#blurb*

[sereins-a]

i dont even know how to get started on indie anymore . it’s been so long .

[smhjaemin]

[03:00]

Waking up to jungkook sending you memes

[strangenewgirls]

trying to find a therapist and everyone is either:

trauma based (unlike my mental health)

jesus based (unlike my mental health)

or focused in addiction (unlike my mental health)

jfc someone just give me pills and tell me to stop being sad

[hollandovs]

i have this feeling // m.c.

okay this got way out of hand im sorry omg but this is for @0kbutmichaelclifford and @smartsetclifford‘s sports blurb night (but there really is not a lot of sports in this....sorry) edit: also this is punk!michael and ballet!you but yes anywho! enjoy! wc: 2,619

Michael fell in love. Again. He fell in love with the motions of your dancing, he fell in love with the way you pinned your hair up, and he fell in love with your little smile at the end of every dance. You were the beauty of the campus, the apple of every professor's eye; yet he was the psycho, the bane of every professor's existence. He shouldn't have fallen for you, he should have just kept walking, but he didn't. He stopped in front of the dance studio. He watched you twirl as if you were a feather caught in the wind. And he watched his heart jump off the deep end of love without his permission. Michael fell in love with you, but you only saw him as the boy with piercings and tattoos.

He works as a volunteer at the animal shelter across from your studio. That’s how he first noticed you, besides the astronomy class you both have. At first, he didn’t notice that it was you whom danced in the late evenings, but then he got a glance at your face. Michael likes to pride himself on the fact that he remembers faces quite well. And you, well, you were etched into his mind forever. You were a true masterpiece; from the bun that set on top of your head, to the pink tutu that surrounded your waist. If he was an artist, he’d paint you. But he wasn’t. Michael was the quiet guy with crazy hair and tattoos who occasionally volunteered to cuddle the animals that no one wanted. He supposes that maybe him and the animals aren’t that different.

He remembers the first day you came into the shelter. You still had your dance uniform on, and your bag was settled on your shoulder. Your hair was down, though, and he swore you looked like an angel who was gracing him with their presence. He was in the back, trying to focus on the puppy who was gnawing at his fingers, but he couldn’t help overhearing your conversation with the owner.

“Kittens? Oh, yes, we have kittens.” The older lady’s smile was clear in her voice as she talked to you. It was funny, Michael thought. Everyone who talked to you was always smiling. It convinced Michael even more that you were an actual angel.

“I know just the person to help you find one,” and that was when his full attention was caught. Janice, the owner, always guided customers to Michael when they were looking for kittens. He didn’t know why. It was something about him being “the kitten whisper” or something. Calum had found out about this title and proceeded to make fun of Michael for weeks. He loved volunteering for Janice, but man, it was really killing his reputation. He was supposed to be the man who people were scared of, not the man who knew kittens better than anyone else.

The animals at the shelter were special. Janice helped the ones in need—the ones found on the street, the ones with disabilities, or the ones dumped and abused. She cared about these animals like they were her kids, and really they were. She didn’t have any kids, she only had her husband. But, if you were to ask Janice, she did have a son besides all the animals. She had Michael.

Janice was the reason Michael wanted to better himself. The shelter was supposed to be only volunteer work so he could graduate. That was three years ago, and he still helps Janice. She had offered to put him on payroll once or twice, but he refused. He had grown attached to coming in and helping wherever he was needed. He didn’t need a paycheck to have the motivation to come in, plus Janice needed all her money for the shelter.

“Michael,” Janice called out. “Will you come up here for a second?”

Putting Marmmie in his cage, he took a deep breath before walking the few steps to the counter. Your smile grew when you saw him. “Yeah, Janice?”

“This is (Y/N),” the older woman smiled. “(Y/N), this is Michael, our Kitten Whisperer.”

Michael’s cheeks heated up as you giggled. “We’ve met before, but I never knew you were a ‘Kitten Whisperer’.”  

Usually Michael was quick with his responses. He would say something snarky or sarcastic in a matter of seconds, but you made him nervous. Like, really nervous. People Michael was attracted to always made him nervous. He made a complete fool out of himself in front of that cute barista with blue eyes. It was a nightmare, so he was pleasantly surprised when “it’s my secret identity,” fell out of his mouth. Trust Michael when he says it could have gone a lot worse than that.

“Well,” you sighed playfully. “We’ve all got one.”

“So, kittens,” Janice reminded Michael with a smile.

“Right,” he muttered, “this way, (Y/N).” He unlatched the small door that separated the front area from where the animals are kept, and held his hand out to you. It was a brave move in his nervous, totally uncool state that he was in. But you grabbed his hand anyway, with a smile as usual, and walked to the back of the shelter.

Now, what happened next is something Michael still isn’t very proud of. He had apparently forgotten to latch the door on Marmmie’s cage in the midst of being awestruck by you, so when the small puppy saw a new face, she broke free and ran straight to your feet where she proceeded to eat the strings of your shoes.

“Marmmie, no!” Michael scolded, picking her up as he apologized profusely to you. “She’s only a few months old and hasn’t learned that she can’t just attack everything she sees.” He gently placed her back into the cage, making sure to lock the cage. Marmmie let out a whine before she laid down on her blanket (that Michael bought just for her).

“I’m so sorry,” he said with a small laugh. “She’s...destructive.”

Reassuring him, you shrug. “I’ve met worse, but she’s cute so it’s alright.”

And then it happens before he can stop himself. He said, “you’re cute,” and then immediately wanted to crawl into Marmmie’s cage. In his mind, he was. He was lying down next to her with the blanket over his head so he couldn’t see your face after his word vomit came tumbling out. There was a silence in the room for a brief second before your blushing and looking down to the ground. God, you were so fucking cute Michael couldn’t believe it.

“S-so,” he mumbled quickly as he shuffled towards the kittens. “What kind of kitten were you looking for?”

“What about this one?”

He followed your gaze to the grey kitten that was curled up into a ball, and smiled. “That’s Gerard—” he grabbed Gerard from his cage and cradled him in his arms—“little guy is blind. I found him on the street corner by the university. Janice said I could name him, so I did. Named after—”

“Gerard Way?”

Holy shit. Michael can’t believe that name just came out of your mouth. If he wasn’t holding a kitten in his arms, he probably would have fainted right in front of you. But he gains his composure, and nodded. “Yeah, you listen to them?”

“Well, not really. You’re wearing their shirt and I just kind of...took a guess.”

He smiled softly, placing the small kitten into your arms. Gerard let out a brief squawk due to the unfamiliarity but then Michael adjusted your arms so the kitten was closer to your heart. “He likes to listen to the heartbeat,” Michael explained. “He’s blind, he’s always liked to be close to me like this.”

“So he’s yours?”

“I’m the one who takes care of him mostly. Janice tries but her husband has gotten very sick recently so she relies on me. I rescued him, so we think he’s kind of, like, bonded with me.”

“If he’s yours I wouldn’t want to take him—”

“No,” Michael interrupted with a protest. “He likes you, otherwise he wouldn’t be laying there so contently.”

That was all it took to get Michael to come into your life. Since your visit to the shelter, and you’re amazing guess that made Michael fall even more in love with you, he’s been visiting you at your studio whenever he can. Not to mention you two walk to astronomy together, and well, Michael talks to you all the time. You don’t mind at all, of course, you had been looking for so many excuses to talk to the boy who hid under piercings and tattoos. He introduced you to things that he liked, and in return you decided you were going to teach him how to dance. At first, you wanted to teach him ballet, but after his very persistent refusal, you settled on ballroom dancing.

So that’s where you were right now; Michael’s hand lay on your waist while his hand was intertwined with yours and in the air. He tries to focus on the movements instead of your hand that was currently on his arm, but it was hard. Like, really fucking hard. Michael was never good with focusing in the first place, let alone with someone as pretty as you inches away from him. He wonders if he could kiss you right now. He could—pull you against his chest, lean down, cup your face. He could do it, but he can’t. Because this was just a friendly dancing lesson with the boy who helped you adopt Gerard the Kitten. He didn’t mind, truthfully. He got to spend time with you and see you doing something that made you happy. So, who cares if he was just a dance partner. He likes seeing you happy.

The music slowly fades out and you’re talking to him, but he’s zoned out currently. He can’t help thinking about kissing you. Michael thinks your lips probably taste like vanilla, or maybe lemons because he did see you using lemon chapstick recently. He wonders if your lips are soft, or if maybe you would put your hands up his shirt. He likes it when people do that, it feels good against his skin. Another thing he likes is holding hands, but he’s only ever held your hand when you’re dancing. God, what have you done to Michael? Sure, that cuddly side has always been inside him, but something about you makes them more prominent. Maybe that’s not a bad thing, though.

“Michael?”

Despite the music not playing anymore, you’re still swaying along. You motion for him to twist you, so he does, and this time he doesn’t drop you. “Good, good,” you praise in a whisper. “You zoned out on me for a second. What were you thinking about?”

“Uh…” he trails off as he tries to look everywhere but your lips. So he settles on the small kitten that had to come to the studio with you today. “The animals at the shelter,” he mutters the lie before (unwillingly) letting go of your hand and waist. He walks over to Gerard who is meowing at the wall, trying to walk to where he won’t run into things. Michael picks him up while shaking his head gently.

“You really love them, don’t you?” Your ask, and he fails to hear the fondness in your voice. Michael was many things: a rebel, a lover, but he was absolutely oblivious sometimes.

“They need me,” his mumbles quietly, petting the kitten behind his ears. “They need someone to overlook their flaws. Gerard is blind, Priss has anger issues, Poppy has three legs and she’s deaf. These animals need someone like me who can relate, you know? Damaged goods. That doesn’t stop them from living their life though. You can see it in their faces. They love it at the shelter, and if it weren’t for me, they’d be God knows where. I just want them to enjoy the little life they have.”

You lean closer to Michael, and his breath hitches in his throat as you tell him, “you should enjoy it, too.”

“I do,” he strokes Gerard’s back as he whispers. “I really do. I surround myself with the people who make me feel better, kind of like how Gerard likes to sit on my shoulder. Don’t know how he’s going to do that when he’s older.”

If Michael was looking at you, he could have seen the loving smile, but he wasn’t. His attention was on the kitten because, in all honesty, he was terrified to look at you. He wasn’t good at hiding his feelings, and he really didn’t want you to know how he felt. Because he knew you didn’t feel the same way—but, he is oblivious. Don’t forget that.

“I know your secret, Michael.” And that grabs his attention.

“My secret?” His voice cracks and he’s mentally slapping himself for it.

“Yeah. Under that leather jacket, and those tattoos, and your dyed hair and piercings, you’re just a big teddy bear.” You laugh and poke at his arm band tattoo which makes him giggle. He giggles. You were completely melting him.

He panics for a second before quickly saying, “you’re good at analyzing people, princess.”

And then you say something that completely takes him off guard. “Would you like to get lunch sometime? Or dinner? I know a nice place where we can get huge hamburgers for, like, two dollars.”

At first he doesn’t believe it. He didn’t want to jump to conclusions and think that you were suggesting a date, but it did sound like that. So, he plays it cool and says, “well, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” His hands are actually starting to shake though, that’s how nervous he was. He places Gerard on the small cat bed that’s on the floor so he doesn’t risk dropping him.

He thinks you’re going to reject the idea and make him leave the studio to never see or talk to you again. You laugh, however, and lean against the wall with your shoulder. “And what makes you think I’m after your heart?”

He shrugs. Michael is actually super proud of himself for being this cool around you. “I have this feeling.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I can totally see you checking me out in Astronomy.”

Hitting his arm, you gasp. “I do not! I just like your hair. And your face. You look nice, okay?”

The blush on your face makes Michael’s insides flip. He had dreamed about this day ever since you walked into the shelter, and it was actually happening. He’s silently saying thank you to whoever made him took the steps in life that he did. Because he truly did believe that if he did one thing differently, this moment would not be happening. So, he lives in it and becomes himself again. “You look nice too, princess. I’ll take you up on your offer for dinner.”

You beam up at him and resist the urge to kiss him right then and there. “Okay, you’re paying. It’s the first date, be a gentleman.”

Michael has to literally stop himself from shouting in glee. A date. He thinks he could do anything after hearing those words. Hell, he might go scale a building while screaming at the top of his lungs yes! But, again, he plays it cool. “And what makes you think this is a date?”

But he can’t after he hears your response. You have officially broken the once cool punk with just four words.

“I have this feeling.”

[hollandovs]

idk If youre still taking requests but if you wanna do this anytime lol. Youre "with" frat!Cal but youre not sure if he's seeing someone else too and he assures you your the only girl he wants! love your writing!!

Calum was somebody everybody knew not to mess with. He was the head of his frat, he was team captain, and he was top in all of his classes. He was what Pete Sanders liked to call “the perfect triangle”. He had every girl and guy completely entranced by him. Sometimes you felt a little intimidated, but then he would wrap his arms around you and kiss your forehead, and everything seemed to be alright.

Tonight was not one of those nights.

Tonight was Calum’s big game. He was stressed, you were stressed, and the only thing that sounded pleasing was crawling into your own bed to sleep for a thousand years. It was the beginning stages of your relationship still. Calum had asked you to be there for him tonight, “wear my jersey,” he had mumbled. “You’re definitely my good luck charm.” And you had no problem with that—until almost every other girl had his jersey too. 

“Baby, for the last time,” he groans. He puts his head in his hands as he tries to explain to you what was happening. “Michael wanted to make a quick buck, alright? He made jerseys with my name and number on them, and then sold them to people on campus. It’s not my fault his only customers were girls.” He hadn’t meant to make his words sound so hash, but he had the game in fifteen minutes. He was falling hard for you, harder than he had fallen for anyone else, he just couldn’t understand why you would think that he had come up with this devious scheme. 

“I’m just saying, Cal, they keep looking at you. Especially Sherry. Do you know how many times she’s talked about you in class? All of the things she says about you and her? It makes me feel like…like I’m just another notch in your belt.”

Calum freezes. That’s all you thought you were? “Baby girl, is that why you’re mad they’re wearing my jersey?” Putting your hands behind your back, you look down to the ground. You felt embarrassed and child-like. “No, baby, I’m sorry,” he walks towards you and places a hand under your chin. Tilting your head upward, he looks into your teary eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t control what Sherry is saying. She was before you and I regret it so much. I’m sorry that she tries to make everyone believe me and her are still together, but baby girl, we aren’t. There’s nobody for me but you. I’m falling so hard for you, darling.” 

“Nobody else?” You ask in a whisper. 

“Nobody else.” He drops his hands to your waist, and touches your forehead with his. Placing a kiss upon your lips, he mumbles a quiet, “you’re it for me.”

for college!5sos blurb night with @pretendtobepunkrock and @tadpolehemmings

[hollandovs]

For college! 5sos blurb night, can you do this "I swear I’m wearing this Batman costume because of a dare" with Michael? thanks!!! x

Psych class was one of your favorites. You got to learn about the human brain and how it affects one’s behavior, you got to learn about memories and the importance of them, there was talk about why humans do the things they do, and there was plenty of talk about the egos that one held inside themselves. It was a topic that had always interested you. 

The brain was interesting, but so was watching a boy race into class wearing a Batman costume. It wasn’t just a cape and a mask—no, it was the whole suit. The mask, the armor, and then the cape. You were unsure of who this strange man was, but everyone else seemed to be in on the joke. Your professor rolled her eyes at the boy, Donovan high-fived him, and Calum nodded his head in approval. 

He sat quietly all of class. He took notes like normal, asked questions in Batman’s voice, but on occasion he would raise his hand and say “I’m in need of a Robin, any takers?” Of course this made his friends cheer, and then the professor would make them quiet down. She seemed to even be in on the joke, telling him that she would love a visit from Alfred, to which the students wrinkled their noses. However, you couldn’t take your eyes off the strange boy. It was psych class after all. 

Once class ended, you walked up to him, tapping his shoulder. He turns around, and you can see his eyes get wide behind the mask. 

“(Y/N), I swear I’m wearing this Batman costume because of a dare.” 

“So, you know my name but I don’t know yours?” 

He mutters a right before sticking his hand out. “I’m Michael.”

“As in Keaton?” You laugh, shaking his hand. 

“No,” he chuckles, “as in the guy who always checks your library books out.”

Oh. That Michael. The Michael whom you’ve always had a huge crush on. 

“In that case, if you still need a Robin, you know where to find me.”

Michael moves his arm to the back of his head to remove the mask. He smiles at you and nods. “I’d really like that, actually. All good superheros need a great looking sidekick. 

You raise your eyebrow, and he frantically takes back his words, realizing just how they sounded. “I mean—you’re so incredible and like that’s what a superhero needs, someone who knows what they’re doing and—”

“Relax,” you smile at him. “I know what you meant.” You dig in your bag to find a scrap pieced of paper and a pen. You write down your number and hand it to him. “Call me and we can go over our superhero agenda, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he agrees. You wave at him and walk off, and Michael can’t help but feel an overwhelming amount of excitement. Calum was right, dressing up as Batman really would work.

for college!5sos blurb night with @pretendtobepunkrock and @tadpolehemmings 

[hollandovs]

Ok what about bickering with your roommate Michael about who's turn it was to shout for 1am pizza, before deciding to settle that over a game but realize "aw shit...I can't be bothered walking all the way back to the dorm" and instead Michael deciding he was punk rock enough to sneak into the college computing labs because "you gotta live a little (Y/N) why? scared you'll lose?" but also an excuse to hold your hand while finding your way around in the dark only to find out he'd be the one who

Arguments with Michael were never serious. They were about who cheated on the last round of a game, or who drank the last beer. Sometimes it would be you begging him to pick up after himself (to which Michael would reply “couldn’t escape it from my mum, can’t escape it from you”). Often, though, it was about who would do the annual Friday night pizza run. 

Michael couldn’t remember when the tradition started. It was three weeks into finals during Freshman year that he thinks he suggested it. You were stressed out, almost on the verge of tears because of the tests. So, in best friend fashion, he went out to the local twenty-four hour Freezy Mart and bought their finest pizza. Since then it sort of just stuck. To make things easier, Michael and you would take turns traveling to Freezy Mart.  

But tonight, however, Michael could have sworn it was your turn to get nagged at by Bart The Old Fart. You thought it was Michael turned, since you could have sworn that you went last Friday. He insists that he was in fact the one who drove five minutes off campus. “There’s one way to settle this,” he says with a mischievous smirk that only calls for trouble. 

“What do you have up your sleeve, Clifford?” 

He takes a step towards you and puts his hands on your waist, making your heartbeat speed up. He knows how much you hate when he does this. Michael leans in close, almost like he’s going to kiss you, but he moves his head to whisper in your ear, “strip poker.” 

Jumping away from him, your eyes are wide as you vigorously shake your head. Michael’s laugh rings out, and he puts a hand over his stomach. “I’m kidding, (Y/N), relax babe.” 

“You fucking dick,” you punch his arm with a glare on your face. “Now what were you really thinking?” 

“Luke programmed the computers in the lab to play World of Witchcraft. He says that nobody has caught it yet and that it’s still available to play.” 

You cross your arms and cock your head to the side. “And how does that come into your plan?” 

“We sneak in. Me and you. Whoever wins has to buy pizza for the rest of college.” 

You shake your head at him. Sneaking into the computer lab? There was no way you were about to do that over a damn pizza. That was grounds for expulsion, and you were not about to get expelled when you were almost out of college. Not for Michael, not for a pizza, and certainly not for a stupid video game.

“No, absolutely not. I am not sneaking into the lab just so you can beat me in the stupid game. No way—”

“C’mon, live a little, (Y/N).”

The look Michael gives when he wants something always makes you weak. Which is why you find yourself holding his hand while walking to the lab. You didn’t know why he was holding your hand, it was just a short walk from your dorm to the lab and it wasn’t even extremely dark out. However, you weren’t going to fight it. Holding hands with Michael felt...right. And little did you know, he was fighting a smile the whole time your hand was carefully intertwined with his. Maybe this was his plan all along.

“Okay, so we just have to jiggle the handle and it should...” Michael’s tongue pokes out of his mouth as he tries to open the door to the lab. He pushes it a little too hard, causing it to bang against its frame. An alarm suddenly ringing in your ears causes you to grip onto his arm. He lets out a nervous laugh as he grabs your hand again and takes off running. 

“Well, princess,” he mumbles, stopping in front of a bush. “I’ll buy the pizzas from now on.” 

college!5sos blurb night with @pretendtobepunkrock and @tadpolehemmings