Simply, Simply Lovely 🏎️

Band Member: Luke Type: Relationship Request: No. Details: You’d been trying so long, forever struck with disappointment. But eventually, it would all be worth it. Right?

You glanced down at the little white stick with a sigh, willing the second blue line to appear even though you knew it would not. You’d lost count of how many tests you’d taken, how many times you’d looked down at the little window with all of your hopes pinned on seeing that tiny colour change. But once again, your body had seemed to fail you. You threw it in the bin, unlocking the bathroom door to find Luke sat with his back pressed against it. He looked up at you expectantly, and you hated how the little shake of your head was enough to crush the hope in his eyes. He tried to hide it, shrugging it off as he stood and took you in his arms. But as he buried his face in your neck, you knew he would be trying not to cry. “Don’t worry, princess.” He mumbled, his lips soft on your skin. “We’ll get there one day, and it will be worth it.”

One day. One day when? It had already been too many days, long enough for your doctor to tut to himself when you told him the date you’d first started trying, long enough for him to prattle on about blood tests and scans and maybe we should look at treatment if this carries on. Long enough that Luke began to doubt himself when all your tests came back normal, wondering if it was down to him, if there was something wrong with him. He’d half hoped that was the case when the letter thudded to the doormat. He needed something to blame for this, some reason why the world refused to give him what he wanted. But as his eyes scanned the letter, settling on the words satisfactory and normal and just keep trying, he’d started to consider that maybe this was all one big cosmic joke. Maybe he’d used up all his luck when the band became famous, maybe that was it for him. But then what about you?

You’d been so hopeful when he’d handed you the letter, tears in your eyes because this was good, this meant it was probably just one of those things and you could just keep going. But you could see the pressure and stress was starting to get to him. He was spending hours hunched up over his laptop, reading articles that were only semi-reliable, concocting herbal remedies and suggesting dietary changes that maybe, just maybe might make a difference. You went along with it, willing to try anything that might help, but more doing it for him. If taking chasteberry and green tea extract every day was going to help him relax a little more, then you would do it.

He changed in other ways over those next few weeks, too. He held onto you a little tighter in bed, lips pressed to the skin of your neck as his arms curled around your sides, fingers resting gently over your navel as though willing a little round bump to form. He could feel the tension in your body that you just couldn’t seem to shake, pulling you closer and massaging the knots in your muscles, whispering that it was okay, it would all be worth it one day.

He kept himself busy in the empty days by cleaning the house from top to bottom, tackling all the difficult chores like defrosting the freezer and sorting through the towers of junk boxes that lined the garage. You’d never seen him so domesticated; he’d always needed bribing into chores, but suddenly he was spending hours making sure everything was just so. If you hadn’t known any better, you would almost say he was nesting.

He was experimenting more in the kitchen too, insisting you rested and let him handle everything, as though the reason you hadn’t seen those two blue lines was because you spent too much time in front of the stove. But again, you let him do it. Anything that would soften what seemed to be a permanent crease in his brow, or stop him from tugging so hard on his lip ring that you swore it might rip out.

It was worse whenever Calum or Michael came to visit, their beautiful daughters in tow. You knew Luke loved spending time with his honorary nieces, chasing them around the garden and letting them use his long limbs like a climbing frame. But as soon as they left, you could see how empty he felt in his heart. He wanted that, and although he would never admit it, and he knew it was a horrid thought; he almost resented his two friends for having their daughters already.

You’d overheard him once, talking glumly to Calum when they thought you were busy in the kitchen baking chocolate chip cookies with his daughter, Raine. You knew Calum and his wife had had a little trouble at first, expecting Raine to appear far earlier than she had, but they hadn’t had to wait half as long as you and Luke before the test finally came back positive.

“Give it time,” Calum had said softly, “I know it sucks, but freaking out about it only makes it worse.” Luke had sighed, knowing Calum was right but the sentiment not soothing him in any way. How could he stop stressing about it when it was all he ever thought about any more? How could he relax when every article and book and leaflet was telling him to do a million different things at once? He was trying to make you rest, but make sure you exercised properly too. He helped you track your ovulation, but didn’t mark it obsessively on the calendar because that could cause ‘too much stress’, pinning all your hopes on just a short window of success. He was doing everything he could to make this happen, and it was exhausting. But… “I know,” he’d nodded, “it will all be worth it, eventually. It has to be.”

The constant pressure was starting to make you feel sick. You’d heard of couples who had been pushed apart from the stress and disappointment, but you and Luke were working overtime to try and keep yourselves as close as possible. You somehow loved each other more, and were so desperate to make each other happy by finally being able to say yes, baby hemmo is on their way, that you were clinging to each other like letting go would signal the end of it all, destroying any chance you had.

But the feeling in your gut was growing stronger, turning your stomach and making even your favourite foods taste like acid on your tongue. Luke watched you from across the table every time you pushed your still-full plate away, making jokes about his bad cooking but unable to hide the concern in his eyes. He knew it was only a matter of time before the stress made one of you ill, and he’d be damned if it was going to be you. You started to ache all over, spending more time huddled up on the sofa and just wishing you could feel whole again. You felt fatigued no matter how much you slept, finding it hard to build up enough effort to even leave the house most days. Luke was busy with promotion for the new album, but your phone buzzed at least once every hour with a dorky selfie or a questioning text; just checking in babe, hope ur feeling a bit better?, ashton says hi. He was fretting about you, but it was okay. You needed him more than ever now, the only comfort from the queasiness and exhaustion being his arms around you at the end of a long day, promising that things would be okay.

It wasn’t until the day you started vomiting that you put two and two together and finally came up with four instead of six. You were staring face down into the toilet bowl, but you felt the surge of energy and clarity course through your veins, your own little epiphany. Nausea. Aches. Fatigue. Poor appetite. You’d seen these words printed in leaflets, bullet pointed under the headline ‘symptoms’, splashed across the websites and written in early chapters of the pregnancy books stacked beside your bed.

You reached for the box in the bathroom cupboard, not daring to hope, but unable to deny the butterflies that had set flight in your stomach. One day, it would be worth it. That’s what Luke had told you a thousand times, promised in hushed tones as you cuddled in bed, said with a soft smile after each doctor’s appointment. And as you started down at the little white stick, the two blue lines reflecting in your eyes, you couldn’t help but let out a sob. Somehow, one day had become today.

-

You were waiting patiently in the kitchen for him, your heart beginning to race when you heard his key slide into the lock, the front door opening and closing with a familiar click. He called out to you, and you could hear the surprise in his tone when your reply came from the kitchen instead of the lounge. He paused in the doorway, staring at the little yellow gift bag on the counter in confusion. You nodded, motioning at him to open it. He dropped his bag to the floor, a small smile tugging at his lips as his fingers fiddled with the ribbon that was knitted at the handles. He’d always loved surprise presents, and you were sure this would be one he would never forget.

He grabbed the handfuls of tissue paper, crumpling them loudly in his hands as he tossed them aside. He reached for the roll of soft, white fabric, pinching it between his fingers and shaking it until it had completely unravelled. “Is this a baby grow?” He frowned. “What does it say? Baby Hemmo 2016?” His pinched fingers released, the baby grow falling down onto the kitchen counter as his eyes widened. He glanced across at you, looking more hopeful that you had ever seen him before. “Are you really?”

It was barely more than a whisper, his hands still hovering in the air as though the baby grow was still in his grasp. You could feel the tears stinging at your eyes when you nodded. “Really?” He asked again. “You’re not joking? Tell me you are not joking.” “I’m not joking, Luke.”

He skirted the edge of the counter, hands reaching for you and wrapping you in to a tight hug, your head pressed against his chest as he laid soft kisses on your hair. You glanced up when you heard a sniffle, surprised to see tears streaking from red eyes and down his cheeks even as he grinned. “I don’t believe it.” He whispered. “I’m really going to be a daddy?” You couldn’t speak for the lump in your throat, the tears flowing freely from your own eyes too. Now that Luke knew, it suddenly felt real. This was the moment you’d been waiting on for so long, the moment you could finally look him in the eyes and tell him yes, he was going to be a daddy.

Okay so when little baby James was born, Ashton was named his godfather. The rest of the band teased him to the moon and back since Ash took the role so seriously. Every time he was in Australia, he would take James out so his parents could have some alone time (hint hint wink wink). One night the band was hanging out at Michael’s house when Ashton’s phone started ringing out of control. Thinking that it was just some telemarketer since the number wasn’t listed, he answered lightheartedly. When a serious voice replied to his cheerful one, he immediately became worried. “Mr. Irwin, this is [nurse’s name] and I’m calling from [hospital name]. I’m terribly sorry to be the one informing you this but your friends, the Matthews, were in a car accident. You’re listed as an emergency contact-” The poor nurse wasn’t able to finish explaining what happened before Ashton had hung up and was out the front door, car keys in hand. The rest of the boys called out his name in attempt to find out what was wrong, but he was out the door and half way to his car. Believing that they wouldn’t get his attention, Luke grabbed his keys and they all piled into his car to follow Ashton. Their confusion only increased when they arrived at the hospital on the opposite side of the city. Running after Ashton, who was near tears and demanding where his good friends were. Ashton felt so helpless while the nurse was typing away at her computer in attempt to find where the Matthews were in the giant maze of a hospital. After what seemed like an eternity, a doctor came out into the waiting area and called for Ashton. He whipped around and left the nurse’s station to walk over to the doctor, with the rest of the boys trailing behind him. “I’m sorry but we did all we could. Mr. Matthews was pronounced dead during the ambulance ride and Mrs. Matthews passed while we were trying to stop internal bleeding while in route to the OR.” Ashton felt his world crumble around him, if it weren’t for the boys there he surely would’ve collapsed then and there. “The baby, James-” He began. “I’m sorry?” “The baby, there should’ve been a baby in the car with them. Where is he? Is hE OKAY?” Ashton cried on the verge of hysterics. “Oh yes! The infant, James,” the doctor paused and looked at Ashton in confirmation of the name, “should be in the NICU on the 4th floor if you want to check on him.” Ashton bolted to the elevators, and ran to the nurse’s station when the doors opened on the forth floor. After seeing for his own eyes that James was safe and perfectly fine (It’s a miracle is what everybody told him), he confirmed that he were to take over parental custody since Kate told the paramedics that she and her husband wanted James to be raised by his godfather (We chose you for a reason, they told him the day Ashton found out), during her final moments. Later, after all the paperwork was completed and a court date set to confirm everything for the government, Ashton was able to hold James for the first time as his legal guardian. The boys promised that they would help raise James. 

Years later when James was walking and talking, the band was touring and in the middle of a show when James ran out onto the stage to Luke (his favorite daddy). Thankfully, a sound tech was able to put a pair of noise blocking headphones on the restless child before he took off. The fans had a field day cooing over the small child in Luke’s arms, that was currently trying to jump over his head and land in Ashton’s arms (who was a good 20 feet behind him). When Michael asked who his parents are in a joking manner (his plan was to joke about some irresponsible person let this child wander onto the stage), James looked him straight in the eye and replied: “ 5sos are my daddies!” The fans were over the moon, almost literally, in screams of how precious and cute babysos was.  

In which Luke writes a letter to you because he needs to let you know and he needs to get it all of his chest and he needs someone (read: you) to love him back. In which he relives memories. In which you understand and feel free because the one you need, needs you back.

+masterlist (requests are open!!) 

Using one his songs as your ringtone for your alarm clock

“y/n, if I hear Luke’s voice one more time this early in the morning in that stupid SoNG”

pressing your cold toes on his legs

“you’re toes are freezing” “well your legs are hairy”

 “so are yours y/n, you haven’t shaved in two weeks” “ITS WINTER CALUM”

drinking black coffee from his and her mugs because you’re too lazy to get anything else

 “I’m not kissing you until you brush your teeth”

 kissing him anyway

 the boys blowing up his phone asking him why he’s not at the studio

sending them snapchats of you sleeping next to him in his t-shirt and saying “would you leave her for you idiots”

procrastinating getting out of bed by tracing his tattoos and making up stories about why he got them

 “I got the horse shoe for good luck” “did it work” “well I met you so yeah”

not being able to resist his morning voice saying “five more minutes, darlin”

pillow chats

“i hope our kids have your eyes”