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sunshine-daisies-library · 3 months

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starry eyed lies | ashton irwin x pop star!reader

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

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

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

word count: 11.0k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And a heart attack,” Ashton deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ash-” Calum said meekly.

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

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

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

“Hi guys,” you weakly greeted them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s up with her?” Shane asked.

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

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

“I know right?”

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

#y/nl/nisoverparty

#y/nl/nisasnake

#y/nisthebiggestbitch

#y/nl/nisOVER

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt your Ashton.

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

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

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

“What are you–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

please like and reblog if u enjoyed! <3

#5sos #ashton irwin x reader #5sos fic #5sos imagine #ashton irwin angst #ashton irwin #5sos fanfic #5sos fanfiction #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin fluff #ashton irwin imagine

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sunshine-daisies-library · 4 months

Text

staged romance | luke hemmings x actress!reader

summary: when you get the role of a lifetime, luke struggles to support you when he finds out who your scripted love interest is

word count: 10.8k

warnings: misogyny, arguments, drinking, jealousy, swearing, mentions of cheating, angst

author’s note: the title of the movie/book and the show were smth i made up on the fly so it’s not to be affiliated w other books/movies that are called that lol, it’s all a coincidence. this is also not proofread!

second author's note: the last bit was rushed in the end but let me be clear! my intent was to portray a loving realistic relationship with healthy communication of feelings and borders. of course, things like that are tough to convey in a one-shot alone. talks of jealousy and cheating is heavily mentioned throughout the text, but it is not my intent to make luke appear toxic or y/n seem unfaithful. the two are in a healthy relationship that gets plagued by jealousy, insecurities, and stupid social media! i, in no way, shape, or form, condone toxic relationships and try my best to let that show in my writing. please consult a trusted loved one if you are experiencing a toxic relationship. i love yall and hope the best!

happy reading lovelies <3

“I’m sure you boys are incredibly busy now more than ever,” the interviewer said, referring to the band’s many new surprises in store. “I can’t help but wonder what you guys are most excited about.”

Luke was nodding along to the woman, barely paying attention and silently hoping for the interview to end faster. Ashton had always teased Luke for having a blank stare during these interviews and the fans have caught on, too, but he couldn’t help being bored talking about the same things over and over again.

“So busy,” Michael agreed, taking the reins on the question. “We’ve got new music coming out, we’ve been working nonstop to release them and film music videos, too. Not to mention our tour coming up in a couple of months. But to speak for the boys, I think we’re all pretty excited to have our music featured in a movie.”

Ashton was quick to chime in. “Yeah, we’ve worked real hard on this one, we were in the studio for hours trying to perfect it and we hope we did the movie justice.”

The interviewer shifted through her binder of notes and questions. “It’s safe to say everyone is stoked to hear it in theaters,” she concluded. “But the question that’s been on everyone’s minds is, Luke, how do you feel about writing a song for a movie your girlfriend is the face of? Could you walk us through that process?”

Calum quietly nudged Luke in the side, bringing his attention to the woman sitting before them. “Oh yeah,” Luke coughed, readjusting his posture in his chair. “I’m super excited to help bring this story to life, it’s been a real journey to go through the entire process of it all. I’m especially proud of y/n for getting the lead role, it’s been a dream of hers to get this far and I’m so lucky to have her in my life and watch her grow as an actress.”

“Aw,” Ashton leaned into his mic, making the boys laugh. “So cute.”

“Very cute,” Luke retorted with a small smile. “She’s great and definitely deserves this role; she’s worked so hard on it and it really shows on the screen. As for the music, I agree with Ash when he said we worked our asses off on it. y/n definitely put in a lot of input on this one, not actually, but she was a great inspiration throughout the writing and producing process.”

Michael grinned at his friend, picking up his mic. “He’s downplaying it,” he quipped. “When the producer reached out to us to write something up for the movie, Luke was really into it. I mean reading through the tidbit that the producer sent us, rereading the book the movie was based on, all of it. Out of the four of us, Luke was really the one who took the wheel on this project and y/n was a big part of the reason why.”

Luke turned red at Michael’s explanation, but it was true. He was ecstatic to hear they wanted 5 Seconds of Summer to add to their soundtrack, and he was even more excited to hear it was for the very movie you just received the lead role for. You both found out the news on the same day and were over the moon excited.

“I got the part!” you yelled, running down the hall to Luke’s office with Petunia following close behind you. “Babe! I got the part-”

Luke swung the door open, a look of disbelief on his face. “They want us to write a song for the movie,” he announced.

Your eyes were wide at his news. In an instant, you jumped into his arms and he caught you, spinning you around as you both let out shouts of joy. Luke peppered kisses down your face and neck, anywhere he could reach, in pride.

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” he told you earnestly. “I’m so so proud of you. You earned this!”

“We earned this,” you corrected him, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling into a kiss.

“Guilty,” Luke sheepishly admitted to the interviewer. “I love my girl, what can I say?”

The woman let out a chuckle before getting back into the interview. “All the fans are happy to hear that,” she told him. “Last question and it’s for Luke again; so Michael said that you read the book for “What Lies Between Us,” and so you probably know that there are a couple explicit scenes in there, particularly between the lead and her love interest, played by Harry Styles. We all are very aware of your past with One Direction, having toured with them and gaining your fame through the tours. How do you feel about your girlfriend and friend coming together for these intimate scenes?”

The boys “oohed” immaturely as Luke blushed, shaking his head. You had already told him there would be scenes like that in the movie, not because he was jealous or would prevent you from doing them, but just to be open with him. After a discussion, the both of you were on the same page about the scenes, agreeing that it’s just work and holds no value offset.

“Yeah, n/n told me about them,” Luke chuckled, taking a sip of water. “And I don’t have anything to say about them. y/n is a great actress and so is Harry. They’re respectable workers and take their job seriously. I trust them both, not that that matters.”

“Well said,” the interviewer applauded. “So even beyond the explicit scenes, do you mind that they will be portraying lovers throughout the film?”

Luke set his water on the ground. “I mean, who doesn’t love Harry Styles, he’s handsome,” he joked playfully. Luke’s crystal blue eyes stared deeply into the camera. “No, I don’t mind at all. It’s all for the movie. Styles may have my girl in the morning and afternoons, but at night she’s mine to hold to sleep.”

–

Luke entered the bedroom, sighing loudly as he hunched over to throw off his shirt. You had been laying there waiting for his arrival home, reading over your agenda and going over your lines in your pajamas under the covers. Petunia was sleeping soundly at the foot of your bed, unbothered by his usual antics.

“You’re home late,” you mused, setting your pen down. “Everything okay, bub?”

Luke moaned and groaned while kicking off his dress pants and replacing them with his more comfortable pair of sweatpants, eventually falling face down onto the bed. You giggled at his dramatics, your hand going to play through his blond curls. He relaxed at your touch as he reached for your hand and kissed it softly.

“Do you think Harry is more handsome than me?” he asked, eyes peering up at yours.

You raised your eyebrows curiously. “Do you want the answer of a 1D fan since high school or the answer of your loving girlfriend?” you joked. You and Luke both knew how deep your love for One Direction was as a teenager. He loved to tease you about your posters and t-shirts, not to mention the Harry Styles cardboard cutout you received as a birthday present one year.

Luke let out another grumble as he rolled onto his back. You scooted forward to rest his head on your lap. “Both,” he decided.

You hummed, resuming your twirling of Luke’s hair. “Well as your girlfriend,” you began. “I think you are the most handsome man to ever walk this planet.”

“And the 1D fan?” he begrudgingly asked.

You took your finger and softly traced along the bridge of his nose, trailing down to his jawline. “I think Harry Styles is very very handsome,” you answered. Watching Luke scrunch his nose in childish jealousy, you leaned in closer. “But I think the lead vocalist of the band that opened for One Direction was way better looking, sweeter, and all around so much better,” you whispered as though you were letting him in on a secret.

Luke pushed you away, sighing loudly once again as you threw your head back in laughter. “That’s the girlfriend speaking!” he whined.

“We’re one and the same, Lu,” you scolded playfully, reaching for your boyfriend. “Just because my seventeen year old self was too obsessed with Harry doesn’t mean I don’t love you and find you all the more attractive now.”

Luke let out an unconvincing huff, making you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What’s gotten into you, bub?” you asked, concern taking over your curiosity.

“The interview was all about you and the movie today,” he responded, tucking himself into bed and taking his spot beside you, nestled warmly in your chest.

You snorted, resting your hand back into his hair. Not only were his curls extremely soft at the touch and soothing to play with, you knew -while he would never admit it aloud- Luke loved when you played with his hair. “Didn’t realize I was a tough topic to talk about,” you jested.

Luke rolled over so he was practically laying half of his body on yours. “Nooo,” he said, voice muffled by your shirt. “You know I love to talk about you, baby. It’s just I got a question about you and Harry being love interests.”

You stiffened, clearly caught off guard. “Oh,” you could only muster out.

The musician nodded, burying himself into your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. “People can be so annoying sometimes,” he huffed in frustration. “Why would I care if my girlfriend is playing Harry Styles’ love interest? It’s not like it changes anything between us or between me and Harry.”

“It’s because people are misogynistic and gross,” you explained with an equally upset frown. “Just because I’m a woman in the film industry, they think I’m going to fling myself at any man I act with. It was the same for my last movie. I don’t understand why people are so quick to judge and point fingers.”

Luke lifted his chin and cupped your cheek affectionately. “I’m so sorry this is what you have to deal with everyday,” he apologized. “It’s bullshit, and I’ve made it crystal clear that you should be respected and valued for your work, not who you kiss or whatever on the screens.”

“You can always shut down the questions if they ask you,” you reminded him. “You don’t have to make yourself uncomfortable.”

Luke bit his lip in thought, a habit you found adorable and mesmerizing to watch. “But I’d rather answer these questions and stop the narrative about actresses and showmances. It’s not fair for you guys to be scrutinized about your love lives and image while male actors never get those kinds of questions.”

Your lips trembled in awe of Luke’s small rant. You had never felt so loved and appreciated by the man like you did right now. He was ever a gentleman in a world of childish boys. “You know I love you, right?” you asked him with a tearful smile.

Luke raised his thumb to the corner of your eyes to wipe away a stray tear. “It’s the bare minimum to support my girl,” he told you. “I love you, too, baby.”

Settling back down under the covers with your lover, you rested your head on top of his. “You don’t have to worry about me and Harry,” you reassured him. “It’s strictly business between us, and he’s aware of that.”

“I’m not worried,” Luke said, his eyes fluttering closed. “Get some sleep, love. You got an early morning ahead of you.”

–

The next morning, you woke up refreshed with your boyfriend still fast asleep beside you. You smiled to yourself, taking a mental image of the singer nestled beside you. His arm was snug around your waist and his nose was buried in your chest, a normal routine you’ve found the both of you falling into when he was home from tours. What you hated the most was ending said routine when you had to wake up before him for filming.

You slowly removed his arm and slid out from under the sheets, trying to not wake him. Of course, ever the heavy sleeper, Luke remained asleep, taking one of your pillows as an adequate replacement for you. You quietly began your morning routine of brewing coffee for yourself, brushing your teeth, and styling your hair. Petunia followed behind you, being the momma’s girl she was. You let her go outside as you got started on preparing breakfast. Normally, you’d make breakfast and coffee for two but you were called for an earlier shoot, barely before sunrise, so Luke would no doubt be asleep for a while.

Finished with breakfast and giving Petunia her required pets and kisses, you went back upstairs to get dressed for the day. You thought you had been relatively quiet, but nonetheless the singer woke up to you, half dressed, on the other side of the room.

“What a sight for sore eyes,” his raspy voice praised.

You turned your head around as you slipped on a pair of pants, rolling your eyes at him. “You should be asleep,” you scolded lightly.

“And you should still be in bed with me,” he reprimanded in the same tone. Luke lazily reached across the bed for you, only short by a few inches.

“I have to be in for an early shoot,” you reminded him. “You know I’d be asleep right beside you if I had the choice.”

Luke groaned, making you laugh as you ruffled his hair similar to how you’d pet Petunia. “Why can’t you call out?” he whined like a toddler.

You kissed his forehead and set for the door. “If I did, I’d be out of a job,” you told him. “Then who would Harry kiss on camera?”

“Not funny!” Luke yelled out as you grabbed the rest of your things and left your home.

“Love you!” you shouted back, closing the door behind you.

Luke rolled over back to his side, grabbing his phone and absentmindedly scrolled through Twitter. He figured that since he was already awake, he might as well look through his notifications before formally getting up.

On Twitter, he realized in the bottom of his screen that he received thousands of tagged mentions. Curious, he clicked on the icon to see multiple photos of you and Harry outside the studio. You two were snuggled under a blanket, far too close for his liking. The smile on your face was one Luke was familiar with because it was the look you always gave him. Jealousy burned in his chest before he realized it.

outofstyles: harry styles and y/n l/n is a pair we didn’t ask for but ended up needing SEVERELY

stylesupdatesdaily: styles-l/n was NOT on my bingo card this year but i am here for it!!! #styles-l/n #wlbumovie

lukehemmingslipring: why are people shipping harry and y/n when she’s been dating luke since way before the SGFG era??? and why am i fucking with it???

y/nismother: @lukehemmingslipring don’t tell me they broke up because if they did love isn’t real :(

y/nismother: @youngblood__irwin SEND THE LINK PLEASE!!!!!

Luke frowned at the back and forth in the comments, as well as additional tweets he was tagged in regarding the Hemmings vs. Styles drama, a drama he didn’t even knew had begun. Frustration and envy brewed inside him despite his strong attempts to fight the urge. He had promised you he wouldn’t get jealous. Hell, he didn’t expect himself to feel this way. He knew you, of course. And he knew Harry very well. In his right mind, he knew there was nothing behind the photos nor your staged romance. But the damn photos and tweets and people raising the question of the stability of his relationship…anger was clouding his mind and he could barely think straight.

–

By the time you got to set, you were rushed into hair and makeup. You were used to the fast paced nature of the studio and settled into your routine with ease. As your hair designers twisted and pulled your hair back to prep for your wig, you saw a familiar figure catch your eye.

“Good morning, darlin’,” Harry greeted with a chaste kiss on your cheek. You snorted at his thick Southern accent he had been practicing all year long. While he had improved significantly, you found that his drastic change from a charming British lad to a cheeky Southern man was still too bizarre to get accustomed to.

“Hello, honey,” you said back in a Chicago accent, remembering to stay still for the dressers to apply your wig. The accent you portrayed was one that your character had, a sharp-tongued divorcee. “Didn’t expect you to come in on time.”

“Love, I’m always on time,” he chuckled, sitting beside you to allow the artists to work their magic. “You’re just cooped up in your trailer doing God knows what with that husband of yours.”

You laughed, eyes shut as your dear friend and makeup artist Alisha applied eyeshadow. “Not my husband,” you corrected him.

“Well you’ve been dating him long enough for him to might as well be,” he joked. “You seriously mean to tell me Hemmings hasn’t put a ring on your finger?” You nodded as much as you could, considering Alisha was very adamant on perfecting your concealer under your eyes. “Well, he’s got to get a move on before I make a move myself.”

The two of you laughed, knowing the banter was light and all jokes. “Careful now, sweetheart,” you said, reverting back to your Chicago accent. “Mr. Hemmings might get a little jealous.”

“Can’t have that now, can we?” he drawled, back in his Southern accent. “But you make such a pretty little wife on screen, how can I resist?”

“You tease!” you exclaimed, clutching your heart and remaining in character. “Mr. McClantire, you know I’m a faithful woman.”

Finished with his makeup, Harry stood up and readjusted his suit jacket. “Mrs. Abernathy, a lady like you should be cherished,” he explained, taking your hand and brushing his lips against his lightly. “I’ll meet you on set.”

You chuckled, taking your hand back to fix your hat your stylist had expertly pinned to your head. “I’ll see you then, Mr. McClantire.”

Leaving you be, Harry left the dressing room and gently closed the door. Alisha clicked her tongue at the British singer turned actor, shaking her head. “Always a tease, isn’t he,” she hummed, applying hair spray liberally. “He better watch himself or the media will end up in a frenzy with his flirtatious attitude.”

“He’s a sweetheart, I know he means no harm,” you defended him, sipping your tea serenely. “I do believe he’s been seeing someone though so I know there’s no weight to his words. But I do admit his habits are going to make Twitter go crazy. Luke has already gotten wind of some of the news and gossip.”

Alisha rested her hand on her hip, lips pursed in thought. “Only a matter of time before he gets jealous,” she mused playfully.

“He won’t,” you said back, not expecting Alisha’s warning.

“Oh honey,” she shook her head. “You know men, they’ll get jealous.”

–

Luke looked at the TV through the mirror reflection in his dressing room as he adjusted his dress shirt’s sleeves. Nearly a while had passed since the finish of filming and it was a matter of days until the movie’s premiere. Your schedule consisted of plenty of interviews and promo events which resulted in more drama tabloids being released about you and Harry. A scowl rested on his

and Harry on the screen talking with the host of the show. You were animatedly telling a story while Harry’s arm rested behind you. Albeit casual, Luke couldn’t help but glare at the gesture.

“If looks could kill, he’d be dead,” Ashton mused from behind the blond singer.

Luke brushed off his comment, turning away from the vanity. “I just wish he’d keep his bloody hands off her,” he muttered enviously.

Calum was distractedly scrolling through his phone on the couch, no doubt bored, waiting for their cue to get on stage. “And sit fifty miles away from her?” he suggested plainly, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Mate, they’re friends, of course they’re going to sit beside each other.”

“But with his arm around her?” Luke pressed impatiently, fighting the urge to run his fingers through his hair. You reminded him constantly before arriving at the studio to not touch his hair. You’d worked so hard to style and gel it while he focused on his makeup. The blond settled for crossing his arms on his chest and tapping his foot.

“Yeah,” Michael agreed with Luke. “He should cut it off,” he joked, dodging Luke’s swat of his hand.

Ashton patted Luke’s shoulder, setting him down on the couch. “Calm down, Luke,” he instructed. “Take some deep breaths or else you’ll pop a vein. I understand how annoying publicists have been with Harry and n/n, but you shouldn’t let them get to you.”

“How can I when they talk about my girl?” Luke seethed, his composure rigid. “They talk about her like she’s a fame chaser, going after Harry for publicity even though she’s been practically an A-lister since she was a kid.” Luke shuffled in his seat, frown permanently on his face.

“Then I hardly see how Harry’s got anything to do with it,” Calum raised an eyebrow.

Luke stood up from the couch as quickly as he had sat down. “Because he’s–he’s–” Luke stumbled over his words. Finding no reasonable excuse, he angrily kicked his foot against the table only to yelp in pain, clutching his foot and jumping up and down. “That fucking pretty boy.”

Michael sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You can’t really give into those gossip tablets, can you?” he genuinely asked.

Luke paused, long enough for the boys to shake their heads in disappointment. “It’s the hair!” he lamely blamed, throwing his hands in the air.

The boys’ conversation was interrupted by a set assistant, knocking on the door while opening it. “Five minutes till your performance,” the boy squeaked.

Ashton was the one to speak up for the group. “Thanks, Roberto,” he said gratefully. The moment the boy left, Ashton turned to the boys. “We’re going to discuss this more later after the show. Luke, please be civil with Harry.”

“Says the one who fucked his sis-”

“None of that now,” Ashton cut Michael off, not wanting to rehash his past. “Now let’s get on stage before they have our heads.”

The boys made their way down to the set, hiding discreetly behind the curtains. A frenzy of assistants scurried by, ensuring that the boys had their instruments and everything was perfect before they got on stage.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Five Seconds of Summer!”

The stage manager nodded at the cue, ushering the boys through the entrance. Luke was the first to walk through, waving at the audience and smiling at fans screaming in the back. They got settled on the side stage, instruments in tow as they turned to the host of the night.

“Thank you for having us, Jimmy,” Luke spoke into the mic, trying not to wince at the squealing girls in the crowd. His eyes were trained on you, who had stood up and clapped for the band as they came in. You were now seated, eyes sparkling in excitement.

Jimmy Fallon leaned back in his chair. “We’re glad to have you, Luke,” he responded. “Hope the dressing room wasn’t too snug for your guys?”

“Oh no Jimmy, we quite enjoyed it,” Ashton answered from behind his kit. “Reminds me of the good old days when we’d share Luke’s bedroom to change before filming our performances on YouTube.”

The crowd laughed at Ashton’s quip, Jimmy especially as he shook his head in laughter. “Good to hear,” he said. “And what do you guys have for us today?”

Michael was next to take the lead. “Well initially we thought we were going to perform our song for What Lies Between Us,” he began, followed by more applause and cheering. “But we thought it would be better to leave that for the premiere.”

“Correction: our publicist thought it would be better,” Calum joked, however there was no fabrication behind it; their publicist did think it would be best.

“So we decided to play a song from our album that’s yet to come out,” Michael finished. “Jimmy, this is “Bad Omens.””

The crowd loved the song as much as you did, finding that song to be one of your favorites of the album. Upon finishing the song, the boys set down their instruments for the backstage staff to collect and made their way to the couches.

You and Harry stood up to greet each of them, Harry with a handshake and you with a kiss on the cheek. Luke took your hand, kissing you brightly on the lips before sitting down beside you. Jimmy made a cheeky face, teasingly looking at you and your boyfriend. The crowd chuckled at his behavior and you did the same while Luke kept his hand possessively on your knee.

“Well this is a new development,” Jimmy mused, folding his hands on top of his desk.

You waved off his comment with an airy giggle. “Oh this?” you asked, gesturing between you and Luke. “Old as time.”

“We’ve actually been together for what, a little over ten years now?” Luke explained, glancing over at you with a proud smile. He relished the feeling of the crowd clapping and whooping at your relationship.

Jimmy whistled at Luke’s comment. “And no ring on the finger?” he pressed. “I mean, you’ve had to have thought about it before?”

You nodded reassuringly. “Oh a million times,” you responded. “But God knows that when you deal with one of these boys, you have to deal with all of them.” You jabbed your thumb at the three boys to the left of you, shoving their lanky arms against each other as they tried to get comfortable on their seats. Luke cleared his throat to get their attention, the boys flushed in the face as they quit their quarreling. “I’ve known them since they went on tour with One Direction and we finally ended up dating afterwards. But now, I’m ready to get married and settle down. I’m just waiting on Hemmings, here.”

Luke chuckled at your last comment, seemingly taking them lightly. You furrowed your eyebrows at his reaction, but decided not to act upon it. “She’s very much so anticipating that question, Jimmy,” he confessed. “It’s only a matter of time, but I’m in no hurry. This one, however…” he trailed off, grinning at you.

“A girl has dreams,” you defended yourself.

Jimmy snapped his fingers at your words, a thought coming back to him. “Yes, you certainly do!” he exclaimed, reaching under his desk for a frame as he changed the subject. Confusion and hurt brewed inside you, but you quickly pushed those feelings down. “y/n, you’re not a stranger to dreams, right?”

“Oh, definitely not,” you agreed with a dubious expression on your face.

“So I hope you don’t mind when I show a little memento from the past your mother sent over.”

“Oh God,” you groaned, turning to hide your face in Luke’s shoulder. “What did she send over now? I told you to lose her number, Jimmy.”

Jimmy raised his hands up in surrender. “She makes a great lunch partner,” he defended himself. “y/m/n, if you’re watching tonight, we’re still on for Tuesday?” You rolled your eyes as Harry threw his head back in laughter. “Joking, joking, not really, but-”

“Jimmy,” you said in a warning tone.

“Alright, alright,” he relented. “Anyways, your mother found a letter you wrote back when you were in middle school to the tooth fairy-”

Michael choked on his own saliva, jerking forward. “n/n, you still believed in the tooth fairy when you were in middle school-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Clifford,” you clipped back through your teeth as you smiled rigidly. You still had one last baby tooth in at the time, you still had your hopes out for the mythical creature.

Jimmy raised his hand to cut off the side chatter as he read from the framed letter. “And you, at age thirteen, had one dream that you wished the tooth fairy would grant you.”

“Dear Tooth Fairy,” he read aloud as you crumbled in embarrassment. “I have finally lost my last tooth, so I guess this will be the last letter I can send you.”

“Aww,” the boys gushed in unison, causing you to shoot them an icy glare.

“To end this amazing tooth filled saga, I have one last wish. You see, it’s been my dream to meet One Direction.”

“Jimmy!” you screamed, covering your face in humiliation as the memories started to flood in. Luke covered you in his arms as you folded over yourself, laughing along but equally curious about what was in the letter.

Jimmy, nonetheless, continued reading. “And I have a favorite singer in the band. If you could pull some strings and make Harry Styles my boyfriend, I swear to you I’ll write a letter to you everyday -even though I have no more teeth to give you- and will solemnly swear to be your best friend forever. Let him be my boyfriend, pleaseeeeee.” The audience let out a boisterous laughter as Jimmy emphasized your silly, childish writing. “Love, y/n.”

More clapping filled your ears as you raised your head to face Jimmy. In the corner of your eye, you saw Harry resting casually beside you, facing you as he leaned against the couch.

“I’m flattered,” Harry told you, an amused smile resting on his lips.

You pressed your lips in a straight line. “Thanks, Har,” you deadpanned.

He patted your shoulder in a friendly manner. “No, it’s real sweet,” he reassured you. “Truly, cute, even.”

“That’s not all we have,” Jimmy spoke up as he put away your framed letter. He waved off your groans and complaints. “It’s not bad, not bad. I’m sure you all remember the Golden Globes back in 2012 when y/n made her first appearance in the hit TV show, The Last Elites of Cardenia.”

The crowd cheered as a photo of you as a child appeared on the screen. It was a shot of you in the show, dressed up in your furs and pearls as per your character, Cecilia. The next photo was of you on the red carpet with your show family. Your braces were highly visible in your smile, making you wince at the rough photo.

“I loved that show,” Ashton sighed, full of nostalgia. “Cal, Michael, and I would binge that show every night after concerts.”

“You didn’t watch it, Luke?” Jimmy asked curiously.

Luke sheepishly shook his head. “No, I didn’t,” he answered honestly.

“I’m offended, babe,” you teased, your hand over your heart in mock offense.

Michael snorted. “It’s not like he didn’t like the show,” he told you. “He just could barely follow the storyline whenever you popped up on screen.”

The boys gave Luke playful punches as he blushed. “I-I couldn’t help it!” he exclaimed. “You were just so cute on screen, you were my celebrity crush for the longest time. I mean you were a right entitled bitch in the show but meeting you in real life, I just was-“

“So down bad,” Ashton finished for him. Luke was about to correct him but you were quick to cut him off.

“Baby,” you cooed, pinching his cheek.

Jimmy laughed along with the conversation, pointing towards the screen as he spoke. “Speaking of celebrity crushes,” he continued. “We have this old footage of you on the red carpet answering some questions.”

The day was bright as you appeared on the screen. A youthful innocence covered your entire self, from the way you gathered yourself to your voice. A woman was behind the camera, only her hand holding the microphone could be seen.

“And who might you be?” the woman asked you.

You smiled brightly. “I’m y/n!” you chirped. “y/n l/n but most people know me as Cecilia from The Last Elites of Cardenia.”

“Nice to meet you, y/n, I’m Mei,” the woman greeted, shaking your hand. “This is your first time here at the Golden Globes, how are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’m sooo excited, Mei,” you answered honestly and giddily. You could hardly stand still. “My mom picked my outfit today so I’m feeling very confident and pretty!”

“And who do you want to see most today?”

You cocked your head in thought. “Harry Styles!” you exclaimed. “I heard One Direction’s going to be at the after party, so I really hope to see him. He’s my biggest celebrity crush,” you gushed unabashedly.

The clip ended and everyone turned to you, where you were frozen and wide-eyed.

“Where the hell do you find this stuff, Jimmy,” you sighed, face palming annoyedly.

“Oh, the vault, you know,” Jimmy responded cheekily. “But that leaves us wondering how you feel now, starring alongside your celebrity crush in the film “What Lies Between Us?””

You tapped your chin. Harry glanced over at you. “Be honest, darling,” he reminded you in a sing-songy voice.

“Well I can definitely say that my teenage self is absolutely losing her mind,” you answered. “It’s something out of a dream, if you think about it. I mean, I never knew I’d come far enough to star in a highly anticipated movie, nevertheless star alongside Harry. It’s a blessing, surely, but now, I think that fangirl side of me has been laid to rest.”

Jimmy turned to your boyfriend. “And what do you think, Luke?”

The musician gave the host a close lipped smile. “Whatever makes n/n happy,” he settled brusquely.

Jimmy, satisfied with his response, began asking questions for the other boys about touring and their music. You whipped your head around and raised an eyebrow at Luke for his short response, but Luke didn’t make eye contact with you. Concerned, you reached for his hand on his knee but he pulled back, folding his hands together. Never had you felt more confused and isolated than you did at that moment. You used to be able to read his mind, but now it felt like he’d closed his mind in walls you couldn’t seem to get past.

–

“What was that about?” you demanded, following closely behind Luke as you walked into your shared home.

After that awkward end to the show with Jimmy Fallon, you, Harry, and the boys went out to dinner. You thought that moment with Luke was just a one-off thing, but he remained in his rigid composure for the rest of the night. The boys would talk boisterously throughout the dinner, sharing stories of the past tours with One Direction and catching up on life afterwards. But Luke was the only one who remained silent, opting to focus on his glass of red wine he never seemed to finish. You made attempts to speak to Luke, nudging him or trying to meet his eyes from across the table but he refused to look up the entire time. Frustrated, you let it be but it was clear you were upset to the rest of the table. Harry had even pulled you aside after you all paid for your meals, asking if things were alright and if he had overstepped at all. You reassured him he did nothing wrong, it was Luke who was being childish at the moment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he brushed you off, heading upstairs to your bedroom. He removed his suit jacket and started unbuttoning his dress shirt nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t done anything wrong or pissed you off.

You entered the bedroom, heels kicked off as you crossed your arms on your chest. “Let me refresh your mind,” you spat. “You’ve been nothing but rotten towards Harry and I tonight. What’s gotten into you? I thought you said you wouldn’t get jealous-”

“And I’m not,” Luke fought back. “God, you can be so conceited sometimes, y/n.”

“So that’s what it is?” you snapped back. “I’m just being self-centered and your head isn’t stuck up your ass?”

Luke aggressively pulled his sleeves up, leaving half of his buttons undone while placing his hands on his hips. “Yes, it would appear so,” he answered shortly. “You’re overthinking what’s going on, y/n, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Do not gaslight me, Luke Hemmings,” you ordered, walking up to him to stand chest to chest. “I know your mother taught you enough for you to know that is not the way to go when arguing with me.” Luke huffed, giving in on that one statement because you were right; he did know better.

“Fine,” he muttered. “I am upset. And I have every reason to. I don’t like how close you and Harry have gotten, okay?”

Your jaw dropped in utter shock. “You mean my coworker?” you clarified sarcastically. “I’d hope I’d be close with him considering we’re playing lovers in the damn movie-”

“There you go again!” Luke’s voice boomed across the room, throwing his hands in the air. “You and Harry being lovers. Sometimes I’m led to believe it’s more than for the movie with the photos I’ve seen and the mere way you act with him.”

“Luke, I have no idea what to tell you,” you fumed. “We are acting. I have no romantic feelings for him and he has none for me. He’s seeing someone, for crying out loud! I thought you had enough trust in me to know nothing is going on between me and him.”

“I do trust you,” he argued. “But you couldn’t possibly look me dead in the eye and tell me you didn’t have romantic feelings at all during filming. You have been crushing on him for far too long for that to just go away.”

You hesitated, your face burning with frustration and humiliation. You hated to admit there was some truth to his statement. “I-I,” you stumbled over your words.

Luke’s nostrils flared as he glared at you, proving his point exactly. You threw your hands in the air. “He was a celebrity crush from when I was a teenager, Luke!” you shouted exasperatedly. “I had a little crush, that was it! And maybe it resurfaced a little at the beginning but I swear to you I don’t have those feelings anymore. It was a childish crush, Luke, you’ve got to believe me when I say that. I love you.”

Tears lined both of your eyes as you went to reach for his hand. Your thumb grazed his ring, the one you bought for him for your first anniversary. “I really don’t know,” Luke whispered, slowly pulling his hand away.

Your heart shattered at his words, falling to the ground you stood on. You had dedicated ten years of your life to this man, ten of the best years of your life to him. You grew up with him, made the best and worst mistakes of your lives, and survived all of that together. He was your person, your lover, your one being that you’d lay down your life for. Yet, the moment your relationship is tested, he falters. But you couldn’t blame him. One little crush resurfacing, and that managed to wipe out everything you ever created for yourself over the past decade.

You took a deep breath, fighting the urge to fall over and sob on the ground. Your hands opened and closed into fists as you took a step back. “Fine,” you said, shaky and uncertain. Luke almost caved at your voice, the mere way you spoke. You had always carried yourself with dignity and confidence. He was the one who stripped you of that, and you were just a shell of who you once were.

“I think I’m going to spend the night at Crys’s,” you told him, walking over to your closet and pulling out a bag. “It’s clear we both need space and time apart.”

Luke shook his head, taking your wrist. “Don’t do that,” he said. “Your premiere is in two days, you’re going to be worn out and exhausted if you don’t sleep right. I’ll head over to Cal’s and you can stay here.”

Taking back your wrist, you continued to pack your things. “It’s your house, Luke,” you reminded him. “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay spending the night with Crys and Michael.”

“Don’t bother them,” Luke insisted. “They’ve been busy building the nursery for when they plan on trying for a baby and-”

You winced at his words. He didn’t understand how much he hurt you with them, where he was only looking out for their sake and not yours. Realizing the deeper meaning behind his words, Luke tried to correct himself when you just raised your hand to stop him. He had said enough for the night, and so had you.

“I’ll find a hotel,” you finally decided. Luke was silent, heart aching and yearning for you, but too frozen to speak up and do anything about it. Finished packing, you zipped up your bag and turned back to him. “Goodnight, Lukey,” you said, kissing him on the cheek before leaving the house entirely.

Driving down the streets of L.A. you managed to find a small hotel on the side of the road that looked safe enough to spend the night. Carrying your bag, you pathetically entered the hotel in your dress from the late night show and a pair of flat shoes you slipped on before leaving. Your hair was no doubt a mess, no longer styled to perfection as Alisha once had it. Your mascara was probably running down your face, too. God, you looked like a mess in front of this poor worker.

The boy lifted his eyes to meet yours, slowly recognizing who you were but deciding to not speak on it. You looked like you had gone through enough tonight. “Room for one?” he asked you. You wordlessly nodded, rummaging through your bag to find your wallet for ID and your card. Handing them to the worker, you kept your gaze on your bag. In the process, you found your phone and checked your notifications.

Lukey <;3: please let me know when you arrive safely

You: im here now

Lukey <;3: okay, love. use the card i gave you to pay for your room

You: no, it’s fine.

You left the conversation at that, not caring if it were dry. You were exhausted and didn’t want to fight with him anymore. You had no more fight in you to give him.

The boy behind the desk handed you back your things along with your key card for the night. “Let me know if you need anything at all to improve your stay,” he told you politely.

You fought the urge to scoff at the boy. Like you could do anything to improve your stay, tonight was hell as it is. But you reminded yourself it wasn’t his fault you were arguing with the love of your life; it was yours. Thanking him quietly, you made your way to your room and tossed your bag on the foot of your bed, tucking yourself in next, still in your evening wear. You didn’t care if you’d ruin your dress or damage your face from leaving your makeup on overnight. It was too much for you to deal with right now.

Lukey <;3: goodnight, y/n

read 2:43 am

–

The next two days were utter torture for Luke. He kept contact with you through it all, ensuring that you had eaten, slept, etc. but that was all you’d tell him. Luke couldn’t decide whether or not he was grateful for your shortness with your words, if it would make him cave and go to you and forget everything or make him more upset. He was grateful he had your location still on his phone, and you had his. At least he could check on you and make sure you were alright and not in any trouble.

Luke was also guilty of checking if you had gone to Harry’s house. Guilt and upset rumbled in his stomach, as he felt like he crossed a boundary and invaded your privacy. But how could he not be curious about your whereabouts when you had confessed to him you still had some feelings toward Harry? It didn’t matter that you said those feelings came and went. What would happen if you tied the knot and you changed your mind about him?

Luke had trusted you with his life. He took your word as true most of the time, but now he was unsure. He wasn’t sure where he lied with you now. He loved you still, yes, and he’d still sacrifice his own happiness for you. Perhaps he blew things over proportion between the two of you. You swore you still loved him and no longer felt anything for Harry. But why did Luke still feel something wrong in his chest?

He still had mixed feelings about your argument on the night of your premiere. Luke was in Ashton’s living room, quietly sipping on a beer as he waited for the rest of the band and their significant others to meet them there to travel to the theater together.

Ashton slipped on his jacket, entering the room and looking over at his friend. “y/n not joining us tonight, mate?” he asked. He knew what had happened those nights ago. He was the first person Luke called the moment you left, staying on the phone with him until five in the morning. You had even called him later that day to ask for his advice. He was grateful you both thought of him as an older brother figure, and he wanted nothing more than to get you both together to talk through it.

Luke set his bottle down, not wanting to get drunk on your important night. “No,” he replied with a heaved sigh. “She texted me that she’ll get there on her own because Alisha wanted to do her hair and makeup.”

Ashton sat down beside him, patting his back. “That’s good she’s still talking to you, right?” he brought up, trying to look on the bright side.

“Only because I made her swear to keep me updated,” he grumbled. “If it weren’t for that, I think she’d block my number.”

“Now that’s not true,” Ashton told him seriously.

Luke shrugged his shoulders. “I practically told her I didn’t trust her anymore,” he said, ashamed of himself. “But it’s fair, isn’t it? I knew in my stomach that there was something going on between her and Harry.”

“But there wasn’t,” Ashton reminded him. “She said her feelings toward Harry resurfaced, but she didn’t act on them in any way.”

“But what if one day she wakes up and realizes she can do so much better than me?” Luke asked, voice cracking. He didn’t want to think about that, but that’s all his mind would conjure. “Then she’ll leave me for him and I’ll be the idiot that was strung along the whole time.”

Ashton leaned back on his sofa. “I think you owe y/n more credit than that,” he said. “She loves you, she said so herself. And if she really wanted Harry, she wouldn’t have fought for you like she did.”

“You’re right,” Luke supposed. “I just feel so guilty now.”

“You can talk to her after the premiere,” Ashton settled. “Trust me, she wants to talk to you, too.”

The two were interrupted by Ashton’s door swinging open to reveal the remaining boys and their significant others. Ready to go, Ashton and Luke joined them outside to hop into Michael’s car.

Luke got settled in the back seat, reaching for his seat belt when Crystal turned around to face him. “How are you holding up, bub?” she asked, a comforting smile on her face.

He grimaced but tilted his head in response. “Definitely could be better,” he said earnestly. “But Ash helped me through it.”

Crystal reached behind her to pat his knee soothingly. “I’m glad,” she said. “y/n’s the same. I stopped by her hotel this morning to catch up on things.”

“And she’s okay?” Luke leaned in, interested in learning anything about your whereabouts and how you’re doing.

Crystal put on the same expression as Luke. “About the same as you,” she responded. “But don’t worry, everything will work out in the end.”

Luke braved a smile. “I hope so.”

—

The carpet leading up to the theater was packed with reporters and photographers trying to get a glimpse of the actors featured in the film. The band was far behind, stuck in the traffic of people stopping them to ask a few questions.

“Boys!” a man called out. “Over here! I’m here with Vanity Fair.”

The boys shared a glance and went up to the man. “My name is Aamir and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions about tonight.”

Michael stood in the front, taking Aamir’s extra microphone. “Let’s hear them!”

“This is the first time your music is being featured in a movie as big as this,” Aamir stated. “How are you all feeling?”

Calum drew in a breath, deciding to take this question. “I mean, how can we feel?” he responded. “It’s a mix of feelings, I can tell you that. I think on behalf of the band, we’re all just really nervous but excited to put out this music for the film. It’s really different from our typical kind of music, but we hope you all love it the same.”

“I’m sure we’ll all love what you have in store for us,” Aamir said confidently. “Luke, how are you feeling tonight? It’s a big moment for your girlfriend, y/n l/n, as this is her first lead role in a highly anticipated movie. Can you give us an insight on how y/n is feeling and how you both prepared for tonight?”

Luke tried to not let his rigidity and awkwardness show on camera. There was enough dubious press about the two of you after that show with Jimmy Fallon. “I’m sure she’s over the moon about tonight,” he answered, eyes flickering to the camera. “She’s been so excited for this moment and all her hard work has come down to tonight.”

“And how have you prepared together?” Aamir repeated his second question with curiosity as to why Luke didn’t answer in the first place.

Luke bit his lip, trying to answer without showing he was completely unsure. “Well-“

Cheers erupted from the crowd as a limo approached the carpet. Luke thanked God for that distraction because everyone -including himself- turned to see what the commotion was about.

You stepped outside of the car, dressed in a long white gown that resembled a wedding dress. Luke could only describe you as ethereal as you shyly waved to the photographers and interviewers. He’d never seen you so shy in public, since you’d been in front of the cameras since you were a child. Your eyes were trained on the ground, a shaky smile on your face that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Reporters shouted at you, desperate to get a word or two with you. Dazed by the flashing lights and loud noises, you took a step forward to where the people were blocked by a gate. In your nervous stature, you began to tremble, hands reaching out for stability but struggling to do so. Your ankle gave way, causing you to fall to the ground. People shouted and “ooh’ed” but no one ran in to help you.

Rushing forward, Luke ran over to you and wrapped his arm securely around your waist as he guided you back up. You gasped, looking up at your savior and realizing who it was. His name was on your lips but no sound could come out; you were too shocked to say anything since you hadn’t formally spoken to him in days.

Luke gave you a reassuring smile, eyes glancing down at your lips to silently ask for permission to kiss you. You nodded, allowing him to cup the side of your face to kiss you softly. The moment your lips met his, you felt yourself get regrounded. Knowing he was by your side, you felt like yourself again: more confident.

The press ate up yours and Luke’s stunt, taking photos left and right of the two of you. You pulled away, your hand on his chest and feeling his heart beat quickly. “Thank you,” you whispered. Luke gave you a small nod but remained silent as he led you to the reporters.

A young woman caught your attention, pointing her microphone in your direction. “Are you alright, y/n?” she asked you, camera pointed at you. “I’m Irina with TMZ. We’re happy to see you tonight!”

Nerves began to creep in as you drew a blank at her question. Luke’s hand squeezed your hip comfortingly, providing you with the stability and strength you needed to get through the event. Nodding to yourself, you opened your mouth to answer.

“I’m doing great, thank you,” you answered. “Just some first premiere nerves but they never killed anyone! I’m just really grateful Luke was here to save me from that little trip there.”

Irina pointed her microphone at Luke, who was taken aback but spoke nonetheless. “Anything for my girl,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s her big night and I’m her biggest supporter. She’s my rock for concerts, I’m her rock for premieres. We have each other’s backs.”

Your eyes were stuck on Luke, mesmerized by his face and how his eyelids glistened in the light from his eyeshadow, no doubt from the palette you gifted him on his birthday last year. The corners of your lips quirked upwards, a warm and fuzzy feeling growing in your chest as you looked up at him with pride and love. You almost didn’t hear the interviewer’s final question.

“y/n, it’s been all over social media how you had a long standing crush on your co-lead, Harry Styles,” Irina stated. You felt Luke’s hand tighten around your hip without him realizing, no doubt irritated by that question. “How did it feel to kiss him and perform in intimate scenes with him?”

As you opened your mouth to respond, Luke cut in. “Respectfully,” he began. “I think y/n’s work goes far beyond who she kissed or who she did what with. She’s been in the film industry for as long as I can remember, and definitely deserves more questions that dive deeper than who she harbors romantic feelings for.”

The interviewer’s face flushed in embarrassment. “Of course,” she agreed, rushing to apologize. You simply waved her off, politely excusing both yourself and Luke out of the conversation with grace.

Luke remained by your side as you made your way through the reporters and photographers, staying silent unless asked a question. You thought he wouldn’t look at you from the way his eyes never met yours -except for when he kissed you, of course- but in fact, he had stared at you the entire time you spoke. Nothing but adoration filled his mind when he listened to you speak about the work you worked so hard to make. It made all of your past problems fade to gray, and he nearly forgot about your whole argument.

Once you entered the theater, you expected Luke to pull away to find the boys but he didn’t. You stopped in your tracks to turn to him. “You can go back to the boys now,” you whispered gently to him.

Luke was taken by surprise at your words, and hurt flashed across his face. “Do you want me to go?” he asked you.

You were quick to shake your head. “No!” you rushed. “I just thought…you know, it’s your big day, too. I figured you’d want to spend it with them.”

The blond took your hands in his and kissed them softly. “I want to be by your side through it all,” he assured you. “I haven’t seen you in days, and I don’t want a petty fight to get between us and celebrating your greatest achievement.”

Your publicity manager approached you, checking her watch every second or so anxiously. “The movie’s about to start,” she reminded you hurriedly.

You were about to tell her to give you both a few minutes, but Luke stopped you. “We can talk more later, okay?” he said. You agreed wordlessly, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips.

“Let’s go in together, babe,” you decided. Luke resumed his position beside you, entering the theater together proudly to watch the film the both of you dedicated so much time and effort into. And as Luke took your hand while you both sat in your seats, you knew that everything would be okay in the end.

–

Once the movie had ended, Harry invited you and the boys to his home for the afterparty but you politely declined, opting to spend the rest of the night with your beloved boyfriend.

Now, you and Luke took a walk around the finally quieted city, hand in hand. You were grateful you brought another pair of shoes with you because your heels were killing you, and you were more thankful for Luke who insisted on holding your strappy heels for you as you continued your walk.

“I really can’t thank you enough for saving my neck there on the carpet,” you said in a slightly teasing tone. “I would have actually melted into the floor if you didn’t come to my aid.”

“I meant what I said when I said I always had your back, y/n,” Luke replied, eyes trained on the sidewalk.

A pregnant silence followed as you made your way through the city, taking in the lights and cool summer air without any fear of paparazzi following close behind you. You found yourself nervously playing with the rings on Luke’s fingers as you tried to find the right words to say.

“I’m sorry for that night,” you began, avoiding his questioned gaze. “I should have been more open to you about how I felt from the beginning, but I really do promise that I don’t have any feelings for him. Not anymore, at least. It was a teenage dream come true, but…”

Luke raised an eyebrow at you. “But?” he pressed gently.

You stopped walking, turning to cup his cheek affectionately. “But that’s not my dream anymore,” you finished. “My dream is to spend the rest of my life with you by my side. Whether or not you decide to marry me, I want you in my life for all the good, the bad, and the ugly. I’m really sorry for ever making you doubt my love for you, and I’m sorry for not being receptive to your doubts and insecurities.”

“What makes you think I don’t wanna marry you?” he asked you. “Of course I do. I want to see you walk down that aisle with a dress as giant or as small as you want, as long as you become Mrs. Hemmings at the end of it. Or if you don’t want to take my last name, that’s fine, too. I don’t care if you want a big or small wedding or a wedding at all. If you want to take that oath in the townhouse and officially be mine -and I, yours- I’m perfectly okay with that, too.”

You bit your lip, trying to fight back your tears. “I was just nervous,” you confessed. “I knew you were upset by those questions about me and Harry, but I was upset, too. I just never told you how upset I was.” A stray tear trickled down your face but you stubbornly wiped it away, not wanting to cry. “We’ve been together for ten wonderful years, and all people would ask me is “when are you getting married?” “when is he going to propose?” And at first, I was fine with it. But the more people asked, the more anxious I was about the stability of our relationship.”

When Luke’s face gave away he wasn’t exactly following what you meant, you continued to explain further. “I’ve read so many tweets and articles about how undesirable I am, from the moment I turned sixteen. And the fact that you kept pushing off the idea of us getting married,” you looked away, embarrassed by your reaction to all of this. “It hurts, Lukey. And I know marriage isn’t a thing to rush into and I don’t want to force you into anything you don’t want, but those drama tabloids just make me feel so insecure.”

“I didn’t know you felt that way,” Luke frowned, pity settling in, but you waved your hand to brush it off.

“It’s stupid,” you decided, wiping away the extra tears that managed to escape. “I’ve always told you not to give into the press and social media, yet here I am doing that very thing. L-let’s focus on you, Luke.”

“We can talk about my stupid jealousy another time,” Luke fought to stay on topic. “y/n, why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this? If I had known, I would have said something-”

“But that’s not how proposals work, Lukey!” you exclaimed. “It’s not something you do out of pity. It’s a decision you make when you’re sure and you’re not! That’s okay, I don’t want you to make a decision you’ll only end up regretting just to please me in the present.”

Luke took your hand in his, forcing you to look up at him. “Why do you think I’d ever regret marrying you?” he questioned. “y/n, you’re the love of my life. You’re definitely not my first girlfriend but I intend for you to be my last. You’re it for me, n/n. I do want to marry you and I intended to propose, I just wanted to find the right time and place for it. As for my behavior the past few months,” he sighed. “It wasn’t right of me to villainize you and Harry. You’re friends and coworkers, of course you’re going to get close. And I knew that the press would twist the narrative to make it seem like you guys were more than friends. I should have felt secure enough in our relationship to trust you completely, but I was also too insecure to let that be.

“Harry’s great. He’s talented, a better singer than I’ll ever be, and kind hearted. I’ve always felt like I was in his shadow, and seeing him with you made me feel self-conscious all over again. And all those news posts about him being your celebrity crush as a child made me angrier. I know it’s not something I should have blamed you for, I was just so jealous I could barely think straight.”

Luke stepped closer to you, his breath grazing your face. “I’m sorry for being jealous and ever doubting you,” he said honestly. “I should have trusted you when you said you no longer felt anything for him.”

“I’m sorry for brushing you off and not listening,” you said in response. “I promise you, Luke, you’re it for me, too.”

Luke choked back a laugh of disbelief, grateful for this whole ordeal getting resolved as he bent down to kiss you deeply. Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him in closer to finally taste him, smell him, feel him again.

Once you pulled back for air, you crinkled your nose as you smiled. “Does this mean we’re engaged?” you asked curiously, eyes sparkling with happiness and love. “You know, since we’re in agreement and everything.”

“I would have preferred to get down on one knee and that whole spiel,” Luke sighed dramatically. “But yes, I do suppose we are engaged.”

Grinning, you pulled him back down for another kiss. “We can get to that sappy stuff later,” you insisted. “I just want to spend the rest of my night with my husband-to-be.”

thank you so much for reading! please like and reblog if you enjoyed! <3

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