Ashton Irwin Imagines

BGM - You Want To Fight But He Won't Let You

A request ;)

Inspired by the one in the Michael version of this book

Ashton
You were chronically insecure. It had been an issue for you since middle school where you were tormented for everything you couldn't control, acne, your chronically frizzy hair, and your weight specifically. It left you always feeling like you were just a little bit less, a little less pretty, a little less useful, worth a little less space.

Ashton knew this, he could tell even before your best friends clued in him on it, he saw the way you carried yourself, curling inward despite being one of the most enchanting women he'd ever seen. And over the course of your relationship he'd done everything he could think of to show you just how gorgeous he thought you were, compliments that made your cheeks bloom red, encouragement to try the cuts and colors that you'd been told made you look wide or otherwise unattractive, well placed kisses and promises that even the places you felt the most insecure about were beautiful to him.

Sometimes though, your insecurity reared it's ugly head, you knew that it would never truly go away. It made you act irrationally, and Ashton knew. He also knew exactly how to deal with it.

You were going to some fancy dinner party that Ashton had to go to for work. You hated going to them, and Ashton never made you, but you also didn't want to leave him alone to fend for himself in a room full of snobby rich people that made him just as uncomfortable as they made you. So you sucked it up, put on a nice dress, got your hair done and squeezed your feet into some uncomfortable heels.

"Don't you look amazing as always," your boyfriend immediately complimented you as soon as you stepped out of the bathroom. You felt your face heat up and a knowing smile spread across his face. He liked making you squirm under his warm gaze.

"Stop," you said earnestly, "we need to get going or we'll be late."

Ashton nodded in agreement, stepping toward you and pressing a featherlight kiss to your hairline as not to disrupt the elaborate updo, "we wouldn't want that now," he agreed.

You took his arm and let him lead you down and out of the house to where the car was waiting to take you to your event.

Your return home was not so smooth. Normally, Ashton would insist on getting out first to open your door for you, he claimed it made him feel like a true gentleman, especially when he was all dressed up, and you would let him.

Tonight that was not the case. You pulled the door open on your side of the car milliseconds after the driver stopped, and you rocketed up the path to the door to the house, barely blinking back hot tears that had been building up nearly since you'd arrived. You fumbled through your purse until you found your house keys and clumsily jammed them in the lock, forcing the door open so that you could stumble inside and up to your shared bedroom. You pressed your face into your pillow and sobbed in embarrassment over all that had happened to you, wanting nothing more than to be left alone to wallow in shame for the rest of the night.

That's how Ashton found you a few minutes later, delayed by the need to pay the driver and lock the door behind him. His heart ached at your loud cries, audible as soon as he opened the door, making him pick up the pace and take several stairs at a time as he went to check on you.

You could tell he was there as soon as he stepped into the doorway. You didn't want to be seen like this, not even by Ashton, "g-g-go away!" You demanded, hurling a pillow in his general direction.

Your aim was true, but your weapon was harmless as it bounced off of Ashton's chest without him so much as flinching. "Love, do you want to talk about it?" He asked, taking a step in your direction.

"No!" You exclaimed, throwing another pillow at him which did exactly nothing.

"Shhhhh," he soothed, deciding that enough was enough and crossing the room to stand at the bedside, "I don't know what they said to you, and I'm not going to ask you to tell me because it really doesn't matter. I don't care what they think, or what anyone else thinks baby." He gently reached out and let his hand rest against your back, slowly dragging up and down to attempt to calm you.

You heaved in a deep breath, "m-m-maybe you do-don't," you hiccuped, "but I d-do!" You buried your face in your hands and took another shuddery breath, "they said such-ch awful things-s Ashton. They couldn't tell w-why you liked m-me. They thought-t my dress was ch-cheap and I looked bad in-n it. A-and my hair looked like-like a child did it! And I must've done my-y makeup myself beca-ause it was streaky-y and-"

"Shhhh," Ashton cut your ramblings off knowing they were only upsetting you more, "like I said, I don't care what anyone else thinks. I told you earlier, and I'll say it again, I think you look amazing. I love you Y/N, I thought your dress looked amazing on you, and your hair was elegant and your makeup brought out your features beautifully. But even if they hadn't, I'd still love you, because I love you for what's here," he rested a hand against your chest right over your thundering heart. "And here," he used his other hand to gently cup the side of your head. "Nobody is ever going to change that, you're the most lovely woman I've ever met, and I can't imagine ever being with anyone else." His hands gently carded through your hair, pulling out the pins and clips that had been holding everything in place.

You finally started to calm, relaxing into a smile that your boyfriend happily returned. "I'm sorry," you admitted quietly, looking away, "I'm sorry that I'm like this and that I probably embarrassed you."

"Oh my," Ashton's hands stopped and you thought for a moment that maybe he was actually upset at your outburst. Only, a moment later he pulled you up and into his lap, cupping your chin and pulling up your face so that the two of you were only inches apart. "I refuse to be ashamed of the people that I love. I told you before, I don't care what any of them think, you mean so much more to me than any of them could ever." His hazel eyes reflected nothing but heartfelt sincerity as he gazed directly at you.

You weakly tried to push back at such an alarming statement, "Ashton, those were your bosses, your career, everything you've worked so hard for, your dreams-" you protested weakly.

"Baby," he closed more of the distance between you until your lips brushed as he spoke, "if I had to choose between you and the record label, I'd choose you in a heartbeat."

"W-what?" Your stutter returned not because you were upset, but at just how close he was, and how intense his declarations were. You could feel his promises searing themselves down into your skin. You were worth more to him than the connections he spent so much time and energy making? Than so much of the career he'd dreamed of and spent years working on? "Ash-"

He pressed his lips against yours, effectively silencing whatever protest you were going to raise. Your eyelids fluttered shut and you pressed yourself further against him, seeking whatever comfort he could provide. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his hands tangled themselves in your hair, holding you in place as he pulled back.

"I love you," he smiled, gently caressing the sides of your face with his thumbs and looking at you with more affection that you thought possible.

And what could you say to that but, "I love you too."

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