They can't believe themselves.

Ashton, the brunette boy that was a year older than everyone else in his grade, kissed the girl he thinks of first every morning until unconsciousness brings him to dreams of marriage and spending the rest of his life with her. The girl that smiles and makes him photograph the way butterflies land and stick to her hair, the way Ashton looks happiest on rainy days with clouds looming in the sky, and everything she never wants to forget.

"I win," Kalypso smiles, even though her entire body is shaking. Ashton sits up and wraps arms underneath her back and knees. Kalypso's pulled from the ground and she kicks until her feet are planted. "I bet Luke you'd do it tonight."

"Do what tonight?"

"Kiss me."

"So you're telling me you broke your hand intentionally,"

Kalypso sighs. "Nope," she looks at her already-swollen hand. It's terrifying. "Go hard or go home, right?"

"Truth or dare?" Michael laughs, his shirt gone, and hair wild. "Ashton." he sips a beer, feeling some type of buzz plaguing his mind.

"Truth," Ashton answers. He's holding his beer more than the rest of them. With Kalypso present, he physically cannot become intoxicated. He doesn't know how, but he knows that no matter what she's to be protected. After years of going out drinking with her in high school, he made sure she was safe before he was.

"C'mon man, all you pick is truth,"

"I don't want to go into the pool,"

Michael scoffs. "Fine. What happened two days before graduation, Irwin?"

Kalypso looks up from the ground. She can't breathe. The flowers inside of her started to choke her airways until she knew that Ashton was watching her. Act normal. Act normal. She pretends to be unbothered. Everyone can see through it.

"What happened?" She whispers and takes Luke's glass of whiskey. She drinks all of it at once and hands the ice back to his protesting whines. "I'd like to hear this."

"I didn't do anything, actually,"

"Really, because-"

"-I went to a party," Ashton leans forward to set his beer down. Elbows on knees, hands clasped together. "And I drank something that Sage had given me. I woke up three hours later to Luke screaming at me. Sage told him I cheated on you."

The first time he'd been able to say it directly, out loud, in the presence of anybody else. The first time Kalypso felt she could talk about it too.

"Really? I heard-"

"-Where's your fucking evidence, Ashton?"

Kalypso's eyes went wide. She hadn't been called that name in forever. Her family, her friends, everyone around her adjusted to her new name. She stands up from her chair. She no longer cares what happens, she no longer cares if she's ever around him again. "Where's your evidence that you didn't, Ashton?" The ache in her heart tells her that she still loves him as she did five years ago.

"Video evidence dating that the entire time I was asleep in my bedroom, she was at the diner on George Street telling everyone she was going to prank us with that,"

"Bullshit,"

"Why would I lie? Five years, five fucking years, 'Lypso! Why would I lie about that?"

Kalypso blinks hard, frustrated, and stares at Calum. "I'm going back to my hotel. I'll see you in the morning." She looks back at Ashton. "You can go fuck yourself."

"Eight, nine, ten, eleven-" A road of thunder interrupts Kalypso. Lightening lights the setting sky. "It's eleven miles away."

"Really? The radar says it's already storming," Ashton replies, smiling. Kalypso pushes his phone from his hands. Being overdramatic, Ashton falls from his side into a soft thump on his back. "Look, you're so rough you knocked me over!"

"Liar!" Kalypso giggles. Her right hand, jailed in a blue cast, clenches her blanket when she lightly pressed into his chest with her left. "I think you're perfectly fine."

After breaking her wrist, Mackenzie put her daughter on house arrest. Ashton, Michael, and any other friends can visit, but Kalypso can't go see them until she's healed.

"Dinner!" Mackenzie yells from the bottom of their carpeted stairwell. Kalypso stands up from the comfy bed and grabs her phone off the charger.

When Kalypso was old enough to decorate her own bedroom, she took advantage of the design. She was given two closets, one with sliding doors, and one that has a single door leading to a room of shelves. Years prior her uncle helped her remove the sliding doors and shove her full-sized mattress into the space. Pillows along the back of the closet, where the widest part of her bed is. She has a perfect view of her TV and the windows.

"Ashton, dinner," Kalypso laughs. Her hand ruffles his messy curls and giggles at his bandana choice. The same color as her hair- cherry red. "C'mon, I'm hungry!"

"You're going to have to force me, Hungry, I'm comfy,"

"Oh yeah?" Off of her nightstand, she grabs a disposable camera and snaps a photo of Ashton, his stubborn self, and all of his glory. "One day, we're going to be twenty-something, and you're going to look at these photos and say 'thank goodness I'm not that stubborn anymore'."

"And you're going to wonder why you have always been dramatic and use disposable cameras."

"It's easier to print and hang up,"

"I think you're a little bit obsessed with my face," Ashton points to the wall surrounding the bed. Photos of Ashton and Kalypso, some with Michael and the guys, or Stella and Kalypso the few times they've gotten along. She changes the switch of her fairy lights to illuminate the area. She never needed an overhead light with floor-to-ceiling windows scattered around.

"I am not!" Kalypso smiles. Her hair is messy, wavy, and poofy in different directions. She tucks as much as she can behind her ear. Ashton grabs the camera to snap a photo of her reaching for him. "Please! I'm hungry!"

"What'd your mom make for dinner?"

"Grilled salmon,"

"You hate fish,"

"But you don't!" She tugs harder on his hand. "I'm hungry!"

"What are you going to eat?"

"Grandma is making Jasper and I chicken strips," Calypso falls backward onto her hardwood floor when Ashton stands up. He catches her when her butt grazes the ground and pulls her into him. "C'mon!"

"So you get chicken strips and I get fish?"

"Yes!" Kalypso continues pulling Ashton out of her room, down the stairs. Stella and the boys have already made it to the bottom. "It's your favorite. Last night we had my favorite, and tomorrow we get James' favorite."

"You just had to include me, huh?" Ashton asks while he descends from the top floor. Kalypso's two stairs ahead of him.

She shakes her head. "Actually, I requested shrimp alfredo for dinner but no. Mom wanted me to have something you like," She lies.

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh!" They end up at the bottom of the stairs and round the left corner to the kitchen. "You're here every day. Might as well include you."

James groans, looking at his sisters' boyfriend. "Do you ever go home?" With Ashton in the picture, James didn't get to spend as much time with Kalypso.

"James Samuel!" Mackenzie calls. "That's not very nice."

Pre-Ashton, James, and Jasper could fall asleep in Calypso's bed with her. When Ashton and Kalypso started dating, Ashton started sticking around until she falls asleep and goes home when he knows she is officially out for the night. The times Ashton stays with the guys, he calls her to talk when she feels drowsy. It's their routine.

Mackenzie sets a tray of chicken strips on the table for the non-fish-liking children. "Ash, can you- My Ashton," She smiles, uncomfortable. "Ashton Kalypso, can you get the tea from the outside fridge?"

"I vow we call her 'Lypso!" Jasper says, already stealing chicken strips. His dark hair falls over his auburn eyes.

"No!" James answers. "Ashton One and Ashton Two."

"Or," Kalypso holds a finger in the air. "Ditch Ashton entirely and become Fletcher and Kalypso." Ashton gives her a side-eye glare. "What?"

"I'm not going by Fletcher,"

"Noob,"

"Kalypso, tea!" Mackenzie demands and points to the garage door. Kalypso disappears inside.

"We should just sell Ashton Kalypso on eBay!"

"James, we aren't selling your sister," Mackenzie shakes her head. She sits on the first chair to the right, and across from Jasper. Ashton and Kalypso always sit next to each other on the other side of the boys.

"But she's a girl," He grimaces. "And she talks a lot now."

"I would rather her talk a lot than be silent again," Mackenzie says. "Ashton, you're a real blessing to her. You have no idea."

"What do you mean?"

"Until last year she never really talked to anyone but Michael and Stella," Mackenzie starts. Ashton couldn't believe that at one point, Kalypso was so shy she couldn't talk. "I swear she talked for an hour straight the day she met you."

"Mom," Kalypso groans, closing the garage door behind her. A pitcher of sun tea half mixed with lemonade in her hands. The only thing the boys will drink besides soda. "There are some things you don't have to share."

Three shots down, as many as it takes to go. Kalypso, even hating alcohol, wants to forget his name. She wants to forget that he exists in the real world and that he's so close, but so far away. All she can do is scream his name and wonder why she wasn't good enough. They were too young to know about love, and if they weren't they were too dumb to think that it could last forever.

Kalypso forgot the massive bar and hangout area Michael had in his basement. When the five, and sometimes Stella, became known and interested in alcohol, Michael's was the house to get it from. Easy access, nobody realized anything was touched. Either there, or stealing food from Kalypso's refrigerator, you could find any of them.

Luke sets down a box in front of her at the bar. "Ashton says this is for you." He slides it closer to her. Her palm stops it.

She doesn't want anything to do with Ashton. His stupid box, his stupid face, his stupid mistakes. She was rejecting his presence and everything that comes with it. "Shove it up his ass" She put another shot into her mouth and swallowed. Four in. So many more to go.

"Kal, can you please just take it?"

She slams her glass down onto the marble counter. "What's in it?" If it's stupid, there was no point in opening it.

"No idea,"

Kalypso tucks her pink thumbnail at the paper tape. She is just a slice, just barely a poke, away from whatever Ashton is up to.

"Probably just giving things back,"

"Five years later?"

"You never know." Luke grabs a knife from the other side of the bar and slices the top open quickly. Flaps fly open, revealing several things inside. Michael adjusts off a barstool to get a closer look.

Papers, indented and worn by ballpoint pens of all colors. Stuffed animals, jewelry, familiar things Ashton has given to Kalypso and she returned. Off the top, Luke lays a stuffed stingray on the bar. Kalypso loved that stingray, named it Dionysius, and kept it amongst her pillows for years.

A necklace with Ashton engraved in a silver plate, two stuffed bears his mom had made, and rocks they'd painted together. Movie ticket stubs from every date, and the millions of photos they'd taken together. She glued them to the inside when she gave him the brown box. She gave him the box that way and he never changed it. Maybe they weren't too naive to know what love is.

"Look," Michael says and grabs a photo from the box, pulling it off easily. "You were so small." He gives it to Kalypso to see.

Wide-eyed, a mouth full of braces, and wearing Ashton's clothes, Kalypso was sitting in Ashton's lap. Her hand blocking most of her face, leaving only Ashton and a thirteen-year-old Luke to be seen. Her hand was in a cast-- the photo was from when they first started dating.

Kalypso grabs another photo from the box. Sitting in the front, she was the smallest and not looking in the mirror like everyone else was. Kalypso's bedroom-- her mirror covered in plastic flowers, the boys and Stella posing with her. Calum to her left, Stella to her right, Ashton behind her, Luke behind Calum, Michael behind Stella. Stella had taken the photo. Kalypso was at least seventeen.

On the bottom of the box was a photo printed on regular printer paper of the fire she used to engulf his belongings. A jersey she had with IRWIN on the back for all of his football games, his clothes, and the rest of their photos.

"He kept this for five years?" She shakes her head. "Now, who can't get over who?"

Luke reads a paper in the box. "You should look at this." A giant blue #1 shone at the top of it.

' 'Lypso, I tried to talk to you and your mom yesterday to explain what happened and the whole story. You wouldn't give me the time of day. I wouldn't either, to be honest. '

She reads it aloud. The letter continues, explaining the box. Everything inside was the same and he didn't want it. Another paper, labeled #2, had a list.

1.I've written coordinates down. These are all the places where I knew I couldn't live without you. Something significant happened at each one and I remember them all perfectly. Plug it into google and remember, for me.

2. You can go there. If you want to pretend you're in a fanfiction of a young adult movie where we'll end up together. If you do, I have something there to remind you of it all.

3. You don't have to forgive me or take me back. I just want you to know how much I still love you.

4. They're not in order.

Coordinates:

"Either of you have Google Earth?" Kalypso asks. Luke pulls his phone out. She enters the first set and waits. "Literally we're right here." Kalypso looks for answers in the men.

"How about you go look in the downstairs living room," Luke hints. "That's where-"

"-That's where he asked for my number,"

"And you still have an interrupting problem."

Kalypso rolls her eyes, but can't seem to get downstairs fast enough. A photo is waiting for her where Ashton sat that night. She grabs the paper; it has something else to say.

"I'm the oldest, I don't drink, I don't overcharge, and my favorite movie is Cars." "Cars?" "Mack is under-appreciated and deserves more love despite his mistakes,"

I swear that was the most eye-opening and Kalypso thing I'd heard, Mini Mack

"I remember that night," Kalypso can see it.

"15 and a drug dealer. How could I have thought any different?" Ashton Montgomery takes a larger bite of her cookie, trying to fit the rest into her mouth. A tiny corner remains. "Let me guess, your favorite alcohol is straight vodka, your favorite movie is American Pie, you overcharge on eighths, and you're the baby of your family."

"First night Ashton had bought from me personally," Kalypso felt the warmth through her entire body. Ashton remembered.

"I'm the oldest, I don't drink, I don't overcharge, and my favorite movie is Cars,"

"Cars?" Ashton Irwin repeats back.

"Mack is under-appreciated and needs more love despite his mistakes. He didn't mean to leave McQueen behind. McQueen made him drive all night and-"

It was Ashton Irwin's turn to interrupt. "-I've never even seen Cars."

He remembered one of the most insignificant things about her.

"You only like Mack because your dad used to call you Mini Mack," Michael pauses the game of Mario Kart again to turn and face the Ashtons. Luke unpauses the game and waits for Michael to realize.

"Mini Mack?"

"My moms' name is Mackenzie-"

"-and she looks just like her. Mini Mackenzie," Michael finishes.

The next coordinate was where she wrecked her skateboard. Taped to a broken stick is a photo of Kalypso laying on Ashton's bed with him. It was a few days after when everyone finally caught up with decorating her cast, and Mackenzie didn't realize Kalypso had left the house. She wore a white tank top, one strap falling off her arm. Right hand bandaged up, lays in Ashton's next to her. Kalypso was surprised by the camera Ashton's sister randomly ran up to them with. She caught a photo while standing on top of Ashton's bed.

"You should kiss it and make it feel better."

She still has the scar from the wreck on her wrist. A reminder of that night for the rest of her life. The feeling of Ashton's lips on hers. Warm cement painful under her palms.

"Kiss what?"

"My broken fucking hand,"

Ashton presses his lips to her hand. Soft buttons of pink kiss lightly. "Better?"

"Oh second thought, I think I busted my lip open too," Kalypso smiles. Burning, stinging is flowing through her wrist and she winces when she tries to move her fingers. "It needs a kiss."

He remembered eating dinner at Kalypso's house every night for eight weeks straight. The day her cast was removed, they went on their first date.

Makenzie made them do an uncomfortable photoshoot before their showing of Cars. A dress, a bowtie that clipped on, and uncomfortable shoes. Teaching Kalypso how to drive, laughing when she screamed while merging on the freeway. Video games, arcades, records. Their one-year dinner catered by Michael and Calum, listening to 2000s rap the whole time. Kalypso surprised Ashton with the jersey. One time Kalypso fell asleep on Ashton at Michael's house. Kalypso showing off her license when she got the guts to get it. A bonfire at the beach for Ashton's birthday, even though they couldn't swim.

They stargazed every night of the summer until the sun rose or sleep overcame them. Where they met for a concert, where Ashton parked his car at a drive-in date, Ashton getting a bunch of a facemask mixture stuck in his curls.

Their last year together. Driving around for hours on end, listening to AC/DC, and laughing. They always bought slushies beforehand. An entire day on a boat in the lake. Bikinis, tanning lotion, and seven of Kalypso's cousins. All he could see was her. Kalypso got her first tattoo at 18-- a dinosaur encased in a glass jar. A 50s themed Disney Movie marathon Luke, Calum, and Stella helped Ashton plan. The day before they broke up.

The day before they broke up.

'I'll always love you. -Ashton'

She drops the last thing into the box. Does Ashton still love her? Impossible to think about. He has a daughter, probably a girlfriend, probably an entire life she would be imploding on. She puts the box in front of her waist. Kalypso feels bare and like nothing before. "Can you take me to the hotel?" Ashton knew Kalypso better than he knew himself.

Luke nods his head and motions for her to walk with him to Michael's car. On the back window, there's a penis drawn in the dirt.

It's easier for Kalypso to be in the dark, wiping falling tears like nothing. Headlights illuminating the road, not her. Luke pats her hand on the armrest. She was once hard, a badass around everyone but Ashton, and now the only scary part about her is her quick wit.

Stella set up the hotel room. Toiletries in the bathroom, pajamas on the bed. The sisters decided to share a suitcase for their two-day trip. They'll fly back tomorrow night-- they'll go back to their apartments after picking Magik up from Jaspers, and Kalypso will spend all night trying to catch up on painting orders.

"What's that?" Stella asks, folding a shirt over her hands. She's getting ready for a shower. Instead of replying, Kalypso sets the box on Stella's bed. Her legs buckle underneath and her sister has to catch her before she shatters into the carpet.

Muttered words. Teas. Stella opens the overly stuffed box that they couldn't close. She is amazed, reading everything Ashton had to say about Kalypso. The photographs, the concert tickets to Blink-182 and some country singers. A stapled-together packet of Kalypso's favorite of everything. Songs, movies, food, drinks, even her favorite names. The joke she always made about naming their kids Asher and Ashley. Her favorite colors and the book she constantly read over and over again and became surprised at the outcome every time.

Ashton knew everything about her when they dated. Things she never realized herself. She knew him as he knew her. The day before graduation, though, he had made his decision.

Kalypso applied a white shimmer to her tear ducts. Dabbing opposite of a red smokey eye. Practicing her graduation makeup one last time and trying to get Ashton's opinion about it.

"How many of my bandanas are you going to steal?" Ashton asks, throwing another bandana toward his girlfriend. She wipes the glitter off her middle finger onto her blue jeans.

"We both can wear one," She folds the bandana up into a strap and hands it back to Ashton. "Put it on. You'd look cute."

"Cute? I'm supposed to be intimidating." Ashton giggles, but reluctantly folds the strip over his forehead and ties it at the base of his neck. "Now we look alike."

"Is that a bad thing?" Kalypso asks.

"Nope," Ashton stands up from Kalypso's bed to stand behind her. All he can think about is how much he loves her, how beautiful she always has been. Freshly dyed, cherry red hair chopped at her shoulders, curly from braids. "Are we still going to the beach after graduation?" She had tied a bandana in her hair to hold her hair back too. Black and white, like Ashton's.

"Yeah, but after the graduation party,"

Ashton grimaces. He has a surprise for her at the beach. A stupid party will get in the way.

"C'mon, Ash, your mom is throwing it for all of us,"

"She's such a cock block,"

"Ashton!"

"I'm kidding," Ashton giggles again.

"Now, what do you think of this look?"

"I think that you look beautiful no matter what," Ashton smiles. Her lipstick matches her hair and looks like it would stain his lips. "With or without makeup."

Calypso sighs. "You always say that," She grabs her phone from the floor. A text to Stella asking where she is.

"And?"

"You have to say that,"

If Ashton never said it, he'd be a liar. She is his princess, more goddess-like than anyone had ever seen. "Do you want me to tell you if you look ugly."

"Yes,"

"If I only ever told you when you looked ugly, I'd be mute,"

Kalypso rolls her eyes. "Of course you would say that."

Ashton's head reaches over her right shoulder to press a kiss on her cheek. "You look like the moon and every star in the galaxy."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I can spend three summers straight watching you every time you're around and still get excited for the next one,"

Kalypso blushes. "You're so cheesy."

"I know," A ding from his phone distracts Ashton from his girlfriend. "Luke wants to know if he can come back with Stella."

"Sure,"

Ashton types quickly. The text sends. Luke's on his way with Stella. "Are you excited to be done with school?"

"Yes," Kalypso smiles. Braces removed, teeth are pearly white and straight. "We can hang out so much more than before. We don't have to worry about curfews or my brothers."

"Still dreaming about an apartment with a clawfoot bathtub and large windows everywhere?"

"With high ceilings and at least one cat? Of course,"

"We'll move to Melbourn and live happily ever after,"

"Melbourn? You've never said anything about Melbourn before?"

"I may be trying to pull a few strings,"

"Ash!" Kalypso gasps.

"I wasn't sure if you'd want to go or-"

"-Stella entering the room! Please redress!" Stella announces, pushing Kalypso's bedroom door open. "What's the tea?"

"We'll talk about this later, okay?" Kalypso assures.

"Of course," Ashton hopes she's okay with it.

"He tried so hard on all of this, oh my, . . . wow," Stella's still pulling things from the box, looking over everything included. Her finger catches on a CD. "What's on this?" Kalypso has no clue but grabs her laptop out of her suitcase.

Her finger shakily presses play and a screen of dark lighting and an ugly girl sitting in a diner booth shows up. It's Sage.

Long, black hair pulled into an overly large messy bun that outweighed her entire head. A square-shaped face and a pig nose permanently turned upward.

Sage shoves a french fry into her mouth while smiling. The person behind the camera asks what Sage was so happy about. She shoves another fry into her mouth. "I came up with a genius idea. Prank the high school sweethearts. There's no way that shit can last forever."

"How'd you do it?" A boy sitting next to her asks.

"I put Nyquil in Ashton's drinks. Knocked him out cold. I'll tell him that he got super drunk and we had sex. The worst thing that'll happen is they'll break up." Sage giggles, covering her mouth. Her fingers are manicured with long acrylics and red nail polish. "I have to show this to like Stella or something so Kalypso isn't that depressed."

"Don't you want them to break up so you can date Ashton though?"

"Ew!" Sage shoves her friend next to her. "I could never. Not into weirdos."

Stella pulls her sister into her arms. The biggest hug she could offer to her best friend. Kalypso partly crawls into her lap, feeling like shit.

"I'm an idiot,"

"You didn't know,"

"Did you ever see this?"

"Not once. I haven't even talked to her since I was like sixteen,"

"I should've believed him." He probably has a wife, another kid on the way, a whole life with no room for Kalypso.

Stella grabs the box and turns it upside down. "He kept all of this for so long." All of the contents spill out onto the floor. "What's that?" She points to a tiny velvet box on the carpet. It only reminds Kalypso of one thing.

"No way," Stella passes the box to Kalypso. "Is this-" She cracks the box open and a gold ring with two silver diamonds on top stares at her. "Oh my God."

Stella picks up the ring. "I . . . I remember this. You and I have the same sized fingers so he made me go with him while you were at work one day,"

"You knew?" Tingles flow through Kalypso's body.

"He was going to propose on the beach. After you graduated. He was trying so hard to get his mom to cancel the party so you'd make it for the sunset."

Kalypso cries even harder, thinking about her past.

Kalypso ducks her head underneath the water of her hotel bathtub. Chocolate brown locks billow around her like she's some magical creature or a mermaid. She remembers when she was younger and would've stained the bathtub with different hair dye concoctions. The happiest moments in her life included colored hair -- and Ashton. Chocolate brown, like a symbolistic feature telling her she's not living to her fullest potential.

Her Last dye was that cherry red before graduation. Ashton brought out everything she loved about herself. Quickly, she resurfaced, gasping for breath. She couldn't live without Ashton. Stella threw her clean clothes and watched her run to the passenger door of Michael's car. They sped off, driving way faster than they should have.

Michael stopped in front of Ashton's moms' house, watching Kalypso knock on Ashton's door. Her hair is still dripping wet and staining the back of her shirt. Michael's anticipating someone answering the door. It's just Ashton, Auzilynn, and his mom. Someone will answer that knows Kalypso.

Ashton's the one to open the door. He can't even speak before her.

"You say you fell in love with me in the basement and you remembered that I'm Mini Mack. You stayed with me for eight weeks from the time school got out until I fell asleep when I broke my hand. You set up dates for me and you with Michael, Luke, Calum, or Stella creating stupid pasta dishes with mystery meat because we never had money because we were teenagers. You taught me how to drive. You put up with my constant pictures and annoying comments.

You spent summers with me on a trampoline looking at the sky because I told you that seeing the stars made me happy. You gave me one of your football jerseys when you would wear the other so we would match. You called me beautiful all the time, every single day, and never once let me forget it. You made me feel emotions I didn't know I had. I drowned in you, but yet," Kalypso finally looks up from the ground to lock eyes with Ashton. Her blue orbs lock with brown ones. "I believed someone with a fake tan and an ugly nose over you."

"It was because everyone else did," Ashton says. He's stone-faced, afraid that if he shows emotion he'll crumble. She's his drug, even after five years of straight hatred. "Luke, Michael, Calum, Stella," He looks away. Ashton can't stand to look at her anymore without turning into the high school boy in love with her. He spent five angry years going to sleep without knowing she was safe and secure with a pillow, a blanket, and that stupid stingray. "They all believed her because I couldn't remember."

"Yeah, but I should've trusted you," Kalypso starts tearing up. Her voice can paint pictures of nature scenes you only see in dreams, but her tears could destroy villages and towns. Ashton holds a hand out to her, wanting to bring her inside. "I was so stupid."

"You didn't know," Kalypso takes his hand for the warmth of a home again. One she spent a lot of time during her adolescence. The carpet is still warm and white, the couch with a strain on the armrest from when Ashton spilled something on it. His bedroom upstairs, where they made out one too many times. Her home away from home.

"You wanted to go to the beach," Kalypso whispers. "You . . . you wanted to go to the beach, and right before, I ruined it. I ruined it all. And now you have Auzzie and a maybe wife and I'm never going to be worth anything in your life but just right now I want you to consider, do you still love me? Right here, right now, that's all I need to know and I'll leave you alone."

Ashton pulls Kalypso close to his body for a hug. He smells the same, feels the same, and radiates the same energy he had for several years. "Ashton Kalypso," Ashton softly smiles, trying to lighten the mood. "You overthink way too much."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I could never stop loving you,"

33 notes · View notes

talkfastromance4 · 5 years ago

Text

For Your Eyes Only--bodyguard!ashton [Chapter Five]

Summary: Ashton Irwin is the head of security for Princess Alouette who is a kind, gentle young woman. Secretly pining for one another, those feelings will soon come to light as an occurrence will change Alouette’s life forever, and Ashton’s.

Word count: 2,822

Warnings: violence, trauma, injury

Author’s note: This is my first time writing any sort of “action” scene, I hope it’s okay! Sort of pulled the ideas from criminal minds lol and Dr. Hunt is based on Owen Hunt from Grey’s Anatomy (he’s my favorite) This story is near and dear to my heart, please give it a chance!❤❤❤❤

Masterlist

Chap. 1 || Chap. 2 || Chap. 3 || Chap. 4

It’s been four days that Ashton, Michael and Calum have been following the trail that was of their Princess. As soon as they reach the destination, she’s gone. It’s like chasing smoke. Ashton makes sure to keep his anger in check and to keep finding Princess Alouette on the forefront of his mind.

The nation has turned into an uproar over the kidnapping of their Princess with radical protests and posts on social media to kill whoever took her. It’s been broadcasted all over the world with live footage of her palace being spread for all to see. It aggravates Ashton that reporters are there but his main concern is finding Alouette and bringing her home.

He’s lost so many hours of sleep that he’s pretty sure his blood has turned into caffeine considering how many cups of coffee he’s gone through. Michael is doing his absolute best hacking to try and pinpoint who has taken her and where they have her. His fingers tap away quickly on his laptop, tongue between his teeth as his eyes scan the map before him.

Luke is back at the embassy trying to get information out of their detainee, his arm is in a sling from his bullet wound.

“He’s still not talking,” Luke sighs over the phone on day five of her missing.

Ashton is pacing outside their black van which has become their new home and stakeout, Calum is sitting on the bumper with a cigarette in his mouth. Ashton almost wants to bum one off him but knows it will only make his head fuzzy.

“Mikey beat him up pretty bad, huh?” Ashton asks exhaling through his nose.

“I don’t blame him, the Princess is like his sister after all,” Luke reminds Ashton.

Ashton almost forgot how close Michael and Alouette were. Michael’s father was head of security for Alouette when she was younger so Michael was always around and they played together. As he got older and more into computers, he decided he wanted to get on her security team once his father retired. They had a close bond and Ashton always revered Michael’s ability to keep the line between friendship and professionalism clear.

“Yeah, I know,” Ashton mutters. He rubs his face with his hand. “Just . . . try and get what they want her for. Money? An exchange of goods or trade? You can do this, Luke. You’re the best interrogator on the team.”

“Thanks boss, I’ll try my best. How’re you holding up?”

“Not—“

“I’VE GOT HER!” Michael shouts.

Ashton and Calum exchange a quick look before jumping into the van standing behind Michael. They both lean over his shoulder staring at the screen as a small red circle blips with concentric red circles surrounding it.

“Are you sure?”

“Where is this?”

“I’m sure, the time stamp was from two hours ago, it must have just gotten into range of a tower right now,” Michael explains. “But if it’s from two hours ago then I think they’re still there.”

“You’re a genius, Mikey,” Ashton claps him on the back then turns to Calum, “Get weapons ready and phone for backup. Chester is on call and will be here in seconds flat. Michael, keep your eye on it and put the coordinates in our phones and the car’s GPS.”

“On it,” Michael says then knocks on the window where Cassian, the driver is. “We’ve got her, Cass but we have to move fast.”

“Send me the coordinates,” Luke says.

“No,” Ashton tells him grabbing his pistol and ammo. “You keep him talking, get his name, get any info you can so he doesn’t know we’ve found her.”

“But I—“

“You’re still injured Luke, this is your area and you can get him to talk. I know you can. We’ll send word once we’ve got her.”

•••

The coordinates have lead them to an abandoned warehouse with busted windows and broken bricks. Chester and the others arrive shortly after them and Ashton turns on all their ear pieces.

“Any insight on her exact location, sir?” Chester asks Ashton while everyone is double checking bullet vests and their weapons.

“I’ve hacked into their cameras and it looks like she’s down below in a basement,” Michael answers pointing to one of the twelve video screens on his monitor. “I can’t see her but there’s guards everywhere. I’ll let you know where and when they’re coming.”

“We’ve got to move fast, gentleman,” Ashton announces. “Let’s go. Cal, you’re with me. Chester, you and your men follow behind and our main goal is to retrieve Princess Alouette. If casualties happen, so be it.”

•••

Ashton has already knocked everyone out upstairs, Chester was behind him taking out other men who followed. There were plenty more on the floor but he and Calum sneak away through gunfire to the basement. The door was guarded by four men who Calum and Ashton took out easily.

They were only knocked out and Calum took zip ties from his pocket.

“Anymore, Mike?” Ashton asks quietly.

“No, you got them all. Chester and his crew are still taking everyone else down but I don’t see more approaching,” Michael responds.

Calum is working on cuffing the three they took out while Ashton busts through the door and sees Alouette sitting in the center of the room under a dimly lit light. She’s bound to the chair from her shoulders all the way down to her feet. He approaches her quietly so as not to startle her, but his heart is pounding in his ears with each step.

Her beautiful dress is in shreds, revealing more of her skin then Ashton liked. Bruises colored her skin, from her collarbones down to her ankles. Her head lolls from side to side, eyes closed as Ashton approaches her. She’s moaning quietly in pain when he kneels in front of her.

“My lady,” he calls to her softly.

She whimpers and flinches instinctively away from his voice, not even bothering to open her eyes. Her makeup is smeared and her lip is swollen with a cut. Blood, dried and new, paints her face.

“No more, please, no more,” she cries and Ashton’s heart breaks.

He knows not to touch her yet until her eyes are opened, otherwise she might think he’s one of her captors. He has to earn her trust back in this moment.

“It’s me, Ashton. No one is going to hurt you anymore, Princess. Open your eyes for me, Alouette.”

Her eyes flutter open at the sound of her name, she zeroes in on Ashton then wails trying to get to him. He holds onto her shoulders gently so she doesn’t hurt herself or fall over.

“Shh, shh, I’ve got you, angel, I’m right here, I’m here,” he hushes quickly holding her face gently in his hands. “I’ve got a knife that I’m going to use to untie you, okay?”

She nods rigidly, her tears flowing freely down her cheeks mixing with her blood and the dirt. He slides open his knife then swipes at the ropes binding her. Her skin is raw and red from the burn of the rope; she must have put up quite a fight. Then he cuts the ropes by her ankles and she collapses into him, her body racks with sobs.

“You’re safe now,” he tells her, his voice shaking as he holds her tightly. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

She just cries more then begins to cough harshly until she pulls away and throws up next to him. He rubs her back, taking note how little clothing she has on now from all the rips and tears. She’s practically naked before him and it makes his blood boil.

The smooth skin of her back is replaced with burn marks, cuts, and bruises. Bile rises in his throat not even wanting to think of what they did to her. He wants to kill each and every one. He pulls off his suit jacket helping her slip her arms through the sleeves then lifts her gently into his arms.

She buries her face into his neck, her whole body is trembling as he ascends the stairs to where Calum is.

“Oh thank God,” Calum sighs “She’s not—“

“She’s alive,” Ashton nods, “but she’s weak and injured. Mike, can you call the jet and her doctor? We’re going home.”

Ashton clambers into the black van telling Cassian where to go while he holds Alouette in his lap. She’s whimpering against him, her nails holding tightly onto his shirt. Her small frame is still shaking uncontrollably and she’s forcing her eyes to stay open.

“You don’t have to stay awake. We’re going home, I’ve called Dr. Hunt and he’ll treat you on the plane.”

“If I close my eyes I’ll see them,” she shakes her head, her voice barely a whisper, “I want to see you.”

He notices her voice cracks and disappears on the vowels. She’s probably losing her voice from screaming—Ashton stops the thought immediately.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he vows holding her tighter. He kisses her forehead.

•••

They’re all on the jet flying back to the palace. Michael and Calum are sitting up front but their eyes are glued on their Princess. Dr. Hunt examines the wounds he can see but before he goes further he glances at Ashton before turning to Alouette.

“Your highness, were you sexually assaulted by any of your captors?” he asks quietly continuing to inspect her injuries.

Ashton stops breathing, his heart pounds in his ears and his fists clench at his side.

“No,” she barely whispers. It’s a whisper of a whisper and both Ashton and Dr. Hunt lean in closer.

“Are you sure? I need to make sure I’m helping you exactly the way you need to be treated.”

“They didn’t. They . . . they touched me but that’s all,” she murmurs and reaches for Ashton who takes her hand immediately.

He’s bouncing his leg anxiously, he hates seeing her this way. Dr. Hunt nods.

“All right. Let’s get you cleaned up, if anything hurts too much let me know right away,” he tells her.

“Calum, arrange for the cars and alert the palace we’re on our way,” Ashton tells Calum, “You’re in charge until I say otherwise.”

“You got it, boss,” Calum nods pulling out his phone.

Michael is still staring, his face pale.

“Ash . . .”

“I’m here, sweetheart,” he assures moving closer to her head. He rubs her hair looking down into her eyes through the bruises.

“Don’t leave me,” she pleads. Her eyes pool with tears, her lower lip trembles.

“Never,” he shakes his head.

Dr. Hunt works silently but efficiently. Alouette has her eyes closed the whole time and Ashton’s gaze remains on her face. He combs his fingers through her hair carefully, talking softly in her ear about seeing her dogs soon and lying in bed.

“I’m going to connect her to fluids, she’s extremely dehydrated. I’ll make sure she’s set up in her bedroom and start off with soup at first to get her strength up,” Dr. Hunt says while he’s cleaning up gauze and towels.

She’s stitched up and, for the most part, clean from the dirt. He’ll make sure Rosa cleans her up properly once they’re in the palace.

“Thank you.”

“I find it hard to believe that none of them . . . assaulted her since she was with them for five days,” Dr. Hunt says. “She probably felt uncomfortable with the both of us.”

“She’s very comfortable with me, but I’ll ask again or have one of her maids in waiting ask just to be sure.”

•••

Calum and Michael want to stay with the Princess while Dr. Hunt sets up her IV’s. But Ashton tells them to go get some rest and keep Luke informed. Rosa is currently giving her a quick sponge bath in the bathroom and the three men are outside her door.

“I’ll keep you updated, I promise,” Ashton tells them. “She needs her rest. We all do.”

“You call us as soon as she’s strong enough,” Michael says with conviction.

“I will. Now, go get rid of the reporters, make a quick statement without giving too much away. Just tell them she’s home and she’s recovering,” Ashton commands.

“You get some rest, too, Ash,” Calum tells him quietly before leaving with Michael who is still grumbling.

Ashton enters her room just as Rosa and Alouette exit the bathroom. Alouette reaches for him and he runs to her aid immediately helping her into her bed. She’s wearing a large purple t-shirt nightgown, her hair is wet behind her back.

Rosa heads back into the bathroom and comes out with a bundle of Alouette’s tattered clothes then leaves the room.

“I’m going to give you a small sedative just to help you sleep, your highness,” Dr. Hunt informs her as he sticks the IV in her. “Once that is in your bloodstream you’ll be filled with fluids to hydrate you. I’ll be back in twenty-four hours to check on you.”

“Yes, thank you, Dr. Hunt,” Alouette smiles as warmly as she can then grimaces when it pulls at the stitches on her face.

“Take it easy, don’t strain yourself,” he stands up touching her shoulder gently.

“Okay,” she nods scurrying beneath the blankets a bit more.

“I’ll walk you out, Dr. Hunt,” Ashton says heading to the door of her room. “Thank you so much for everything.”

“Of course, anything for Princess Alouette,” he nods then turns to Ashton before leaving, “you take it easy as well Mr. Irwin. I know how tirelessly you worked to find her, make sure to get some rest and don’t beat yourself up for her being taken in the first place.”

“Right,” Ashton clears his throat. “I’ll try not to, but she’s my first priority.”

“I know, she’s lucky to have you. Call me if you need anything. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Ashton closes the door rubbing his fingers on the gold handle before facing Alouette. She rolls her head to look at him, his breath hitches at the sight of her. She takes his breath away daily but how she looks now tears at his heart which he’s sure she can hear because it’s beating so loud.

“Hi,” she says gently.

“Hi, my lady,” he smiles softly approaching her bed. He pulls his hands from his pockets and sits down on the edge of her bed.

“I thought we were passed that.”

“We are, but you’ve never stopped being my lady, Alouette,” he smiles taking her hand in his. Even after her warm bath her skin is still ice cold. He frowns. “Do you need more blankets?”

He moves to get up but Alouette stops him. “Please don’t go, you’ve been around but you’ve been leaving me all the same. Am I . . . am I too horrible to look at?”

“What? Oh, no, no nothing like that,” he shakes his head adamantly. “It kills me to see you like this. I wish I could take all your pain away.”

“Being here is enough,” she smiles then glances down at his spot on the bed. “Although, you’re too far away.”

“I don’t want to hurt you . . .”

“You won’t, trust me. I spent five days away from you, Ashton, and they were the worst five days of my life.”

“They were for me as well,” he admits leaning forward to caress her cheek.

She leans into his touch, eyes closing at his warmth but they flash open as images from her kidnapping appear.

“Can you lay with me?” her voice trembles.

Ashton licks his lips, the thumb on her cheek pauses from rubbing it as her words marinate in his mind. She just asked him to lay in bed with her and he knows he shouldn’t and yet, those five days apart were horrendous.

His nod is jerky as he removes his hand and stands up. He removes his jacket and other bulky things from his pants pockets, making sure his cell phone is on the side table in case Calum contacts him with an emergency.

Alouette scoots over as much as she can but she’s still weak, thankfully she has a California King sized bed and Ashton lays down next to her. She shifts into his chest and Ashton wraps his arms around her easily. He feels how cold she is and her fingers clutch onto his shirt stiffly, inhaling deeply.

“You can sleep now, I’ve got you,” Ashton mumbles in her hair. The familiar scent of apples qualms him and he feels her body relax against his.

“What if I see them?” she whispers but her eyes become heavy as the sedative begins to take effect.

“I’ll scare them away, no one will ever hurt you again, angel,” he kisses the top of her head and begins to rock gently.

_____________________

Taglist: @rotten-kandy

91 notes · View notes