#clemmogram

[alreadymissings]

cuddly boyfriend!michael (✿ ♥‿♥)

[defcliff0rd]

tattoo artist!luke was watching ink master on the tv in the living room, a grey beanie shoved over his messy hair and a black muscle tee that had various holes with a pair of grey sweatpants. although he’d been off all day, he was exhausted, apparently unable to keep up with the little ball of energy he called his daughter. she’d wanted to play everything under the sun since she woke him up this morning and he complied but he was worn out. it was only when you got back from being out all day and she talked your ear off about what the two of them had done that day that she’d finally settled down, laying on her stomach and coloring, humming along to whatever tune was playing in her head.

“dinner should be ready in an hour,” you announced, sitting down on the couch. you bent your legs underneath you, scooting over to luke’s outstretched arm and resting your knees on his thighs. you pressed a kiss to his inked arm, looking up at him. “you doing okay? you look like you’re beat and yet you haven’t even changed all day.”

luke rolled his eyes, playfully poking your side and grinning when he heard your small squeak. “she wore me out,” he admitted, looking at his daughter adoringly.

“your mom says she acts just like you did when you were a kid,” you informed him with a smile.

luke chuckled. “i guess i should probably give her an apology then, huh?” he suggested. “especially since i wasn’t as cute as gracie is.”

you laughed. “you were adorable!” you argued.

“were? as in past tense?” he inquired, his fingers ghosting along your side. “as in i’m not adorable anymore?” before you could say anything else, he had one hand clasped on your thigh to hold you in place and the other was poking and dancing along your side, tickling you.

“oh! i wanna help tickle mommy!” gracie exclaimed, her little feet padding against the floor as she ran over to the two of you, her little hands following luke’s.

“okay okay! you guys win, mercy!” you gave in, close to peeing your pants. they finally let go, little giggles leaving grace’s lips and a smug smirk on your husband’s. you glared at luke, shoving his leg with your foot as you translated all the curse words in your throat through your eyes. he only winked at you. “i’m gonna go check on the food since apparently you two are working together against me.”

“of course we are,” luke claimed, letting grace get comfortable on his lap. “what else do you think we were doing all day? we were planning our attack.”

you gave him the finger when grace’s back was turned, a loud laugh leaving luke’s throat as you disappeared into the kitchen. “daddy? why wasn’t i born with pictures?” grace pondered, her head tilted at the tv.

“what do you mean, sweetheart?” he asked.

“you have pictures and mommy has pictures and they have pictures-” grace gestured to the tv. “why don’t i have any? i check every morning and i never have any.”

the first thing luke felt was pride - that his little girl actually hoped that she’d wake up with tattoos. his tattoos and occupation were two things he constantly heard about, people “expressing concerns” that it could set a bad example for his daughter. it bothered him and it took a little bit for luke to stop second-guessing himself and wearing long sleeved shirts that covered up most of his tattoos whenever he went out in public with grace. “you aren’t born with them, they’re something that you choose to do when you get older,” he corrected.

her mouth formed an ‘o’ as she nodded her head in understanding. “is that why you have a million and mommy only has one?” she questioned.

luke grinned, choosing not to explain to his four year old daughter that the flowers he’d tattooed on your ass that extended to your lower back was only there because he had to cover up a shitty tattoo you’d gotten in a drunken state. (originally he was pissed when he found out that an artist had actually inked you when you were so wasted but soon he got over it, finding the cursive words luke’s ass on your butt to be hilarious and he even tried to convince you to keep it.) “something like that, yeah,” he agreed.

“when am i old enough for one? my birthday is soon, can i get one then?” grace asked excitedly, her eyes wide.

luke laughed. “you hear what she wants for her birthday y/n?” he called.

you came walking in, wiping your hands on a dish towel. “what’s that?” you asked.

“i want a picture like daddy has!” she answered quickly, holding up luke’s arm for clarification.

you laughed. “maybe in a couple more years, baby,” you told her, taking a seat on the couch. luke’s free hand, the one that wasn’t hovering behind grace’s back in case she tried to scoot back too much, automatically found your knee, resting his hand there.

grace pouted. “it's something you can’t really do until you’re an adult,” luke added. “plus it hurts.”

“how many more years?” she asked.

“only a few,” luke responded, clearly downplaying his answer. “but i’ll tell you what, if you give me your markers, i can give you a pretend one that looks just as good.”

grace’s eyes lit up. “really?” she asked excitedly. “okay!” she hopped off of luke’s lap and nearly ran to where all her papers and markers laid.

“you’re gonna draw on her?” you guessed with a smile, watching as grace gathered up all of her markers.

“yeah, i think it’ll satisfy her craving for a tattoo. for now,” he answered. “just something quick before dinner’s ready, i promise.”

you chuckled, pressing your lips to his scruffy cheek. “alright, well i’ll leave the artist alone so he can focus,” you said, standing to your feet. “you better hope he doesn’t mess up, gracie.”

grace giggled, dumping her markers on the couch. “i know daddy wouldn’t mess up!” she told you, plopping down on the couch. luke just shot you a smug look, subtly giving you his middle finger as you disappeared around the corner once again.

[puckerupmikey]

To all my lovely writers:

You had to deal with plagiarism and internet meanies

I’m so terribly sorry

It sucks balls so hard

You don’t deserve it

BUT

Please know you are appreciated

We acknowledge your time and efforts

You’re all talented and writing goals af

Tumblr is a better place because of YOU

We love you all so much

Thank you for your gift of words

[hrina]

Remembering Why {Ashton Irwin Smut}

PAIRING: Ashton/Y/N RATING: R WORD COUNT: 3500+ REQUESTED: no hehe

ok so i really like this piece, it’s a bit angsty at the beginning but dirty at the end (but things r always dirty when im involved lmao). feedback would be really nice! 

~*~

The silence in the room was deafening. Your chest was heaving from your previous screams, your hair mussed and your eyes wild, like a cornered animal. The ticking of the clock on the mantle of the fireplace was now louder than ever; the sound consumed you, wrapping you into a rhythm, and you wished that you could curl up into a ball, squeezing tighter and tighter until you eventually winked out of existence.

Ashton looked no better. His hazel eyes were clouded over with what could only be anger, his hair raked back from the countless times he’d raced his fingers through the light brown locks. On cue, his left hand came up to comb through his mane, his right hand rubbing at his clean jaw somewhat sheepishly.

“Look,” you tried, hating that your voice shook, “We—we’re both obviously not in the best state to talk things through. I’m going to go upstairs and we’ll—we’ll just talk about it in the morning.”

“Fine,” Ashton said tersely, still running his palm along the recently-shaven skin of his jawline. Your subconscious yearned for him, your body momentarily giving into the urge and leaning forward slightly; before things could go too far, you pulled back, the smarter side of your ego reigning in the unreasonable desires.

You walked past your husband, blowing out a small sigh as you exited the lounge and padded along the hallway. Your mind raced as you slowly trudged up the stairs, finding even the simplest of movements to be completely draining.

Another tour? He’d just returned home. You’d barely had time to kiss him—much less touch him—he’d been so tired. You couldn’t blame him, but a small part of you wondered if he was eager to get away from you. The previous tour had lasted months; you still had no idea how you’d managed to survive without him. And yet here he was again, repeating the same words that he’d uttered to you nearly a year ago, explaining that he was to be gone again in only six weeks.

You just wanted to spend some time with him. Your wedding had been a rushed affair, seeing as you had only had two weeks to plan it. It hadn’t been big, just a little something to satisfy the both of you. You’d been crazy in love, and Ashton had declared that he hadn’t wanted to leave for another tour without knowing that you would remain to be his forever. Stupidly in love, stupidly oblivious, just…stupid. You had been so stupid.

You loved him, honestly. But there was just something about not being able to see him everyday, not being able to touch him, feel the warmth radiating from his body. It made your entire marriage seem like vapor—something that wasn’t tangible, something unreal. It had even reached the point where you wished you could wake up from this twisted dream—because it wasn’t a dream anymore. It was a nightmare.

You stumbled into your bedroom, your head cluttered with thoughts and doubts. Your mind was a battlefield, different hopes warring against one another. It was a constant pounding, and you needed to lie down.

You unbuttoned your jeans, pulling the denim down your legs and kicking away the material. You pulled off your shirt, unclipping your bra and reaching for the old, ratty black tank top that you usually slept in when Ashton was away on tour.  The insignificant piece of fabric had helped you greatly during the nights that had been a bit tougher to deal with. You’d felt so alone, so small and unworthy, knowing that Ashton was in a different country every day, fluorescent lights bathing his face in a bright glow. It would be so easy to simply forget about you—had he?

You clutched the tank top to your chest; despite the time that had elapsed, his scent still clung faintly to the fabric. It was a distinct smell—musky and spicy and it screamed Ashton.

You inhaled deeply before shrugging on the top, reaching out and pulling back the duvet of your large bed. Letting out a small sniffle, you slid onto the mattress, curling up into a fetal position and burying yourself under the blankets, squeezing your eyes shut. Your throat ached, raw from the previous shouts and yells, and you felt your nose itch with what could only be a fresh wave of tears springing to your eyes.

Your sobs were just fading, your eyelids growing heavy with exhaustion, when the door opened. Though you were tired, your shoulders tensed at the sound, tightening further when the unmistakable pad of Ashton’s footsteps drew closer. Your exhaled was inaudible when you felt the bed dip, followed by the indisputable rush of warmth that enveloped your body as Ashton slid under the covers, shifting closer to you.

“It’s just me,” he whispered when he reached out to touch your shoulder, not missing the obvious stiffening of your body.

“I just—,” he began quietly, and you heard him swallow gently, “Just let me hold you. I haven’t held you in so long.”

And then the yearning was resurfacing, destroying the calm waters of your mind. You couldn’t hold yourself back even if you tried, letting out a shaky sigh and nodding, scooting back half-heartedly to convey your message. 

Ashton wasted no time, pressing closer until there wasn’t even enough room for a piece of paper to be slipped in between the two of you. His arm automatically wound around your waist and despite your better judgement, you placed your hand on his, intertwining your fingers sweetly. You fit together like puzzle pieces, one completing the other and creating a masterpiece.

“I know this doesn’t change anything,” your husband said, his voice hushed, “But I love you. So fucking much. I just wanted to remind you of that.”

But you were already asleep.

~*~

You were wet.

Ashton groaned at the realization. His cock was fully hard against his stomach—usually when he woke up like this, he would soon soften after a few minutes. In fact, he rarely had to take a cold shower to get rid of his problem. But today? There was no use in trying to solve it…at least, not alone.

He’d been curious, that was all. Sunlight was streaming through your window, casting your figure in a golden glow. Ashton got the chance to study your body, your smooth skin, the stretch marks on your thighs (or, as he liked to refer to them, your own personalized lightening bolts). Your hair was fanned out against your pillow, and Ashton lovingly ran his fingertips along your forehead, feeling his heart swell.

It wasn’t like he wanted to leave you. Things were crazy right now. It was as though he’d had no say in the matter, his management making all of the decisions without informing him or his band. He almost regretted what had come of the days being pent up in Luke’s basement, recording shitty covers and posting them onto YouTube with large smiles and hopeful hearts.

If he’d had the option of staying inside with you for eternity, he would. Kissing you, touching you, fucking you. Feeling your twitch underneath him, hearing the low, whispering pleas fall from your obscene mouth. He bit his lip, his head clouding over with inappropriate thoughts, and despite the giant argument that had occurred last night, he slid his hand down your body, his fingers disappearing beneath the hem of your plain cotton panties.

You were fucking soaked, and fuck, it definitely wasn’t helping his current situation. He felt his cock throb against his abdomen, and his thumb located your swollen clit with ease. He began rubbing soft circles, chuckling quietly when you shifted in your sleep. He pressed a sweet kiss to your exposed shoulder, the broad sleeve of his shirt slipping down your arm.

And suddenly Ashton was overwhelmed with the desire to taste you. 

His throat tightened up at the mere thought of savoring you, lapping at your pussy until you were a moaning mess and your fingers were tangled tightly in the messy curls atop his head. He slowly retracted his hand, pushing away the duvet and sliding himself down along the plush mattress. You let out a soft sigh, and he froze, momentarily afraid he’d woken you. But then you snorted lightly, and he just shook his head, unable to fight the small smile that found its way onto his lips.

He slowly turned you onto your back, spreading your legs gently. Your chest was rising and falling gradually, the deep breaths being the only indicator that you were still gripped by sleep. Ashton hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties before sliding them down sluggishly, trying not to graze the skin of your thighs as he did so. Once the material had passed your knees, he quickly yanked them down, wincing as you let out another quiet snore.

Now gripping the damp fabric in his right hand, Ashton slotted himself between your legs, tossing your panties to the side. He spread the swollen lips of your pussy, his eyes raking over your heat. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, an animalistic urge tearing through him. And before he could even attempt to fight against it, he was lowering his face into your pussy, sighing in relief at the very first taste.

~*~

Crude slurping sounds interrupted your dreams. The backs of your eyelids were red, the light tinting the initial black and making you squirm. Or maybe it was the distinct wet feeling between your legs, accompanied by the toe-curling pleasure that immediately made your eyes snap open. Your chest heaved at the new sensation, an automatic response that hadn’t even been processed by your brain.

“What—?” you breathed out before you cut yourself off with a gasp. Your legs kicked out in an uncontrollable spasm, and your ears picked up on a faint chuckle coming from below you.

Instantly, your vision snapped down to where the laugh had come from. You were greeted by a pair of bright hazel eyes peering up at you, crinkling around the corners when a shiver raced down your spine. You were suddenly aware of the pain in your palms, realizing that your nails had been digging into your skin harshly. Letting out a small moan, you unclenched your fists and brought your hands into your husband’s hair, grabbing tufts and squeezing haphazardly.

“Ash,” you began, your voice faltering as Ashton sucked pointedly on your clit. Your words abandoned you as you tilted your head back, releasing a frail whimper. Ashton merely snickered at your vulnerability, his tongue licking a thick stripe up the length of your pussy. Your eyes rolled back in your head when you felt his tongue circling your entrance, poking in slightly before retracting just as quickly.

“Stop teasing,” you choked out.

Beneath your fingers, you felt Ashton shake his head. You whined pleadingly when he pulled away; your eyes flicked down to look at him, only to find his jaw set and his eyes challenging, “But I like it when you beg.”

“I don’t,” you retorted, though the comeback was weak. It was hard to sound menacing when he clearly had the advantage, his head between your legs and his mouth capable of rendering you completely speechless. 

Ashton let out another dark chuckle, glancing down at your dripping hole before looking back up at you, his pupils blown out with lust. It made you squirm, your body writhing in anticipation for what was to come.

“I think you do,” your husband mused, trailing his index finger up your slit leisurely, teasingly. You closed your eyes and tried to repress the vicious shudder that wracked your torso. Ashton smirked deviously at you before his head was descending again. A moment later, you felt his lips wrap around your clit and you gasped in surprise. You pulled roughly at his hair, and he let out a hoarse groan, ripping his head away from the apex of your thighs.

You were about to protest, but your voice failed you when Ashton heaved himself up, planting his palms onto the pillow next to your head and effectively trapping you below him. His lips were a deep pink, puffy and shining with your juices. You could feel the excitement buzzing through your body, your fingers twitching with prospect.

Ashton leaned down, capturing your lips with his and kissing you softly. The action came as a bit of a surprise, but you welcomed it with open arms, licking at his bottom lip; your tongue slipped into his mouth as soon as he granted you access, and you smiled against him.

“I love you,” said Ashton, his breathing slightly uneven once you’d pulled back, “And I’m sorry Y/N, honestly. I don’t want to be away from you but—”

You placed a finger against his lips, cocking your head to the side once his eyebrows furrowed. You shook your head, closing your eyes solemnly before they flashed open once more, “We’ll talk about it later. Right now I just want you to fuck me.”

“Very forward,” Ashton noted, “I like that in a girl.”

“Well, lucky for you,” you grinned, “You have this girl for the rest of your life.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Ashton returned your smile and pressed a sweet peck to your lips. Before you could react, he was sitting up and balancing on both knees, his hands gliding down your body and cupping the backs of your silky thighs. You giggled lightly when he lifted your legs, positioning them so that they were wrapped around his waist. He just smirked before gripping his large cock in his left hand, guiding the head to your entrance.

“Just put it in,” you gasped, the teasing atmosphere gone, replaced by something that was a bit more frenzied, and bit more desperate. Ashton chuckled slyly, instead teasing you further by running the swollen tip of his dick up and down your folds. 

You whined loudly when the head caught on the rim of your entrance, and you thrusted your hips up in a futile attempt. Your husband grinned at your impatience.

“Ash, please,” you said breathlessly. Your ankles locked at the small of his back—waiting with a held breath—and you saw him bite his lip in concentration. You recognized the look as the expression that clouded his features whenever he slipped into you, and you braced yourself.

“Fuck,” Ashton groaned, tilting his hips forward. Your pussy fluttered haphazardly as he sunk in inch by inch, “God baby, you really want it huh? Practically sucking me in.”

“Please,” you wheezed, unable to manage more than a desperate plea. Ashton’s lips caught yours in a passionate embrace as soon as he bottomed out. You shivered when you felt his balls resting firmly against your ass, your bodies pressed together tightly.

“Give me a second,” you whispered against his mouth, and he nodded tenderly. You relaxed your muscles, loosening up around him. You couldn’t help but to be impressed with his restraint. His eyes were hooded, his hips twitching slightly with the urge to pull out and ram himself into you once more. His arms were shaking with the effort of holding his torso up, and you ran your fingers along his back to soothe him.

“You can move,” you said quietly, and Ashton nodded once again. 

Slowly, he drew back and you let out a whimper as each inch slipped out of you. It was almost like your pussy was suctioning him in, never wanting to be without him. He paused when only the crown of his cock was sheathed within you, and in your head you were chanting for him to push back in, claim you, make you his after all of the months you’d spent apart.

“Missed this,” Ashton murmured, lifting his face away from yours. His lips pursed and his brow furrowed, and before you could question him, his hips were bucking forward, his cock sliding back into you swiftly. A gasp was ripped from your throat, and you dug your nails into the smooth skin of his back, your mouth falling open in surprise.

“Fuck, you feel good,” your husband praised, flicking a honey-coloured curl off of his forehead, “So fucking good baby, missed being with you like this.”

“So big,” you whispered, and Ashton gurgled out a laugh at your awestruck expression. You closed your eyes as his hips continued to piston in and out of you, his cock stretching your walls in the most delicious of ways. It burned, but it felt so good, your walls expanding to accommodate him, his cock spearing into you.

He was so thick, and you immediately knew that you weren’t going to last long. Your mind was fuzzy with pleasure, the anticipation of an impending orgasm blurring your thoughts and making you throw your head back in bliss. Ashton leaned down, pressing his lips to your jawline before kissing his way towards your ear, nipping at your earlobe and proceeding to whisper filthy words.

“Missed your sweet pussy,” he panted, his cock driving into you with more of a purpose now, like his only goal was to make you come, “Wanna see you fall apart baby, c’mon. You—fuck—feel so fucking good around my cock, shit.”

���Ashton, harder,” you sobbed, squeezing your eyes shut and relishing in the neon spots that danced behind your lids, “Fuck me harder, please.”

“Yeah,” Ashton murmured, seemingly to himself. He withdrew from you, his right hand found your thigh and he lifted it abruptly, setting your leg over his shoulder. He turned his head to the side and pressed a soft kiss to the crook of your knee, where it was bent over his body. The new angle lifted the lower half of your torso, and when Ashton drove back in, you screamed as he hit your spot.

“Fuck!” your voice was hoarse, your vocal cords constricting as you swallowed heavily, “Again, please Ash, again.”

“Yeah?” he challenged, loud breaths being expelled from his lips. 

Your ears perked up as he let out a small moan, each strong movement followed by tiny ‘uh uh uh’ sounds. Your eyes flashed open to look at him, perceiving his shiny skin, his sweaty hair. His lips were red and puffy from your harsh kisses, and his gaze was trained on the spot where his cock was sliding in and out of you fluidly.

“Make me come,” you pleaded, knowing he wouldn’t be able to resist. His hands gripped your hips harshly as he buried himself inside of you, the tip of his cock pressed firmly against your spot. He didn’t move away, deciding rather to grind his hips against yours, somehow digging himself deeper into you.

You fell apart.

“Ash!” you cried, before your words trailed off into indecipherable moans and blubbers. Your mind went foggy, and it was almost like your soul was leaving your body, gliding up to heaven. Your body twitched underneath Ashton, your sensory receptions becoming hyperaware of your husband’s warm, sweat-slicked skin pressing against yours. It was bliss, it was amazing, and it was indescribable.

Ashton fucked you through your orgasm, trying to hold back his own—he wanted to make sure that you received the most pleasure possible. It was only when he felt the slick walls of your pussy clench down on him that he gave in, groaning deeply and slumping against you as he felt pure delight overtake him. Your hands were in his hair, fisting and releasing the soft tendrils, running your fingers along his scalp as each contraction shook your body to its core. You never wanted the feeling to end.

Eventually though, it did. 

You lay in silence, the only sounds being the bright chirping of the birds outside, paired with your heavy pants. Ashton’s head was on your clothed chest, your hearts beating rapidly as you both fought to catch your breath. Sluggishly, Ashton’s fingers trailed down your body, finding the hem of your tank top and slowly pushing the material up past your breasts. He pressed a soft kiss to the valley of your chest, turning his head to the side and laying down so that he could hear the thundering of your heart below your ribs.

“I love you,” you whispered to him, playing absentmindedly—albeit tenderly—with the curls on his head. You saw his lips curve up into a tiny smile, and he let out a content sigh, “As I love you.”

Neither of you brought up the subject looming over your heads, aware that you would have time to discuss it later. You weren’t going to let it ruin the serene moment, and you pushed all of your worries into the cobwebbed corners of your mind, choosing to dwell on them only once an option had to be picked.

For now, you decided, you would lay in the comforting silence of your bedroom, enjoying the warmth emanating from the man you loved.

 ~*~

congrats on getting 2 the end!! like i said, feedback is appreciated, and if u liked this, check out the rest of my stuff in my masterlist :-)

[ashtonangst]

At three kids, you and Ashton had decided to throw in the towel on the whole "having another baby" thing. But when you held the positive test in your hand, it was clear that that wasn't going to be the case. Two weeks had passed and you still hadn't told him, and didn't plan to tell him in any elaborate way. That night, you crawled under the sheets beside him after putting your youngest down for the night. Once he turned out his bedside lamp, you flatly said,"oh, by the way, I meant to tell you that I'm pregnant," without a further word. A few seconds later, he turns his head to look at you. "What? Again? You're lying," he questions, the grin apparent in his voice. Once you assured him you weren't lying, you could practically see the sun radiating out of the grin on his cheeks. Before he falls asleep, he states a simple, "I'm naming this one."

[5sosficdirectory]

INTRODUCING THE 5SOS FIC DIRECTORY!

the 5sos fic directory (or the 5sos fic di-rec-tory. hah, get it?) is a blog dedicated to collecting and categorizing every single piece of written work that the 5sosfam has created, as well as keeping an updated list of these works.

not only will it have a mass of works for you to read, but it’ll have a complete list of writers at your fingertips, too! so now instead of just reading fic from the writers you follow (and the writers they follow, plus the occasionally popular blurb), you’ll have fic to read from every writer within the fam.  c’mon, tell me that that doesn’t sound great.

but what if you’ve been craving a zombie au lately but can’t seem to find a good one? well guess what? we have a zombie au tag. need some prince!5sos? we’ve got a tag for that too. you bet your ass we’ve got the classic bad boy tag. you could literally scroll through these tags for miles, baby. all at your fingertips.

but the only problem is that right now, the directory is completely empty.

so what can you do to help?

reblog this post to spread the word!

check out the list of authors and tell us who we’re missing!

apply to become a member and help run to the directory!

keep writing fic! without it, this whole directory would be a bust.

but anways, thanks for taking time to read this, and don’t be suprised when you see your whole masterlist being reblogged by a blog called 5sosficdirectory! :-)

[qpollos]

ash rubbed his tired eyes as he closed the door behind him. he knew to be quiet as you were probably already sleeping. he rounded the corner and stepped into the living room and his heart nearly melted at the sight before him. you lay asleep on the couch in one of his old tees and a pair of pajama shorts; your body wrapped in the blanket kept over the couch. he instantly felt a twinge of guilt seeing your sleeping form. you’d probably tried to wait up for him again, even when most of the time you had no clue when he’d get home. he smiled softly making his way over to you and kissing your forehead. “ash?” you tried to blink away the sleep from your eyes and move yourself from the couch, but ash gently laid you back down and hooked his arms under your kneecaps and behind your back carrying you bridal style towards your room. you turned in his arms trying to get him to let go so you could walk on your own, but he just held you to his chest. “go back to sleep, princess. i got you.”

[haroldsbee]

Imagine Me and You (I Do) — A Single Dad!Ashton AU

Summary: Ashton is a father to twin boys, a YouTube vlogger, and also your best friend.  Rating: T Word Count: 4,858 A/N: This is the result of a series of text messages sent back and forth between Rachel and me. We’re kind of obsessed with Dadshton. I hope you like it, @gladsyoucame​!!!

It's 8:30 in the morning on a Saturday when Ashton decides it's time to wake his boys up so they can start their day. He himself has been up since five, long since finished his daily routine of checking his schedule for the day, powering through some yoga and meditation, followed by a few miles' jog on the treadmill. 

His hair is still wet from the shower when he creeps up to Frankie's room, pushing the door open to find the four-year-old tucked up beneath the blankets, eyelashes fanned out against his round cheeks as he snuffles softly in his sleep. Ashton walks over to the edge of the bed and sits down gently, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Frankie's cheek. "Frankie," he whispers gently, nudging Frankie's ear with his nose, "it's time to wake up, Pal." Frankie grumbles tiredly, turning his head so he can bury it in the pillow. He's always been a light sleeper, and Ashton knows after all this time that if he doesn't wake Frankie gently, he'll be cranky all day. "Gotta get up, Frank," Ashton tries again, "I need you to help me make the pancakes." "Pancakes?" Comes the garbled reply, Frankie lifting his head to look at Ashton. "Oh yeah," Ashton grins, lifting Frankie from his sheets and cradling his slight frame against Ashton's own. He knows Frankie's getting too big for it, but he wants to hold onto his babies for as long as he can. 

Frankie settles into Ashton's arms, hugging him around the neck when Ashton stands from the bed. "C'mon," he says softly, "let's go wake Jack." Frankie nods where his head rests against Ashton's shoulder, his face pressed into Ashton's neck. Ashton loves these quiet morning moments, revels in Frankie's steady breathing, the sound of his bare feet walking down the hall to Jack's room. He stops before they enter and moves Frankie over onto his hip, letting Frankie rest against his shoulder again before they move forward. Frankie's twin brother Jackson is still snoring when they open the door and Frankie laughs quietly as they continue to approach the bed. Jack's managed to kick the blankets off while he slept (as he usually does), and his shirt has ridden half way up his belly. "Jack," Ashton calls, voice loud, or Jackson won't wake up. He sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches a hand out to Jack, covering his belly completely. He tickles him once, then again, and a third time when Jack starts to wake. "Rise and shine, Buddy," Ashton tells him, smiling when Jack sits up in bed, curly hair flying all different directions as he lets out a loud yawn. "Mornin', Jack," Frankie says, waving as Jack greets him the same way. As if he's still half asleep, Jack crawls over to Ashton and situates himself on Ashton's other hip, reaching across to pull Frankie into a little group hug. "Daddy says it's time for pancakes," Frankie tells Jack as he hugs him back before letting go so Ashton will carry them into the kitchen. Jack makes a small sound of excitement as they go. Ashton manages to get the three of them into the kitchen and sets the boys down on the counter island. "Don't move," he says, even though they never do, as he starts to gather the ingredients. Once he's got them all set out, he grabs the largest bowl he can find and reaches for a whisk. "Alright, boys," he says to get their attention. "Who's turn is it to stir?" Jack shrugs, never one to remember small details, but Frankie says, "it's Jack's turn," smiling big when Ashton thanks him. "So that means you get to measure, right, Frank?" Frankie nods as Ashton gets them down from the counter. They both scurry over to the pantry and get out their aprons, Frankie's the red and Jackson's the green. They walk over to the breakfast table and each push two chairs over to the island, one on ether side of Ashton. He beams with pride as he watches his boys follow his instructions to make the batter. They really are getting too big, now, his old heart can't take much more of this 'growing up' stuff. Once Frankie has dumped the dry ingredients into the bowl, Ashton pours the milk over and cracks in the egg. He uses the whisk to break the egg up a little before handing it off to Jack, who's waiting eagerly, all but bouncing on his heels. Jack has always been the more animated twin, the first to make his presence known, absolutely lighting up the room the moment he steps foot in, immediately stealing the hearts of any and all who meet him. Frankie's more laid back, Ashton would say. He's quiet, and usually a little shy, always holding Ashton's hand if given the choice. But he's a little heartbreaker too, once you get him to open up a bit. He's the more reserved one, but he and Jack balance each other well. "Careful there, Bud," Ashton warns when the batter sloshes up to the brim of the bowl, almost spilling over. "You're stirring too hard." "Am not," Jack makes a pouty face, "'S Frankie's fault, he put too much stuff in here." "Did not," Frankie rebuts, turning to look at Ashton as if he thinks he's in trouble. "Jackson," Ashton scolds him, taking the bowl and whisk away. "You aren't being very nice. Say sorry to Frankie." Jack sighs, lifting a hand to rub at his head. He gets flour in his hair and Ashton would laugh if he wasn't trying to be serious. "Sorry Frankie," Jack mumbles, wiping his hands on his apron. "It's okay," Frankie says, reaching out to pat Jack on the shoulder. "Why don't you boys go watch some TV while I cook these?" Ashton finishes stirring the batter as the boys hop down from their chairs, running off toward the living room, already bickering over whether to watch Spongebob or Mickey Mouse. Ashton gives a fond sigh as he starts the pancakes, finishing them off in record time. He sets the table and gives each boy two pancakes each, glad he remembered to make them all the same relative size so the boys wouldn't fight. "Time to eat, boys!" He calls, sitting in his own chair when he hears them come running back to the kitchen. Over breakfast the boys talk nearly constantly, mostly to each other, but they're kind enough to include Ashton in the conversation whenever he butts in. Once they finish, they hurry off to brush their teeth and then get dressed, reminding Ashton for the millionth time that they don't need his help. It's a new thing he's started, letting them pick their own clothes on Saturdays. They're usually good at it, too, which had been surprising at the start. Ashton gives the boys a few minutes before going back to his own room to get dressed and grab his camera to start filming for the day. He turns it on and holds it arm's length away from himself before he pushes record. "Hey, what's up you guys? Hi, Mum," He starts with his usual greeting, running a hand through his hair. "Welcome back to my channel, hope you're all doin' good. Today the boys and I are supposed to go check out their new preschool with (Y/N), but I haven't told them that yet. You know Frankie always gets nervous, he doesn't like change too much. But he'll have Jack there to help him through it." Ashton flips the camera around so it's facing away from him as he walks out of his bedroom and down the hall to Frankie's. He knocks on the door a few times, waiting to be told to enter before he pushes it open. Frankie is sitting on his bed, dressed in a red tee shirt and overalls, trying to jam his feet into his sneakers. "Are you dressed, Pal?" Ashton asks, grinning as he watches Frankie put on his shoes. "Love your outfit. You look like Mario." "Who's Mario?" Frankie asks, brows furrowed tightly as he tries to tie his laces. "I'll show you later, maybe. I think I just got a sick idea for your Halloween costumes this year." Frankie hums in response before letting out a loud sigh. "C'n you help me?" He asks, kicking his feet out so his laces swing about wildly. "Of course, Pal," Ashton says. "Wanna hold Daddy's camera?" Frankie nods eagerly, holding out his hands. "I promise to be extra careful." Ashton gives Frankie the camera and lets him film whatever he wants while Ashton ties his shoes up neatly. Once he's finished, he takes the camera back and Frankie follows him down the hall to Jack's room. When Ashton opens the door, Jack is sitting on his bed, wearing a bright orange tee shirt with his swim trunks on as trousers. On one foot he's wearing a bright yellow rain boot and the other he's trying to get into a black sneaker. "'M almost done, guys," he says, struggling to tie his laces. "Wait, Jack," Ashton says, stepping into the room. "You can't wear your trunks. We're not going to the pool today." Jackson stops trying to put on his sneaker as he looks up at Ashton. "But Daddy this is what I picked." "I know, Buddy, but you know Daddy has the final say. I want you to put on your jeans, okay?" Jackson lets out an exaggerated sigh but nods, hopping off of the bed to find his jeans. "Come find us in the living room when you're done, alright? I'll help you put on your shoes." Ashton leads Frankie back out into the hall just as there's a knock on the door. "Can I get it?" Frankie asks, bolting off to get the door when Ashton gives him permission. Ashton hears him ask, "Who is it?" Before he opens it, although he didn't sure catch the other person's reply. -/- You roll your eyes when Frankie opens the door and Ashton walks up with his camera out. "I was hoping to catch you before you started filming today." Ashton laughs as he walks over, stopping just in front of you. You're sure the only thing in his frame is your face when he says, "Greet my subscribers, (Y/N)!" You wave hello to the camera before batting it away. Ashton laughs as he stops recording and sets it down so he can give you a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Morning," he says, squeezing you tight before letting you go. "Want a pancake?" "No thanks," you tell him, shaking your head. You feel a hand tugging at your arm and you look down to find Frankie staring up at you. "You sure? They're really good." "I'm sure," you nod, bending down to sweep Frankie into your arms. "I love your outfit today. Did you pick this?" He nods proudly, looking down at himself. "Daddy says I look like a Mario." Ashton chuckles to himself as he leans back against the wall. "Doesn't he?" "A bit," you agree, kissing Frankie's cheek. "You're cuter than Mario, though." Frankie blushes and wraps his arms around your neck, hugging you tight. You and Ashton had been best friends since you were teenagers, and you loved his boys as if they were your own. You gave Ashton the idea to start a blog on single parenting and helped him establish an online presence, even getting him started with a channel on YouTube, which he originally only used to keep his mum updated on the boys' growth, where he now had over two million subscribers. "I'm ready, Daddy!" You all turn your heads when Jack comes running into the room, nearly tripping over his untied shoelace. You know for sure that Jackson picked this outfit out for himself— he's wearing an orange tee shirt with jeans, a relatively tame choice for Jack, which he makes up for with his accessories— huge, novelty sunglasses and a sideways baseball cap. "(Y/N)!" He shouts when he sees you, running across the room until he smacks into your legs, almost knocking you over. "Hi, Jack," you laugh, reaching down to pat him on the back. He lifts his arms, asking for you to pick him up as well, and even though you know they're both much too big for it now, you can't resist his pouting face. You bend down and scoop him up as well, wrestling him into your other hip. You try to kiss his cheek, but his sunglasses are in the way so you settle for a forehead kiss instead. "Wow, look at you with that super strength," Ashton jokes, camera back out. You hadn't even noticed when he turned it back on. "Well, some of us don't need to have big muscles like you to be strong." "(Y/N)," Ashton huffs, pretending to be offended as he puts a hand over his heart, "you wound me. But thank you for saying my muscles are big." He sticks his tongue out at you and you roll your eyes, carrying the boys over to the door. "It's time to go," you tell him over your shoulder, adding, "grab my purse will you?" The two of you manage to get the boys strapped into Ashton's car, and you head off to the preschool, which happens to be only ten minutes from the building where you both live. You hadn't always lived across the hall from each other, but when Ashton's old neighbor moved out, you were the first person he called about the vacancy. Even though he put in a good word for you, you insisted that that wasn't the reason you got the apartment. Despite how much he insisted it was. "Where we going?" Jack asks, kicking his feet against the back of your chair. "It's a surprise," Ashton says, looking in the rear view mirror as he pulls out of the parking lot. "A surprise?" Frankie echoes, looking at you when you turn around. "Is it a good surprise?" You nod, keeping your tone light. "It's a great one. You'll see!" "Okay," Frankie nods, turning to look out of the window as Ashton pulls into traffic. When you get to the school, Ashton's the first one out, helping Frankie out of his car seat while you go help Jack. Ashton hands you his camera and you turn it back on, recording as Jack takes Ashton's hand and he leads the boys up to the school. "We're about to show the boys their surprise!" You say, focusing the camera toward the school as you approach it, making sure to keep any distinguishing details out of frame. Once you get up to the doors, Ashton has the boys stand side by side as he gets down to their level, crouching in front of them. "Where are we?" Frankie asks, looking at the building. "This is your surprise," Ashton says, taking each of their hands, "your new school!" "Whoa!" Jackson gapes, already excited. "We get to go to school?" Ashton laughs, nodding. "Yep!" Starting next week you'll get to come here every day!" "Every day?" Frankie asks, and you can see the worry on his face as he grasps Jackson's hand tighter. "But when will I see you if I'm here every day?" Ashton's smile softens a little and he lets go of Frankie's hand to squeeze his shoulder instead. "You're not moving in, Frank. You're gonna come home with me. I'll be here to pick you up. Or maybe sometimes (Y/N) will come get you. Either way, you're only gonna be here for a little bit of the day, not the whole thing." "Oh," Frankie says, shifting on his feet. "Okay." "Do you wanna go inside?" Ashton asks, standing up again. "Yeah!" Jack shouts, fists pumping in the air. Frankie nods in answer,  but lets go of Jackson's hand to hold Ashton's instead. Jack seems unbothered as he moves to take Ashton's other hand, practically pulling him toward the entrance. You stop recording once they walk in, turning Ashton's camera off and putting it into your bag before you follow them. The classroom is decorated colourfully, toys of various sizes and shapes strewn about the floor as children play, their parents seated in chairs that line the perimeter of the room. You find Ashton standing a few feet away and approach them just as one of the teachers gets down on her knees to talk to the boys. She's wearing a pair of glasses on the tip of her nose, but she looks friendly, her round face smiling down at the boys as she runs a wrinkled hand through her curly, white hair. "And who might you be?" She asks, reaching out to shake hands with Frankie, who's all but hiding behind Ashton's leg. "Francis Charles Irwin," he says, shaking her hand politely when she smiles down at him. "And you?" She asks, turning to the other little boy. "I'm Jack!" He turns his head when he hears Frankie giggle at his enthusiastic response. "Jackson Gray Irwin," he tries, mimicking his brother's response. "Well," she says, shaking Jack's hand, "I'm Miss June. It's lovely to meet you, Jack. And you too, Francis." "He's Frankie," Jack corrects. "He doesn't like to talk to people he doesn't know so he's prolly just gonna be quiet." "Oh," Miss June smiles, nodding at Jack. "Thank you for letting me know that." She gives him a knowing wink before she stands to address Ashton. "You must be Dad," she says, extending her hand again. "I'm Ashton, nice to meet you," he smiles, using his Serious Dad Voice. "Likewise," she agrees before turning to you. "I know Ashton's application said he was a single parent, but I see he's brought a friend along. Are you the moral support?" You nod and offer your hand for a shake. "This is my best friend, (Y/N)," Ashton introduces you. "How kind of you to come along," Miss June says, still smiling. "Would you boys like to run along and play with the other children?" She asks, receiving an excited nod from Jackson, who takes Frankie's hand and tugs him along. "They seem like two peas in a pod," she says, watching as the two boys approach a group of other children. "You can say that again," Ashton chuckles, folding his arms over his chest. "Just wait till Frankie opens up, they'll be the life of the party." "I have no doubt about that," Miss June laughs, patting Ashton on the arm. Another family walks into the classroom then and she excuses herself to greet them, telling you and Ashton to have fun talking with the other parents. The two of you take a seat on the two closest empty chairs you find, Ashton's eyes never leaving his sons as you watch them play. "God, why am I so nervous for them?" He asks, hands drumming idly on his knees as he fidgets in his chair. "Is there something wrong with me?" "No," you laugh, "you're their dad. It's practically your job to freak out." "Right," Ashton gives a curt laugh, leaning back in his seat and putting one arm around your shoulders. "Then, as my best friend, it's your job to distract me from my nervousness." You lean against his side, watching as Frankie and Jack play with a toy train set. "Ummm," you think aloud, trying to come up with something to say. "Your kids are adorable?" He grins then, nodding in agreement. "Well obviously, they're mine." You roll your eyes and elbow his side, which only makes him pull you in closer to smack a loud kiss to your cheek. "You coming back to ours after this?" Ashton asks you, fingers drawing idle circles on your shoulder. "Might as well. I don't have anything else going on," you say, affecting indifference. Ashton doesn't answer, just pokes your shoulder and goes back to watching the boys play. "Daddy, come here!" Jack yells excitedly, waving Ashton over. "You gotta see this!" Ashton laughs as he rises from his seat, hustling over to join in on the fun. You watch him play with the boys and the other children nearby, making them all laugh as he joins in their game as if he was one of them. "Which one's yours?" You jump when you hear a voice next to you, and you smile when you see a woman sitting in the chair Ashton had just occupied, smiling at you with a friendly gleam in her eye. "Oh, um, the twin boys over there," you nod to where Frankie and Jack are sat side by side, watching Ashton reenact some sort of play using stuffed animals and dolls. "But they aren't mine. That's their dad playing with them." "They're adorable," she says, nodding. "Mine's the one in the purple tutu," she points to a little redhead over in the corner, coloring a picture with a few other girls. "I'm Corrine, by the way." "Nice to meet you. I'm (Y/N)." "So," she starts again, "looking over to Ashton. "Is he your husband?" "No, no," you laugh, shaking your head. "Boyfriend?" You shake your head again, "We're just friends." "Oh," she says, raising her eyebrows. "I just assumed... I'm sorry, you were cuddled up by yourselves over here it just seemed obvious that there was something between you. You looked so in love. Not to mention the way you were looking at him." "What?" You ask, disbelieving of the things coming out of this woman's mouth. Was it really that obvious?  Sure, you maybe had a teensy-weensy, tiny little crush on Ashton, but that'd been the case for a long time. You've long since learnt to control your feelings... or so you thought. Was it really so easy for any stranger to see? You felt your stomach sink as our mind started to race. You didn't need to be thinking about this, but now you couldn't help it. Sure, you had feelings for Ashton, but you had a handle on them. Especially after years of watching him date other people, and dating other people yourself. You had things under control. You were sure of it. "Oh no," she says, standing up, "gotta go." With that, she stands up an rushes over to where her daughter as started crying, leaving you alone with your thoughts. -/- You stay at the school for a few hours, letting the boys get a feel for the new environment and meeting a few of the other parents. Most of them were nice, though you couldn't keep yourself from reliving every detail of your chat with Corrine in your head. No matter how hard you tried not to think about it, her words still tumbled around in your head. You couldn't help but wonder if other people had seen you with Ashton and assumed that you were a couple. Obviously, it happened almost any time you went out together, just because you were two adults who tended to hold hands a lot, but you wonder if anyone had ever looked at you and assumed you were in love. In love like Corrine thought you were. Currently you found yourself zoning out as you sat on his couch, curled up against one end as you watch him playing with Jack and Frankie on the floor of his living room. His camera is recording; he's holding it out in front of himself while the boys take turns talking about their new school in between fights with their action figures. Jack is talking now, gesturing with his arms as he tells some story about another little boy they'd made friends with. Frankie watches him with wide eyes, nodding along when appropriate. You feel your heart flutter with love for these two little boys who are as much a part of your life as their father is. You couldn't love them any  more if they were your own. "Alright, boys," Ashton says, gathering their attention, "I want you to tell me your favorite part of today." "Can I go first?" Jackson asks immediately, raising his hand like he's already in class. "Sure, go ahead," Ashton nods, smiling down at his son. "I liked the part when we got to play at our new school. That was fun." "I liked that too, Buddy. What about you, Frank?" "Um," Frankie starts, wrapping his arms around his legs to hug his knees up to his chest. "I liked playing with you and (Y/N) and Jack." "Me too," you tell him, earning yourself a smile when he turns around to look at you. "Thank you for sharing, boys," Ashton says as he gets up from where he was sitting. "Time to go start dinner." He turns the camera back toward himself as he starts talking about what he's about to make, getting lost in the connection he feels with his fans and followers whenever it's just him and a camera. You start to zone out again, but before you can get lost in your thoughts, you feel Frankie climbing up onto the couch with you, crawling over you and settling himself in your lap. He cuddles close to you and you wrap your arms around him without thinking, rubbing a hand over his back. "(Y/N)," he says, and you barely hear him because he's speaking so quietly. "Yes, baby?" You answer, kissing the top of his curly hair. "I'm scared to go to school." You hug him closer, lowering our voice a little so you don't draw Jack's attention away from the toy airplane he's running around with. "Why's that?" You ask, trying to keep your voice light. "What if the other kids don't like me?" "Oh, Frankie," you sigh, holding him close. "They're gonna love you! You're the funniest, sweetest, nicest little boy I know. And even if they don't like you, you know what?" "What?" He asks, brows pulling together pensively. "I love you." He smiles at your words, a pink tinge coming to his face. "And so does Daddy and so does Jack. You boys are gonna have so much fun at school! You'll see." "Alright," Frankie sighs, resigned. "But if I don't like it you have to tell Daddy that I quit. Okay?" You stifle a laugh, giving the boy another hug. "Deal." -/- After dinner, you and Ashton wash the dishes while Frankie and Jack get ready for bath time. This is usually the time of night when you open a bottle of wine, or watch a movie, or try to iron out any professional details for upcoming events, but right now all you want is to run back to your own apartment and hide from the world for a little bit. You don't know why, but you can't shake off the embarrassment you've been feeling, just something about your secret not being as secret as you thought it was is really getting to you. "(Y/N), are you alright?" He asks, staring at you as if he's trying to study you. "You've been acting strangely all day." "I'm fine," you lie, trying to plaster a smile on your face. "Think I'm gonna head out, actually." "Already?" Ashton asks, giving you a concerned look. "You don't wanna hang out for a bit?" "No, sorry. I'm feeling really tired." "Oh," he says, smiling lamely. You can hear the disappointment in his voice. "Go to bed, then. I'll see you tomorrow, though, right?" "Tomorrow?" You ask. "Yeah," Ashton says, "we're supposed to take the boys back to school shopping. Although I don't think it counts as back to school if they've never actually been to school," he jokes, and you feel your heart flutter at the same time your stomach sinks. You're so in love with Ashton, and the realization makes you want to run and hide even more. Especially when the logical part of you is so eager to remind you that he doesn't feel the same way. That he never will. "I have to go," you say, turning to leave. "I'll let you know about tomorrow." "You'll let me know?" He asks you, grabbing you by the elbow to turn you around. "Are you sure you're okay?" His thumbs sweeps over your skin as if to calm you down, and you feel goosebumps raising along your arm. "Yes, Ashton," you sigh, easing your arm out of his gentle grip. "I just need to be alone right now." You can tell by his face the exact second he starts to worry. "You know you can tell me if something's wrong, right?" He asks you, bringing his hands up to your shoulders to squeeze them in reassurance. "I'll always be here for you," he tells you, pulling you into a hug. "I love you." "I know," you say, feeling yourself deflate as you hug him back. Just not the way I want you to, you think to yourself, feeling your heart break just a little more as his arms tighten around you.

[julyxvi]

for defcliff0rd and wanksclifford’s coworker!5sos and roadtrip!5sos night

"aaaaaaand, we’re closed,” michael announced as he closed the door to the record store, flipping the sign from “open” to “closed” afterwards.

you cheered from where you stood behind the cash register, before moving out of the counter from under the hinged flip-open section. “what should we listen to while we clean up tonight?” you asked while you walked over to a particular stack of records. you sifted through them until you found the one you were looking for, one of your favorite records. lifting it up to show to michael, you asked, “what about this one?”

“you always pick the music,” michael whined as he walked over to another stack of records, picking through them before he chose a record of his own. “what about this one?”

“you always pick ac/dc,” you answered, mimicking michael’s tone of voice.

michael groaned. “ac/dc is awesome to make out to,” he argued.

“oh, so now we’re picking music to make out to?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. “i thought we were doing a job, clifford, not playing hooky.”

michael ignored your remarks, choosing instead to walk over to the record player behind the counter with ac/dc’s highway to hell in hand. moments later, the sounds of the album’s title song floated about the store. “see?” he asked, turning to you as if he’d just proven his point. “prime makeout music.”

“who said we were going to make out?” you asked, walking further away from him and pretending to actually do work and clean up the store.

you could hear michael’s footsteps moving across the store, trying to get to where you were, which made you purposely pick up your pace until the two of you were essentially just playing a game of tag. naturally, with his longer legs, he’d caught up to you in almost no time at all, cornering you next to some n’sync records.

“romantic,” you sarcastically commented after you’d caught a glimpse of the album cover of their debut album and justin timberlake’s ramen noodle hair.

michael shrugged, placing his arms on either side of you as he stepped in-between your legs. “they’re romantic,” he murmured, lowering his head to press his lips against your neck, kissing it as he spoke. “‘tearing up my heart’? totally romantic. so is ‘it’s gonna be me.’ and they’ve got that one song about cybersex too.”

“michael!” you gasped, gently pushing his head away from your neck with a laugh.

“what? they really do have a song about cybersex,” michael insisted, looking down at you with a pout as you held his head in place by cupping his cheeks. 

you two stared at each other for a moment and you admired the green of his eyes, admired how they always seemed to hold a sparkle to them. 

“can we make out now?” michael eventually asked, breaking what would’ve been complete silence if ac/dc weren’t still playing in the background.

you shook your head, laughing again as you said, “we’ve got a job to do, michael.”

moving past him, you started to actually clean up the store this time.

“i’ll eat you out if you take a break from working,” michael bargained, hot on your heels as he followed you around.

this caught your attention, making you pause from what you were doing. “in the store?” you checked.

“in the store,” michael confirmed with a nod.

you chewed on your bottom lip as you contemplated michael’s offer, ignoring his groaning about how you knew you biting your lip turned him on. finally, you came to a decision. 

“if we at least halfway clean up the store, then we can fool around, deal?” you compromised.

“deal,” michael quickly agreed, and you didn’t think you’d ever seen him move so fast at work before.

[alreadymissings]

favorite michael fashion moments ; 1/?

[defcliff0rd]

tattoo artist!luke being floored the first time he comes across his baby girl’s marvel notebook while cleaning up her bedroom and he sees over half of the pages covered in drawings. and when the said six year old walks through the door, he asks he what it is and she grins happily and plops down next to him and tells him all about the pretty things she saw and wanted to draw. and they were normal kid drawings but luke could see the potential and skill behind it. and then he gets to a page that has some very familiar images and she tells him that she was trying to draw the pictures he had on his arms while he was sleeping the other day because she wants to be able to get the same thing when she's older and luke can't even deny the tears burning his eyes.

[featuringluke]

for halloween, you dressing like nani and calum as david and your little girl is lilo, clutching her stitch plushed animal tightly to her chest omg

oh my GOD and calum would carry around a miniature surfboard and you’d tell him that you like his butt and fancy hair and cal would turn around and smirk and go “you think it’s fancy?” like david does in the movie and little hood would make you all leis to wear and she’d put one around her stitch stuffed animal and I need this in my life pleAse

disney!5sos night with quiffedluke and featuringluke!!! send in requests or tag us in your blurbs!!

[stiles24]

Dating hockey player Michael who's known for being cocky on the ice, but spends hours before the game biting his nails and worrying that he's going to mess things up for the team. He'd tell you all about the pressure he's under, and then drive off to the rink in a cloud of squealing tires and metal thumping through his speakers, but only after getting one or twelve good luck kisses from you, and leaving his away jersey draped over the back of your chair for you to wear when you come to the game. You send him a good luck text once he leaves, complete with a promise of what he'd get if he won the game. He'd text you back saying that he'd hold you to that promise, and smirk up at you when you get to the game. You'd raise your eyebrow at him, and watch as he warmed up, and then began the game, playing aggressively as he usually did. He'd look up at you every time he made a good play or score a goal, smiling behind his mask when he saw you cheering for him. After they won, he'd skate over to the boards and kiss you, laughing when you tried to get away from him, but he'd pull you close and try to wipe his face on yours. When you finally managed to push him away, he'd skate towards the locker room, making a comment about not needing to shower because he was just going to get dirty again in a few minutes, winking over his shoulder at you.

[haroldsbee]

finally twenty-one! 😊🎂🎈🎉

[julyxvi]

a lil ditty inspired by this text post

word count: 1282

A crash in your living room and a barely audible "fuck!" stirred you from your slumber.

Well, more like startled you awake because neither noise was one you wanted to hear in the middle of the night. The tempo of your heartbeat sped up as you sat up in bed, swinging your legs over the mattress and carefully retrieving the aluminum bat you kept under there just in case. You didn't think you'd ever need it considering you lived in an apartment building with a doorman, but now that you actually did need the bat, you wished you were better prepared -- wished you owned some kind of pet to have as an ally, perhaps.

Slowly, you began to creep out of your bedroom and towards your living room, the aluminum bat held tightly in your grip and poised to swing at any moment. Rationally, you felt like you'd be better off calling the police -- or even your doorman -- since all signs pointed to you being burglarized, but in your fearful state, you were worried making a phone call would reveal to the burglar that you were awake and a shudder ran up at the spine at the potential harm they could inflict on you. By your logic, this way, you'd at least be able to catch them by surprise, which you hoped gave you an advantage.

Though just the fact that they'd managed to wake you up from the noise they were making made you think that they weren't that stealthy of a burglar and that your chances at fighting them off shouldn't be too shabby.

As you approached your living room, another crash and another "fuck!" sounded, making you jump in surprise. At this point, there had to be no way that the burglar still thought you were sound asleep. If they did, they truly had to be delusional.

With that train of thought in mind, you decided to take a chance and flip a light switch on instead of immediately attacking, thinking that if anything, the sudden brightness would disorient them as their eyes were forced to take a moment to adjust.

You weren't sure exactly who you were expecting -- someone wearing all-black with a ski mask covering their face at least -- but the person you saw standing in your living room looked nothing like you imagined. While his attire was made up of (mostly) all-black -- from his t-shirt to his jeans to his boots to his denim jacket (save for the white shearling collar) -- his choice of headwear did nothing to conceal his face whatsoever, the beanie only concealing his ears and hair, but even then, some stray blond strands were still noticeable.

He would've been entirely too easy to describe to the police; you didn't think you could forget a face like his. Not with the piercing in his right eyebrow, his strikingly green eyes, or his obscenely pink lips. You were so dazzled by his beauty that you momentarily humored the thought of just letting him walk out of your apartment with your flat screen TV and whatever else he wanted -- whether it be your life savings or one of your organs.

Luckily though, a pretty face couldn't do you in. "Who are you?" you demanded, still ready to pounce and attack (with your bat) at any moment.

"I'm Michael," he slowly answered, still making no move to set your TV down. "Who are you?"

"I'm Y/N," you replied just as slowly.

Michael knit his eyebrows and then tilted his head to the side. "Sorry," he began, "but I don't know a Y/N. Are you a new…" He trailed off, the crease between his eyebrows deepening as he seemed to struggle to find the right word. "…friend of Luke's?"

"Who's Luke?" you asked, completely bewildered. The name sounded familiar to you, but as far as you were aware, you didn't personally know anyone by that name.

Michael's expression no doubt mirrored yours as he asked a question of his own. "Isn't this 1023?"

"No, this is 1024," you told him. "1023 is next door."

You realized now why the name "Luke" sounded familiar to you -- Luke was your neighbor. You'd never met him, but sometimes you accidentally got his mail and whenever that happened, you'd always just return it to his mailbox and he'd do the same for you whenever he got your mail.

"Oh, fuck," he exclaimed. "I'm in the wrong apartment then. Sorry." You watched, dumbfounded, as he scrambled to put your TV back, reconnecting the cables and moving your TV into its rightful spot.

"There," he announced once he'd finished. "It's like I never even removed your TV in the first place." Sheepishly, he offered you a small smile. "Sorry again."

"Are you trying to rob my neighbor?" you wondered aloud, immediately mentally face palming yourself afterwards. Though you didn't think there was too much harm in asking considering you knew his name and what he looked like. If he were trying to rob your neighbor, you'd be able to turn him in to the cops no problem.

(Unless, well, he decided to murder you, which you hoped wouldn't happen and Michael didn't seem capable of doing so anyway, the six-foot something boy rather reminding you of the human epitome of a kitten.)

Michael chuckled. "Your neighbor is one of my best friends and he's gone home early to visit his parents for the holidays so I was just going to take some of his belongings while he was gone just to mess with him," he told you, momentarily glancing at the Apple watch on his left wrist afterwards. "Thought I might've gotten the date wrong and that you were his latest…lady friend, when I saw you." He chuckled again. "Turns out I just have the wrong apartment."

"How did you even get into my apartment?" you asked, trying to recall if you had forgotten to lock your front door before you'd gone to bed.

Michael walked over to you, gently prying one of your hands from the base of the bat with his right hand -- on which you noticed an x tattoo on his middle finger -- before fishing out a key from one of his jean pockets and then placing it into your hand. "You probably shouldn't keep a key to your apartment outside like that," he advised, the hint of a smirk on his annoyingly kissable lips.

"You used the spare key I keep under the doormat?" you gasped.

Michael raised his arms. "In my defense, I wouldn't have had I realized I had the wrong apartment."

You gaped at him, finding yourself absolutely speechless and at a loss as to what to say. Never once had you imagined that anyone with access to your apartment building would use the spare key under your doormat. You lived in an apartment building with a doorman, a doorman whose existence made your rent cost more, for god's sake.

"If you want, I'll take you out for a meal after I stop by Luke's apartment," Michael eventually offered.

You raised your eyebrows at him. "Are you trying to bribe me into becoming your accomplice?"

Michael shrugged. "Yeah," he admitted, "and I figure that if I can't steal your TV, then maybe I can steal your heart instead."

You groaned, but your lips involuntarily stretched into a smile. "Do you tell that to everyone whose apartments you break into?"

"Just the beautiful ones," Michael answered with a wink, laughing afterwards. "Now come on, are you in or not?"

You felt your cheeks warm as you joined in on his laughter, your smile widening. "I'm in."

[harrymodessaysbye]

You were never to one to be all mushy and heat eyes. You’d tell calum you loved him but it was in the most private moments. Late at night all tucked up under the covers breathlessly spoken in the dark of the night for his ears only to hear. But at the end of the day Calum didn’t mind that you went all over him in public because he knew the words that you spoke just to him were a thousand time more affectionate than PDA.