5SOS one shots (boys x Reader)


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26. Stages

i. you can’t get them out of your head

 

“—Ashton!” 

 

Ashton startles, blinking rapidly and shaking his head. Then when his vision finally focuses, he’s looking back at Luke’s pulling a face at him— face much too close to his own. Like— if either boy were to move forward just the slightest bit, they’d be kissing.

 

Ashton pulls a face right back at him, bringing a finger to the younger boy’s forehead and pushing back, relishing in the giggle that escapes the blond’s lips. “What’d you want?” 

 

Luke shrugs, shaking his head, “Was just telling you about this thing on tumblr that I’d just seen, but you were off in some other land. Nice to know my voice can put you to sleep, though. Reckon it’ll come in handy when I have kids.”

 

Ashton lets out a half scoff, half laugh, “Sorry, bud. Was just— thinking,” he waves off, not specifying what he’d been thinking about. Or rather— who he’d been thinking about. 

 

The thing was that he hadn’t even been thinking about a particular situation. He’d just spaced out, Luke’s voice becoming nothing more than a backing track  as he did so. Then she just— popped into his head. Her eyes. Her hair. Her smile. Everything was essentially Y/N and then he couldn’t get her out of his head.

 

He found himself tracing every feature of hers that he could confidently draw out in his head. Found himself wishing that he’d had more time, before they left, to drill her everything into his memory— so he wouldn’t have to fumble and wonder if he was doing the real-her justice in his head. 

 

But he can’t— because they’re on tour, and he’s just FaceTimed her not long ago, and they’ve only been dating for less than a month, so it’d be weird to want to call her up again. He thinks so, anyway. 

 

So Ashton paints on a smile, kicking at Luke’s thigh gently. The younger boy hums, looking up from his phone. “Wanna go find some food or something? I’m starving.

 

Luke’s reply is an enthusiastic yes that’s seconded by his stomach grumbling, as if right on cue. Ashton snorts. He sounds like a pig. Luke says that with utmost glee before he’s laughing so hard that his face turns red. 

 

(An image of Y/N’s face is still floating around in his mind— smiling, laughing. Even whilst at the back of his head. Ashton’s more okay with that than he thought he would be.)

 

ii. you learn as much as you can about each other— you know what to tell them when they’re doubting themselves, when they’re upset, because you know each other

 

“I want to go home,” Ashton tells her through the phone, voice cracking and wobbly. “I don’t want— this. I love it, but I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired. I just— I want to go home. I want to spend time with you. Spend time with my mum and my little sister and my little brother. They’re— they’re so big now and I feel like I’m missing out on so much and— this is my job and I love it, but I hate it, and I want to go home.

 

Ashton thinks it’s pitiful— how he’s acting. It’s stupid, and he’s acting like a child, but— he can’t even stop himself as a sob bubbles past his lips. The sound something that he hasn’t ever heard himself make in years, not since he was only little. 

 

Ash?” Y/N calls out on the other end of the line, sounding worried. 

 

Ashton tries to answer, tell her that he’s sorry and to just ignore everything he’s just said before cutting the call. But what comes out is a fucking whine. 

 

Ash, I want you to listen to me, alright? Listen to my voice— and I want you to listen to me when I tell you that you’re not acting stupid, you’re not acting irrationally. I know you’re probably thinking that, so I need you to stop, okay, because— you’re allowed to get upset. You’re allowed to feel the way you feel. You don’t need validation for your feelings, especially not when you’re missing home and your family. But you also need to think about why you’re doing this.

 

Ashton bites down on his knuckles, feet kicking at the floor, his back sliding against the smooth of the leather sofa in the back lounge of the bus. He gulps noisily. 

 

You’re living your dream, Ashton. You’re doing what you love, and you’re making a living out of it. And you’re— helping people. You’re a part of a band that helps people the same way that some of them helped you. You’re a part of something pretty fucking great, and you’re doing it with your three best friends, your three brothers.” Y/N tells him, voice calm and full of conviction— all at the same time. 

 

Lauren and Harry, they understand. And your mumYou’re helping her out even when you’re across the globe. You send back money, you get them gifts just because you can, you get them things that they’ve always wanted but could never dream of having. They’re your family, and they love you. They’re growing up, yeah, but so are you. Just because you’re not there, it doesn’t mean that they’ll forget you.” Y/N breathes out a soft laugh. “You’re their big brother, Ashton. They love you, and they look up to you. They always have, and they always will. They’ll hate you when they’re older and you’re doing shit just to embarrass them in front of people, but… that’s what big brothers are for.

 

Ashton’s silent, still biting onto his knuckles. There are teeth marks on his skin but he couldn’t care any less about them— instead focusing on taking deep inhales and equally long exhales as he listens to Y/N talk into his ear, reassuring him, telling him everything that he didn’t know he needed to hear until just then. 

 

“If I come back and Lauren’s got a boyfriend… ‘m going to do… questionable things.”

 

Y/N laughs on the other end of the line— a sound he feels himself wanting to never stop hearing. “Somehow… I don’t doubt that. At all.

 

iii. you apply those things you’ve learned, and you observe. you know them better than the back of your hand now.

 

Ashton calls and calls and calls until she finally picks up. It’s FaceTime, too, which means that he gets to see her face— and he sees her with dark circles and eyes that don’t shine as bright as he remembered seeing them last.

 

Ashton narrows his eyes. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he blurts out, going straight to the point, not even bothering with a greeting. They’ve been together long enough now. He knows she appreciates straightforwardness. “Why?”

 

haven’t,” Y/N answers and Ashton scoffs, arching a brow over at her. She darts her eyes away from the camera/screen in general. “I’ve just been really busy, with school and life and everything in between. I’m sorry. Haven’t been keeping my phone on me, and—

 

“Bullshit,” Ashton calls out again. “Something’s wrong. It’s bigger than school and life and… stress. It’s something. And you’re not telling me what it is, even though we agreed that we’d tell each other shit like this, ‘specially when it’s making you look like you haven’t had a good night’s sleep in days.

 

Y/N pulls a face at him through the camera. “How would you even know thatam stressed about school and life, okay. It’s a stressful thing.

 

“Y/N…” Ashton sighs, running his free hand through his hair as he leans back so that he’s lying down in his bunk now. “I know you,” he says simply. “I know the you that you hide from everyone else. I know the you who isn’t always as happy as you’ve made everyone else believe you are. I know you, and I know that something’s bothering you and—” he swallows. “— I can’t help you if I don’t know what it is, and I want to help you.”

 

She’s silent for the longest time. Then she sighs, dragging a hand down her face. “‘s stupid, really.

 

“I still want to know,” Ashton tells her, tone earnest, dripping with sincerity. 

 

And so she tells him. She tells him everything that’s bothering her, everything that’s plaguing her mind and darkening her days, and Ashton listens— because he may not be as good with words as other people are, he may not be a counsellor with advice that’ll help, but if there’s one thing he knows he is: it’s a good listener.

 

Which is exactly what he does, until she eventually tires herself out and lets him babble on about random quotes that he remembers reading some places, and she falls asleep— looking no more like the haunted girl that’d picked up the call just hours ago.

 

Ashton smiles for the rest of the day.

 

iv. you accept them for who they are, as do they accept you for who you are. you grow and change and learn— but you do it together.

 

Ashton lets out a low whistle when Y/N steps back from the screen— revealing the outfit that she’s wearing, hair and makeup all done up. “Holy shit, you look beautiful.

 

Y/N lets out a low laugh, shaking her head. “Nah, I don’t,” she tells him in a matter-of-fact tone, turning to face something else—her mirror, he thinks—and fixing her hair.

 

“Why do you do that?” Ashton asks, frowning at her through Skype. 

 

Y/N arches a brow, “Do what?”

 

“That,” he gestures at his screen. “You look fucking beautiful, and— like, it’s unreal, but when I tell you that you just—” Ashton frowns harder. “Why do you keep bringing yourself down so much?” 

 

Y/N pauses, then she turns so that she’s looking at her mirror instead of at him. She shrugs her shoulders, fiddling with something on her dresser. “Probably ‘cause it’s all true. Force of habit, maybe.

 

“Yeah, well,” Ashton scoffs, “’s a fucking stupid habit. Because, seriously. Look at you! You look amazing. I’m actually, like, genuinely jealous about the people who’ll get to see you in person.” Y/N smiles, but it’s weak, and she ducks her head down. Ashton frowns again. “What’s wrong?”

 

She shakes her head, breathing out a laugh. “‘s just… strange, y’know?” Ashton arches a brow at her, even when she’s not even looking at him. “How you and me are together. When you’re—

 

“Don’t even think about finishing that sentence, babe,” Ashton cuts her off smoothly, and she finally looks back at him. “I know you don’t think much of yourself, that you think that I deserve someone better, but the truth is—” he shrugs a shoulder. “— there isn’t anyone better, because you’re the best there is, for me. If you think you and I shouldn’t be together ‘cause you think, like, you’re not good enough or some shit then I’ll tell you right now that that is bullshit.”

 

Y/N looks almost amused, cocking her head to the side a little. “Yeah?”

 

“Yes.” Ashton repeats firmly. “Thing is— I know the kind of person you are and I know you’ll always doubt that you’re not pretty enough or whatever for me, but I’ll still stay because I really, really, really fucking like you.”

 

 

“So?” Ashton asks, stretching his arms out on either side of himself before dropping them and bending down to peer at the laptop screen and using the little image of himself to fix his hair. “What’d you think?”

 

Y/N’s head pokes in from the side of the screen, just her face, and she grins. “You look hot as fuck,” she tells him in a playful voice, a twinkle in her eye that’s visible even through their shitty webcams. 

 

Ashton giggles— honest-to-god giggles. “Thank you, m’lady,” he bows his head slightly before snapping his eyes back up to look at her, “Well. Come on. Let’s see what you look like. I know you look no less than hotter than fuck.”

 

Y/N lets out an almost abrupt laugh, like she hadn’t been expecting him to say that— which, in retrospect, Ashton didn’t expect himself to say either because that doesn’t even make sense. But she steps into the view of the webcam anyway and— Ashton’s eyes grow wide and his lips actually part as he breathes out a woah. He blinks, multiple times, then he’s shaking his head, “Okay,” he starts in a breathless voice. “I take that back. You look like the most beautiful thing— person I’ve seen in my entire life.”

 

Y/N doesn’t duck her head, doesn’t shake her head, doesn’t tell him that she doesn’t. Instead— she smiles, looking down at herself. “Thank you. I do look pretty good today, yeah?” 

 

Ashton scoffs. “Babe. You look, like, a million times better than pretty good. You look like a beautiful goddess,” he stresses.

 

She shrugs, laughing lightly. “You know what?” She asks, peering back up at him, and he arches a brow, eyes still fixed on on-screen-her. “feel beautiful.

 

v. when you realise it, there are no fireworks. there are no doves materialising out of thin air. but you know. you know.

 

It’s been a long day, and Ashton’s tired, and he didn’t even want to go out to the club for the afterparty or whatever it was he’d just been at. Y/N’s waiting for him in the hotel room because she was too jet lagged to come to the thing with him. If she’d been there, he wouldn’t have minded it so much.

 

It’s close to two in the morning when Ashton finally trudges into the lift of the hotel, then he’s dragging his feet tiredly down the corridor to their room. The key decides to be a nuisance now, of all times, so it takes no less than five times before the LED finally flashes green and he can push down on the handle and push in the door.

 

Light from the corridor floods into the dark room, and it illuminates the one thing—the one person—that Ashton’s wanted all night.

 

Y/N’s there, lying on her side on the king sized bed, the plain white sheets pulled up to her shoulders. She’s curled up, head resting on the pillow, chest rising and falling at a steady rhythm— and all Ashton can think is—

 

I’m so in love with you. I love you. I love you. Fuck, I love you.

 

Ashton pauses abruptly when he realises exactly what’s just run through his mind. He thinks he should be freaking out a little, maybe have his heart hammering in his chest, against his ribcage. But none of that is happening, because Ashton realising that he loves her, loves Y/N, is like him realising that he hasn’t washed his jeans in a week and that he’s currently wearing mismatched socks. (He hasn’t and he is.)

 

Ashton can’t even help the quirk of his lips afterwards, shutting the door quietly behind him and trying his hardest to navigate the room whilst being submerged in complete darkness. He stumbles a couple of times, kicks his toe into the coffee table’s leg, but— he’s stripped down to his underwear and climbing into bed beside her in no time, the cold sheets against his bare legs a feeling he welcomes. 

 

He brings an arm around her shoulders as carefully as possible, trying to not jostle her too much, but she shuffles closer to him, anyway, ducking underneath his arm and then peeking an eye open once her head’s on his shoulder. A sleepy smile graces her face before she buries her face in the crook of his neck, eyes falling shut again.

 

The arm already around her tightens, pulling her closer to his chest. “Hey,” Ashton greets, soft and tender like something will break if he speaks any louder.

 

“Hi,” Y/N mumbles back, voice croaky and laced with sleep.

 

I love you. “I’m home.”

 

Y/N breathes out a laugh, tilting her head back to look at him through half-lidded eyes. “’s a hotel room. This isn’t home.”

 

Ashton only offers her a smile paired with a shrug in response. Then he tugs her in closer, lips brushing against her forehead. She slings an arm over his waist, cuddling into him. Ashton instantly relaxes at the feel of her arm around him. 

 

Because, maybe, sometimes— home isn’t four walls. Sometimes it’s two eyes and a heartbeat. 

 

(It’s Y/N. And he’s so in love with her.)

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