Michael Clifford Imagines

Michael drabble

Michael drabble

By: thatnerdgirl93

"Can you believe what these say!" I exclaimed, throwing the tabloids on the table.

My husband, Michael Clifford glanced up from the song he was writing on his tablet to glare at the magazines, his brow scrunching up in disgust.

"They're calling you a-A-WHAT!?" He cried, seizing them and crushing them in his fist.

"My wife is not a cow!" He yelled.

I smiled sadly,

"I only weigh five pounds more than you; but because I'm not an 120 pound pixie, I obviously am not thin enough for the willowy, gorgeous Michael Clifford."

What had started as a sarcastic statement lost its zing as my voice broke.

Michael got up and wrapped his arms around my waist.

"Shh, baby, it's okay." He whispered in my ear. "I love you so much, I don't give a fuck what those rags say."

I took a deep shaky breath, and met Michael's green eyes.

"Promise?" I asked, voice soft.

"Forever." Michael breathed. "Until we're both old and saggy."

I hugged Michael tightly, breathing in his cologne, a mix of spicy and sweet.

"I love you." I murmured.

"I love you too, forever and ever."

Michael said, tilting my face up so he could kiss me.