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marbledaesthetics · 4 years

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Only on Principal | afi | part ii

masterlist part i

pairing: ashton irwin x ofc

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, mutual pining, fake (semi-coerced?) relationships, injuries, implications of anxiety

word count: 4.4k

a/n: sorry this took so long, I just recently restarted classes and I never have the time to write. I wish I could say the next one will be sooner, but I haven’t even started it (oops). I do have an idea of where this will go moving forward, so hopefully, once I can get around to writing, it will go quickly.

~~~

It’s nearing 10 o’clock when Ashton pulls up to the building Hylla described, a brick building with tall windows, two stories high. The sign above the front door reads The Ink Pot, but he passes it by in favor of following the small alley to his left, as per her directions, where he found a small side door.

He hesitates before knocking, knowing he’s a few minutes early. He’d spent the past week kicking himself over the way he had treated her, and he was anxious to see if she would still be upset by it.

The door swings open, snapping him from his thoughts, to reveal Hylla, holding a mascara wand and small, squirming dog. “Hi, you can come on up, I’m not quite ready, yet.” She motions for him to follow him up the stairs just inside the door. “You can chill wherever while I finish up.”

Hylla disappears after setting down the small pup, who immediately scuttles over to Ashton, at the top of the stairs. He crouches down and scratches its ears lightly, giggling when it attempts to climb into his lap. “Well, hello there.” He moves to sit on the end of her couch, leaning back down to continue petting it.

Hylla comes back a minute later, shaking her head in amusement at her dog, who is now lying on Ashton’s foot while he scratches her stomach. “Are you being needy, Karma? Worst guard dog I’ve ever seen,” she teases, laughing as the dog gets up and barrels into her shins.

“What breed is she?” Ashton asks, brushing a bit of dog fur from the bottom of his jeans.

“A mini Australian shepherd. She’s super smart, but she’s also a total brat.”

Ashon giggles, and she immediately yearns to hear the sound again. She mentally scolds herself, reminding herself that she needed to keep their relationship amicable for the next eight months.

“Are you ready, then?” Ashton asks, breaking the slightly awkward silence. He stands and slides his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, I just need to put this little one somewhere she won’t cause trouble.” She herds Karma into a corner of the kitchen full of dog things, closing a baby gate to keep her there. Upon watching this, Ashton notices that most things he could see are baby proofed.

Gesturing to the nearest baby lock, he asks, “Do you have a kid?” then quickly backtracks. “Wow, that was really blunt, sorry.”

Hylla just laughs, brushing it off as she pulls on her shoes. “No, like I said, Karma is super smart, but she loves causing trouble. She knows how to flip light switches, open cabinets, doors, the fridge, so: baby locks.”

Ashton laughs, a full sound from deep in his chest. “That’s amazing. In theory, that would be great, but I could see how she could make a mess, though.”

Hylla makes a small noise of affirmation, and they head out. They make small talk on their way, allowing the radio to fill stretches of comfortable silence.

Ashton parks a few blocks from the coffee shop, giving them a chance to be spotted before they enter. He gives Hylla a small, reassuring smile before hopping out of the car, opening her door. He helps her out of the car, lacing their fingers together as they make their way to the shop.

A handful of fans recognize Ashton, but none make a fuss about Hylla’s presence, being kind without prying.

They choose to sit at a bar along the front windows, keeping an eye out for the paps that were bound to arrive. They continue to keep their conversation light, occasionally speaking to fans that approach.

After some time, they notice the herd of paps outside had grown to a size plenty more than sufficient for their purposes. They meet each other’s eyes before rising from their seats in unison.

Ashton takes Hyllas free hand in his, squeezing lightly. “You ready?”

She smiles back and nods, using her drink to gesture for them to leave.

As soon as the door opens, they’re overwhelmed by flashes. Ashton makes a point of ignoring the cameras, leading Hylla toward the pier, where it would be more difficult for the paps to follow.

Hylla tries to keep her head down, knowing there are already enough pictures of her face for Twitter to find her. The noise was overwhelming, with questions being shouted over each other, and Hylla is forced to press closer to Ashton to keep her balance as they fight their way through the crowded sidewalk.

One man pouches forward, gripping her arm tightly and asking a question she doesn’t quite hear. She freezes, eyes going wide as the man’s grip grows tighter. Immediately, Ashton puts himself between the two, dropping her hand in favor of pulling the man’s off of her and pushing him back. As soon as she’s freed, she stumbles back, heart still racing, and watches Ashton shoo away everyone who hasn’t already taken their cue to leave.

Once they are gone, he turns back to her, concern pinching his features. “Are you alright?” he asks softly, lightly brushing his fingertips over the bright red marks left on her elbow.

“I’m okay,” she says quickly, “just a little shaken up— I wasn’t expecting that.” Her reply comes almost too fast for Ashton to believe her, but he just nods, drawing her closer to him, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before continuing toward the pier.

Their silence is comfortable as they walk, filling the long stretches between bits of small talk.

Occasionally, a fan will ask Ashton for a picture, and Hylla happily takes the photos, opting to stay behind the camera, despite several invitations to join them.

They eventually find themselves at a picnic table, their gazes drifting between each other and the water.

“I’m actually kind of surprised we didn’t get more questions today,” she mentions, absentmindedly running her nails through the groves in the worn wood.

Ashton shrugs, drumming his own fingers on his thigh. “They usually aren’t the type to pry, but those pictures are probably trending by now.”

“I suppose it’s nice how they don’t track you everywhere. I imagine that would get old.”

“It can when it happens a lot, like when we’re on tour. Usually, it screws up plans more than anything.” He pauses for a second, taking in the sounds of the boardwalk before looking back to her. “So, I still don’t know much about you. Where are you from?”

“I grew up in Long Beach. My mom grew up in the LA area, but my dad is actually from Puerto Rico.”

“Puerto Rico, I think you might have mentioned that last week.”

She raises her eyebrows a bit, shocked he remembered. “Yeah, I did.”

“Does that mean you speak Spanish?”

His voice is genuinely curious, but Hylla can’t help but tease, “How original, no one has ever asked me that before. But, yes, I speak Spanish.”

“Well, I’m sorry I asked,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I feel like you mentioned your mom, too. Are you a family-oriented person?”

“Yeah, my entire family is pretty close.”

“Mine, too. Do you have any siblings?”

“Two brothers and a sister, plus a few cousins I’m super close with.”

Ashton gave a quick glance around, making sure everyone was out of earshot before speaking. “This whole thing must be hard then, not being able to talk about this.”

“A little, but I’m honestly so busy I don’t get to see them half as often as I’d like to even have to avoid talking about it. I assume it’s gonna get even harder with this being public now.” Hylla spoke quietly, also concerned about potential eavesdroppers. “This probably isn’t the place for this conversation.”

“You’re probably right,” He said, standing up from the table. “Should we move this somewhere more private?”

He held out a hand, which she took, lacing her fingers in his as they made their way back up the pier. “What other things should you know about me?”

“Well, apparently you speak Spanish. Any other fun talents you’ve been hiding from me?”

“You already know I do art. That takes up most of my time.”

“Other than tattoos, what kind of art do you like to do?”

“Uh, a little bit of everything, I guess? I do a lot of digital things because they’re the easiest to get to clients that commission me, and I can print them into stencils. I paint, sometimes. As long as I have a pen and something to write on, I’ll doodle. How about you? Any random talents you’re holding out on?”

“Nothing spectacular. I can whistle really well, but I suppose that goes with the music thing.”

They spend the rest of the walk back to the car chatting, talking just enough to fill the silence. They had almost made it back to the car when they saw a few more paps; though, they appeared to be less pushy than the ones they encountered earlier.

Hylla’s first reaction was to ignore them, avoiding direct eye contact, but Ashton smiled at them, politely telling them he would answer any of their questions. She was honestly surprised they left graciously, allowing the pair to go about their business.

Ashton opened her door for her, allowing her to climb into the passenger seat before getting in the car himself. Neither of them spoke until Ashton pulled into traffic. “Are you doing okay? I know all of this can be overwhelming.”

Hylla shrugged, running her fingertips over the seams of the center council. “I’m fine, I wasn’t really as prepared for dealing with them as I originally thought, but it’s something I’ll just learn with time, I guess. Honestly, the fact that they just left when you asked them to really shocked me.”

“They aren’t all quite as pushy as the ones this morning,” Ashton assured her. He made quick glances at her while he drove, debating whether he could hold her hand without people around. “The shoving and mobbing is something we hardly ever have to deal with around here, and security is usually with us in places where the pushy ones like to show. Speaking of which, how’s your arm?”

Hylla hadn’t really had much time to think over the morning’s events, so she was surprised to see how dark the bruises were when she looked down. “It looks worse than it feels. It’ll probably be pretty sore tomorrow, though.”

“Once we park, I can take a look at it. I might have something at home that could take care of them.” He couldn’t help but feel guilty, partially responsible for what had happened. “We probably should have iced it earlier, stopped it from getting this bad.”

Hylla shook her head, shrugging off his concern. “It really doesn’t hurt, Ash. It’s not a big deal.”

“I know, but I hate that they hurt you. I should have expected something like this.” He speaks quietly, shifting his eyes back to the road.

“This isn’t your fault, Ash,” she said, not even thinking as she put her hand over his on the gearshift. “You know that, right? I signed up for this. This whole thing doesn’t need to make me your responsibility.”

Ashton’s fluttering heart sank at her words, feeling pushed away. “I know that we really aren’t that close, that I don’t necessarily need to, but I’m still worried about you, and I still care that you got hurt.” His face is red as he pulls into a park’n’ride, catching her gaze before quickly averting his eyes. “Is it okay if I take a look at your arm?” His words are cautious, not wanting to overstep any boundaries or make her uncomfortable.

“That’s fine, Ash.” She twists slightly in her seat to face him more and whisks the knuckles of her uninjured arm over his cheek to bring his attention back to her face. “And, thank you for caring, even if you don’t really have to.”

“Of course, Hylla. I’m not about to just ignore you as soon as we aren’t in public, even if I technically can.” He speaks softly, but with a tone of finality that affirms his words.

Hylla hums softly in response, taking more reassurance from his words than she realized she had needed.

He takes his time inspecting her bruises, softly grazing them with his fingers. Ashton sighs, his tone softer when he continues. “I know I wasn’t particularly pleasant when we first met, scratch that, I was a total douche, and there isn’t an excuse for that, but I really would like us to be friends, to be able to enjoy each other’s company if we’re going to be spending so much time together.”

“I completely understand why you acted the way you did that first day; I probably would have reacted the same way if our roles were reversed. You didn’t get a choice in the situation, and I was the person they were forcing onto you, so you lashed out. I’m not upset about you having feelings, Ashton, and I also want to be able to enjoy each other’s company throughout this.” She paused in a way that suggested she wasn’t done talking, but couldn’t bring herself to suggest that their relationship could go further than just friends.

Hylla was snapped from her thoughts when Ashton’s gentle hold on her arm trailed, taking her hand in his, drawing her gaze back to his. “I’m glad we both want that.” He wore a light smile on his face, gently stroking her hand with his thumb as he spoke. “Those bruises are getting kind of gnarly. Want to maybe get some food and head back to mine so I can clean them up?”

His tone is meek, bracing himself from the rejection he feared, expecting her to ask him to just bring her home. Despite her reassurance that she understood, he still was worried he had screwed over anything that could have ever possibly happened between them with his behavior.

“That sounds good.” She squeezes his hand, smiling at him. He sighs lightly with relief, taking her acceptance of his offer as a good sign. With a small, mischievous smile, she mutters, “Feels good, too.”

Ashton barks a loud, sudden laugh and throws his head back, completely caught off guard by the change in mood. He continues to giggle as he pulls back into traffic, heading toward his house. “A pun at my expense? Already?” He trails off into a fit of giggles, his smile growing further. “Oh, you are just gonna love the guys.”

Ashton falters, worried he’s jumped too far ahead of himself, despite the fact that they both knew that she would be meeting the guys sooner rather than later, but Hylla's unfazed. “It’ll probably be even harder for you to keep this from them than it will be for me to keep it from my family.”

Her comment throws him— he hadn’t even considered the fact that he couldn’t tell the guys about the nature of their relationship. “I guess we never did finish that conversation, did we?”

She shrugs off the question, hiking one knee to her chest and leaning against the door. “I don’t really know what else to say. I mean, it’s going to suck keeping this from them, but what more is there to dwell on, really?”

Ashton takes a quick glance over at her, sensing that the situation bothered her more than she was letting on, but decides not to push the matter. “Tell me about them.”

Hylla tilts her head just enough to stare, quirking her eyebrow at his request.

“They’re clearly important to you, so, tell me about them.” She smiles, shaking her head as she thinks.

“Well, Kendall is the oldest, she’s 28. She loves to tease, and is bossy as hell, but her heart is always in the right place. Micah’s 26. He can be a little protective, but lets me get away with everything because he’s a total softy. Kian’s only twenty, but protective to the point of overbearing and likes following the rules. He loves playing tough guy, and hates acknowledging that I can handle myself. Issac and Lydia are my cousins, but we spent so much time together as kids that we’re practically siblings. Lydia is 27, and Issac’s my age— actually, he’s two days younger than me and I will never let him forget it.”

Ashton smiles as she rambles, listening attentively to her stories with the people she cares so much about.

She trails off in the middle of a story from her childhood, blushing when she realizes they’ve stopped in Ashton’s driveway. “Sorry, I got a little carried away.”

“Don’t be. They sound amazing.” They both exit the car, walking up to the house. “I wish I got to see my family more, but the guys are like my brothers, now.”

Ashton opens the door for Hylla, stepping in behind her and dropping his keys into a bowl by the door. He kicks off his shoes, and Hylla follows suit before continuing to stand awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.

Ashton shows her to the kitchen, telling her to make herself comfortable before disappearing upstairs to grab some things for her arm. Hylla perches herself on a stool at his counter, pulling out her phone to see the pictures of them starting to trend.

Ashton returns carrying an assortment of first aid supplies. He chuckles lightly when she shows him her screen, mildly impressed that they’ve already seemed to have identified her, along with several of her socials.

“Twitter really is better than the FBI, aren’t they?” He nods, pulling a stack of takeout menus from a drawer.

“What are you feeling for lunch?” he asks, flipping several of the menus to face her.

She glances up from her scrolling, returning her phone to her pocket. “I’m not picky, but I’m always a sucker for Thai.” She pulls a few menus from the stack, allowing Ashton to pick from those.

Once they’d placed their orders, Ashton sits facing her, inspecting her bruises again. He holds her arm gently, careful not to put more pressure than necessary on the sore area. He rubs a balm over it before wrapping it with a soft ice pack, smiling at her gently.

“You really need to stop feeling so guilty about this, Ash.” Her words stun him, and he meets her eyes again. “This is not your fault, and your guilty face is making me sad.” She jokingly pouts at him, earning herself a giggle.

“I know,” he sighs lightly and sits up straighter, twisting to face the counter, “but I can’t help but feel bad that being around me got you hurt.” He has his own small pout, fuming over the incident.

“It’s a bruise, Ashton. It’s not even that bad.” She moves the compress, poking it harshly to prove her point, but the small wince she makes nullifies it. “Okay, maybe it’s a bad bruise, but I’ll be fine. I’ve probably given myself worse bruises running into tables, so you can stop worrying so much.”

Ashton resituates the compress, holding it there to keep her from moving it again. “Was awful to you that first day, and now this happened. I can’t help but think that you're gonna hate me if this sort of thing keeps happening.”

“I’m not a dog, Ash. A few bad days aren’t gonna train me to hate you.” She chuckles a bit, smiling warmly. “I already told you that I’m not mad about you being in a mood that first day and that this isn’t your fault. You don’t need to be so hard on yourself.” She reaches out to cup his face, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone soothingly.

Her touch feels natural, and Ashton has to restrain himself from leaning into it. “I’ll try to stop worrying so much, but you need to leave your ice pack on so it actually starts healing,” he teases, placing his hand on her knee, brushing the inside of it with his thumb.

“Deal.”

They remain in a comfortable silence for a bit, enjoying each other’s touch within their own little bubble, until the doorbell rings, startling them both. They jump apart guiltily, breaking their worry free bliss, and they both flush. Ashton sighs lightly before moving to answer the door, already missing her touch.

Hylla readjusts in her seat, trying to process the moment they shared. She ached to return to it, to pursue a romance outside of their contract without regard for the consequences, but she chastised herself, unable to push her worries from her mind. No matter what happened between them in private, they would be forced to regularly see each other until their contract expired, and she wasn’t sure she could keep something like that to herself for so long.

Ashton comes back with their takeout a minute later, firmly refusing to allow Hylla to pay him back for her meal. Once they are both settled with their food, he rekindles their conversation for a third time. “Tell me more about your family.”

Hylla thinks for a moment on what she should start with, surprised at how interested he is. “Well, my dad’s family is from Puerto Rico; They moved here when he was eleven. My mom’s family came over from Southern Europe before the first world war. They’re both deeply connected to their cultures, so we have a lot of strong traditions. Between running the shop and now this, I don’t get to see them half as often as I’d like, but we try to make a point of doing big family dinners as often as we can— which you will most definitely be getting dragged to at some point in the near future. There is no way they will let me get away with not bringing you around more than once, now that we’re public.”

Ashton chuckles, heart fluttering at the prospect of meeting the people that were so important to her. “Well, I’ll give it a week at most before the guys start showing up here unannounced to try and meet you, so I guess we’re even there.”

“Speaking of meeting people, we’re going to need a solid story of how we met because my family will pick up on anything that doesn’t quite match up, so our details need to be on point without seeming rehearsed.”

“The guys won’t necessarily need details, but if the situation seems weird, they’re gonna start asking questions we probably won’t be able to answer.”

“So we need details and a vibe.”

They sit quietly, only the sounds of their chewing disturbing the thoughtful silence as they run through scenarios. They occasionally bounce a few ideas off each other, shooting down the ones that would spark too many questions, before settling on meeting at a farmers market they both occasionally shop at.

They discuss the details of the meeting, occasionally jotting down details to remember, until long after their food has been finished. The conversations strayed frequently, and Hylla longed to hear more about the man beside her, who she suspected was holding something back, giving few details of his own life when she tries to reciprocate his curious nature.

Even after the details had been arranged, their conversation flowed easily, but Ashton remained reserved, worried if he shared too many of his own experiences, he’d lose sight of what he has in common with Hylla. He could recognize so much of himself within her— valuing her connections to her family and culture, the strong sense of creativity she pursued— despite the fact that they led completely different lives, and he clung to that connection, terrified she would lose what little interest in him he hopes she has without it.

What Hylla does learn about him is mundane, but she adores the knowledge, nonetheless, They exchange random favorites— foods, movies, authors— and other small things, keeping their conversation light until Hylla decides she’s stayed her welcome.

Upon arriving home, she immediately takes Karma for a walk, taking some time to think over the predicament Ashton presented. She’s close with her family, and has never been good at hiding things from them. If one of them directly pointed out something was weird about the couple, she isn’t sure she will be able to keep up the act.

Her worries continue to pester her as she sets things up in the shop for the next morning, and while she attempts to sleep. Eventually, after giving into her insomnia, she pulls a sketchbook from the pile on her desk and settles back on top of the comforter to draw.

She doesn’t pay as much mind to what she’s drawing as she does to blending each part into a single piece. She starts with thin line work, dainty lines flowing to the edges of uncompleted figures, but quickly switches to thicker, bolder marks, all but overtaking the delicate start to the piece. When she comes back from her place deep in her thoughts, and takes the time to examine what she’s done, she is shocked at the wholeness of the piece. Even without the detailing of a finished piece, it seems cohesive and clear-cut, as though it told a story.

The upper half of a wolf vaguely encircles the dainty, loopy outline of a girl holding a flor de maga, a Puerto Rican hibiscus flower, as though using it as a pen. The wolf’s teeth are bared, but its expression is soft and curious as it faces the girl, who appeared to be unbothered by the beast’s presence, focused on the image below them. In roughly the shape of a tiara, vague figures of half sketched people struggle toward a man holding a flag, standing firm against strong winds. The piece bleeds with emotion, feelings of passion, admiration, understanding, and inner strength.

Hylla stays up until the wee hours of the morning, shading and adding details to the piece until she feels as though she’s done it justice. It’s raw, and she doesn’t quite understand why the textures and patterns work together, but everything fits together in a way that satisfies her. Finally, she moves the sketchbook to her nightstand, sprawling out on the bed to get some sleep before she has to open the shop.

~~~

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