5 Seconds of Summer Preferences & Imagines [EDITING]

You're a Writer.

hELLO I'M SORRY I WASN'T POSTING HOLY CUMGUZZLER BUT IM BACK

Quick Question: What do you guys think about truthabout5sos on IG?

-ellie

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Luke:

"There exists only white and black, but you were such a beautiful shade of gray," you wrote as Luke looked over your shoulder.

"What does that even mean, Y/N?"

"It means that there exists only good and bad, but somehow, just somehow, this person is straddling the fence. He has a mixture of white and black; no color more overpowering than the other. This man is beautifully conflicting."

"Is this about me?"

"No," you laugh. "You take on the characteristics of white. You're everything white is supposed to represent. You see, every person that a writer creates doesn't have to reflect someone in their lives. It could just be something random."

"I get you. You're really pretty when you get all deep. You just get this spaced out look and everyone can tell that you know what you're writing about. I really love you." You smile as he wraps his arms around you.

Calum:

"What if the skies were green and the grass was blue? Well, that's all I see when I'm with you because you changed my worldly views and even though I hate you, the sky has never been greener," you whisper to yourself as you reread your paragraph repeatedly.

"What's up, Y/N?" Calum asks as he jumps onto your bed and looks at you intently.

"Eh. I'm just writing some weird ass thing."

"Let me see," he insists while turning his attention to your laptop. Calum furrows his eyebrows. "I love this, but I want to know what inspired you to write it."

"Well, I don't know. My friend texted me and told me about her relationship. It seems to be one of those where she hates the way she loves him. I took inspiration from that and made it all cool and shit."

"You can literally write the best things from watching cats have sex but I can't write for shit. What happened to mirroring each other? Why hasn't that happened yet? I want your skills."

"First of all, you're a kick ass writer. Look at all these fangirls screeching some of the lyrics that you wrote. Second of all, mirroring only happens when the relationship is extremely close. We are close, but maybe we haven't gotten to that level yet. Frankly, I don't mind if we never get to that level because I love you and you love me. That's all that matters."

Michael:

"I refuse to leave this goddamned room until you show me what you've been writing."

"No, Michael. It's fucking embarrassing."

"But I'm your boyfriend. You see what I write all the time. Let me see yours, please."

You sigh. "Fine. What do you want to look at fir-"

"I wanna see your writing journal."

"Okay," you say doubtedly as you pull the journal out of your brown leather purse. Michael immediately grabs it and flips to a random page with a giddy expression on his face.

"I'm going to read this out loud."

"No, don't."

"Why not? Your writing needs to be heard, not just seen. Anyways, let me start. 'You're fire scorching my tongue but I have no water in my glass. You're water filling my lungs and I'm suffocating. You're a bright white light and though my mind says to close my eyes, my heart says to let me be blinded by you.' Fuck, that was amazing. I wanna hear these words every day."

"No, it wasn't. There are better writers out there."

"But none of them are dating me, are they?"

Ashton:

"Hello, guys! Since we have nothing better to do in this livestream, I'd like to start off with something my girlfriend wrote. She won't approve of me saying this out loud, but I feel that she's too insecure about it and she needs to know how great it actually is," Ashton begins. You originally planned to stomp in and take your journal from him, but why mess up the moment? It might mean a lot to him just to showcase what you made.

"By the way, if you don't know, this is in the ex-boyfriend's point of view. He cheated and now he's confronting his girlfriend," Michael points out.

"So here it is. 'White is the color of your vans; I know because I couldn't bring myself to look into your eyes. A pale olive is the color of your skin, which turns whiter at the knuckles as each gruesome second passes. Red is the color that your tightly-made fist becomes after moments of waiting. Purple is the color that adorns my face like blush as you unhappily stomp away. Gray is the color of my guilt. Black is the color of my heart, because like it, I have the absence of light.'"

"Your girlfriend writes really cool things, mate. I enjoy reading her stuff," Luke comments.

"And so do the fans. Look at the comments. Not one negative one. Y/N, see? You had nothing to worry about. Come on out and appease your fans," Calum motions for me to walk in the room.