5SOS one shots (boys x Reader)


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8. Just a Photo

Thing is, Michael knows to ignore text messages from unknown numbers. Especially when they’re on tour and have got prepaid cards with US or UK numbers. But, like. It's different when it’s numbers he doesn’t recognise texting his Australian number because he’s had that same number since he got his first mobile phone and the numbers texting him are usually also with the same country code.    

 

This text, though. It’s… unsettling? Making him paranoid? Making him insecure? Is also way too fucking creepy that he kind of wants to hide and never leave his house again, preferably holding Y/N close?    

 

Because it’s a blurry picture (from a number he doesn’t recognise) of his bloody girlfriend sat at lunch with this dude – just his side profile being seen, but it’s a damn good side profile. She’s laughing with that beautiful smile lighting up her face and he’s laughing, too, hand hovering in mid-air, probably about to grab onto her because that’s what people do when they laugh too hard – they need someone to hold onto and curl into. And, like. Michael knows that he shouldn’t be jealous, but he can’t help it.    

 

He groans, locking his phone and tossing it aside as he lays back on his bed, not bothering to reply to that text with that picture and a fucking text that accompanied it saying, she looks way happier with him than she does with you, and Michael wants to scream. (Because yeah, she actually does look happier and Christ, it’s hurting his chest.)   

 

His bedroom door’s swung open and he startles, opening his eyes just as a body lands next to him, half on top of him, making him groan dramatically as one of his arms instantly go to wrap around the body. “What.” He groans again.   

 

“Hello,” Y/N laughs, placing a kiss on his neck before settling down next to him.    

 

“Where were you?” He asks, tone all casual, forearm still covering his eyes even though he’s sure that he’s body a bit too tense.    

 

“Oh, yeah, oi,” she says excitedly, hitting his arm repeatedly, trying to get his full attention as she sits up. Michael lifts his forearm, popping open an eye and raising a brow at her. “Do you remember Y/F/N?”   

 

Michael furrows his brows, “That dude that had, like, big glasses? Bushy eyebrows? Complete nerd that you still made friends with because you’re a nice person, even though he's a complete nerd?”   

 

“Don’t be a dick,” she narrows her eyes at him and he’s instantly smiling apologetically, pulling her so that she’s full on top of him now.    

 

“Sorry. Yeah, I remember him. Thought he moved away or summat. Why?”   

 

Y/N pulls out her phone, pulling open a selfie of her and this fucking good-looking lad, both grinning widely. “Look at him – look at him! He made puberty his fucking bitch, oh my god.”   

 

“Holy shit,” Michael breathes out, eyes wide, plucking her phone out of her hands. “What. How?” He blinks, flicking through his mental photographs of Y/F/N looking like the most stereotypical nerd to ever exist, before glancing back at the photo. “Christ. Why couldn’t this happen to me?”   

 

“If it’s any consolation, which it probably isn’t,” she starts, pocketing her phone when he hands it back to her. “You have, like, probably more than a million a people who think you’re hot. I mean. Just a couple million. ’s not that many, you know.”   

 

“‘course it isn’t,” he shakes his head solemnly. “If my girlfriend thinks that he’s hot then the couple million people who, apparently, think I’m hot don't really matter.”   

 

“Your girlfriend thinks you’re the hottest person alive,” Y/N grins cheekily, leaning forward to peck him quickly on the lips.   

 

“Thank fuck for that.”   

 

- - -   

 

The texts continue to come. Most of them saying shit like how she doesn’t even remotely like him, is just with him because she wants something. How Y/N’s just with him because she’s using him and is actually seeing three other guys behind his back.    

 

Sometimes they're paired with a picture. There was a picture of her laughing with this other dude and Michael let himself be paranoid again, but then she’s coming back with a giant grin about how she and her cousin – her fuckin' cousin – discovered that they had the exact same eye colour that day. There was another one of her walking, seemingly alone, dressed in this short and tight dress and she looks gorgeous but then the accompanying text says that she’s going to the club to go sleep with some dude because she’d rather sleep with a random dude rather than spend a night in with Michael. An hour after that text and after Michael’s just about to call her and ask her if it’s true, she texts him the words, save me I’m so bored why did I agree to this, and then she’s sending him a picture of her with a bottle of plain water and the background of adults dressed all fancy as they mingled. Another text says, they’re not even letting me drink wine and I’m pretty sure I’m the only person below thirty here HELP.

 

Then this one text comes. He opens it without wincing or preparing himself for the worst, because it’s from a contact in his phone. It’s a photo of Y/N hugging this guy – and Michael knows this guy because he and Y/N had went on a double date with him and his boyfriend once – and it’s paired with a line that says, she’s clearly interested in other people so why don’t you just leave while you can.

 

Michael doesn’t think, he just does it. He goes to the Hood’s, the place he’s been more to so many times in his life, knowing that everyone else is out and Calum’s probably the only one home. He’s right, and he marches right through the front door to see Calum in the lounge, just getting to his feet and stretching his arms out.   

 

Michael goes right up to him, and shoves him as hard as possible. Calum tumbles, mostly from the shock of it, but he tumbles and almost falls back onto the lounge.   

 

“What the fuck, bro?!” Calum exclaims once he’s regained his balance.   

 

“What the fuck is your problem?!” Michael hisses through clenched teeth. “Why are you trying so fucking hard to get me to break up with Y/N?! She’s not fucking cheating on me – who the fuck are you to say stuff like that about her?!”   

 

“What are you talking about?!”   

 

“You fucking know what I’m talking about!” Michael almost growls then. “You forgot to use whatever fucking number you were using to send the first texts. I got a message from Calum with a picture of my girlfriend and some shit message about how she’s cheating on me and how she’s, apparently, using me or some shite like that. So tell me, yeah. What the fuck do you have against Y/N?!”   

 

“I don’t like her, okay!” Calum finally exclaims, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Whenever we’re at home, you never have time for us – have time for me anymore. All you ever do is fucking hang out with her. Like, I get it, when you’re at home because you don’t like people and all you wanna do is play video games but at least you still hung out with other people. But now, it’s always her. It’s always fuckin’ Y/N.”   

 

Michael practically gapes at him, “So you send all those fucking texts to get me to dump her so that I’ll hang out with you again?! Jesus. What are you – five years old?!”   

 

Calum doesn’t say anything. He just glares back at Michael with equal amounts of ferocity in his eyes.  

 

“You’d rather have me be heartbroken instead of happy?! How fucking selfish can you possibly be?!”   

 

“It's just Y/N,” Calum says, tone indignant and flippant and that’s when Michael loses it. He can’t stop himself as he lunges forward, swinging a solid punch onto the younger’s jaw. He’s never had the need to punch someone – proper punch them – before and the hit’s probably weak as fuck but he doesn’t give a shit. Calum stumbles back a bit, hand cupping his jaw as he stares at Michael incredulously.    

 

“Don’t. Fucking. Talk. About. Her. Like. That.” Michael hisses, chest heaving up and down. “I’m fuckin’ in love with her and you’re not even – you’re. Screw this. Fuck you,” he spits, then he’s spinning out of his heel and towards the front door.   

 

“I just fucking want my best friend back!” Calum shouts after him.   

 

Michael halts in his tracks, turning around to face him, glare still fixed on his face. “Well, I don’t want mine. If all he’s going to do is talk shit about the girl that I’m in love with and not even try to be supportive of me, then I don't ever want him back.”  

 
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