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littledrummeraussie · 1 year ago

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hey now, you're an all-star | jack hughes

it took one month of watching hockey for me to write fic. lmao. classic. good vibes.

thank you @littledrummeraussie for proofreading, love you angie 💖

word count: 2.8k

Warnings: i don't think it needs any? just forgive my limited knowledge of hockey and canada i suppose? mentions of anxiety related to university? it's a bit angsty bc let's be real, do i ever know how to write anything else?

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here (soz that the masterlist is not up to date lol) | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here

You’d known Jack Hughes for as long as you could remember. He stood up for you in the playground at kindergarten, when a bigger kid pushed you off the swings; you returned the favour by saving him from a spider on his backpack. Ever since, you’d always had each other’s backs.

And for as long as you’d known Jack, you’d been able to tell when he was upset about something. His lips did this thing, not quite a pout, but nowhere near the easy smile you were used to seeing. He’d pull his sleeves down over his hands, and his breathing would be… deeper, somehow. He could never meet your gaze, either.

You were scrolling through Instagram on your couch at home, where you were supposed to be studying, when you saw a video of Jack from the Devils fundraiser event, answering media questions about his injury and when he’d be back on the ice. He laughed and smiled for the cameras, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. They asked about the all-star game, and you could feel his hesitation in answering. Jack tried to be positive and assure everyone that he had a chance of playing, but you both knew that wasn’t very likely.

You sent the video to Jack with a comment bagging out his hairstyle, hoping to lift his mood a little, before dropping your phone onto the couch and drawing your attention back to the economics case study you were supposed to be analysing.

You’d stayed in Toronto for university, while Jack headed off to New Jersey after his draft year. Long distance friendship took a lot of getting used to, but at least you were still in the same timezone, and the NHL schedule meant that Jack was contractually obliged to visit you a few times each year. Quinn too, despite how much he complained about the intensity of hockey mania in Toronto. In fact, the entire Hughes family sometimes made the trek, which you knew your parents not-so-secretly loved. It reminded you of the warmth you felt growing up in each other’s homes, filled with laughter and joy.

The little focus you had for your economics homework was broken when your phone began to vibrate beside you, Jack’s name flashing on the screen. You rolled your eyes with a smile, before leaning over to answer the video call.

“Good morning, sunshine!” You greeted your best friend, who was already scowling at you.

“Is it a good morning, though? When all I do is get criticism from my supposed best friend?”

“It’s not criticism, more… encouragement, I’d say.” You teased back, Jack rolling his eyes at you.

“Encouraging what, exactly?”

“Encouraging you to make better personal style choices, especially related to hair. You are a millionaire, after all. Least you can do is get a decent haircut.”

“Oh, my apologies. Didn’t realise I was getting encouragement from the queen of high fashion. Is that a coffee stain on that shirt?” Jack’s eyes glanced down at what little he could see of your outfit in the video call, before poking his tongue out at you.

“Hey, I’m a university student. This is high fashion, I’ll have you know. Anyway, why aren’t you at training?” You asked, cocking your head to the side in curiosity.

Jack’s lips pressed together, and he looked away from his phone and you; you silently cursed yourself for asking the question. Even though Jack had been injured, he’d been pretty dedicated to his rehab and recovery, so it was a little odd for him to be calling you in the morning rather than be at a physio session.

“More scans this afternoon so no session this morning. Trying to decide if I can play next weekend or if I just have to show up and look pretty.” Jack tried to joke, but you could tell that it wasn’t something he found humour in.

“Good thing that looking pretty comes naturally to you, J.”

“Oh, so now I’m pretty? I thought I had shit hair?!”

“You can both be a pretty face and have shit hair, buddy. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Mutually exclusive? Is that a fancy term you learnt at school?”

You laughed at that, earning a Jack smile in return. You continued chatting back and forth for another 30 minutes or so, before Jack had to go to his scans.

You managed to get through the rest of your economics homework, but your mind kept wandering back to Jack and his frustration at being injured. He’d been an All-Star before, so it wasn’t that specifically he was frustrated about missing, you were certain. The difference this year was Quinn’s selection in the All-Star weekend, and the building anticipation around so-called “Team Hughes” that would see Jack and Quinn on the same team for the first time in their NHL careers. That’s probably what Jack was upset about, because as much as they chirp each other and are fiercely competitive, there’s nothing Jack Hughes loves more than his brothers. You knew that he’d be in his head overthinking everything and convincing himself that he was letting Quinn down, somehow, despite it being beyond his control.

The only further communication you got from Jack that day was a thumbs-down text message, which told you all you needed to know. You were sporadically in touch a few times throughout the week, and before you knew it, it was the day everyone was flying in for All-Star weekend.

You’d managed to persuade your parents that a full-blown neighbourhood party was not necessary, and instead convinced them to accept Quinn’s invitation to a lowkey but nice dinner downtown near the hotel where he and Jack were staying. The dinner was something you were looking forward to all week, but you hadn’t anticipated two things: accidentally deleting half your economics essay the night before it was due and having to stay up until 3am to finish it; and the butterflies that you were feeling when you were getting ready for dinner. Why on earth were you so nervous? Seeing Jack and Quinn after a while was usually something that excited you, not stressed you out.

You had just pulled on your dress and finished wrangling your hair when your phone pinged with a message from Jack.

Have you looked at the menu for this place? We need to order a side of the loaded mac n cheese pls and thx

I thought you were a high performance athlete? But of course, mac n cheese is a MUST

Correct, my body is a temple. A temple of mac n cheese. Mac is a carb, cheese is calcium for my bones. Winners all around. See ya soon x

It was freezing outside, so you took an Uber from your university apartment to the restaurant. You were running behind, thanks to traffic, and then you almost toppled over on the pavement outside due to the wet weather. Between that and your sleep deprivation, you honestly wanted nothing more than to go home, put your pyjamas on and cry; but you plastered a smile on your face and headed inside the restaurant.

The hostess greeted you warmly, and offered to take your coat once you established that your parents had already arrived and were seated on a table towards the back of the restaurant, and you could see the backs of Jack and Quinn as you approached them. Everyone stood up to greet you with hugs and kisses, and the butterflies sparked again when Jack pulled out the chair next to his for you to sit down. Jack and Quinn both had nice sweaters on with collared shirts, and you were quietly glad you’d decided to wear a dress rather than the jeans you’d initially picked out.

“How did your essay go, sweetheart? I know economics isn’t your favourite…” Your mother enquired, obviously unaware of your crisis the night before.

You gave her a tight-lipped smile and took a sip of the diet coke in front of you (that Jack must’ve ordered for you, no doubt) before mumbling something about getting it sorted and hoping for the best. Your dad swiftly changed the subject to the weekend’s festivities, excitedly asking Quinn about his plans for the All-Star draft, but you could feel Jack’s eyes on you. You met his gaze and subtly shook your head, silently asking for him to save his questions for later. Jack frowned at you, but complied.

The dinner felt like it went quickly, but also went for hours. Your stomach hurt from laughing (and probably too much mac and cheese), as Jack and Quinn regaled your parents with stories of their seasons and their plans for the next summer off in Michigan, where your two families would join each other for a month or so of adventures. You found yourself smiling as your dad and the Hughes brothers comically argued over who would pay the bill, before Jack excused himself to the bathroom and sneakily paid the bill on his way there.

Jack and Quinn’s hotel was walking distance from the restaurant, and they excitedly invited you and your parents to come and see the fancy suite they’d been gifted for the weekend. Your mother made some excuse about traffic on the drive home and promised to come and see it some other time, but nudged you in your side as she told you to go and check it out. You were so tired and ready for bed, but reluctantly agreed; your window of opportunity to spend time with Jack was closing, so you figured you may as well make the most of it.

The butterflies in your stomach flitted around as Jack helped you into your coat before you headed outside the restaurant and bid your parents farewell. You fell into step in between the brothers as they traipsed back toward the hotel, conversation flowing easily as Quinn asked about your college classes and you asked him about the latest book he was reading. Jack was silent as you walked the few blocks before arriving at the hotel, and he gently placed his hand onto your back as you were guided through the hotel front door and into the elevator.

Your jaw dropped when Quinn swiped his key card and you all entered the hotel suite. They weren’t joking about it being fancy, holy shit.

The floor to ceiling windows had incredible views of the city skyline, with a very comfortable looking couch in the living area facing the view. Two doors at either side of the living room lead to bedrooms with luxurious linens, and the marble bathrooms were impeccably finished.

Jack was grinning as he watched you take it all in, leaning up against the door frame to his bedroom as you stood near the window and gaped at the views. Quinn had flopped down on the couch and was texting on his phone.

“Can they gift this to you year-round? I’d like to live here…” You mused, shaking your head at how insane this hockey lifestyle could be.

“We could probably just buy it for you.” Jack said nonchalantly, as he wandered over to stand beside you at the window.

“Yeah, if you want. They’d probably charge us more because I’m a Canuck, though.” Quinn deadpanned, earning a laugh from you and an eye-roll from Jack.

“Speaking of, the guys are all catching up in Petey’s room, so I think I’ll head down there. See you tomorrow after the draft, sugar plum.” Quinn pulled you into a hug, and your heart burst at him using your childhood nickname (which came from one ill-fated ballet performance and you insisted you hated, but secretly loved being called).

You could’ve sworn you saw Quinn wink at Jack before he left the hotel room, but then again, the sleep deprivation could also be sending you loopy.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Jack asked, moving to stand behind you and loop his arms around your waist as you still faced the window. Your heart rate shot through the roof as he pulled you closer, and nestled his head in between your neck and shoulder. You cringed as you realised he could probably feel your pulse beating fast.

“Sure, but no blaming me if I fall asleep on you, sorryyyyy.” You awkwardly maneuvered yourself out of Jack’s embrace and walked over to the couch, sitting down on it and removing your shoes.

“The first time we’ve seen each other in MONTHS and you’re going to fall asleep? Am I that boring? Sheesh.” Jack drawled, watching you from where he stood.

“Yes.” You stuck your tongue out at him, but lost it to a yawn which made you both laugh.

“You know I love you, J. I would happily pull an all-nighter with you, but I don’t think two in a row is probably good for me.”

“Two in a row? What, where you out partying hard last night?” Jack’s voice trailed off as he wandered off into the bedroom, leaving the door open behind him. You heard a drawer open and a light thud onto the floor, and your throat tightened when you realised Jack was changing his clothes. God, you’d gotten changed in front of each other a million times. Why was your brain making everything so weird tonight?

“Not quite. Had a disaster that involved accidentally deleting my entire essay, sobbing for an hour, then staying up until 3am to write the whole thing. Living the dream, as per usual.” You rattled off, trying to sound nonchalant about, even though just thinking about last night made you nauseous with anxiety. Your nonchalance was clearly unconvincing, as Jack came back out of the bedroom clad in a hoodie and sweats and bee-lined for you, his face covered in concern.

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s fine, I promise. All part of the college experience.” You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince yourself or Jack more. He couldn’t either, but instead of pushing the issue, he threw a hoodie at your head and laughed when you looked offended.

“I’m definitely falling asleep if I put this on, by the way. You know I love being cozy. Cozy is my natural state of being.” You pulled your hair up into a loose bun using the hair tie on your wrist, before pulling the black Devils hoodie over your head.

Jack slotted himself beside you on the couch and reached his arm over your shoulders, finding the remote with his other hand and navigating the ridiculously large TV onto Netflix.

“Fine by be, sugarplum. I’d rather know you’re getting sleep here than send you home to stress yourself out more.” Jack mused, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your arm while he found the latest season of a TV show you both loved to watch and pressed play.

“I’m not stres - it was just one essay - I promise I’m fine.” You sputtered, tripping over your words when Jack locked eyes with you, his gaze empathetic but all-knowing.

“Besides, I’m not the only one in the room worth worrying about.” You said softly, nudging Jack’s side gently. Jack rolled his lips between his teeth, and sighed; he put down the remote and pulled his hoodie sleeves over his hands.

“But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. You’re not letting anyone down, though. Quinn doesn’t think that.” You continued, softly, not wanting to cause tension.

Jack sighed deeply again and pulled his arm away from you, leaning forward and rubbing his face with both hands.

“You don’t know what Quinny’s thinking, sugar. And it’s not just Quinn, it’s the fucking journalists, and Bratter’s vacation being ruined, and goddamn Michael Bublé being disappointed in me, and - just - fucking all of it.” Jack exhaled deeply, running his fingers through his hair in frustration.

You didn’t know what to say, because you could tell that Jack wasn’t in a mood that you could talk him down out of. But you could tell he needed comfort, needed reassurance, needed to know that you still had his back. Ever since kindergarten.

You grabbed the back of Jack’s hoodie and gently tugged it, and he leaned back against the couch. You tapped Jack’s legs next, and he moved them up onto the other side of the L-shaped couch, so he was properly reclining. You paused, trying to figure out how to position yourself without being literally on top of Jack, but while your brain was running a million miles a minute, Jack’s hand found yours and yanked you towards him gently. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, before adjusting yourself between Jack’s body and the side of the couch. Jack’s arm found a home over your hips and settled gently on your stomach, pulling your back against his chest. You felt his breath on your neck as you both wriggled around, trying to get comfortable.

You rested your hand on top of Jack’s and gently squeezed, feeling yourself starting to lull to sleep. Despite the butterflies and your heart jumping out of your chest, you somehow had never felt more at peace, right in this moment.

“Is this okay, sugar?” Jack’s voice was barely a whisper, directly into your ear. You didn’t trust your voice not to squeak a response so you simply nodded, trying desperately to calm your fast beating heart.

This was safe, this was calm. This was home.

#NHL fic #we support out friends writing for their new fandoms #❤️#kara

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littledrummeraussie · 1 year ago

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Happy New Year my loves ❤️🎉

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littledrummeraussie · 1 year ago

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Fanfiction Readers and writers, Reblog this and tell in the notes your favorite fic from the person you Reblogged from, and if you’re feeling extra nice, why?

#i honestly think i've only read pas de deux #but i remember being obsessed with the idea when chapter 1 dropped #and then waited it out and then spent a whole day reading it #it's ballet and mashton fake dating and i loved every second #the world building and the characters and the museum bit lives rent free in my head #or how everyone considered michael as a friend after everything happened #and how i still want some domestic fluff between them on the same universe #because they would be extra cute

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littledrummeraussie · 2 years ago

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pas de deux

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Key Tags: Ballet, Fake/Pretend Relationship, The Nutcracker, Strangers to Lovers Word Count: around 50,140 Read on AO3

Summary:

Michael Clifford is an up and coming choreographer who has been brought to the Minneapolis Ballet to revamp their production of The Nutcracker. Ashton Irwin was a ballet prodigy who stepped out of the spotlight after a devastating injury five years ago and is now ready to return to dance. After they begin fake dating to protect a secret, they end up spending a lot more time together than either of them anticipated, both inside the rehearsal room and outside of it.

Now complete!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5

#❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️#still thinking about it

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littledrummeraussie · 2 years ago

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missed but never forgotten 💔

#yeah... the calum i wrote that cashton blurb about #inspiration post

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littledrummeraussie · 2 years ago

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the situation is still out of control

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littledrummeraussie · 2 years ago

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on set. [a Cashton slash blurb]

Warnings: Calum in that skirt. semi-public blow job. boy x boy fic.

Word count: 785

Author's note: I wrote this little something for my lovely Jess @daydadahlias during the summer because there was not enough Calum skirt fics and I wanted to surprise her. And now I felt brave enough to maybe drop it here too.

-----

If the smug smile on his face was any indication, you could say Calum was really proud of himself. And how couldn’t he when his plan worked out so nicely, exactly how he imagined when he pulled the short skirt up on his muscled thighs, just long enough to cover his boxers. He knew it’s going to get just the right amount of attention from the right person once he stepped on set. And boy, was he right.

Because Ashton – beautiful Ashton, the prettiest boy on the planet, a handsome beast, his fucking soulmate, – couldn’t keep his eyes off of him as he wandered around the set between the stage and the couch, moving his hips back and forth, shaking his ass, twirling to show off what was underneath. He could see from the corner of his eye how the other fought not to touch his naked knee or to trail his long fingers up his inner thigh, to touch and feel and squeeze and tease and and and...

Calum threw his head back, not even trying to stifle his moan as those long fingers were now lifting up his skirt and grabbing at the band of his boxers, tugging them down inch by inch, his shirt pushed out of the way. His dick twitched when Ashton nuzzled against his covered length, so stiff and hot from hours spent waiting for this moment, to have him down on his knees between his legs, to suck his cock, just the way he liked it.

“Fuckin’ pretty you are,” he tangled his fingers into Ashton’s curls, tugging on them as he pulled him away. Calum licked his lips to wet them, already so turned on by Ashton and his darkened hazel eyes, plush lips parted slightly as he let out a sound, the little whine sending a chill down his spine.

“Shut up,” Ashton shook his head, pushing forward, and Calum let go of him a little, fingers still petting his curls. Ashton’s hot breath on his skin felt delicious, the messy kisses pressed against his lower stomach as he pulled off the boxers made him shake, made him want to push him down already to take his cock into his mouth and make him shut up.

Ashton tugged the shorts down to his ankles, hands rubbing against his inner thighs, eyes fixed on Calum’s cock resting against the skirt pushed up and around his hips, tip red and shining with precum, begging to be touched and tasted. He groaned, fist closing around Calum’s length to give him a few teasing pumps before finally leaning closer, eyes big and eager as he closed his lips around the head, sucking him into his mouth.

“Knew you would love the skirt,” Cal had that smug smile back on his face, ruffling Ashton’s hair again. Ash made another noise, maybe a smart ass comment or a whine, Calum wasn’t really sure, but he didn’t care – not when he had Ashton’s mouth around his dick, working down on his length, licking and sucking and slightly choking when he hit the back of his throat. “Oh yes, do that again!”

Calum’s thighs tensed as Ashton’s nose pressed against his stomach while licking around his tip again, mouthing at the sensitive skin before taking him back into his mouth, hand sneaking between Cal’s legs to squeeze his balls. He grabbed the curls at the back of Ashton’s head, slightly moving him up and down on his cock as the other sucked him, working him towards his climax.

“Fuckin’ good, Ash, just a little mo– right… there…” Calum choked on his moan, face suddenly hot as he felt himself stiffen, body shaking slightly as his orgasm reached him. Ashton moaned around him, hands grabbing his thighs and fisting his skirt as he bobbed his head, swallowing the cum hitting his tongue. Calum finally groaned, pushing him away when he felt too sensitive, panting and still petting the wild curls on top of Ashton’s head. He felt wrecked, and Ashton looked so pretty on his knees, cheeks hot and lips red, eyes shining as he panted too, a little whine leaving his throat as he tried to nuzzle back close, and Calum let him rest his cheek against his thigh, the hot puffs of air teasing his cock.

“I cannot promise to behave if you wear this shit again,” he rasped, rubbing his face against the skirt, fingers softly drawing circles on Cal’s knee. “But I’ll deny it until the day I die.”

“You know you just made touring that much more fun now, yeah?” Calum snorted, leaning down to press a quick kiss against Ashton’s forehead. “Cause I just ordered a dozen of these.”

#cashton #cashton fanfic #cashton blurb #calum hood x ashton irwin #5sos fic #5sos fanfic #idk how to tag this #ashton irwin blurb #calum hood blurb #fiction time

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littledrummeraussie · 2 years ago

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I might have two short Cashton (slash) blurbs written... anyone would be interested in those?

#angie speaks

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littledrummeraussie · 2 years ago

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I might have two short Cashton (slash) blurbs written... anyone would be interested in those?

#angie speaks

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littledrummeraussie · 2 years ago

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I might have two short Cashton (slash) blurbs written... anyone would be interested in those?

#angie speaks #like it's literally not what i write but i did those two and i kinda feel like posting them?

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littledrummeraussie · 2 years ago

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FIC EVENT INTEREST FORM!!!

It's been a while since we've had a formal fic event in the 5sos fandom, so I thought I'd throw together an interest form to see if we want to do one again. The earliest this fic event would begin is in January of 2024. Length of the event would depend on which type (if any) is chosen.

This fic event would be open to writers of all genres, formats, abilities, and ages, although sexually explicit content from minors would not be allowed.

Please consider filling out this form, even if the answer is no! All data is good data to have. Also, please consider reblogging so as many writers see this form as possible!

#signal boost #i'm not really writing nowadays but maybe this would interest someone

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littledrummeraussie · 2 years ago

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tell me all the things that you couldn't before.

masterlist. | want to be added to my taglist?

warnings: brief mentions of sex. a nightmare. hurt/comfort. lots of loving for Ashton. badboy!mechanic!Ashton AU.

word count: 5435

author’s note: This fic was written back in January, 2020, as part of the infamous A Permanent Chase fic, which I'm not sure will ever see the light of day as it only lives in my head and my heart.

The original concept is the following (to help you understand the fic better):

Ashton (in the beginning appearing as Fletcher) comes back to Sydney, where he starts working at Calum's garage as a mechanic. Shortly after this he meets our girl and starts to pursue her. They do start dating, but after some complications happen, and she finds out Fletcher is not the person he tells people he is, but someone else (Ashton), and she quickly breaks things up between them.

What she doesn't realize is that she and Ashton have met before, just after graduation at a beach party, where they fell in love for a night, but never saw each other again. Ashton does recognize the girl, but she doesn't recognize him for a long time, until finally Ashton does tell her the truth about their past.

The story is a mess - the original idea included gangs and street racing in which Ashton also partakes, lots of chasing after the girl in different places and scenarios, who eventually starts to put together how Ashton really loves her and actually wants to protect her from things happening around the city. (This is a huge reason why I never really worked on the story - I couldn't decide on anything, so it's just a big mess.)

They eventually make up and finally kiss at another beach party (full circle), and decide that they want to start a relationship with each other. There are lot of added stories to them in my mind, all of them following the main story above.

I also realized over the years that in some ways they are kinda toxic, but I cannot help it, I love my babies so much. So if you have any additional questions, please feel free to ask them.

Feedback and reblogs are appreciated!

-----

It was well past midnight when you realized that there was something out of the ordinary. At first everything seemed to be normal, your night started like any other: you stopped by the garage after work, parking your car just outside the building and greeted the boys who were still working there. You’ve convinced Ashton to finish early, making Calum close up for the night, and dragged your boyfriend up the stairs to his flat.

He was in a really good mood, and with a cheeky grin he pulled you into the shower with himself. His hands were searching and grabbing at whatever body parts they could reach, and after he’d promised you the best fuck of your life, Ashton picked you up to cross the tiny apartment to his bedroom, where he made good on his promise. You were lying in a tangled mass afterwards, watching the last rays of sunshine peeking through the window, painting Sydney in the most beautiful shades of pink, orange and yellow.

You were ready to make some dinner, but Ashton preferred cuddle time, and held you close to his side while he ordered Thai food from one of his favourite places. You spent the time kissing and talking about your day until the guy arrived with your order, and you ate in comfortable silence in the kitchen, playing footsie all through dinner. Usually this was the time when you went out to have fun around town, or just lay on the couch, watching the TV mindlessly, but the last few weeks have been different.

Since you’ve decided to take up some courses to help you with your work, it meant that eventually you needed to take exams on them as well. You had your doubts when you first approached Ash with the idea, but he was supportive, and in his own way, he helped you with your studying and papers. It usually meant buying you coffee or letting you rant about your problems – or ordering food when he thought you could use the extra time. And his apartment was much quieter than your noisy neighbourhood. He did not mind you staying over if it meant cuddles, food sharing and sex – all three of those happened regularly, so he did not complain.

You have already started revising notes when Ashton came up to you and gave a kiss on your neck. You leaned back against his chest, looking up at him with a smile.

“You’re going to bed?”

“Yeah, I promised Calum that I will open in the morning, since someone decided to drag me away early,” he leaned forward to press another kiss on your forehead, his red locks falling over your face. “And I don’t want to keep you away from your notes and books, which are clearly more interesting than your own boyfriend.”

“How tragic,” you laughed, turning around on the kitchen chair to wrap your arms around him. “Please file a complaint, and I will talk to the management.”

“And what will I get as a consolation prize?” he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Blowjobs.”

“Oh, plural? That doesn’t sound so bad,” Ashton grinned at you, brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. “When can I start collecting them?”

“You know how offices work – it might take a few weeks to get an answer,” you bit your lip to hide a smile, and Ash just huffed at you.

“If it was up to you, I wouldn’t get my blowjobs for the next 30 days or so,” his fingers found a way into your tied up hair, slowly pulling out strands and combing them back into an even messier bun. “Any way to file a complaint about filing complaints?”

“I might know someone who can help you,” you tilted your head forward, pressing a small kiss on the skin of his stomach, then quickly blew a raspberry on it. “But only during opening hours.”

“You are terrible,” he laughed, grabbing your face and pulling you closer to plant a kiss on your lips. “Alright, I’ll leave you to your notes.”

“Don’t hog the blankets,” you poked his side, and Ash laughed again, pushing your hand away. “Good night, Cardinal.”

“Is that a joke on my hair?”

“You tell me,” you winked at him, and he leaned back to give you another kiss.

“Good night, you monster.”

* * *

You knew something was up when you heard noises from the bedroom. The flat was really small, with no actual doors between the bedroom, the living area and the kitchen, and at first you thought the all-nighters you pulled would bother Ashton and he wouldn’t be able to sleep with the light on in the kitchen. But he was a heavy sleeper, still and calm, and the only thing that ever broke the silence was his light snoring. But not tonight.

The first thing you heard were the rustling sheets, a pillow thumping down onto the floor, the bed creaking under his weight. There was a loud gasp, more rustling, something hitting the nightstand or the bed frame, then another loud thump on the mattress. More gasps, more heavy breathing – you could hear the panic in the way he was trying to catch his breath, choking on air, like he couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs.

You pushed yourself out of the chair, running to the small bedroom to check on Ashton. He was tangled up in the sheets, body twisting around as he tried to kick off the covers, thrashing in his blanket prison. His arms were swinging, trying to grab onto something (or someone), hitting the pillows and the bed with every move. He pushed his head back into the pillow, turning it left and right as he was panting, his Adam’s apple moving almost in a frantic, panicked way.

He was no stranger to nightmares – when he was exhausted or just had a bad day, he would go to bed early, resting his head on your stomach, hugging your body close to him like a pillow, and that usually did the trick. He slept soundly and without interruption. But sometimes he was just so lost in his own head that he forgot about it all, not caring about the dreams sneaking into his sleepy mind, and he usually woke with a start in the middle of the night. He would curl his body around yours, telling you that he’s okay, he just had a bad dream, he will fall back to sleep soon – he only ever asked you to hold his hand during these moments.

But tonight was different, Ashton never had a nightmare like this, one that physically shook him. He was fighting so hard to wake up, but nothing seemed to work. You dropped onto the mattress, climbing closer, and grabbed him by his shoulders, shaking him with all the strength that you had.

“Ashton! Ashton, wake up! Ash! Wake up!”

Suddenly he bolted up, eyes wide open, staring at the wall and taking in a lungful of air, making himself dizzy in the process. You shifted closer, climbing between his legs, and wrapped your arms around his trembling body. You held him close, running your fingers over his back, murmuring soft words into his ear as he buried his face in your neck, taking deep breaths, trying to calm his hammering heart.

“I’m here, Ash, it’s okay. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He locked his arms around your waist, pulling you closer, never loosening his grip on you. You ran your hand up to his shoulder, lightly massaging his tense muscles, caressing his neck, brushing your fingers over his hair. His skin was cold and sweaty, his hair wet and sticking to his forehead. His breathing was slowing, and you moved your head to press a small kiss on his temple. He tensed for a second, but then melted into your arms once again.

“It’s alright,” you whispered, still stroking the red locks at the back of his head. “It’s over. It was just a dream, it’s over. I’m here. You’re awake. It’s okay.”

His breath was hot on your neck as he inhaled deeply, nuzzling his face back into your skin. His muscles were slowly relaxing, but he was still tense and sweaty, and a shiver ran through his body. He tried to burrow closer to get more of your warmth, and you let him stay in your arms like this for a few more minutes. When you could feel he was a bit more relaxed, you pulled back a little, lifting his head up to look at you. His eyes were glassy and unfocused, and it took him a few seconds to get out of his daze.

Ashton’s gaze skipped over yours, instead focusing on the chain hanging from your neck. The silver ring he gave you almost a year ago was hooked on a thin necklace, the weight of the metal resting between your breasts, a comfort you never knew you needed. You still remembered the time when he wore it on his finger, playing with it whenever he started getting nervous. He called it a good luck charm, something he desperately needed while he was chasing after you. But once he got hold of your heart, he gave it to you – since then it became something much more than just a piece of jewellery. For you: a reminder; for others: a warning.

His clumsy fingers wrapped around the ring, slightly tugging on it. You slowly tilted his head up again, trying to catch his eyes. His hazel ones finally found your gaze, and you gave him a small smile, lightly running your fingers over his stubbly jaw.

“Hey, you’re okay?”

Silence, then a nod.

“How about you go and take a shower? Get warmed up,” you rubbed his arms, trying to warm his still cold skin. “And I will change the sheets.”

Another nod.

Ash let go of your necklace, slowly peeling himself out of the bed, starting to go to the bathroom, then stopped, looked back at you. You gave him another encouraging smile, nodded at him that it’s okay, you both will be fine, after which he finally made his way out of the room. When the lock clicked and the shower started up, you let out a breath you were holding back. A thousand questions were running through your mind, but you didn’t want to take too much time thinking about them. You wanted to make sure Ashton was comfortable after his nightmare, that he can come back and relax into the bed, wrapped in your arms, and sleep off this horrible experience.

You started stripping off the sweat soaked sheets, pulling out a fresh set from the drawer, working methodically in changing them. After that you opened the window, letting in fresh air, the slight breeze clearing away the remaining shadows from the room. You reached into another drawer, choosing a soft pair of sweatpants for Ashton, and finally went to the kitchen, making tea, waiting for him to finish up.

The lock on the bathroom door clicked, and it opened with a slight squeak. Ash stood behind the door, a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping on the tiles from his red hair. You stepped to him, holding the pants out for him. He took them from your hands, his fingers brushing against yours as he did, and that made him look at you.

“I made you tea,” you nodded towards the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe. “If you want some.”

“Thanks,” his voice was quiet and small, and he coughed a little to make his throat work. “I– I’ll be there.”

“Take your time.”

You stepped back to the kitchen, piling up your books and notes to shove them to the corner of the table. You knew there was no way you would go back to studying, not tonight. Any exam could wait – Ashton needed you now.

After a few more minutes he emerged from the bathroom, shuffling to the kitchen, and dropped down onto the chair next to you. He sighed deeply, then leaned forward, resting both his arms on the table, and put his head down on them, hiding his face. You watched him, how his back moved as he was breathing in and out. His muscles were still tense, you could see it from the way he was holding himself. You scooted a bit closer, and slowly put your hand on his elbow, a tentative touch. When he did not flinch away, you started to lightly rub his arm, up to his shoulder, down on his back, then back up again.

When you reached the back of his neck, Ash moved his head to the side, looking at you as you stroked his drying locks with your fingers. His hazel eyes were searching you as you were working through the tangled ends, brushing them back from his face. He let out another small sigh when you touched his face, caressing his cheek, which made him nuzzle into your hand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, resting your hand back on his arm.

Ashton looked at you for another second, then hid his face back in the crook of his elbow. You waited for him, you knew he needed time to work through the thoughts in his head, to decide if he wanted to face them again. He slowly pushed himself up, reaching for the mug in front of him, taking a sip of his cooling tea. His fingers were running over the rim, circling it mindlessly as he focused on something in front of him.

“You… left me.”

There was silence in the kitchen – his words left you speechless. It sounded silly at first; you knew how you felt about him, how first his attention was unusual, almost uncomfortable at times, and that you wished he would give you just an ounce of space; how you started to miss him when he wasn’t around, how you watched over your shoulder if he would appear somehow, stalk behind you, keeping his distance, but never taking his eyes off of you. You knew he had his reasons to do so, and you learned to love him for that – it wasn’t so hard, he found a way to your heart, and you willingly let him in. You never wanted to let go of him ever again.

“I have no intention in doing that,” you reached out to take his hand in yours, squeezing it. “And no reason.”

“But what if you do?” he whispered, pulling his hand away. “What if you find one?”

“Ash… is this something you’ve been… thinking about lately?” you asked softly, your fingers going up to your necklace, running them over the ring.

He did not answer; his eyes were still trained on the same spot as before. He was drumming on the tabletop, the rhythm getting more and more frantic and complicated. You desperately wanted to reach out and stop him, to make him look at you, to let him know you were there, you were listening, that you wanted to understand. But it seemed he was lost in his own thoughts – thoughts that brought out a nightmare that clearly shook him to the core.

“Ashton,” you said in a small voice. “Don’t push me away. Please.”

Those words made him look at you. Those words were his words, begging you to give him another chance, to make up for the mistakes he made when you met again. They were Ashton’s words, not Fletcher’s; they made you stop in your tracks, made you listen to him. They broke you in a way you’ve known you will never be broken again. That was the first time you’ve really let him into your heart, and you never wanted him to leave.

Ash sighed deeply, slowly turning around in his chair to face you, though his head was down. His fingers nervously twitched in his lap, and he started wringing his hands, looking for the rings he usually wore to play with. He once told you that sometimes he felt naked without them, and he liked wearing at least one to mindlessly spin it around, or take it off and put it back on. You moved a little closer, pushing your knees against his, slowing down his bouncing feet. Leaning forward you reached for him, pushing your fingers between his tightly clasped ones, and interlocked them. There was a slight shake to his hands, and you gently ran your thumb over his skin, trying to calm him again.

“I’m sorry,” he finally breathed, slowly looking up at you from under his lashes. “I’m just… unsure.”

“Of me?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to see all of him. He just shook his head.

“Of myself,” Ashton answered, rubbing your hands with his thumbs. “If I’m good enough for you.”

“Of course you are,” you squeezed his fingers in yours, pushing your forehead against his. “You are my Ashton. How could you not be good enough for me?”

“That’s not what everyone else thinks,” he said with a humourless laugh. “People talk, all over town.”

“Some neighbourhood gossip won’t make me leave you,” you shook your head. “What could they tell me that I don’t already know? I know you, Ash, I know who you are.”

“You have the heart of an angel, and I’m the devil who’s holding you back,” he whispered, tilting his head down.

“Maybe I’ve had enough of heaven,” your hand went to his jaw, slowly tipping his chin up to look back at you. “If hell is where you are, then I’m packing all of my bags to be with you.”

“Y/N…”

“Or maybe they have it the wrong way around,” you continued. “Cause you definitely feel like heaven to me. Maybe it’s not their definition of the place. But screw them – my heaven is all tattooed up and gorgeous.”

A blush coloured his cheek, and he moved closer to rest his forehead on your shoulder, his legs bracketing yours. You were tangled up in each other, silently sitting in the kitchen for a few minutes, Ashton’s hand on your thighs while you played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Then he slowly pulled back, rubbing his eyes – was it tears, or sleep, you didn’t know – and looked back at you again.

“Your parents still hate me,” he added, resting his elbow on the table, leaning his head against his hand.

“They hate everyone,” you answered with a shrug. “They even hate me. That’s not an accomplishment.”

“I’m sure they would prefer anyone else over me,” he searched you with his eyes. “Someone who can give you a real future.”

“What do you think, what does a girl need?” you quirked an eyebrow at him, and it was his turn to shrug.

“Financial security?” he asked, and when you rolled your eyes at him, he continued. “Someone like that guy you work with – what’s his name? Liam?”

“A suit and tie?” you shook your head, putting your hands on his knees to lean closer. “Really, Ash? When I can have you, your jackets and chains, and the fire red Mustang? Well, tough luck, because you’re stuck with me for good.”

“But am I enough for you?” Ashton sighed, reaching for you and holding your face in his hands, making you really look at each other. “I wanna give you the world. Hell, I wanna give you the galaxy. The universe. But I’m just this guy, fixing cars and running my mouth at people. And you… you’re smart and beautiful and could get anyone you set your eyes on.”

“And that’s you,” you nuzzled your face against his hand, looking at him pleadingly. “You’re the only one I want.”

“What if Liam asked you on a date? Or one of the guys at that course? What if you get along so much that you realize that you could just… do better than me?” his gaze slipped down to the ring resting against your chest, saying the next words looking at it. “You know I would do anything for you… but I know I can’t keep you forever.”

“Ash, how long have we known each other?” you asked, reaching for him, brushing his hair behind his ear.

“7 or 8 years. Dunno. Why is that important now?” he sighed, shaking his head.

“What do you think… how many guys did I date during that time?” you questioned him, but did not wait for an answer. “Only two. And you wanna know their names?”

“Please don’t kick me when I’m already down,” he whispered, but you’ve had enough.

“They are Fletcher and Ashton. They are you, Ash. I might have had a few flings and one night stands, and sure, I went on a few dates with guys. But it was only ever you I had a real thing with. It was only you who was ever good enough for me.”

“Then why did you even go on those dates if you didn’t want anything from them?” the question left Ashton before he could stop himself, and you could see him flinch when he realized what he’d said.

“I wanted to know how I felt about other people. I wanted to give myself a chance, see how we could work out. You know – if you never try, you’ll never know,” you shrugged a little while reaching for his hand, slowly interlocking your fingers with his. “And I– I think I wanted to know how you would react.”

“Remember the hole in the wall?” he quirked an eyebrow at you, and you needed to stifle a laugh.

“I was always waiting for you to show up during your dates,” you confessed, squeezing his hand in yours. “You know, just crash them. I wanted you to crash them. I know it took me a long time to let you in…”

“Well, half the time you were mad at me,” he said, leaning closer and resting his forehead against yours. “For one reason, or the other.”

“And in the other half I desperately wanted you to kiss me,” you finished, nuzzling your nose to his.

“You know I would have done it in a second,” he breathed. “I wanted to walk up to every single one of those guys and tell them that you’re… that you’re…”

“Come on,” you whispered, licking your lips. “Say it.”

“Mine.”

“Don’t think I was never asked on dates at my job or at school,” you gazed at him while saying the next part. “I was, numerous times. You know what I say to them when they call me pretty? Thank you, my boyfriend thinks so too. Or when they invite me for coffee? Thanks, but Ash is already bringing me some. And when they don’t want to let it go, I say: trust me, you do not want to meet him.”

“Are you really saying those things?” he asked you, and you nodded.

“I’m also implying that I’m having the best sex of my life, and I don’t plan on giving up on that,” you finished with a smile.

A moment later Ashton started laughing – it was his first real laugh of the night, and he hid his face, trying to stifle his giggles. It was the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard. Suddenly the night wasn’t that dark, but instead everything seemed to start to glow a little bit. It was Ashton’s smile, shining through the blacks, dark blues and grays of the night, warming up the chilling air around you, shifting everything back to your usual teasing, but loving normal, the one you’ve built up together.

“I love your smile,” you whispered when he finally looked back at you, still trying to catch his breath. “I know I’ve always told you that you should wipe that grin off of your face, but god, I’m happy you never did. I just… there are so many things I just love about you that I’ve thought I hated before. Like your snake tattoo, or your loud car and obnoxious sunglasses… your terrible jokes and sexual innuendos, and how you never fail to say them at the worst times… I love your stupid red hair, and…”

“My hair is not stupid,” Ash mumbled, a smile still playing at the corner of his mouth.

“No,” you shook your head, reaching once again for him to brush your fingers through his red locks. “No, it’s not.”

Ash nuzzled closer, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the caresses and light tugs on his hair, making a small noise that almost sounded like purring. He turned his head, brushing his lips against your wrist as you wrapped a curl around your finger, pushing it behind his ear, stroking your hand down his cheek and jaw. Hazel eyes followed the movement of your fingers until you ran your thumb over his chin, and his gaze finally found yours.

“Can I kiss you?” you asked him softly, pulling back a little to see his face.

“Are you asking for permission?” there was another small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and a slight blush coloured his cheeks.

“Just checking if you are in the right headspace,” you returned his smile, and he nodded shortly.

“I would love that.”

Without a second thought you leaned forward, one of your hands sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair, the other one cradling his jaw, tilting his head a little to the side. His breath was hot on your face as you moved closer, cheeks and noses brushing, lips slowly pressing against each other – one soft, the other slightly chapped. You kissed his bottom lip, moving to the top, nuzzling closer and closer, until he opened his mouth and let you kiss him deeper, brushing his tongue against yours as you both tasted the other. Ash made a needy little sound as you nipped on his lips and kissed his chin, his jaw, brushing against his cheek as you nudged your nose against the soft skin behind his ear.

“I chose you, Ashton. I’ve been choosing you every single day since that night on the beach, and I’ll do it as long as you let me. I’m freakin’ in love with you if that hasn't been clear before,” you breathed softly, kissing the shell of his ear. “You’ve been on my mind for the last 8 years, and if that’s not love, then you have to find a better word for me, because I’m failing here, and you know I’m good with words. But you just have this effect on you where I completely lose my sanity, and I would gladly give up on it forever, if it meant I get to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Ash reached for you and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you out of your chair, and sitting you on his lap. His hand rested on your thigh, keeping you close to his body, as his fingers ran through your hair, guiding your face to his again. It was his turn to kiss you, and he started with the softest of touches, just to feel each other’s breath on your lips, the warmness of the other’s skin, the shiver running through you when you’ve finally lost your patience. Noses and lips pushed together, and he kissed you deeply, tongue brushing against yours as you were holding onto his shoulders. His scent clouded your mind, his touch burnt your skin, and you never wanted this moment to end.

“I love you,” Ash pulled away just enough to brush his lips against yours as he spoke. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

You pressed another kiss on his temple, cuddling closer in his lap to feel as much of his skin as you could. His arms wrapped around you more strongly, and he rested his head on your shoulder, pushing his face into your neck. For a few minutes you’ve stayed like this – slow caresses on waists and backs, fingers brushing over hair and tattoos, lips leaving small kisses wherever they could.

“Come on,” you ran your thumb over Ashton’s cheek. “I think it’s time we go back to bed.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want to keep you away from your studying,” he started apologizing, but you shook your head, smiling at him.

“Screw exams. You’ll always be my first priority,” you tugged a little on his hair, tilting his head up towards you. “How does that sound to you?”

“Like something I’ve always wanted from you,” Ash returned your smile, then reached for your hand to kiss your knuckles. “Thank you, beautiful.”

You climbed down from his lap and reached for him to pull him up from the chair. You made our way back to the bedroom where the sheets were freshly changed and the pillows fluffed up just as Ashton liked it. He hesitated for a moment – the nightmare was still fresh in his mind, and even after you’ve talked through everything, he was still a little bit shaken from it.

“It’s alright,” you leaned against his side, pressing a kiss on the tattoo on his arm. “I’m here now.”

“I’m– scared to fall back to sleep,” he admitted, then sighed deeply. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“No, Ash. It’s perfectly normal,” you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Don’t ever feel ashamed, especially not because of your dreams. You’re human, it’s okay to fall sometimes. I’ll always be here to pick you up.”

“How did I get so lucky?” he turned to you, gathering you in his arms for a hug, resting his head on top of yours.

“Must have been that lucky charm of yours,” you answered with a smile, feeling the ring resting between your bodies.

“You are my lucky charm,” Ashton whispered, brushing the hair back from your face.

“Well, then you should definitely hold onto me.”

He huffed at you with a smile, shaking his head. You pulled him down on the bed, both of you getting comfortable under the blankets – Ash scooted as close to you as he could, nuzzling his face between your head and shoulder. You wrapped your arms around him, letting him rest his weight on you, running your fingers through his hair.

“You smell so good,” he mumbled against your skin, pushing his nose to your pulse point. “Am I not too heavy?”

“You’re perfect where you are,” you continued brushing your fingers over his curls, skimming them over the back of his neck, down his shoulders, then back up again. “How are you feeling?”

“Like maybe I will be able to fall asleep,” he breathed, then reached for the ring hanging from your neck. “Is it okay if I stay like this?”

“Your peace of mind is worth every numb limb and hours spent awake,” you kissed his forehead, then the hand holding onto the ring. “You would do the same for me. And just so you know, you make an excellent pillow.”

“You too,” he closed his eyes, resting his hand back on your side, cuddling close. “Will you… will you hold my hand? Please?”

Without another word you slid your fingers against his, interlocking them. He squeezed your hand in return, letting out one last sigh as he slowly let go of all the tension that kept him awake. His body melted against yours, muscles relaxing as his breathing evened out, and in a few minutes all you could feel was his light snoring tickling your neck. You brushed your fingers through his hair again, pressing one last goodnight kiss on his forehead before resting back against your pillows.

Ashton slept soundly in your arms, head resting on your shoulder, arm thrown over your waist, fingers interlocked on the bed. He fit perfectly against you, his weight all the comfort you needed in your life. You would have stayed up all night just to make sure he had no more nightmares, but his soft sleepy sounds slowly lulled you to sleep too. The last thing you remembered was his lips brushing against your neck as he shuffled in his sleep, and you fell asleep with a smile on your face. You knew for sure he was your forever – and you planned on reminding him of that every single day for the rest of your lives. Even if it meant chasing away his nightmares every night. Because he was worth it.

#selfreblog

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