5 Seconds Of Summer Imagines

Writer's Block - Ashton Irwin

"No. No. No. NO. NO. NO!" you shouted, accenting each 'no' with a head bang on the table in front of you.

You had a paper due in a couple of days for your Creative Writing class, and it's an extremely important one at that. It's worth ten percent of your final grade and it was stressing you out to no end. You rested your head in your hands, a loud groan vibrating out of your lips as you leaned your elbows on your table top.

You had been sitting at your desk for sour days straight, only getting up to eat, use the restroom, shower, and sleep. During this time, you had only managed to write a few sentences down before hitting a massive, unyielding wall of uncreativity. An inspiring writer's worst nightmare, writer's block.

You returned your gaze to the bright screen of your computer, your forehead now throbbing with pain which didn't help your current predicament. You gave a loud sigh as you pushed your fingers to your temples, massaging them tiredly.

Suddenly, two loud thumps resounded from your bedroom door, causing you to practically jump out of your skin in fright.

Who would be here at the ungodly hour of three A.M.? And how the hell did they get in your house?

You scanned your room for something, anything, to use as a weapon, your eyes landing on your bedside lamp. Grasping it firmly, you tip toed to your door, sucking in a deep breath before yanking it open, closing your eyes tight and smacking the unknown person relentlessly with your lamp.

"Ow! (Y/N)! Stop!" a deep, familiar voice shouted, grabbing the lamp before you could hit him once more.

Your eyes widened in realisation as you trained your eyes on the tall figure, your face flushing bright red as you realised it was your long time best friend, Ashton Irwin. You felt your shock and embarrassment slowly dissipate, turning into anger.

Dropping the lamp, you smacked him several times with your hand, emphasising each hit with a word, "What. The. Hell. Is. Wrong. With. You."

"(Y/N) calm down," Ash giggled, grasping your wrists gently with his hands.

"Why are you here and how did you get in?" you growled.

You didn't mean to snap at him, but you were incredibly frustrated with the slow progress you've made on your paper.

"I got in using the spare key under your mat and I'm here because I haven't seen you in AGES," he explained, casually letting go of your arms and walking past you, flopping onto your bed like it was his own. Now that you thought about it, it might as well be, seeing as he was around your house so much. Shaking your head, you regained your irritated expression, stomping behind him.

"Why didn't you at least tell me that you were coming over?"

"I texted you like ten minutes ago," he explained, leaning his head up to meet your gaze.

You felt your anger disappear as you speed walked toward your phone, smacking your forehead as you saw the new messages from him on your screen, sent about ten minutes ago.

Ash-hole: Are you awake?

Ash-hole: WAKE UP!

Ash-hole: I'm bored can I come over?

Ash-hole: I'm coming over anyways :p

You sighed. You were just about to put your phone down when a loud, cheery voice spoke dangerously close to your ear.

"Ash-hole? Really?" Ash asked.

You jumped in surprise, not expecting him to be so close. You turned around abruptly, your eyes widening as you saw that he was only millimetres away from you. Taking a deep breath to steady your pounding heart, you gulped nervously, looking up to meet his curious but sarcastic gaze.