|5SOS imagines|

hair dye - michael

hey kiddos, im not dead just so much shit has been going on, currently writing this as im dying my hair blonde oh

future me: the blonde hasn't gone well. oh dear. there's nothing wrong with being ginger, kids.

-

"stop being a pussy and let me do it, (y/n)."

"no! you'll fuck it up." you say to your boyfriend of three years, michael clifford.

"ive dyed my hair by myself every time it's a different colour. you'd look fit with peach hair."

"peach?!" you yell at him, giggling slightly.

"yeah, now come on, ive got the dye here."

-

you were now sat with a towel around your shoulders on a chair in the bathroom, while michael was fiddling around with the dye. to be honest, you were shitting yourself.

as you scrolled through your phone, you felt something wet on the top of your head.

"oh my fucking god." you whisper under your breath.

"what, gorgeous?" he smirked as he combed the dye through your hair.

"nothing, baby."

you sighed as he covered your whole head in dye, silently shitting yourself. you felt him press a kiss to you neck, while wrapping something around your head.

"what should we do for half hour then?" michael suggests.

"ughhh, i don't know, go and get a dye stripper?" you joked.

"it won't turn out like shit i swear!"

"whatever you say, clifford."

-

"stay still." michael giggled as you leaned over the bathtub, letting your hair hang freely over the other side.

you heard michael let out another small chuckle, before he went silent. and he went silent for a very long time to you. and michael is never quiet, ever, unless something has gone wrong.

"what?" you ask him as he turns of the shower taps.

"i mean im not the most qualified person to dye hair in the world-"

you throw your head back and stand up, trying not to wobble and look in the mirror.

"what the actual fuck have you done, clifford?! im bloody ginger, not peach you silly twat!"