ugh-so-rude

Ashton Imagine: He Bets He Can Sleep With You

Author: Rhine

-

Boys will be boys and play their games.

You are not a toy to be played, you are not a challenge to undertake, you are not a prize to be won.

He was just a boy but he should be damn well grown up enough to know your heart was not something to be fooling around with, nonetheless in something as – as childish as a bet.

You’re more than that.

One month. That’s all I need – I’ll have her begging on her knees for me.

He laughs rambunctiously and he shakes his hands with those he called his brothers, the other boys clapping him on the back with wide smiles and shaking heads, arched eyebrows with disbelief in his abilities but amusement at watching him try all the same.

Good luck, mate. She isn’t easy.

She makes it hard – I bet you’re well familiar with that.

There’s a roar of laughter as they picture the same girl with the bright smile, but that’s not what they see.

They see a game.

And you see right through him.

-

He’s naturally charming, but he turns his smile up just for you.

Coy looks, fluttering touches, witty statements – Ashton is pulling at the rug underneath you while trying not to let you see how he was trying to make you fall.

He’s always finding an excuse to place a hand on your back, always searching for a seat next to you then sitting where you can feel the heat of his skin so close to yours, trying to spin the conversation the way he wants it to go.

What are you doing later this evening, Ash?

You.

He’s not exactly subtle about it either.

It’s in his lopsided smirk that screams of arrogance, it’s in the way his voice adopts a purr or a husky tone whenever he leans in close to whisper into your ear; it’s in the way he always jumps at the chance to spend time with you – alone, always just you and me, always want to come to my place.

You know just what Ashton Irwin was playing it and you don’t remember ever signing up for a game.

It’s a little flattering at first, the sudden increase in attention he gives you.

After two weeks, it gets suspicious – this was more persevering than just simple infatuation, more focused than sudden feelings.

Three weeks and it’s tiring; want to go out, you look amazing in that dress, give me a call, I don’t tell you enough that you’re absolutely stunning in red –

Four weeks and you find out.

Four weeks and his time is up, his secret’s out.

-

“What the fuck, Ashton.”

“What about fucking?”

“Don’t you warp my words, Ashton fucking Irwin – I knew you were an ass, but this – this is a whole new level of fuckboy I didn’t think you were capable of.”

“What are you talking about?”

He’s serious now – finally losing that goddamn cocky smirk that you were so used to at this point, no longer slouching casually on the couch but standing up and walking towards your clenched form.

You can see the worry in his eyes, the panic that starts to seep into it as he starts to put the pieces together – the night before that he couldn’t remember, the words that were coming back to him, your eyes flashing –

You’d be amused at how quickly the regret starts flooding through him if you weren’t so fucking mad.

“It was just a –“

“Joke? Say it to my face, Ashton – tell me I was nothing but a joke to you.”

“That’s not what I meant – “

“Tell me, what else does ‘I made a bet I could fuck you in a month’ possibly mean? Do enlighten me.”

He’s silent and you bask in it, the first time he’s shut up around you in a month; no longer casually boasting, no longer flinging out compliments to you that surely didn’t mean a thing.

Ashton doesn’t know how to explain, and he doesn’t need to.

Because he already said all he needed to, his words slurred with alcohol despite his claims for a ‘good tolerance’; extra clingy as his hands met your skin, only letting go once you squirmed out with an excuse for the bathroom.

But his words – that revelation – you weren’t forgetting that anytime soon.

You’ve been so whipped lately, Ashton – what is this, carrying bags and canceling plans for her? Before you know it, you’ll be spending thousands on jewellery she’ll never wear and talking about wedding dresses.

You were just coming back from the restroom after a touch-up, ready for the rest of the night; tipsy enough not to be offended at the words you caught on to, but sober enough to care, stopping a few paces short to listen some more.

Ashton laughed at his friend, movements languid.

Nah, mate – look at that pretty face. What wouldn’t you do for it?

You thought it sweet until he opened his mouth again, voice booming over the music.

‘Sides, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make this pretty girl mine for a night – and win some cash for it. Lads promised me – well, it’s not a promise until I win – but this bet’s a win-win all over for me.

You’re frozen as the warm fizziness of the alcohol drains from your system, all thoughts of returning back to the group of people you trusted enough to call friends – of sorts – disappearing the moment the meaning of his confession sinks in.

And you’re a fool, you’re a fool for not seeing his ulterior motives, for sitting there as Ashton and his friends continued to drink, returning as casually as can be while hating all the stares you received when Ashton wraps an arm around you again, the others surely thinking you were nothing but an airless girl meant to be passed around.

“I’m sorry.”

He’s sober now, the morning after and remembering every too-loud word that he boasted, the flush of your cheeks that wasn’t from the alcohol, the flinch in his every touch.

‘You’re only fucking sorry you were caught, Irwin.”

He wishes it wasn’t true, and you do too.

You thought he was better than that, but he’s clearly not enough for you, not even close.

“Tell me, Ashton – what did you think of every time you saw me?” You wrap yourself around him, eyes sharp, but he’s not enjoying it, not at all.

“Did you dream of me, Ashton?”

You breath is on his cheek and you love how there’s a tic in his jaw, a sign of unease at your sudden flip in direction, unsure of what game you were playing at now.

“Were you going to tell the boys every last dirty detail?”

Your nails are cold against his skin, crawling up his arm to his neck.

“Tell them how I looked underneath you? Tell them how I moaned your name? Tell them how I was all yours, tell them how I gave myself to you in every single way?”

He gulps at your lips murmuring the words into his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“How much am I worth to you? A month’s time and what, a hundred dollars? Two hundred? You could buy a prettier girl with that amount for less effort, Irwin.”

“Stop, I would never – “

“You’d never answer my calls when I woke up alone. You’d never ask if I wanted to ‘hang out’ again. You’d never even give me a second look when you were done with me – you had your challenge and you’d take your prize but throw it away the moment you were finished looking at it.”

You cut him short and you savour the way his mouth shuts instantly, how you have the authority against him.

“You’re a real work of art, Ashton. I’ve never seen anyone try so fucking hard to bed someone else, and I wish I could say I was impressed, but it’s just so fucking pathetic.

“It doesn’t have to be this way. We don’t – we could –”

“Oh, you put yourself in this very position, Irwin. No amount of apologies can get you out now – I was never a person to you, just a prize. And that makes you absolutely worthless in my eyes.”

You glare at him icily, shutting down any feeble attempts at trying to get himself out of this catastrophic mess.

You almost want to laugh at the panicked desperation as he realizes the quicksand that he’s been walking in this month from toying with you, at his frenzied scrabbles at trying to make things right when he was the one who threw all ideas of right and wrong for any sort of relationship the moment he made that bet.

You’re walking out the door, done wasting your time on him; one last biting remark to leave on his skin for the boys to see as proof.

“Game over, Ashton.”

You feel like a winner as you leave.

-

more imagines here!

@ karlie kloss, let me live

honestly, i’ve been feeling so attacked by this girl lately. so damn rude. 

  • her ‘Love Story’/Prince Charming-esque Marella campaign
  • the Joe Fresh campaign!!!! w/bonus Joan, Sean, & Andres (hihihi)
  • E-News with Joan (asldfjsljfsdfjlksjf)
  • all-out plaid for Kate Spade
  • i mean just all her new campaigns -there are SIX of them jesus just damn 
  • SELF Magazine interview + videos, bye
  • her charity work with Christina Tosi for kids & her personally giving out her Klossies!!
  • studying coding at school with the girls she’s sponsoring <3
  • her screaming and laughing almost injuring herself on the damn hoverboard with Casey (WTF I was hella worried like girl do not fall and injure yourself?!!)
  • HER AMAZEMENT AT BEING ABLE TO OPEN THE SWITCHBLADE LIKE YOU COULD SEE HOW EXCITED AND KINDA SHOCKED SHE WAS (AND I WAS JUST LIKE PLEASE PLEASE DON’T HURT YOURSELF)
  • HER CHANNEL PREVIEW HA HA HA HA HA (oh god I don’t even wanna get into that rn I’m a mess)