Michael Clifford Imagine


asked: “Hey could you write an imagine about you’re having a bad day, and Michael comes home from the studio to find you crying? Love your writing btw!!”

A/N: I haven’t written in a while so I might be a bit rusty. But I hope you like it :) please request more imagines.

You drove home from work through the rain, feeling defeated. Your shirt and skirt were coffee stained from your bosses little ‘accident’ in your office earlier that morning and you had ruined two of your nails in trying to make your stupid piece of crap computer work for once. You couldn’t wait to get home, make yourself a nice hot chocolate and sit down infront of the TV for a couple of hours with your boyfriend. But that’s not quite how things played out. When you unlocked the door to your apartment and kicked off your shoes, a disgusting smell filled your nose. As you walked down the hall you spotted a pile of cat sick. You sighed as you wandered into the kitchen hoping to find your cat. You did. She was sitting on the counter licking hot chocolate powder from the fallen over tub. You groaned as you tried to sort out your pet and the mess. There was hot chocolate powder on the floor, on the counter, down the cupboard door and all around the cats face and stuck in her fur.

Nothing had gone right that day, in the morning you had to shower in cold water because Michael used all the hot before you’d woken up, when you got to work the other girl in your office was ill and it made you feel incredibly uncomfortable everytime she coughed, sneezed, cleared her throat of flem or blew her nose, it was disgusting, then your boss had walked into you spilling coffee down you when he was trying to tell you that you’re spreadsheet was late, then it rained hard as you ran to your car in heels, when you got to the apartment block the elevator wasn’t working so you had to take the stairs, then your cat being a neusence, and lastly when you tried to take off your coffee stained shirt two of the buttons popped off. You threw your clothes on the floor in anger before getting into more comfortable ones. You sunk to the ground, the anger departing as tears welled up in your eyes, they swelled on your eyeballs until your vision was blurred and they rolled down your cheeks. The front door closed “Hi, Im back!” Michael called. You dragged your sleeves over your eyes trying to erase any evidence of crying. “Hi” you called back, hoping and praying your voice wouldn’t crack. “Are you alright?” he called from the toilet. “Yeah, I’m fine” you said as you walked into the lounge and sat down on the sofa, turning on the TV. Michael came in, wiping his wet hands on the back of his jeans. “How was work?” he asked sitting next to you and taking in your smell. “Oh er, not great” you mumbled. You had red marks around your eyes and you were really hoping Michael wouldn’t notice. Evidently he did.

"Why are your eyes red? You’re either high or you’ve been crying" he smiled cupping your face in his hands. He had that ability to make you laugh even when you really didn’t want to be laughing. "Just… everything went wrong today, like everything. Nothing went right" you told him. He frowned, "…so you got high… or cried.. c’mon help me out here, I just can’t tell with you". "Shut up, you know I’m a massive cry baby, I’m just glad I managed to hold til I left work" you replied. You told him everything that happened, he slid his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to your neck as a kiss. "Michael" you whispered. "Why do you even keep that job?" I’m earning enough for the both of us. Heck, I’m earning enough for both of us, 5 kids and 4 dogs, y/n. I got this" he murmered into your neck. "I know, I know, but you know I hate being dependant on other people” you responded. “We live together… and we have a pet, does that not show I’m committed to you, y/n you know I’m not just gonna run off one day with some random, you know I only have eyes for you. And- and my eyes hate seeing you get upset about work when you don’t even need to be working” he told you, face still buried in your neck. “I’ll think about it” you mumbled. “Good”. “My mum won’t be happy” you muttered. “That’s never stopped you before, dating me, moving in with me, getting piercings, getting tattoos, dying your hair, and many more” he chuckled. “Go away” you murmered, cuddling closer into him, his bright hair touching yours. He shifted slightly, pulling you further into his lap and slowly moving his mouth towards yours, your lips pressed to his, making you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. “I love you” he whispered. “You better” you whispered back.

Lucky #7 (Michael Clifford smut)


*this is kinda long different to my other stuff

*setting: mixture of 1600s/1700s/now oops

*disclaimer~i’m not a wizard/witch/witchcraft expert. most of this was “improvised”. I just liked the idea.

Summary: Michael brings a little bit of magic into Y/n’s life.

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first grade teacher!michael being the one to usually leave campus as soon as all his kiddies left. He was always professional: When asking the other women who worked on the same floor, they had no experiencing with “Mr. Clifford, but boy, do I want to!” You’ll only see in the morning when only a few teachers were there to finish grading and what not. You’d walk past his classroom, holding the bin of papers carefully on your hip. His eyes met yours for a second before you passed him a faint smile before continuing your route. in a few seconds, a small, “Would you,um, like me to help you?” would sound behind you which you approved automatically. The early day begun with you two grading a few of the papers but before he left, he handed you the post-it note that was in his hand before scurrying out the door. With a cheeky smile on your face. you read the note, “Do you like me? Check yes or no, ‘cause I do.” You giggled at the poorly drawn winking face, but you checked ‘yes’ anyway. 

- This was requested by anonymous.