A Ringside Seat
Boxer!Ashton x reader Trigger warnings: descriptions of fighting, and fight-related injuries. Panic attack.
There was a point in time that she enjoyed going to his fights. There was some dumb exhilaration that came with the matches. But it was all supposed to be temporary. The plan had always been that he would fight on the weekends, make a little cash here and there if a fight went well. It was a way to make ends meet. Then came the managers, and the sponsorships, and the money, and the cars, and fame. He convinced her to quit her job, bought her dresses, and jewellery. He bought them the most beautiful home she could ever imagine. “It’s all for you,” he’d whisper.
But she didn’t want the jewels. She didn’t want the cameras on her and sports commentators talking about how she ‘looked so worried this match’ or ‘it must be tough watching your husband take such a hard hit’. She thinks back to when he was just starting out; his first difficult match. She remembers the anxious lump in her throat, her fingernails digging leaving crescents in the palms of her hands. Ten minutes in and his nose was gushing blood, his lip split. She could see his chest heaving, and she could tell he was clenching his teeth, trying to breathe through the pain. Her own breathing sped up to match his. He took a few more hits, one to the side that left him on his knees, eyes shut, struggling to stand. His opponent leaned down and whispered something. Ashton’s eyes shot open as he rose to deliver multiple swift punches to the other man’s side, followed by a couple of uppercuts to the face. There was a rage in his eyes that day that she had never seen before. A rage that made her heart skip a beat. Sure, he was a boxer, but he’d never been a violent man. “Hello doll,” he murmured against her forehead, his hands on her cheeks. “Hi Ash,” She tried to smile, “Let’s get you patched up”. Pulling away she didn’t meet his gaze, rummaging around the first aid kit with shaking hands as she searched for the antiseptic. He shook it off at first knowing that sometimes watching his matches left her a little overwhelmed. But her hands didn’t stop shaking as she dabbed away the blood from under his nose. She flinched when he lifted his hand to push her hair away from her face, and his heart dropped. “What’s the matter, baby?” “Nothing, Ash. I’m fine”. She let out a shaky breath as finally managed to tuck part of her unruly locks behind her ear. “Your hands are shaking,” he whispers looking down at her. She doesn’t look at him, but he knows she’s trying not to cry as she presses her eyes closed, biting her lip. “Did I frighten you?” he voices his fear, a lump forming in the back of his throat as he holds back tears of his own. She doesn’t speak, so he continues, “I’m so sorry baby. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’d never, ever hurt you. You know that right?” He asks stroking her hair. She nods, “You were just--I’ve never seen you so angry”. “I know Doll. He said some choice words about you. I just couldn’t let him baby”. “You’re so stupid sometimes,” She sniffs looking up at him. “Only for you,” He promises, pressing a kiss to her lips, “Only for you”.
Six months later, everything had changed. They went from living in a bachelor apartment to a five-bedroom house next to the water. He bought he a ridiculously big, horribly expensive diamond ring and kept it hidden in a set of his old boxing gloves waiting for the right time to ask her to be his wife. He was beginning to be put up against better fighters. Fighters with titles and championship belts, and to say that it worried her was an understatement. “Stop dismissing my feelings, Ashton!” “I’m not! I’m just saying you don’t have anything to worry about!” “Nothing to worry about? Ashton, you’ve got two cracked ribs, and you’re still fighting. Taking an ice bath doesn’t heal you. I’m just saying I’d like it if you took some time off”. “I’ve got sponsorships Y/N. I can’t just take some time off. Boxing careers are short, I’ve got to do what I can while I can”. “Do you not think I’m aware of how short a boxing career can be? People die boxing Ashton. Not often but it happens--it happens when dumbasses like you fight when they shouldn't be fighting!” “Dumbasses like me? Let me ask you something: do you like living in this house? Do you like our car, and your cloth--” “I don’t care about any of this Ashton! I care about you! Why can’t you see that?” She asks, “I only need you”. He sighs, running his hand through his hair before leaving the room. “Yup, go ahead. Walk away from me!” She hollers after him, sinking down onto the couch. “Marry me,” he says. She turns to look over the back of the sofa to him standing in the doorway a gorgeous ring pinched between his thumb and forefinger. “Are you joking?” He shakes his head, walking towards her. Leaping over the couch, she tackles him, her arms around his neck, legs around his hips. “Yes. Someone’s gotta keep you in line,” She smiles kissing him. He kisses back, pulling away only to slip the ring onto her finger. He ignores the ache of his cracked ribs as he carries his fiancee up the stairs to their bed.
He took time off for their wedding. They had a quiet ceremony with only friends and family, before spending two weeks in Italy for their honeymoon. It was blissful and calming. It was what they needed to be reminded who they were, and how much they meant to each other.
She stands outside the ring once again. The bell sounds, and the fourth round begins. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears, and she tries not to flinch as Ashton takes another hit. She had told him that he didn’t need to fight tonight. It was set up to be a charity match. There was going to be no loss if he didn’t accept the challenge, but he insisted. His opponent was none other than Gregory Malovich; reigning champion and a weight class above Ash. Gregory got his fame fight dirty, for being utterly unforgiving, but Ashton walked fearlessly into the ring. Part of her admired him for that, the other part wanted to kick his ass for being so careless. Despite his time off Ashton’s ribs weren’t fully healed, and each hit he took frightened Y/N a little bit more. Her breathing gets heavier as she watches her husband stagger before throwing another right hook. Gregory throws an uppercut. She shuts her eyes trying to push down the bile rising in her throat. Ashton’s blood splatters across the canvas mat, and she turns away. “Get me out of here please?” She asks quietly tugging at the arm of Ashton’s manager next to her. He nods his hand resting protectively between her shoulder blades as he escorts her past the crowd and back to the change rooms. ‘Has Irwin lost this fight already? The Misses seems to think so’ the announcer's voice booms through the stadium. “Are you alright?” The manager asks. “Yes, thank you, Michael... Go back out there. Ashton needs you”. He furrows his brows watching her clutch at her chest as she sits down, but he knows better than to argue with her. She always wins. Ashton has an arm slung over Michael’s shoulder the other over his coach Calum’s. His medic Luke follows close behind. Ashton knows that the shot that knocked him down and out also broke his already damaged ribs. It hurts to breathe, and he can taste blood in his mouth. He knows he should’ve listened to Y/N when she told him not to fight. ‘Why is she always right?’ He thinks to himself. Mikey and Calum set him down to sit on the wooden bench, and he winces as he feels his ribs shift. “Let’s get you wrapped up before you get worse. You’ll have to go to the hospital though,” Luke says as he begins to bandage Ashton’s chest. Calum brings an ice pack over. “Where’s Y/N?” Ashton asks, pressing the ice pack to his jaw. “She asked to leave halfway through the match,” Cal tells him, “I brought her back here. She’s probably just stepped out”. “She asked to leave?” Ashton confirms, worry rising in his chest. “She’ll be back soon, I’m sure”. Michael offers. “She never leaves,” Ashton tells the other men, “I need to find her”. He stands, despite Luke insisting that he shouldn’t, making his way out of the change room and down the hall. He needs to find her. He needs to know she’s okay. He can hear her sobbing through the bathroom door, and it breaks his heart. “Baby? Let me in,” he knocks, “Y/N, Doll, what's the matter? I’m worried about you. I need to know you’re okay”. Her sobs only grow louder, so he pushes the door open, and there she is slumped against the wall in the furthest stall. Her mascara runs down her cheeks, and she’s taken her hair out of the high ponytail it was in earlier. “Baby, come’re,” he whispers sitting next to her and pulling her into his lap, “Breathe Doll. Can you do that for me?” Her breath hitches, but the sobs don’t stop, her fingers grip his shoulders, her face buried in the crook of his neck. “I--I can’t”. “Can’t what baby?” “Can’t breathe”. “Yes, you can baby. Come on, copy my breaths. You can do it,” he encourages taking in a deep breath, he holds for five before exhaling for five. “You’re okay,” He tells her, his hands rubbing up and down her back. “I can’t do this,” She whispers when her panic subsides. “What baby?” “I can’t watch you get hurt--I can’t do this. We can’t keep doing this. We can’t have a family like this--” Her words tumble out as she pulls away to look at him. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slowly down Baby. We’re just going to take this one day at a time. Kids are years away Doll, We’ll sort this out, we always do”. “They aren’t” “They aren’t what?” “Years away Ash. I’m pregnant”. He freezes. “Jesus Christ...”
And so he sells the sports cars, opting for a more family-friendly range rover instead. They sell the beachside mansion and buy a large but comfortable 3 bedroom brownstone. They downsize, and Ashton announces that this will be his last season in the ring. Y/N and her growing baby bump stay home and away from her husbands matches. He ends up taking home his division belt somewhat by accident. It hangs in his office next to his worn out boxing gloves. Ashton becomes a coach, he loves his sport, but he knows better than to fight at this point in his life. With his perfect daughter and beautiful wife sound asleep down the hall, he finishes his emails and tucks his paperwork into the desk drawers. Undressing he slides into bed next to Y/N, and he knows that he wouldn’t want his life to go any other way.
