firetruck red hair

i was just thinking about how different my life was when 1989 came out and i really had never thought about how long ago that was. i was a freshman who was getting used to having these insanely difficult math tests every week, and i was almost late to one the morning of october 27 because i was at target buying half the store. i had waaaaay too long, firetruck red hair and wore red lipstick religiously and had no idea what i wanted to do with my life.

now, reputation is out. (yay!!!!) i am a senior in high school. i know exactly what i want to do with my life. my first poetry book is coming out soon. i have long black hair and cute lil bangs and two tattoos. i’m happier than i’ve ever been and i’ve been lucky enough to have my relationship with Taylor grow closer and closer.

it’s crazy how much can change in what doesn’t even feel like a large amount of time.

Wisdom Teeth {Kirishima Eijirou}

I wrote one of these for Bakugou not too long ago (here), and I just love the idea. So Kirishima-kun gets the same treatment.  

“Eiji, baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” you ask, hearing sniffing in the seat beside you. “Are you in pain?”

You take your eyes off the road for a second to check on him. Kirishima looks over at you with tears in his eyes. He is tucked in the passenger’s seat with his knees drawn around him. If he wasn’t high off pain medication, you surely would’ve scolded him for his improper posture. Through a mouth stuffed with gauze, he tries to explain himself.

“I just love you so much,” he sniffles.

“Aw, I love you, too, babe.”

“Like I love you so much that I cry about it when no one is looking.”

You smile and take one hand off the wheel to pat his head. Kirishima looks at you and feels a new wave of tears hit him. Some one as great as you is willing to date him. You just make him so happy. Tears of joy are actually real. It’s a scientific thing too so Kirishima really couldn’t help it. Or maybe it’s the copious amount of sedatives and opioids currently in his system. One of the two. 

“It’s not very manly, I know, but I just can’t help it. I just love you so much.”

You run your hand through Kirishima’s firetruck red hair, trying to get him to calm down a bit. You really don’t need him to choke on his gauze or open his stitches while you’re going down the highway. Kirishima tries to stifle his cries. You feel bad for your sharp-toothed cutie. At this point, you just want to get him home so you could have him resting … and give him more tissues. He’s used just about every napkin you kept in the car.

anonymous asked:

Can you do Near L and Mello reacting to their girlfriend dying her hair a weird color like pink or blue? Would they like it, would they support her?

Near sat on the floor when you came in, hair firetruck red. He glanced up at you and then went back to his tower of cards.

“Hi Near!” You waited for him to comment on your new hair.

“Hello.” He didn’t look at you again.

Disappointed, but not defeated you said down next to him. “Notice anything different about me?”

Near glanced up again. “You’re hair is a new color.”

“Yeah, do you like it?”

Near stopped and looked up, staring at you for what felt like years. “I prefer your natural hair color.” He stated bluntly turning back to his cards. “But I suppose I’ll get used to it.

“Interesting.” L stated while staring at your newly pink hair. “It looks nice.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. You had wanted L to approve of your hair, the change had been sudden.

“However, you really will stand out and until you change it to a more natural color, I’m afraid we’ll just have to stay here.”

You were disappointed, you had wanted to go out and show your new hair, but you supposed that the security risk to L was something you’d have to live with and you’d enjoy your new hair by yourself.


“What did you do?” Mello snapped.

“I dyed it. Don’t you like it?” You asked giving a twirl so he could see your new blue hair in all its glory.

“Yes, but that’s not the point. You should have told me before you just change yourself.”

“It’s just hair.” You mused running your fingers through it.

Mello ran his fingers through your hair. “I guess you’re right.” He said calming down from his shock. “It suits you.”

Crossfire - 6

Chapter 5
Yoongi x Reader
Gang AU

Chapter 6 // Words: 1796

Your fever gradually went down throughout the morning after you woke up to the sun peaking through your drapes and Jin barging in to make sure you weren’t dead. He checked your temperature - he was relieved to see that it had gone down since he last checked -, gave you more medicine and generally fussed over you like a hovering mother before he called Jungkook in and decided to drag your aching and unwilling body out of bed and into the bathroom to take a bath. They insisted that it would help bring your body temperature down, and you wouldn’t feel as icky when you were clean and in fresh clothes.

However, the event didn’t go without conflict. You didn’t want to take a freezing cold bath, especially since you were grouchy from being woken up so early. You felt exhausted, but you internally blamed Jin, Jungkook and the rest for your bitter mood and freely took it out on them with snappy comments. But you reluctantly agreed to the bath after the two threatened to drop you in with your clothes on. After they left you alone, you hurriedly stripped and stepped into the water, suppressing a yelp as you sat down. It felt like ice against your heated skin, even though you knew in the back of your head that it wasn’t that cold. But logic didn’t keep you from setting what was probably a new record in washing your hair and body with generic-brand drug store products left on the rim on the white porcelain bathtub for you to use. You hopped out as soon as you were done, not bothering to deep condition or anything you’d normally do at home, and drained the water from the tub as you towelled yourself off. Jungkook had brought in a shopping bag before he left, saying that one of them had gone to get you clothes. Upon looking at the contents of it, you found that the clothes were pretty bland and practical, but at least they were comfortable. You donned black cotton shorts and a maroon long sleeved shirt once you were dry and you exited the bathroom. You were relieved when you didn’t see either of your previous assailants in the hallway waiting for you, so you retreated to the safety of your room in hopes of sleeping more.

However, you weren’t so lucky.

Jin was quick to find you trying to bury yourself in your blankets once he was done getting ready for work, and he forced you to drink a smoothie that was supposedly full of antioxidants and things for your immune system. You’d admit that it tasted good, but you still didn’t really have any appetite and had to struggle to finish it. Jin took the empty glass from you and bade you farewell, as he, Yoongi and Namjoon left for work together. You wondered if Jin and Yoongi worked in Namjoon’s business, or stuck with producing and cooking and did their gang-related activities after hours. Hell, you didn’t even know what Namjoon did for a living. You could easily picture him in some high-rise building, the way he dressed so smartly and carried himself. You had yet to say a single word to him or him to you, and you planned on keeping it that way. The way his face set in such a hard expression made your hair stand on end. No wonder he was a gang leader: he was downright scary.

Not long after the three left, you found yourself bored in your bare white room. Unfortunately, the cold bath had woken you up too much and you found yourself unable to fall back asleep, and you could only take so much of staring at the ceiling before you wanted to stab yourself with an ice pick. You opted to get up and walk around the house instead, since you hadn’t had any time to see much of it. It’d also be a good time to plan out a good escape route for when you had the chance. The top floor wasn’t very useful, as most of the doors were locked. You assumed they were bedrooms belonging to the boys, and you didn’t have much of a desire to go inside of those anyways. You descended the stairs to scope out the first floor, which would definitely have more means of an exit. You reached the bottom and glanced around before turning to go search for wherever the front door would be.

“You. What are you doing?” an unfamiliar, accusatory voice called from the kitchen.

You paused and looked toward the source to find a group of men gathered around the granite covered island. There were six of them, and they were exactly the type of people you expected to see associated with a gang. They were composed of mostly dark clothes and chains, intricate tattoos covering exposed skin and glowering eyes. They all looked at you with heavy gazes: judging, calculating, hating.

One pushed off of the island to take a step towards you. He had a black leather jacket, thick brows and bright, firetruck red hair styled atop his head, with one curl hanging down onto his forehead against his pale skin. You remembered a conversation your mother had with you when you were first interested in boys, and how you should never trust ones with unnaturally dyed hair.  “They’re up to no good,” she’d say as she braided your long locks before school. You suddenly realized what she meant as he crossed his arms over his broad chest and cocked his head, almost like a curious puppy, but it didn’t look nearly as cute or innocent on him.

“Are you allowed down here?” he questioned. His voice was gruff and deep, and had an interesting accent that you weren’t used to.

“Uh, yes?” you responded. It came out as a question, since you were surprised by his sudden interest.

He took another step towards you, his heavy black boots making a definitive sound against the dark hard wood. “You don’t sound so sure to me.”

The man kept slowly advancing one you, one heavy step at a time. You inched backward at his every movement, eyeing both him and the group at the island that watched the two of you with menacing intent. You flinched in surprise when your back hit something solid, and hands flew up to your elbows to steady you.

“She’s sure,” Taehyung voiced confidently from over your head.

You sighed in utter relief as he stepped around you, casually placing himself between you and the red haired man. You could hardly see him or the others around Taehyung’s body, but you weren’t very inclined to at that point.

“I was just wondering,” the other man said, waving a hand. “I thought the boss would’ve had someone watching her in case she thought getting out was a good idea.”

“We have it under control, there’s no need for you to intervene,” Tae explained. His tone was cold, and it sounded alien to you after you had grown accustomed to his cheery demeanor during your encounters in the school cafe.

The other man laughed and shrugged. “Whatever, sorry for trying to help.”

“Sure you are. Go get your work done, Namjoon isn’t holding the meeting until tonight,” the man in front of you ordered. “I’ll be going first.”

He turned around and put a hand on your shoulder to gently steer you out of the kitchen. You let him guide you away from the group and into a living room off the hallway, and he gestured for you to sit beside him on the couch. He looked at you with his large eyes that held no sense of humor in them.

“Do me a favor?” he asked.

You blinked and frowned slightly in skepticism. “Depends on what you want.”

He shifted in his spot, running his tongue over his lips. “Promise me you won’t wander around the house alone. It’s not safe.”

“Because of them?” you wondered.

“They work for us, and do their jobs well, but they’re still criminals that can’t be trusted,” he threw a glance in the direction of the kitchen before he looked back at you. “Well, trusted around you, to be more specific.”

“I can take care of myself,” you told him. You were stubborn and didn’t feel like being treated as a helpless child while behind held against your will.

“You say that, but you’ve never been around these kinds of people. I’d rather not have you see what they’re like when you get in their way, okay?” he offered you a small, reassuring smile.

You glared at him with narrowed eyes, but you didn’t object further. You could see the point he was trying to make, non verbally acknowledging the fact that he had noticed how the men in the kitchen scared you without even laying a finger on you. Being raised the way you were, you had never been exposed to those types of people; you had only heard of them in movies and on the news. Still, you subconsciously denied their existence until then. Being in front of them made your blood run cold and hairs stand on end. You suddenly regretted all the tantrums you had thrown in the past about not being able to go out on your own or being stuck in your situation, because you realized that you were goddamn blessed to be a spoiled rich girl. You would have given nothing more than to go back to your gated house and sit in your home theater to watch Disney and eat chocolates imported from other countries. Your heart ached as you thought about it, and you had to will yourself not to cry from homesickness.

“There’s usually going to be at least one of us home,” Taehyung said in a lighter tone, breaking through your thoughts. “I’m the only one here right now since everyone is at school or work, but I think Hoseok is supposed to come back in a few hours. We’ll keep you company.”

“I don’t think I need company,” you murmured under your breath.

“You will when you get bored of sitting in your room all alone. Let’s just go watch a movie or something to relax,” he said as he got up.

He looked at you expectantly, and you groaned inwardly before you stood and followed him back up the stairs, ignoring looks you got as you passed the kitchen. The average suburban home was full with people that were against you, and you gritted your teeth at the thought of what Taehyung had told you after the short confrontation with the strangers.

Escaping was going to be a lot harder than you thought.

Chapter 7

Lust At First Sight

Rquest: Can you do a Gerard Way smut? Y/n’s best friend is getting married to Mikey and y/n meets Gerard and they hook up. 

y/b/f=your best friend (WARNING: Smut)

I had been to a few weddings before, but this is my first time being the Maid of Honor. My best friend, y/b/f, insisted on me being the Maid of Honor, even though I was a nervous wreck and had no clue what I was doing. Bridal showers, bachelorette party, decorations, invitations, being the emotional rock for the bride…there was a lot more to being the Maid of Honor than standing next to the bride. Now if I can just present my speech at the reception as well as I can do in the shower, i’m golden. I held the flash cards in my lap, rereading them over and over when I wasn’t suppose to be out socializing. The reception had just begun and the guest were still taking their time making their way from the golf course to the clubhouse. I heard the scraping of a chair and looked up. Standing in front of me was hands down the most gorgeous man i’v ever seen. He had shaggy firetruck red hair, shiny hazel eyes, and was in a tight fitting tux. He looked up from the tags placed on the table and met my gaze. He gave me a small smirk and extended his hand. “Hello, my name’s Gerard”

“Hi, my name’s y/n” I took his hand slowly,before I could let go he brought my palm to his lips. Damn it was way too hot in here. “Your Mikey’s brother, aren’t you?”

“Yep” He replied, slouching in his chair two down from mine. “What’s up with the assigned seating?”

“Y/b/f and Mikey were very picky on how they wanted the seating” I laughed, mentally noting he had the same reaction when y/b/f asked me to print out tags for each seat.

“Typical Mikey Way” Gerard muttered quietly, shaking his head. “Only my little bro would put my grandpa between me and a hot girl”. I fought hard to keep my face blush-free and keep a confident look. 

“Maybe if you showed up to the rehearsal you could’ve picked your seat” I sing-songed teasingly, making sure to keep eye contact. Gerard bit the inside of his cheek before giving me a lopsided grin.

“I like you y/n. Do you plan on dancing tonight?” I laughed lightly. Before I could respond, I noticed y/b/f’s parents walk through the door. I quickly stood up to go greet them, one of the duties of the Maid of Honor was to be a social butterfly and have fancy, dinner-party talk with as many guest as possible. 

“Well, it was great to finally meet the flaky Way brother, but now I have to go ‘entertain’ all of the bride’s snooty extended family”.

“See you at dinner, babe” Gerard sassed. His smirk was way too confident. I didn’t have time to even think of a good comeback before I heard ”Y/n, darling! How are you?” from across the room. I just gave him a flirtatious wink and fast walked over to the crowd filing in.

“Next, our Maid of Honor has a message for the bride and groom. Y/n?” Mrs. Way gestured towards me as I fumbled with my cards. She had just given a tearful speech about how fast her baby boy has grown up and shared a few touchy stories of Mikey’s childhood. I noted to punch y/b/f after she returned from her honeymoon for scheduling my speech after the super sentimental and proud mother-in-law. Now the expectations are high.

“Thank you for that lovely speech Donna” I gushed as I got up to the mic. I took a shaky breath before starting. “Y/b/f is my best friend. I’ve never met such a lovely girl who fell for so many wrong guys. I remember our freshman year in college, she was crushed over a bad breakup and I told her: fall for a bass player, not the lead singer. Of course, I meant figuratively, but a year later she falls head over heels for a guy who can actually play bass” The quest gave a small laugh and perked up, seeming a little grateful to take a break from some sappy speeches. “Now on to Mikey Way, the man with the sharpest jawline I’ve ever seen. I want to thank you for being, well, you. A patient, supportive, all-around great guy to y/b/f. I think I can speak for everyone when I say there is no one I would rather see y/b/f spend the rest of her life with. There’s an old Greek tale that humans use to have four legs and two heads, the gods were scared of their power and separated everyone, letting them wonder the world to find their other half. I’m proud to witness to halves be officially reunited tonight. To Mikey and y/b/f” I lifted up my wine glass in unison with crowd, smiley at the energetic cheers and quickly got off the podium to take my seat with the other bridesmaids.

“Thank you for all the lovely speeches everyone, now its time for dinner! Everyone look for your name on the plates. Thank you!” I made my way over to the dinner table, finding it hard to focus with friends and family coming up to me to praise me on my speech. After many forced smiles and enthusiastic “Thank you!”s, I finally wedged through the crowd and to found my name scribbled on my seat. I was also greeted by Gerard, who was leaning back on the chair right next to mine with a smug look. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you sitting there?” His cocked an eyebrow as he lifted the small note card in between his fingers like a cigarette. The cursive letters spelled out: Gerard Way. He couldn’t hold his poker face for too long and the corner oh his mouth slowly began to arch up. “See? I’m just sitting in my assigned seat”.

“Your unbelievable” I smiled as I settled into my chair next to him.

“So y/n, how’s college going?” Y/b/f’s mother asked across the table. I quickly swallowed my chicken to respond. “It’s going really wE-” I gasped in surprise when I felt Gerard’s cold hand rest on my knee. “…well” I finished when my brain finished processing what happened. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Fine, food went down the wrong pipe” I laughed. I glanced over at Gerard, who was digging into his mashed potatoes, unfazed. It didn’t take long for him to begin gently gliding his hand up my leg. I squirmed as his fingers ghosted under the hem of my dress. His hand stopped suddenly at the hem of my underwear, pausing to rub small circles on my inner thigh. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and sat up, hoping no one would drop their fork under the table anytime soon. “The hotel were staying at is very beautiful, what was it called again y/n? Grandiosae?”

“Grandiosee..” As soon as attention was drawn on me, Gerard pressed his palm against my center, causing my breath to hitch. I could see that signature smirk creep onto his face as he massaged the wet fabric. I gulped and looked up to meet the other table guest’s eyes. All of them looked at me like I was about to pass out. 

“Are you okay, y/n?” Y/b/f asked, clearly confused on why I was slurring my words like a drunk.

“mHm” I nodded, deciding not to trust voice when Gerard pushed his finger past my underwear. 

“Okay…you just seem a little distant”. She finished with a small laugh.

“Nonono, i’m good, just a little warm in here. What about the hotel?” My pitch increased as the red-head’s index finger dragged lazily across my slit. 

“Grandiose, huh? That sounds fancy” Gerard interjected casually.

I made a small grunting noise as his finger slipped inside. Thank god no one noticed. 

“It’s pretty fancy” Mikey agreed. “According to TripAdvisor, their breakfast meals are on point”. Gerard nodded, looking intrigued while he pumped his finger in and out. I leaned my head back, attempting to cover up a moan with a cough. When I his knuckle made contact with my clit, I jumped up, slightly whimpering at the loss of his fingers. 

“I’m not feeling to hot, I think i’m gonna sit outside for a minute, get some fresh air” I rambled out, fast-walking out the door before anyone could reply. I leaned my side against the wall next to the restroom doors, trying to catch my breath. I felt something soft graze the shell of my ear. 

“What’s wrong, babe?” Gerard’s voice was incredibly low, sending shivers down my spine. I whipped around and grabbed his the collar of his jacket. I firmly pressed my lips against his while dragging him into the single cell restroom. As soon as the lock clicked, his hands greedily clawed at the zipper of my dress. He pulled away from the kiss and attaching his lips on my collarbone. I moaned loudly.

“Gerard” I breathed out continuously as he licked his way lower and lower, stopping at my chest. Within seconds he skillfully unclasped my bra, tossing it off to the side. He teasingly began to plant butterfly kisses along the swell of my breast “Gerard, please” I begged. He looked up at me, his eyes fully dilated, almost black. His lips curved into a a wide grin before he lightly bit down on my nipple. I gave him a load moan, feeling myself get wetter and wetter by the second. He suddenly thrusted two fingers in me causing me to cry out loudly. 

“Fuck, your so hot. The way you come apart just from my touch” Gerard groaned as I gripped tightly onto his red locks. He suddenly pulled out his fingers and removed his lips, making my eyes shoot open to glare at him. “We only have so long until people begin to get suspicious. Can’t let anyone think the Maid of Honor is getting fucked by the groom’s brother right?” He said smugly, hands stroking my sides slowly.

“What a scandal” I laughed, moving the stray hair out of his face. He shoved his tongue back into my mouth without warning. I felt the cool surface of the tile walls, Gerard looming over. His tongue lapped hungrily against mine as he interlocked our hands, holding them above my head. 

“Do you have a condom?” He pulled away briefly to ask.

I shook my head “It’s okay, i’m on the pill”. With that he began to fiddle with his belt. The loud clunk of metal hitting tile rang out as he dropped his pants, revealing his painfully erect cock. My eyes widened at his length, making Gerard laugh at my reaction. His hands gripped my hips tightly as he lifted me up the, nestling himself in between my legs.

“Ready?” He asked. I nodded in response. He slowly inched himself into me, letting my adjust. We both moaned loudly at the contact. I squirmed against him as he pushed himself all the way in. “Are you okay?” His wild, dark eyes met mine and I simply groaned in response.

“Please move” I begged, my voice coming out in gasps. He pulled out halfway before slamming back into me.

“F-fuck, your so tight” Gerard groaned out, biting his plump lips. He soon built up a steady rhythm. The head of his shaft brushed past a bundle of nerves, causing me to moan his name loudly and claw at his back. He briefly pulled out to re-angle himself at my G-Spot before thrusting back in sharply. 

“Fuck, Gerard. I’m close” I choked out.

“Me too, baby. Cum for me y/n” He whispered into my ear. My legs clenched around his waist as I felt my stomach beginning to tighten. Shouting out Gerard’s name, my climax rocked through my body. Pleasure washed over me and I kissed his neck wildly.

“Shit y/n” Gerard groaned loudly as he hit his climax, spilling inside me. He rocked his hips smoothly, milking out all of his seed. He leaned his sweaty forehead against mine as he began to catch his breath. “That was fucking amazing”

A few minutes of rushing to get our clothes on and make sure we both don’t look like we just had sex in the restrooms, we made our way back into the reception. The lights dimmed as we walked in, everyone headed over to the dance floor. Gerard laughed loudly and turned to me. “May I have this dance?” He gave me a small bow and offered his hand. I couldn’t help but smile at him, the large goofy grin plastered on his face, warm,bright green eyes. I felt butterflies erupt at the way he rubbed his thumb against my palm. 

“Of course Gerard”

i was just thinking about how different my life was when 1989 came out and i really had never thought about how long ago that was. i was a freshman who was getting used to having these insanely difficult math tests every week, and i was almost late to one the morning of october 27 because i was at target buying half the store. i had waaaaay too long, firetruck red hair and wore red lipstick religiously and had no idea what i wanted to do with my life.

now, reputation is coming out next week. i am a senior in high school. i know exactly what i want to do with my life. my first poetry book is almost out. i have long black hair and cute lil bangs and two tattoos. i’m happier than i’ve ever been and i’ve been lucky enough to have my relationship with Taylor grow closer and closer.

it’s crazy how much can change in what doesn’t even feel like a large amount of time.


Request: Fratboy!Michael is a cutie when you’re alone but turns into an asshole in front of his fratbrothers :((

Part 2 / Part 3

“What are you doing? Nooooo,” Mike yells dramatically as your character dies in the open fire. “This is why I didn’t want to let you play, now you’ve fucked up the level,” he pouts.

You can’t help grinning at how utterly gutted he sounds over something as trivial as a video game, and poke his cheek.

“Sorry boo.”

He makes a face but the corners of his mouth turn up into a reluctant smile as you keep poking his cheek.

“Weren’t we supposed to be studying anyway?”

Immediately he places his hand on your mouth.

“Shhhh…you didn’t say that.”

“Don’t we have a test in psych on Monday?”

This time he pounces on you.

“Do not pronounce that word! It doesn’t exist! I refuse!”

You laugh at who was supposed to be your study buddy, shaking your head at his silliness. You haven’t known him for that long, as you usually stay clear of fratboys, but he’s a total cutie to you, so it’s fine. Actually, it’s so fine that you’ve already gone on two dates together.

“Okay then, I won’t mention the-word-that-shall-not-be-named,” you chuckle. “What do you wanna do?”

“Wanna make out?” Mike asks bluntly, and it’s so random and dorky and just, Mike, that you find yourself laughing again.

Before you know it his hands are on your cheeks and he’s gently holding you close as his lips move over yours. You tangle a hand in his fluffy hair as you answer his kiss slowly, languidly. You love this about Michael, how he’s so energetic and crazy but when it comes to kissing or cuddling, he takes his time, trying to enjoy every second.

You feel him smiling against your lips and you can’t help but returning his infectious grin until you’re just smiling at each other fondly and catching small pecks from time to time.

That’s when his phone rings. He grimaces before taking the call, his hand still playing with your hair idly. It’s one of his fratbrothers, you can tell from the way his voice gets a slightly arrogant edge, and you sigh.

Picking up the controller from where it’s been forgotten on the bed, you unfreeze the screen and play for a little while as he talks to his brother.

“Hey, I have to go,” Mike tells you once he’s hung up. “There’s a… Anyway the guys need me.”

You nod that it’s okay and he places a kiss on your cheek before leaving the room.

Since he’s gone, you figure you can take your friend up on that offer to go to a party tonight. You let her know and quickly get ready for a night out before she picks you up.


The party is at one of the sororities, you don’t remember which to be honest, but Y/F/N knows a few girls there and got invited.

People are everywhere and the scent of sweat and booze is overwhelming. You move through the throngs of people until you find your way to the kitchen, where there’s more space. Your friend mixes you some drinks and you down them before heading back to where everyone is, buzzed enough to have fun.

You socialize for the better part of the evening, making new friends and catching up with old ones and dancing a little to the music, until your eye catches a bright shock of firetruck-red hair and you turn your head to see Michael.

He’s laughing with a group of other boys you assume are his brothers, which is totally cool with you – it’s normal that he wants to hang out with them, despite how annoying they are on a regular basis around campus. But it hurts a little that he bailed on your night in for a party, which there are several of every night.

Guess you aren’t that important. The nail is driven in when a blonde suddenky attaches herself to Mike’s arm and he simply grins at her, letting her glue herself to his side. You grimace and talk a little with Y/F/N before deciding that you can at least go and say hi to him.

The fratboys send you a confused glance when you walk up to them and you almost feel your courage leave you. But then you rationalize yourself; Michael has taken you out on two dates already and he spent the bigger part of today with you. You have every right to come say hi.

But then he meets your eyes and your chest deflates because he looks at you blankly. And okay, maybe he’s always a little colder to you when he’s with his fratbrothers, but you always put it down to him being distracted or what. But here he is with another girl on his arm, staring at you weirdly like he doesn’t understand what you’re doing.

“What are you doing sweetheart?” Some other boy asks.

“Um, I just wanted to say hi to Michael?” You get out a little awkwardly.

“Can’t you see he’s already occupied?” The guy grins wolfishly. “Try again another time.”

And Michael still doesn’t speak up, clutching the blonde, and your heart hurts in your chest as your cheeks flood with embarrassment and you can’t believe this just happened. So you turn on your heels and go find your friend, telling her you want to leave asap.


You don’t see Michael until your class together on Monday afternoon. Well, technically he was there for the psych test but there your thoughts were somewhere else. He called you a few times over the weekend but you haven’t been able to gather up the strength to answer. You’re not sure it’s worth it if he’s going to pretend there’s nothing between you two whenever he’s with his fellow fratboys.

Is he ashamed of you? Are you some sort of a secret? Or is it all just really a game and he truly doesn’t give a shit? You don’t know and you’re not sure you want to, which is why you haven’t been answering calls.

But now it doesn’t look like ignoring him is an option as he sits on the chair next to you at your next shared lecture. He peers over your shoulder as you jolt down notes on your notebook, for once actually paying attention to class. He nudges your shoulder and you raise an eyebrow.

“Are you mad at me?” He pouts.

“Oh, so you’re acknowledging my existence now?” You drawl out sarcastically.

And you know you probably sound too bitter right now but you can’t help yourself. He really did hurt your feelings.

“I called you,” Mike points out, and you glare at him. “Listen I’m sorry okay? I was drunk and dumb, and really out of it. I didn’t even realize what I had done until you were leaving. But I promise I didn’t do anything with the girl if you’re worried about that. You know you’re the only one I care for.”

You lick your lips and nod, feeling a little less tense about the situation but unwilling to let it go completely.

“I’m really sorry,” Mike pouts again. “I don’t know how to make it better… I could take you out on a date tonight? Would you like that?”

You end up agreeing and Mike wins you over with his stupid infectuous smile and beautiful eyes that light up everytime you mention something he loves and how he talks just as passionately about mental illnesses as about a video game character.


The rest of the week goes smoothly. You hang out almost everyday and go on one more date, where you take him out to your favorite frozen yogurt place and you end up smearing the delicious goods everywhere on the other’s face (no you didn’t lick it up afterwards pff…that’s gross…heh), and just get to know each other better.

He’s less affectionate in public, but you’re getting used to it. As long as none of his brothers are in the same room, he’s still your Mike. The one time you walked by him while he was with one of his brothers, he didn’t look at you. You like to think that he was so into his conversation that he didn’t see you, but you can’t be sure. In any case, you don’t go up to him when he’s with friends anymore.


That is, you don’t until Friday afternoon where you need to drop off the jacket he left at your place on Thursday and that you figure he’ll need for his countless parties over the weekend. You find him leaning against one of the building along with a few other fratboys, smoking something that is definitely not tobacco and laughing obnoxiously at inappropriate jokes.

“Hey,” you say, cautiously.

“Hey pretty thing,” one of them answers easily. “What do you want?”

“Uh,” you throw him an uneasy glance. “I just wanted to give Michael–”

“Oh yes we know what you wanted to give Mikey,” the tall one laughs. “You girls all want to. Line up babe, he’ll get back to you in a few weeks.”

You gasp at his words, your nose wrinkling up in distate.

“That’s not–What the fuck?”

You send a helpless look towards Michael, who cocks his head to the side, eyes blank as he studies you.

“You know what, I might make an exception for this one. She trumps a lot of them.”

“So maybe you’ll only have to wait a few days,” the same tall guy grins. “Lucky you.”

You are absolutely shaking, humiliation and anger washing over you in waves as Michael smiles cockily. Not only isn’t he raising a single finger to help you, but he’s even playing along! You can’t believe this. And even if the moments spent with you were’nt fake, there is no way you’re staying with someone who doesn’t want to flaunt you at his arm at all times. You deserve better that a boy who hides you and insults you in public. Anyone does.

“That’s not what I want,” you sneer.

“Then what do you want?”

It’s not Mike who asks the question, but it’s at him that you stare as you spit out the words:

“Nothing. I want absolutely nothing anymore.”

And you see it, you see it the moment he realizes because his eyes widen and his face falls. You turn away and don’t look back. You deserve better than someone who can’t fix their priorities.

like father, like son

Little Travis Clifford was a hyperactive monster. He loved to run and scream, to push things over and get dirty, but most of all he loved to act just like his dad. One day you came home after a grocery run to find your little tyke in his bedroom, coloring his hair firetruck red with one of his washable markers, shouting excitedly, “Look, mumma! I’m just like daddy!” 

Michael loved Travis with all his heart. He found the bath stained with red later that night, and asked you about it after you put your son down for bed. “He wanted to be like me?” Michael repeated, tears springing to his eyes after you told him the story. He swiped at his eyes with a watery chuckle. “Fuck, we’re in trouble, aren’t we?” 

Travis made it his mission to be just like his daddy, begging for his own little guitar for his birthday, using a sharpie to doodle his own little tattoos on his bare skin (the two of you constantly argued about this, and finally you came to an agreement for him to use washable markers) and even getting interested in the music his father listened to and played. Michael always had the happiest grin on his face when Travis showed interest in Michael’s interests, so you and your little boy devised a little plan for his daddy’s birthday. 

When November finally rolled around, Travis was old enough to begin learning how to play real songs on his guitar. For the past couple of months, you helped him learn the chords and words to his favorite song of his father’s- which happened to be Jet Black Heart. For Michael’s birthday, Travis was going to preform it for him. 

He was too shy to play it in front of the crowd that showed up for Michael’s party, so you gathered your little family in your living room that night, before helping your son set up his things. “Travis has a surprise for you,” You told Michael, sitting on the couch next to him, your son sat across from you with his guitar on his lap. 

Michael’s body went tense when your baby boy’s soft voice began singing the words he had sung, written, years back. He looked over at you, eyes wide in disbelief. You nodded at your husband, smiling as tears came to both of your eyes. Your son continued playing, focused on the chords written in front of him and his hand placement to notice how choked up his parents were becoming. “Oh my god,” Michael whispered when Travis started up the chorus. His hand found yours and gripped it tightly as tears continued to fall down his cheeks. “I can’t- did you do this?” 

“This was his idea,” You replied quietly, not wanting to interrupt your little performer in front of you. “Aw, baby,” You cried softly, letting out a laugh as Michael’s free hand covered his mouth like he was going to cry to hard. You let him pull you into a kiss, a hard, passionate one before he pulled away to watch his son again. 

By the time Travis finished the song, Michael had mostly begun to control his emotions. When his baby looked up, a look of concern crossed his face. “What’s wrong, daddy? Wasn’t this your favorite song?” 

“It was, buddy,” Michael smiled, beckoning his son over. “I can’t believe you learned it, Travis, you have no idea how happy that made me. That’s the best birthday present I ever got.” 

“Better than the guitar Uncle Calum got you?” Travis questioned, climbing up onto his dad’s lap. Michael laughed, before burying his face into his son’s hair. 

“Yeah, better than that,” He assured. You leaned your head on your husband’s shoulder, your hand petting the back of your son’s head as he hugged his dad. You couldn’t be more lucky, and Michael had all he wanted for his birthday. 

A very long blurb for @malumshighlight and @wivesosluke ‘s domestic blurb night! 


1989 - Reputation

i was just thinking about how different my life was when 1989 came out and i really had never thought about how long ago that was. i was a freshman who was getting used to having these insanely difficult math tests every week, and i was almost late to one the morning of october 27 because i was at target buying half the store. i had waaaaay too long, firetruck red hair and wore red lipstick religiously and had no idea what i wanted to do with my life.

now, reputation is out. (yay!!!!) i am a senior in high school. i know exactly what i want to do with my life. my first poetry book is coming out soon. i have long black hair and cute lil bangs and two tattoos. i’m happier than i’ve ever been and i’ve been lucky enough to have my relationship with Taylor grow closer and closer.
it’s crazy how much can change in what doesn’t even feel like a large amount of time.

this is LITERALLY my freshman year vs senior year. thank you for growing up with me. @taylorswift

Walks of shame

Send me requests!!

Request: 5 with Mike

It’s awkward, you decide. It’s awkward to wake up on a Sunday morning in a stranger’s bed, not fully knowing how you ended up here but being absolutely sure that you need to get out of there before said stranger wakes up.

You try to find yesterday’s clothes on the floor but one look at your bra tells you it’s useless, and you grimace. That thing was worth freaking 45 dollars. With a sigh you retrieve your leggings and low cut top, hoping the weather isn’t too shit outside. You don’t really have time to fix the rat’s nest that is your hair or the make-up smudged under your eyes, too scared that the guy wakes up before you’re out of the apartment.

Grabbing your phone - which is dead, of course - and pulling on your shoes, you make your way out of the building and out onto the street. You cringe as a few passerbyes give you weird looks, and start walking down the road, trying to figure out where you are.

You’re about to sigh and dramatically decide that you’re completely lost when someone catches your eye. Tall, pale, with incredibly messy firetruck red hair and wrinkled clothing, a guy walks down the same street as you. He is definitely also on his walk of shame, and this reassures you that you won’t be judged.

So you bite your lip and cross the road to join him. He looks up in surprise and you’re startled to realize how damn pretty he is, his eyes probably the most beautiful shade of green you’ve ever seen on anyone, and his eyebrow piercing, to be blunt, is hot. Having given you a once-over, a little chuckle spills out of his lips.

“Twinsies,” he whispers, and you can’t help a giggle, eyeing the bruises on his neck.

“Do you have any idea where we are?” You ask quietly, fighting a blush at the admission that you slept with a total stranger.

“Absolutely not,” he answers, which makes you laugh again. “But I borrowed the chick’s charger during the night, so I have an itinerary to my place.”

You chuckle at the fact that he doesn’t seem to even remember her name and are about to jokingly scold him when you realize you don’t remember your own hook-up’s face. Oops.

“Can I please look up my own house?”

“Where do you live?” He asks, and he raises his eyebrows when you rattle off you address.

“That’s like, a street away from mine. Only think if I had hooked up with you instead, no need to walk so far.”

“Are you weirdly trying to hit on me?” You ask, wrinkling your nose.

“Well, it’s much too early in the morning for smoothness,” he grins. “I’m too sober to be charming.”

You laugh and pretend to agree, when in reality he’s probably the most charming person you’ve ever met, and you’ve met your fair share of smooth-talkers. It’s just this casual and devil-may-care attitude he has which draws one in.

“Good,” you answer. “Cause that would be a really weird moment to hit on me, considering my dark undercircles and unwashed hair.”

He laughs heartily before sending you a sideways glance, a sly smile at his lips.

“Didn’t say I wasn’t hitting on you, just that I wasn’t being smooth. Maybe your dark undercircles and unwashed hair turn me on.”

You can’t hold back your chuckles at his silliness, shaking your head slightly.

“So what’s your name, Mr. I’m-not-smooth-in-the-mornings?”

“Hmm, who’s hitting on who now?” He raises an eyebrow, and you hit his arm lightly. “My name’s Michael.”

“I’m Y/N,” you smile.

Immediately he launches into a very detailed, very strange and actually pretty funny tale about a person he knows who has a name that sounds like yours, and between the stupid jokes, the crazy stories and effortless charm, you have more fun in the fifteen minutes it takes you to get home than you did during your whole night at the club yesterday.

He walks you to your door and you turn around, oddly feeling like you just had a date with someone and are trying to figure out whether to end the night with a kiss or not. Except it’s the middle of the day, the two of you met while doing your respective walks of shame and you’re sure Michael has no intention of kissing you.

Still, he looks at you for a second too long, green eyes narrowed pensively and making you heart thump quickly against your chest, until he nods a little to himself.

“You know what? You would have been pretty chill to wake up to.”

Your eyes widen and your stomach drops because wow, that is so not something you say to someone you’ve only known for about half-an-hour.

“What?” You splutter, feeling yourself blush.

“Yeah, we could have talked and had fun, or had a round number two,” he says, still eyeing you with a slight smirk on his face.

“You’re a shameless flirt,” you snort and he nods, agreeing easily.

“Maybe, but can I still have your number?”

And if you roll your eyes and give the boy you’ve just met your number when you didn’t even pause to look at the person you shared a bed with this morning, well, nobody has to know.


yes, sometimes i like to make impulsive decisions based off the kind of day i had. like dying your hair firetruck red because you’re stressed from your asshole managers and this somehow helps? i don’t know. who cares 😼



i was just thinking about how different my life was when 1989 came out vs how it is now and since a lot has changed I thought I’d give you a lil update.

Last era I was a freshman i had waaaaay too long, firetruck red hair and wore red lipstick religiously and had no idea what i wanted to do with my life.

now, reputation is out. (yay!!!!)
i am a senior in high school. I TURN 18 NEXT MONTH!!!! My first poetry book ‘Moments Of Impact’ is coming out in February!!! I have long black hair and cute lil bangs and two tattoos. (One of the advice you gave me last era!) i’m happier than i’ve ever been.

it’s crazy how much can change in what doesn’t even feel like a large amount of time. thank you for growing up with me taylor. thank you for being there when i need you. let’s hug soon okay?

P.S: See you on tour in KC, Louisville, and Columbus!

You're it for me

Request: you and Michael have been dating a bit and he wants to meet your parents but you’re scared bc they’re strict when it comes to tattoos and stuff so you always avoid the subject until you guys get into a little argument bc he thinks you aren’t happy/confident in dating him

Send me requests!!

“Where did you get this?” Michael asks, scrounging his nose up at the sweater you’re wearing.

“Don’t diss it,” you pout, hugging yourself, “my mom knit it for me and it’s really comfy and warm okay?”

He nods, a ghost of a smile passing on his lips before he puts his arms around your waist and hugs you from behind.

“She sounds awesome,” he says before pressing a kiss to your neck, and you cringe because under his light tone is a more serious one.

Michael and you have been dating for about six months now, and he still hasn’t met your parents. You met his even though they live on the other side of the planet and you know how much family means to him. He keeps asking and making references and you keep making up excuses, but you know one day he’ll explode.

But the thing is, you’re afraid of making him meet your parents. Of course you love him to bits and would like nothing more than for him to become part of your family the way you have with his, as Karen seems to have adopted you, but it’s not that simple. Michael has piercings and tattoos and dyed hair and dropped out of school to tour the world with his guitar…he’s just a far cry from the good guy with a stable job and a higher education that your strict parents have always dreamed you’d end up with.

You’re scared of their reaction because you’ve learned to ignore their ranting whenever you do something that they deem to be “irrational” or “ridiculous”, but you don’t think you could deal with them criticizing the most important thing in your life right now, that is your relationship with Michael.

“She’s cool,” you answer neutrally after too long a pause.

He is silent for a bit before retracting his arms from around you. Instantly you miss his warmth, especially when he turns to face you and there’s a frown on his face that tells you he’s not letting go this time.

“When am I going to meet them, Y/N?”

“I don’t know, Mike, they’re out of the country right now.”

“That didn’t stop you when we visited my family in Oz,” he retorts immediately, and your heart sinks as you feel an argument coming in.

“I just, I don’t know, it seems like such a milestone,” you say softly, trying to rescue the situation from an impending disaster. “I’m just nervous.”

“You weren’t that nervous when we met my parents Y/N,” he says immediately, the words angry. “I don’t understand what the difference is.”

“It’s just not the same, it feels more real somehow. I just don’t think I’m ready.”

His eyes widen in hurt before narrowing again.

“So my parents are less important than yours? And what do you mean you’re not ready? I thought…I thought we were in it for good?”

You see the insecurity in his eyes and the slightest bit of fright in his voice and your heart breaks. The truth tumbles out of your mouth before you can word it correctly.

“It’s just that you have piercings and tattoos and you’re not the Ivy League person that they want for me.”

He is completely still as he stares at you for a few seconds, and then he swallows hard and you know, you just know you fucked up big time.

“Is that…is that what you think too?” Michael asks, clearing his throat to ward off he vulnerability in his voice and continuing in a hard, cold tone. “I’m not good enough for you, is that it? Are you embarrassed of me, is that why you don’t want to introduce me to your parents? Because I’m just a fling who’s good enough for some time so you can feel like you’re living on the edge, but not good enough to actually be committed with?”

“Michael what are you even saying? I met your parents of course you’re not just a fling to me!”

“Well apparently it wasn’t that important to you! Fuck I can’t believe I let this get this far!” He yells.

“Mike that’s not what I meant and you know it! God, come on, you know I’m in love with you!”

By now it’s a full-on screaming match and there are tears welling up in your eyes because you’ve always hated confrontation and you can’t deal with this.

“I don’t know jackshit except that you’ve been stringing me along and getting all the advantages of being in a relationship with a famous person without ever investing yourself!”

It’s a low blow and it hits you square in the face. You know that’s just how Michael is when he’s hurt; he’s always had trouble dealing with his feelings which often leads him to be in a bad mood, but it’s never been as bad as now as he’s throwing your love back to your face and your heart is beating so painfully in your chest.

“Mikey…” You say softly, trying to make him realize that you’re not okay with what he’s saying, but he continues as if he hasn’t heard you.

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