Instagram || Ashton Irwin

Eighteen

"Hi," he speaks up and my heart melts.

Not because I'm talking to Ashton Irwin...

Because I'm talking to AshyWashy. PimpDaddy. MichaelRocks. My Ashton.

"H-hey," I mumble, eyes wide.

He giggles, making my smile turn into a grin, "I didn't take you as a stutter-er, LivingFree."

"That's because I'm not one, PimpDaddy."

He groans, "No."

"What's wrong, daddy?" I repeat.

"Do you have a daddy kink?" He questions, "Because that shit is messed up."

"Don't swear," I smirk.

Ashton gasps, "You stole my line!"

"Yeah, because I'm punk rock."

It's nice talking to him... But slightly weird at the same time. This is my first time talking to my best friend.

"No you're not," he denies, "Having a blue streak in your hair doesn't make you any more punk rock than Michael."

"Oy," I huff, "My streak is bae."

"You're so weird," he laughs, looking at me with admiration.

I smile brightly, "Thank you. So are you. And you have an adorable giggle."

"I can't tell if you're mocking me or not," he pouts.

I shrug, feeling the happiest I've felt in a while, "I might be."

He holds a hand to his heart, "Ouch."

"Oops," I grin, "Totally not judging you right now."

"Hey, you're the one who calls your hair 'bae'."

"Touché."