#teamtomlinshaw

IT’S SO FLUFFY I’m GONNA DIE OH mY GOD I’m GONNA SAVE THIS AND KEEP IT FOREVER

AAAH YEESSSS I"M SO GLAD AKSFHASK>JFH ASHJ

Sarah you magical wonderful person I could kiss you.

**

She’d always known she was a shit cook. She just didn’t think she was so bad that the fire department would have to get involved. Especially in such a big way. Things always seemed to get out of hand when Ashley was involved.

It started out well enough, she reasons, just a skillet full of frozen veggies and some chicken. Obviously things went wrong somewhere between the frozen peas and half her flat being on fire, but she honestly can’t remember what happened. Most of the blame for her memory loss could probably be blamed on the shock, or so the EMT’s told her. Ashley thinks it’s probably also the firefighter that carried her out of the building. 

His uniform read L. Payne and Ashley scanned the group of men standing near the truck for any sign of him. Just to thanks him, clearly, and not to get another look at those impossibly beautiful brown eyes. And definitely not to get a chance to run her hands over the biceps that pushed against the sleeves of his navy shirt. And asking for his number was the last thing on her mind. Obviously. 

"Are you feeling okay, miss?" a low voice asked. Ashley turned her head and smiled when she saw L. Payne standing next to her. 

She coughs a bit before speaking, some of the smoke still lingering in her lungs. “I’m much better now,” she says with raised eyebrows.

The man blushes and clears his own throat before saying, “I’m glad. I, uhh, just wanted to come over and, uhm, see if you were okay.” All the rugged features of his face softened in this exchange and he looked much younger than he was, shyer. It made Ashley feel ashamed almost, knowing she was responsible for the fire. 

"And I just wanted to thank you," she says earnestly, looking at her feet. "I’m such a shit cook and i never should have even tried to cook even if it was just stir-fry and I’m just so sorry. And grateful.” 

"If you like stir-fry I know this amazing place around the corner."

Ashley shoots her head up to meet his eyes, not trusting her ears. 

"I could maybe take you, if you wanted to go?" asks Payne his face growing red from more than just the heat of the fire he had been exposed to. 

Ashley’s face reddened as well, as she nodded. “I’m Ashley. I’m a terrible cook, love cats and Batman, and my roommate is going to kill me. But yes, I’d love to have dinner with you.” 

The man’s eyes light up at the yes and small crinkles form next to them when he smiles and answers, “I’m Liam. I make a mean taco salad, love dogs and Iron Man, and she kind of has a right to.” 

**

oh GOD. we're both clumsy as hell but i feel like i'd be extra shit at apparition so.... here we go. 

**

"Alright now just remember: Determination, Deliberation, and most importantly, Destination," her father encouraged her. 

It was the summer after her 17th birthday and Ducky had still not passed her apparitions test. She did gain permission to train at home since her father was an apparitions instructor. Still, while her sisters were out in the yard playing on their brooms, she was stuck inside trying to make her way into the damn hula hoop 3 feet in front of her.

They'd been at it for hours, leaving several broken chairs, one injured kitten, and countless eyebrows, fingernails and even some teeth in the wake of Ducky's clumsiness. 

"Dad. These damn D's aren't helping any."

"Language, please. And you just need to focus. Really set your mind to it. Quit getting distracted by those 5 Directions or whatever their called," her father pushed. He knew she could do it, but he also knew she was distracted. 

"It's ONE Direction. Or FIVE Seconds of Summer. Dad," she explained for the millionth time, "And I am focusing. Or trying to at least. I'm still not over that last tooth I lost." Ducky absent-mindedly rubs her hand over her cheek. 

Her dad sighs and assures that, "After this try we'll be done for the day, alright?" 

Ducky just sighs and closes her eyes, trying to clear her mind of everything except the hula hoop. She hears her father count down from three and spins in place when he reaches one.

Suddenly she can't breathe and everything is tight around her chest. Just when she thinks the feeling is too much and she feels dizzy everything stops and her eyes shoot open. She immediately closes them again. 

This was not her kitchen. 

She peaks one eye open and looks down. She's standing in a hoop. But the floor is carpeted and there's a TV going in the background. She opens the other eye and turns around slowly taking in the room. 

"Uhmmm, hi." 

Ducky spins again to come face to face with a girl she'd never seen before. There are a million questions running through her head, yet all she can manage to say is, "This isn't my hoop." 

**

YEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS absolutely

**

Once is an incident. 

So when Sarah steps onto the subway after class on Thursday she doens’t think much of the pink haired boy across from hair, other than how very attractive he looked in dark, tight jeans and a plaid flannel button up. Until he looks up at her a smirk dancing across his lips. 

"Nice shirt," he notes, letting his eyes move down for just a moment. Sarah looked down at her self, trying to remember which of the wrinkled tees she pulled up off the floor today. 

"Thanks. I got it at their last show," she smiled and glanced down once more to admire her All Time Low tour shirt. "I got the back signed," she said, her smile widening, recalling the hot summer night when she exchanged quick, sweaty hugs with the four men of one of her favorite bands. "Wanna see?" —Twice is a coincidence. 

After all, when two people live in the same town for all their lives the chances of running into each other at the laundromat are pretty high. So when Sarah sat on her usual bench, headphones in, fingers tapping quickly at the keyboard on her phone, and is tapped on the shoulder by pink haired boy (whose hair is decidedly less pink; more purples and blues like the swirls of the milky way) she smiles slowly and says, “Hey I know you!”

"Yeah, you’re the ATL subway girl," he says with a return smile, a hand in his neck. "I was just wondering if you had a couple extra coins for the dryer?"—-Three times is a pattern. 

"Are you stalking me?" 

Sarah looks up, startled, to find the pink haired boy again (his hair changed yet again, laying mostly black against his forehead with patches and streaks of dull red sticking up at the top). He’s smiling at her and offers her a cup of coffee. 

"I didn’t know what you liked, so I got you my favorite," he explains when she took the cup with a questioning look on her face. The quizzical look melted into a smile at the explanation and after a sip of the coffee she looked positively happy. 

"Thank you. Though, since I was here first I think I should be asking you of you’re stalking me," she teases. A blush rises to the boys cheeks and he darts his eyes around the room for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"I was actually hoping I’d bump into you again. So I could ask your name. And maybe your number?" 

Sarah sputters her coffee onto the table, a laugh escaping her lips. She immediately regrets the involuntary reaction when she sees the wounded look on Michael’s face. 

"I’m sorry. I just… is that really your best line? You look like you could do better," she says, trying to keep her tone friendly and teasing. 

It seems to work, she thinks, as his face lightens into a smile again. 

"I usually am, but I get really flustered around pretty girls with excellent taste in video games." At that, he gives a pointed look at the old GameBoy in Sarah’s hands and the Pokemon game sticking out in the back. 

"Sarah." 

The boys grin grows as he replies, “Michael.” 

**

"Luke, my sweater is in there, can you grab it?!" Ducky shouted from downstairs, Luke running up to her room to grab his beanie from the top of her dresser. He rolled his eyes but shouted back an agreement, pushing open the door to her room.

Picking up the sweater on her bed, he looked around for his beanie that she "borrowed" for the past week or so. He shuffled around a few things on the top, finding it under a couple of papers, the edge of it wedged under a book.

"Ah-ha!" He said, quietly, tugging it gently. He pulled a little too hard, making the book fall to the ground with a quiet thump, Luke leaning down to pick it up. He glanced over both sides of the cover, then flipped quickly through the pages.

Curiosity killed the cat, his mother always told him but he never really believed that. He'd always been a curious boy so he flipped a little slower through the pages, recognizing Ducky's delicate hand writing over all the pages until he reach close to the middle and saw his own name.

Flipped the page, he let his eyes skim over the words, suddenly interested in what Ducky actually thought of him.

He's a strange boy, Luke. He's one of the sweetest boys I've probably ever met but he's a little odd. He's got odd friends and the typical teenage boy sense of humor and maybe he's more suited for Aliera or Sarah, but he's sweet. And he's cute.

He smiled a little, flipping a little farther and opened a new page.

It's been a shit day. But, I found out Luke is a real great singer and guitar player. I never imagined but he's really good and... wow. Doesn't make him any less weird but I'm impressed.

Flipping a few more pages.

Luke is such a little shit but goddamn if he isn't becoming one of my best friends. I need to stop being good friends with children.

One of the last pages written on.

I'm so done robbing the cradle. Luke needs to stop with his face and his talents and his personality, it's really driving me crazy. Fuck me, really. I can't like Luke Hemmings, I cannot.

"Luke!"

Luke shut the diary quickly, shoving it back on top of the dresser and stuffing the beanie over his hair. He turned around and saw Ducky in the doorway, looking at him expectantly.

"Did you find it?" She asked, looking confused.

"Uh, yeah. Here," he told her, handing her the sweater. "Let's go," he told her, Ducky pulling on the sweater.

i could cry

pairing: sarah/michael rating: pg-13 warning: drinking, language, implied sexual content

Sarah looked at the text for a long time before narrowing her eyes. She picked herself up and headed to the store, picking up two six packs and drinking over to the 5 Seconds of Summer abode.