5SOS one shots (boys x Reader)


9. Youre drunk..

It’s just one photo – and that’s immediately got the whole fandom worked up. Like, the people who are proper into 5 Seconds of Summer know that Michael’s got a girlfriend, those overly obsessed ones definitely having sent her stupid insults that Y/N and Michael have laughed off together. But this one photo – it’s different.    


Not because he’s, like, kissing this girl or summat. It’s just. He’s dancing with her, in a club, and they’re both laughing whilst their hands are gripping onto each other because, how else would they dance? Michael posted it on his twitter account with such a Michael-like caption of weee and that was it, really.    


Y/N’s not worried about him cheating on her, because she trusts him. She’s not worried because he’s also made sure to tell her that he loves her at any given opportunity that it’s almost as annoying as it is endearing. She’s not worried because he’d also texted her the photo first, asking her if it looked cool enough and when she’d given him a reply of, you’re in the photo so of course it’s cool. that’s what you want me to say right, he’d texted back with a, see this is why I love you, and that was that.    


But the fans don’t know that. Or, well. The “fans" – the ones that are just so filled with hate for some reason because they’ve got it engraved in their minds that they're actually going to eventually marry the band members even though Michael is so fucking whipped when it comes to Y/N that he doesn’t even try to deny it anymore, whenever the boys tease him about it or the interviewers ask him about his relationship.   


The "fans” take this opportunity to… expel their bitterness? That’s the best way to put it, really. And honestly, Y/N’s usually fine with it. Like. She can handle it. She’s not an overly emotional person who’s going to start crying just because some person who doesn’t even have their name or picture in their account has called her ugly. She’s learned that keyboard warriors are just that – keyboard warriors. And if she should have to feel anything from their words, it should be pity because they’ve obviously not got much of a life since all they do is stalk their idol’s girlfriends, just to send them hate.   


It’s a bit different this time, though. Don’t ask her why, because she wouldn’t be able to answer – but it just is. Different. Because most of her notifications are filled with tweets from these nameless, faceless fucks, and they’re all accompanied by that photo that Michael had posted.   


he looks so much happier with her than with you


michael doesn’t love you lol


guess mikey finally realised that he can do so much better than @y/t/n


And – fuck. Even though she knows that Michael loves her, knows that Michael’s not cheating on her, she still can’t help the sinking feeling in her stomach. Y/N tells herself to stop because it’s just her being paranoid and insecure and just plain stupid – but she can’t, she can’t, she can’t.


Because maybe they’re right. Maybe they’re right about him being happier with someone else, someone who’s not her. Maybe they’re right about Michael not loving her – maybe he only says it because he likes being the only one with a girlfriend, likes having someone waiting for him back home. Maybe they’re right about him realising that he can do so, so much better than her – and fucking hell, it’s hurting her everywhere.    


As if on cue, her phone rings and Michael’s name pops up. Her vision is blurry and she’s close to heaving just to breathe properly, but she picks up the call anyway. Michael barely gets out a greeting in his cheerful voice before Y/N’s blurting out, “I think they’re right.”   


“… Sorry?”   


“I think… they’re right,” she says again, slower this time, taking in a deep breath. “Like. They probably are, you know? Because, like. You don’t need me. All ’m doing is holding you back, keeping you chained. Like. You don’t need that. You’re in a world famous band and I'm – not. I’m just. I'm here. I’m not going to ever be – I’m not going to be, like. Good enough. I’m not. Because, like, truth is – you’re way too good for me and you’re so far out of my league that it’s like you’re on another fuckin’ planet and – ”   


“Hey, no,” comes Michael’s voice and he sounds winded, breathless almost. “Where’s all this coming from? Babe, I told you not to look at the dumb tweets, yeah? They’re all complete shite, I tell you.”   


“’s not coming from them, Michael,” she says and she’s not even fully lying. It’s only half of a lie because. This isn’t the first time these thoughts have come to mind – it’s just that he’s always managed to intercept at the right time, just as she started to doubt their relationship, doubt herself, without him even knowing what he’d just stopped. “’s just, like. ’s the truth, you know? Because I’m not good enough for you,” Y/N says truthfully, tone earnest. “I’m not nearly as pretty enough as the actresses and other singers that you could be dating, not nearly as talented as ‘em, not… Not enough, you know?”   


“No,” Michael responds, voice tight and harsh. “No, I don't know. See, what I do know is that I’m fucking in love with you and I don’t want all those other fucking actresses or singers. All I want is this girl called Y/N and no one else, because no one else could ever mean as much to me as she does. All those fucking dickheads saying that I don’t love you – ” so he found the tweets directed to her, then. Great. “– they’re fucking dickheads. That’s what they are. They don’t know you – fuck, they don’t even know me. All they know is the me that we’ve got to put on for the media and shite. They don’t know the real me – the one that’s never okay unless you’re by my side and holding my hand because you hold me down the way I need to be held down. I. Love. You. Don’t ever doubt that, for even a fraction of a second, okay?”   


Y/N takes in a deep breath, “Yeah. Yeah, ’m sorry. Love you, too.”   


“Don’t apologise,” he says and his voice is soothing now, calm. “God. I fucking miss you.” His voice cracks and Y/N lets a tear drip out of the corner of her eye because, fuck, she misses him so much, too. “I wish you were here. I wish we never had to be apart.”   


“Me too, baby,” she says softly. “But you’ll be back soon, yeah?”   


“Yeah,” Michael hums on the other end of the line. “Thank God.”   


“I love you.”   


“I love you, so much more.”   


“Get some sleep, alright? I know it’s late. And, um. Sorry, for earlier. Didn’t mean to – ”   


“Hey,” he interrupts. “I don’t care. Whenever you want to call me, you call me. I’ll pick up – or I’ll try my best to because you are my whole world and I need to make sure my world is okay, alright? Because if she’s not okay, then I’m not okay.”   


“Okay,” she breathes out softly, “Yeah, okay. G'night, Mikey. Go to bed.”   


“Yeah, okay. I love you, Y/N."    


"I love you, too, Michael.”   


The call cuts off after that and Y/N finds herself smiling at nothing, wiping under her eyes. She blows out a breath between her lips, startling slightly when her phone dings and she sees that it’s a tweet notification from the boy she’s just off the phone with – Michael Clifford, himself, of course.  


Okay yes what a scandal me and another girl dancing but let’s just take a step back and appreciate this perfect human being


– and attached’s a photo of her, of Y/N. Michael’s not even in the picture, it’s just one of those candid shots that Michael’s so fond of taking – especially if he’s out with Y/N. She can’t help the shy smile that comes unto her lips.   


It’s just one photo – and that’s got basically the whole fandom arguing over how they’d date her if Michael wasn’t dating her and that’s. That’s pretty fucking awesome, really.   


Michael can’t help the groan that escapes his lips as his phone vibrates against the wooden top of the bedside table. He thought it was a text at first, thus he’d ignored it because he’s so fucking sleepy and he’d only just put his phone down. But then it kept vibrating and Michael knows that it’s a phone call now and he’s going to fucking murder whoever it is.   


“What,” he snaps out, voice harsh and eyes still shut. There’s a giggle on the other end of the line. There’s a lot of background sounds, like music and people having a laugh. If this was a fucking prank call, he’s literally going to find the person calling him and is going to be playing a game of darts with them – using them as the dartboard. He gets violent when he’s sleepy and grumpy.   


“Mikey,“ comes a voice, finally, and it’s slurred and familiar and it’s got Michael snapping his eyes open as he sits up, rubbing at his eyes. ”Mikey, you’re so great. You’re so great.”   


“Y/N?” He croaks out, voice still thick with sleep and hoarse.    


She giggles, “Yup. That’s me. That’s me name, don’t wear it out, or sumthin’ like that.”   


“Y/N, babe, where are you?” He asks, forcing himself to wake up more. She doesn’t answer, and he frowns. “Y/N. Where are you. Who are you with?”   


“Dunno,“ comes her slurred reply. ”At some club, I reckon. Maybe a pub. I dunno. Fuck load of people here, though. ‘s cool. ‘m alone, too, like. Never gone out before. Wait – " she giggles again. “I mean. I have gone out before, ‘course I have. Never gone out a-lone before, to a club. ‘m scared but then ‘m drunk so ‘m o-kiizay.”   


"Why are you alone?” Michael asks, tone hurried now. He’s definitely awake now. His best mate (that he may or may not be in love with) is drunk as fuck and alone in some club or pub where she can be taken advantage of which is so not cool on so many different levels. He almost jumps out of bed, pulling on a pair of basketball shorts and a hoodie, “Y/N. Where are you? I’m coming t’ get you.”  


“You’re coming to drink with me?” She asks in a genuinely excited tone that’s got Michael fighting back a smile, though he’s still fucking annoyed.    


"Yeah, sure. Where are you?”   


“That club that we used to sneak in to, before you got all famous and stuff. Remember?”   


“Yeah, yeah, I remember,” he says, “Don’t hang up, okay? I’m coming to get you. Can you go out? Wait for me outside?”   


“But… Someone’s just bought me a drink,“ and Michael can practically hear the pout in her words.   


"I don’t care. Wait outside. Now.” It’s a command and it’s probably not that nice a thing to say but a drunk Y/N who’s alone and also one of the most beautiful girls that he’s ever seen (and he’s not being biased) is someone he’s got to take a lot of precautions with.    


“You’re no fun,“ she whines, but he can hear the music getting softer and he’s letting out a sigh of relief.    


"Yeah, well. Coming to pick your drunk arse when I’ve just went to bed isn’t fun but I do it anyway because I’m fucking in love with you and you don’t even know it.”   


- - -   


Michael pulls her arm around him, his own arm going around her waist as he pulls her back to the car. She’s giggling and she reeks of alcohol and she’s sweaty but Michael can still say that he wouldn’t mind staring at her for the rest of the night. He’s so completely whipped and they’re not even together, fucking hell.    


“So are you going to tell me why you’re out here alone?” Michael asks as they’re walking – he’d had to park a little further off because the bouncer was giving him evil eyes when he wanted to park right in front of the club, and then he had to go look for Y/N because she’d wandered off somewhere else.    


She leans her head on his shoulder, smiling dopily, “Guess who’s single again,” she sing-songs and Michael’s stops in his tracks. Y/N looks up at him, “Why’d we stop?”   


He shakes his head, “‘s nothing,” he says. “So. Um. Single? You guys broke up?” She nods. “Um. Why?”   


“Because. He’s a dick, I dunno. He’s too pretty for me. Wait,” she giggles, “I mean. I’m not pretty enough for him.”   


Michael frowns, “What?” Because, honestly, what. Y/N’s easily one of the most attractive human beings alive. Maybe he’s a bit biased but come on. Even Luke and Cal and Ash have said that she’s pretty. So.    


She shrugs, “Don’t matter no more. ‘m single. ‘m drinking and sad, and single. And you’re – " she jabs a finger in his shoulder, grinning toothily at him. “You’re great.”   


Michael smiles the slightest bit, “Thanks,” he chuckles lightly. “Come on, let’s get you back to my place, yeah? Get you changed and hydrated and showered – if you can even last that long – and get you to bed. And a fucking greasy breakfast or something, okay?”   


"Sounds bloomin’ fantastic,” she exclaims loudly, causing him to wince from shock before he’s chuckling again.    


The drive is silent for the most part, only the soft humming of the radio playing the top pop hits of today and Y/N singing along mindlessly, under her breath, to the songs that she knows. He doesn’t say anything more about her breaking up with her boyfriend because what’s he supposed to say? Y/N’s his best mate and he’s in love with her – which clearly meant that Michael never really liked the bloke anyway. He could try to comfort her or summat but she seems content enough in her own little bubble, and he’d rather her be like that, instead of crying over a twat who doesn’t deserve her tears. So silence it is.   


“Actually,” she hiccups, smiling dopily at him, once Michael’s parked the car and has pulled open her door. “D’you wanna know a secret?”   


“Sure,” Michael humours her, half-carrying her out of the passenger seat.hhhh


“I kinda wish I’d dated you instead,” she says right into his ear, making him freeze in his spot. “I mean. You’re hot as fuck. And I always had this itty-bitty crush on you that I – threw to the side,” she makes hand gestures as she talks, “– because you’re like in the. In space. So far out of my lea-gueh. Leech. Leaf. League. Yeah – that’s the word,” Y/N giggles. “Um. What was I talking about?”   


Michael just shakes his head, leading her into his house. When he opens the door and lets go of her, she makes a beeline straight for his bedroom. He follows after her, fingers running through his hair as he does so. He’s met with the sight of her peeling off her dress and his eyes widen. He’s seen her in her underwear before, it’s kind of hard not to because they’re always joined at the hip whenever he’s back home and they’re constantly sleeping over at each other’s and they sometimes forget that they should really be more careful about walking into each other while the other’s changing, but fuck. He forgot how bloody sexy she was.    


She walks over to his wardrobe, pulling out his white sweater – the one that dips low enough to display his collarbones and give him sweater paws – and she pulls it on and – Jesus fucking Christ. Why does Y/N look so good in that sweater? He never wants to see it in his bedroom ever again – he wants it to always be on her frame.    


"Drink this,” he says, tossing an unopened water bottle on his desk over to the bed gently, knowing better than to make her catch it.  She drinks a sip, then she’s putting it down, but Michael’s just narrowing his eyes at her until she finishes at least three-fourths of the bottle – pulling the bottle from her lips with a pout. “You’ll thank me tomorrow,” he grins triumphantly.    


“Hey, Mikey,” Y/N calls, throwing herself back onto his bed, then she pauses. “I called you Mickey,” she bursts out into uncontrollable laughter. “Mikey. Mikey. Mikey, come ‘ere.”   


Michael eyes her slightly warily, but he peels off his hoodie anyway, joining her on the bed. Y/N immediately cuddles up to his chest, nuzzling her face in the crook of his neck and when Michael feels the press of lips against his skin, he freezes.    


She moves so that her mouth’s right next to his ear and Michael takes in a sharp intake of breath, “I love you.”   


"Yeah,” he gulps, “Love you, too.”   


“No, no,” she shakes her head, pulling away from him. “I’m, like. In love with you but ‘m scared you’re gonna run off or something. So shhhh,” she brings a finger to her lips, eyes half-lidded. “Don’t tell anyone.” And then she’s – she’s falling asleep like. Like she hadn’t just confessed something that Michael’s been wanting to hear since he first realised what love even meant and that he knew it was what he felt for her.    


Michael sighs. He lets his eyes drop down to the girl still cuddled up to him, bringing the arm that’s already around her even tighter so that she’s even closer to him than before. He shuts his eyes lightly, bringing his lips to her forehead, “I love you,” he whispers, mouthing the words against her skin. He pulls back the slightest bit, “I’ve loved you since before I even knew what it meant to love someone who wasn’t my mum or dad, and I’ll always fucking love you. I just hope that one day…” he sighs, “I hope that one day I’ll get to tell you that.”   


- -   


He wakes up alone the next day, no beautiful girl next to him, cuddled up against him and dressed in his sweater. His eyebrows pull together as he sits up, looking around to see if she’s left the house or maybe gone to the toilet. But his sweater’s hanging off of the back of his chair and the spot where she’d dumped her dress and toed off her shoes is empty.    


Michael’s frown deepens, mouth downturning. Maybe she thought that they’d had sex, and he’d basically taken advantage of her. Fuck. Now he’s probably went and fucked up the only other thing that he never wanted to ever fuck up. He’s never going to get to tell her that he loves her, not in the way that a best friend should love another. He lifts his right hand to drag down his face, but then he feels a piece of crumpled paper in his clenched fist.   


I know we didn’t sleep together so pls acquire some chill. I remember what I told you last night tho and I’m embarrassed so. We can forget that ever happened, yeah?


Michael’s lips that were curved up into the tiniest of smiles, form a thin line. He heaves out the most defeated sigh, groaning, even, as his eyes shut. He lets himself fall back down onto the bed, hand covering his face. “Well, what if I don’t want to forget it?”  

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