How to Write an Ashton Irwin FanFic [a.i. au]

3

My eyes widen after I read the comment. I find myself balling my fist and wishing that luckydrummer18 was in front of me so that I can punch his face and knock every single one of his teeth out.

By the way things are looking, this is not going to get pretty any time soon. I decide to send him a private message, one) to avoid unwanted attention to my book and 2) to actually give this kid a piece of my mind.

Me; what is your problem?

Just as expected, he answers immediately.

Him; you

Me;very funny

Him; you asked, I answered.

Me; stop reading my story.

Him; what's the point in publishing it then?

Me; for people to enjoy.

Him; kinda hard to do that with your writing skills, don't ya think?

Me; if it's so bad then stop reading

Him; I rather not

Me; well then keep your hate to yourself

Him; I rather not

Me; your opinions don't even matter. You're probably a grumpy old man hiding behind a hot Ashton Irwin picture.

Him; babe trust me, I'm hot

Me; don't call me that

Him; why not babe?

Me; if you're so hot, why not put up a picture of yourself?

Him; I can ask you the same thing.

Me; I never said I was hot.

Him; then are you hiding behind an Ashton Irwin picture because your uglier than Honey Boo Boo's mom?

Me; I'm 10x hotter than you tbh

Him; prove it

Me; no

Him; whatever

I give up and ignore his message.

• • • • • • • • • • • •

I don't hear from him in all day. Instead all the comment notifications I got were now from other users praising my writing and urging me to update sooner. By the time I go to bed, my anger has subsided and I find myself feeling happy at how far my book has gotten.

I go to bed with a smile on my face.

When I wake up the first thing I realize is that it's 7:30 in the morning. School starts at 8:00 and I'm still not even out of bed. I rush as I dress and run out the door not bothering to say bye to my parents.

By the time the bus arrives its 7:45.

I stayed up last night working on my story. I guess I can admit that his comments have made me push myself into writing better, or at least strive to do so.

I haven't finished half of the chapter when the school bus stops in front of the school. I save everything that I worked hard on. I walk off the bus and it doesn't take more than five minutes for my best friend to find me.

She immediately embraces me in a hug, and I find it hard to breathe.

"Can you let me go? You act like this is the first time we've seen each other in years," I grumble as I struggle to catch my breath.

She lets me go and looks at me with a troubled expression.

"Well someone looks like they just sucked on a lemon," she says with a frown on her face.

I shake my head, "Well no, it's just I don't find it necessary for you to squeeze the life out of me every time you see me. We just saw each other yesterday!"

We begin to walk towards the school, and I can tell that she's not ready to give up.

"I'm your best friend, it's my right to get excited and overjoyed when I see you," she insists.

"Well, not nece-"

"What's going on? What caused you to wake up on the wrong side of the bed?"

I glare at her, "Nothing is wrong with me, I'm perfectly fine. Just cause I'm telling you to chill, doesn't mean that I have something wrong with me."

She stops and then turns to face me. I stop walking as well, but I don't want to meet her eyes.

"I know enough to know when something is bothering my best friend," Ivy states as she crosses her arms across her chest.

I roll my eyes determined to not say a single thing.

"I'm not going to move until you tell me what's going on," she adds.

I sigh in defeat and tell her my problem.

Up until now, I hadn't realized how much of an affect that stupid unknown person has had in my life. He's made me more self conscious on the way I write, and he's actually convinced me that I don't write good.

Ivy shakes her head, "Well don't listen to him. He's probably some loner that finds pleasure in picking on talented writers like yourself. I mean, whether the comments are good or not, they're still comments, and he's adding to the amount of reads to your book, so that's good, right?"

I shrug, "I guess, but still he gets me so annoyed."

"Ignore him, he'll give up eventually."

I smile, and hug my books tight against my chest, "Sure, I'll do that."

Ivy's smile widens, "Hey, about that story, what's it called?"

Right then the bell rang. I sigh, only this time in relief, "Oh look, time to get to class, don't want to be late."

"Don't think I'm going to forget so easily," Ivy says as I walk to my first class.

I'm not going to tell her the name of story, not yet at least. If she's going to read something of mine, I need to make sure it's perfect.

The school day drags along. Ivy bothers me on telling her the name, yet I resist. She's upset that I haven't told her, but I keep strong in resisting. By the time I get home I feel too stressed to function.

I hook my iPod to some speakers, and play the latest One Direction album on full blast. I grab my laptop from my desk and continue my story.

Writing is a major stress reliever. Crazy, I know, but it works for me.

If it weren't for the song just ending, I wouldn't have heard the little hushed ring my phone made every time I had an email.

I take my phone and see that I have a message on Wattpad.

Him; so you've finally taken my advice and gave up on writing?

I smile at the message.

Boy, is he in for a surprise.