sadish

I could see us dancing in our most comfortable clothes throughout a tiny apartment filled with pictures and blankets and everything else that reminds us of each other. The thought of me and you getting our own place, being perfectly entwined into each other’s lives, is a common daydream. Only, I know it isn’t for you, I know you don’t wonder about us doing those things. And, you know, I think that hurts the most. Having this fantasy and not being able to make it come true is shit, but having you completely ignorant of it is even worse. I wanted this, I was willing to try and make it happen, and you can’t even spare me a second glance.
—  We both wanted everything (but your everything didn’t include me)
Galaxy - MGC

i really wanted to try writing a good imagine so i tried this so yeah here you go @micool5sos enjoy it 

______

You get out of your mom’s car, glad that today is Friday. With a slow, tired pace, you make your way to the front doors of the school, smiling at the people that say hello to you.

And then he starts walking with you. The first thing you notice is that his hair is purple, but at the same time it’s blue, and it’s grey all the same. Like a galaxy. The next thing you notice is the shiny stud on his right eyebrow, glinting against the morning light. Last, you notice his attire, which is what he always adorns his pale frame with: a worn out T-shirt (today it has the Foo Fighters logo on the front), his black, ripped skinny jeans, the never ending amount of bracelets littering his left wrist, with the purity ring on his thumb, and—

And galaxy converse shoes. They’re the high tops, and the print is a literal galaxy.

You nearly laugh at the shoes but a yawn stops you, which reminds you the reason you’re so tired: him.

“Good morning, princess,” he says, his tone casual as his arm wraps around you. He has a smile on his cherry red lips and you start wondering what he’s up to. “How’d you sleep?”

Your response is a shrug, a tiny smile tugging on your own lips when you see your locker a few steps away. “I definitely would have slept better if you hadn’t drunk-called me in the middle of the night asking for nudes. How are you even alive right now?”

“I’m not,” he retorts, leaning against the locker beside yours as you gather your things for the day. “This is actually my spirit; the actual Michael is jacking off in his grave to those nudes you sent.”

“Michael, you’re grotesque,” you say, only half blasé. “Grow up and focus on your grades, yeah? Or at least get some better friends.”

He rolls his eyes, placing a hand on your waist as soon as you close your locker door, and pinning you against the rows of dark blue lockers. His other hand is beside your head, firm on not letting you walk away. “Maybe I could get my girlfriend back,” he says quietly, moving the hand beside you to your chin and lifting it so you’re eye level with him.

You keep your eyes on him, green and dull and shallow, and take a moment to remember how to properly breathe and calm your heart. “There’s a reason we broke up, Michael,” you say in the same tone as him, “You—you’ve changed so much since we met, and it was always for the worst.” A hand goes to his cheek and you rub his stubble with your thumb, seeing his features contort into more softness at the touch. “I can’t trust you….”

The softest of sighs leaves Michael’s lips, and you can smell the mix of nicotine and mint on him. He keeps looking down at you, occasionally giving your hand a small squeeze as he replies. “I want to change, princess, I want you to trust me…. I hate seeing you like this. I’ve never seen you so down, I want to change….”

“You didn’t let me help you,” you say quietly. You can’t let your heart break again. It’s just not fair. “Are you going to let me help you, Michael?”

“Yes,” he says in a heartbeat. His hands have moved to your cheeks, and he’s running his thumb across your bottom lip, like he always did before he kissed you. Your eyes can’t help but close, your breathing getting caught in your throat. “I’ll stop smoking, drinking… I’ll sell my bike, anything you want, baby….”

Both of you are caught up in your words, caught up in the past and the missing and the way his lips feel on yours, soft and slow. The way he keeps his hands on your neck, your cheeks, and your own hands go to his chest, gripping at the shirt he’s wearing.

It’s like a bang, like the universe had managed to explode and create millions and millions of galaxies and supernovas, all of them representing a part of your relationship. Because that’s what Michael Clifford is: a whole galaxy. He’s a whole galaxy, with shining constellations and meteors crashing around, and you’re nothing but a feeble star, slowly turning into just a black hole, sucking the life out of everything since he left you, not realizing how much you brightened the stupid galaxy.

“Fuck, princess,” Michael whispers, his breathing ragged. His lips are just lightly against yours as he speaks, and they feel like the galaxy, infinite. You’re more than late for class by now, but this is Michael, infinite and nearly perfect in the most imperfect way. “Can I have you back?”

Your eyes stay closed as you answer, afraid of ruining the illusion if you open them. “You never lost me, Michael.”

“Good. I won’t hurt you again, princess, I promise,” he says, wrapping your arms around you. “I promise.”

Imagine being best friends with loki, you two are together through thick and thin, but he falls in love with you. Once he tells you that he loves you, you’re not sure how to respond, so he gets mad and throws things. When he calms down he just look at you sadly and says “give me love!”

Dad - 5SOS

this is NOT smut ok this is 5sos with families thx (and this is for @helovesmyaccentwhenisayhello they’re amazing)

———-

Calum: You and Calum had always had a very tough relationship, physically. It’s not that either one of you was abusive towards the other; it’s just that you had… difficulties and limits. The whole relationship was grand, in essence, and you were more than happy with the Maori boy. He was a gentleman towards you, ever since you met at the gig his band was doing at a bar, nearly five years ago. You basically grew up together ever since then, enjoying the small, nearly nonexistent age gap between you two.

Of course, you two argued and sometimes felt the need to not sleep in the same bed together. Like when you mentioned children to him. As hard as you both have tried during a good year and a half, Calum just couldn’t have kids. He still can’t make a baby. And you know the risks, if you do manage to get pregnant. It took you a bit, but you and him sat down one day and properly talked about it. You discussed in vitro, maybe, a surrogate, but he denied instantly. You finally opted for adoption.

And after what seemed like forever, you finally got her. She’s four years old, with fiery orange hair and the prettiest freckles all around her skin. Her name is Georgia Mae, nearly like Mick Jagger’s daughter. She’s beautiful and always full of energy, behaving like a complete sweetheart with everyone. Her father spoils her rotten, honestly, but you keep both their feet in the ground. You couldn’t be happier with your little family.

Michael: He sure isn’t the best parent, but he tries. Ever since Matthew was born, Michael has been an absolute wreck. Everyone noticed, even his parents. But he always refused help, insisting that he was okay and that he can do this.

Before the pregnancy, you and Michael were always out, living the dream. You would ride around in shopping carts in the middle of the night; he would always write you songs and play them whenever he could, you would go to music festivals all weekend. It was an adventure with him.

But then little Matthew Clifford joined the family. And Michael, well, you know he’s always been a moody guy, never really making sense or knowing what the right decision is. (Although, if you asked him, drinking beer and letting Pokémon run in the background while playing League of Legends would probably the right choice, pre-baby).

This change was most noticed when you left him alone with the months-old baby for a few minutes, whether it was to run to the store or work with the laundry. He would storm around the house when Matthew wouldn’t stop crying, then he’d try to lull him to sleep via songs and rocking chairs and whatever else could come to his head, then Michael would cry. It’s… difficult, to say the least. But he cares, and he always does what he can to make sure you two are okay. And whenever you saw both of them asleep on the living room couch, with Matthew lying on his dad’s chest, you knew everything would be okay.

Luke: Sometimes you feel like the father of your child doesn’t care. You’re more than aware of the fact that you are young, just barely 21 and 19 when you had Andrew, and you know it’s hard, but that’s no reason to be a bad dad. You’ve talked to Luke through the years about this, but the change has always been minimal. Maybe that’s why your son is so silent, you think; because his dad shows disinterest towards him. They’re like strangers most times.

Right now you’re trying to set up the things for Andrew’s sixth birthday, with him helping you around with what he can while Luke plays FIFA in the living room. You’ve told him to help you a few times and all he does is mutter a “In a minute, babe,” only to continue playing. You felt like yelling at him, as if Luke were the child and Andrew the responsible adult. With a deep breath and shaky hands, you simply kept decorating.

Happy birthday dear Andrew,” everyone sang, off key and happy, gathered around the small table. Luke’s brothers are here, as well as your parents, but the father of the birthday boy was nowhere to be seen. You were frustrated, to say the least. The adults start handing little Andrew his presents while he sheepishly smiled and thanked them, and you head to the kitchen, finding Luke in there with a beer in his hand.

“You know he’s waiting for you, right?” You ask quietly, crossing your arms over your chest, Luke huffs in response, and that becomes the last straw for you. “Do you even care about him, Lucas? Are you aware that he asks me every day if you’re angry at him because you refuse to even tuck him in?”

“That’s because I didn’t want him in the first place, (Y/N)!” Luke snaps, his tone making you jump. “He wasn’t supposed to happen! I told you from the start that I didn’t want anything to do him.”

“Why are you still here, then?” You ask, trying to ignore the way your heart is about to beat out of your chest, and the way you feel your hands tremble and your eyes sting because God, that hurt.

That’s all it takes for the blonde. He puts his beer down on the counter and walks out of the kitchen, and you hear as everyone goes silent, the garage door opening and the car pulling out of the driveway. He’s gone.

You and Andrew are asleep by the time Luke comes back, both of you on your bed. You wake up when you hear the bedroom door open, and then Luke walking around. He turns the lamp on and you keep your eyes barely open, watching him as he kicks his shoes off, and then his jeans and jacket. He lies down, turning the little light off. Andrew is still asleep and you close your eyes when Luke turns, cradling both of you in his long arms.

“I know you’re awake, baby,” he says quietly, just above a whisper. Your eyes remain closed, letting him speak. “I’m sorry. I love Andrew; I just don’t know what to do. I promise I’ll help more and I’ll be a dad. I love you, both of you.”

Ashton: You and Ashton had always been fond of the idea of children. He’s naturally great with kids, as seen with his younger siblings, so as soon as you found out his band was going on hiatus, you started making the plans. Both of you knew that when the break was over, things would change and you’d basically be raising the baby alone, but you were eager to try nonetheless.

And so, on a chilly November 25, Alina Grace Irwin was born. Ashton was in love the minute he saw her, although later on he kept insisting that babies are ugly creatures that look like swollen potatoes when they’re born. But he still carried her and sang to her whenever he could, giving you sheepish smiles and apologies when you wanted to spend time with her.

The cutest part, though, is when you settled her in her nursery. You’re the one that had decorated the room, making it one fit for a princess as lovely as yours. Ashton, being the overprotective father he is, constantly checked on her, sometimes taking a break from everything and simply watching her as she slept. Other times he would lean against the doorframe, observing as you sat on the floor with her, barefoot and with only a shirt and underwear on; he’d seem entranced as you fed her, or simply held her in your arms. When she cried, he would carry her, bouncing her just a bit on his big arms until she slept again. When you were away, he would sit on the floor like you do, singing soft lullabies made on the spot (which later made it as bonus tracks in the band’s albums). “There you go, princess,” he would whisper, a smile on his face, eyes soft and dimples just barely showing. “Daddy’s here for you.”

(ask me for a request?)

Headcanon #84 (Royaltystuck)

John’s father was assassinated by a rebel spy. John was next in line to rule, but during the attack, he was nowhere to be found. Dave kept his calm at first, looked for him, but after he had combed the castle and grounds twice, he was flipping shit. He eventually found John in a horse stall, beaten up pretty badly. The heir couldn’t even stand. Dave scooped him up and took him to the castle. With no one able to rule, pJohn’s cousins took rein of the kingdom. John was in bed for months. First it was just to heal, then it was depression. Dave purposely broke the Royal Guard’s code to be dismissed so he could take care of John. Every day, he would sit in John’s room in the castle with him and lay with him in bed. He would pull John against his chest and tell him that they could finally be together. They could run away and never look back. That did cheer him up a bit, and after John had cheered up a bit, that’s exactly what they did.

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Name: Alyhan Judit

Nickname: Lili, Aly, Lólil

Gender: female

Height: 5'0 (smol bean)

Sexual orientation: …pan?

Fave color: blue

Time right now: 8:50am

Average hours of sleep: at least 9

Lucky number: 10

Last thing i googled: p!atd i write sins not tragedies chords

Number of blankets i sleep under: 1

Fave fictional character: holy shit idk

Fave books: um every fic by mukecorner on wattpad rn (i havent read an actual book in so long)

Fave bands: 5sos, Arctic monkeys, the strokes, green day, blink 182, fun., etc

Dream job: translator. Or being in a band.

What I’m wearing right now: a pink tank top and my bluey blue panties (aka my jammies)

I tag:
@gummybearslovemybed55 @latenightdriveband @he-got-the-dagger-tho @micool5sos @hotdamn5sos @dailydoseofziam @rosketch @ohemmoh @niaill @vodkaclifford @punkpepe @death-and-books @mikeys-spiderman

And another

I want to say the words that give you chills,
Give you flirtatious glares that could kill.
I want to make your mind still.
I want to be the sunshine,
The rain,
I want to take away all that has ever caused you pain.
I see the world around us,
But I want to see the world that only exist in your brain.
Wash away every stain,
Hop on a endless train,
Just to feel outgoing,
Just to feel insane.
Don’t let my mind tell me what to do,
Don’t let my mind tell me to be afraid of something new.
I want to go
I want to see
I just want to simply be.
I want to write poems of adventure and freedom,
I don’t want to write anymore poems about how I need him.
What I need is me.
I know for sure he gave me anxiety,
But you make me feel free.
I just need the start.
I just need the push.
I have so much ambition,
But just no ignition.
The flame is dead,
The thoughts of me ever getting to be with you are all in my head.
My fascination has flourished,
My mind has run away into a endless forest.
A forest of possibilities,
The possibility of what you think of me.
A forest so full, a mind so free.

I’m feeling sad. Northeastern University has been my top choice since I started applying to colleges. I was accepted and put down my enrollment deposit. But I’ve decided that I can’t afford to attend, so I have to decline my admission offer. It’s $60,000 a year and I don’t qualify for federal aid, and they don’t offer scholarships to transfer students. My dad is willing to pay the equivalent of the most expensive New York State school (about $25,000) which I am so so so thankful for, but I would have to take out about $70,000 in student loans to cover the next 2 years of tuition. A biology degree is not worth that much debt, especially since I can graduate debt-free at a state school since my dad will cover it. I also need to save my money for PA or medical school after I finish my undergraduate degree. 

I’m heartbroken about it; a year ago I didn’t even think I’d finish a year at community college, but here I am, accepted into some of the most competitive schools in the New England area. State schools in New York are wonderful and I feel lucky to be able to even attend college, but I still have a pit in my stomach about Northeastern. Honestly though I feel bad and sort of selfish complaining about it.