5SOS one shots (boys x Reader)


17. Get Out

Ashton throws his head back, kicking back his sixth shot of the night. He’s just having a good time, really. He’s not getting drunk to forget, or to cope. He just wants to have a good time, let loose for a bit – because all they’ve been doing is work, work and more work and now that they've finally got a full, proper night to themselves with no worries of publicity whatsoever the next day, they’re all letting loose. The boys literally walked in and went straight to the bar to order two shots, each. Then they found themselves a booth, ordered more shots and now they were just having a laugh amongst each other with a group of five girls clad in tight and short dresses that joined them sometime around the night.    


“Ashton,” one of the girls coo into his ear, and before he’s even able to turn to look at her, he feels air being gently blown into his ear. He shivers, turning to look at the girl and she’s giggling, dragging a perfectly manicured nail down his arm. “Come dance with me.”   


Ashton blinks, thinking it over. Nothing’s going to happen, right? It's just a dance. So he smiles charmingly over at her, slipping his hand into the hand that she’s offering him once he’s slid out of the booth.    


“Mate,” Luke calls, and Ashton turns, raising an eyebrow. The younger is frowning at him. He’s the most sober amongst them, and that’s not even properly sober because they’ve all kicked back at least four shots, each, and Luke’s got a beer bottle in hand now. “You have a girlfriend.”   


Ashton only grins, “It’s just a dance, Luke. Y/N’s not going to mind,” he giggles drunkenly, turning back and letting himself be dragged away, out onto the dance floor.    


She pulls on his hand till they’re in the middle of the dance floor, and then she’s turning so that her back’s to his chest and she’s listing her arms so that they’re looped around his neck. She leans her head back, turning her head so that her heads basically resting on his collarbone and if she really wants to, she can kiss him on the neck. She wants to.    


Ashton’s lips form a lazy smirk as he feels lips on his neck. His hands, on either side of the girl’s waist, hold onto her tighter. “I have a girlfriend,” he breathes out, though it’s absentminded.    


But what did a girlfriend matter? She wasn’t even in the club with them. And, like, Y/N isn’t the properly jealous type of person. Y/N won’t mind that he’s danced with someone else. She probably won’t mind that they’re dancing so close. Probably won’t mind that Ashton’s almost getting hard from how the girl’s pushing her bum onto his crotch. She won’t mind… right?    


The girl pushes herself even closer to him and Ashton has to bite back a groan. He ducks his head down, trailing his nose on the skin of her neck and daring to sponge a kiss on her skin.  


Wait, why did Y/N matter again?


“What about… for tonight,” she says right into his ear, her voice a breathy whisper. “– be your girlfriend?”   


Ashton doesn’t know what else happened after that, because all he registers is lips landing on his and then everything’s a mess of colours and a throbbing pain in his brain.    


He awakens a few hours later, and the sun hasn’t even risen yet. It’s his phone’s constant vibration that’s woken him up and he’s cursing whoever is calling or repeatedly texting him, but he’s not bothered to check his phone just yet. He groans quietly, and then once he's noticed that he’s in a bed, his lips quirk up into a small smile. He turns over on his side, eyes still not open fully, and throws his arm over the body next to him, cuddling up to her and burying his nose in her neck.   


Only, instead of comforting him and lulling him back into a deep slumber, it makes him jerk up into a sitting position, pulling the arm that’s around her waist like she’s on literal fire and if he’d kept his hand there any longer, he skin would’ve been burnt.    


His breathing quickens as his chest heaves up and down. He’s terrified of peering over and seeing if it’s really Y/N there next to him, or if it’s someone else – something he really hope doesn’t happen. He swore to himself that he would never, never, cheat on someone. He’d never stoop that low. He gulps, hesitantly leaning over her body and his jaw drops as he takes in the face of the girl he’s in bed fucking naked with. It’s not Y/N. He already knew that subconsciously but he didn’t want to believe it because he didn’t think he would ever do something as low as that. She doesn’t smell like Y/N.  It’s weird, but that’s how he knows that Y/N is Y/N, because Y/N just always smells good and he identifies her smell with home because she is home, and she would always be home.   


Ashton steps out of the bed as quietly as possible, determined to make his escape before the unnamed female wakes up. He pulls on his clothes the quickest he’s ever done before and then he’s exiting her room, phone clutched tightly in his hand. He’s in a house, and it’s too fucking dark but he can kind of make out where the front door is. He uses his phone as a light, and that’s when his eyes land on the missed calls and texts. 


This can’t be happening. Fucking fuck, this cannot be happening. 

The missed calls are from Y/N, and the texts are from Y/N. Because drunk Ashton is a fucking idiot and had texted her the fucking address that he was going to. Because drunk Ashton fucking asked her to pick him up. And now, because of the fucking idiot that drunk Ashton is, Y/N is outside the house.    


“I – ” Ashton starts once he’s slid into the passenger seat of her car.    


“Don’t,” Y/N cuts him off. “Don’t.”   


Ashton bites down on his bottom lip. He wants to say something, to apologise, to tell Y/N that that girl was nothing, but he can’t because he doesn’t know how to. He could just lie and say that it was a house party, and he’d fallen asleep at his mate’s house. Say that nothing happened. He could do that – just that he’s got fucking hickeys on his skin and there’s no plausible lie about those marks because there are too many to say that they’re from one of the other guys, or something.   


Y/N drives in silence, to Ashton’s house. The radio isn’t even turned on and this is the most awkward silence that they’ve ever been in. Ashton opened his mouth countless times, to try and say something, but he always ends up shutting his mouth again because he doesn’t know what to say. He cheated on her. He slept with someone else. 


Y/N pulls up in front of his house and unlocks the doors. “Leave,” she says, and her voice is thick – like she’s trying so hard to not cry, and it hurts to hear her when she sounds like she’s about to cry because Ashton knows that it's his fault and that she's about to cry because of him fucking up.   


“Y/N, please, just listen to me,” Ashton rushes to say. He turns to look at her, body facing her, too, even though she’s not looking at him at all. “I don’t know what happened last night. I swear to God, I don’t remember who that girl is. I don’t even remember fucking talking to her, and I – I – she meant nothing, I swear. Nothing.”   


Y/N doesn’t say anything. Still doesn’t turn to look at him.    


Ashton gulps again, “Baby, please. Look at me. I’m sorry, I'm so sorry. I don’t remember anything from last night, I didn’t mean to do it, I swear. It was a one-time thing and it’ll never – ”   


“Were you drugged?” She interrupts him, voice monotonous.    


“What?” Ashton blinks.   


“Were you drugged?” Y/N repeats her question, finally turning to look at him.    


“I don't – I don’t,” he blinks. Then he shakes his head, “N-no. No, I wasn’t.”   


“So you got drunk on your own accord, and you went and slept with someone else by yourself. No one forced you to,” she spits then. "Fuck you, Ashton. Fuck. You.“    


"Y/N, no, please, I’m sorry – ” Ashton tries again, and he’s on the brink of either yelling and kicking and screaming, or bursting out into tears and exiting the car to drop to his knees in front of her, just to get her to listen. “I didn’t mean to, I swear to God. I drank too much, I shouldn’t have drank so much, but. God. I don't – I didn't – I swear, she meant nothing.”   


Y/N scoffs, “So what? Do you honestly think I give a shit if she meant nothing or not?" Ashton opens his mouth to respond, but she cuts him off, "The answer is that I don’t. I don't give a fuck if she meant nothing or not, because I don’t give a fuck about what you do anymore. Go on, then, sleep with whoever you want, because I'm done with you,” she spits harshly.    


Ashton’s eyes widen, “No, no, baby, no, please,” he practically stutters out. “No, baby, please, don’t do this, I’m sorry – Jesus Christ, I’m sorry. She meant nothing! I don’t even remember what happened last night, I swear, I don’t even know who she is.”   


She chokes out a mirthless laugh, shaking her head. “Well, you’ve hit a bloody all time low. Sleeping with girls whose name you don’t even fucking know. But again: I. Do. Not. Give. A. Shit,” Y/N says slowly, punctuating each word carefully.    


“I love you – ”   


“Don’t fucking say that,” Y/N interrupts him, tone harsh. Harsh enough for Ashton to almost flinch back. She gulps, turning to look at the road, “Get the hell out of my car.”   


“Y/N – ”   


“Get out, Ashton.”   


“Baby, please – ”   


Please,” Y/N cuts him off again, finally turning to look at him. “Please. Get out.”   


“I – ”   


Y/N shakes her head, hand going to wipe away at the tears that have betrayed her and are racing down her cheeks. “I never want to see you again, Ashton Irwin. So please, please, please, for the love of God. Get the fuck out of my car, and get the fuck out of my life.”  

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