a/n: hi! i’m back with another color series installment! i was so inspired by @thedreamvevo and @cliffordchick‘s ‘color series’ that i begun to write my own! please make sure to check out their installments as well! i really hope you enjoy this if you choose to read! feedback is encouraged :)
Blue was the color of the ocean as you walked along the quiet beach, your toes digging into the fluffy sand. The water shimmered in the sunlight and rippled with every wave or splash. The sunset was projecting beautiful pinks and purples and blues onto the water, creating a gorgeous watercolor design. The breeze was cool, your hair softly blowing in heat of the Australian day. You stepped towards the water, dipping your barefoot feet into the cool, salty ocean– kicking the water lightly with your legs. You splashed around for a few minutes alone on the quiet beach, deciding that studying a semester overseas may not have been the worst idea.
Walking out of Panera Bread you laughed as the fact you almost tripped. “Nice,” Timothy, an old friend, laughed as he followed.
“Oh please. You always trip,” You laughed.
“At least I’ve learned to play it off,” Timothy laughed.
“Shut it,” You laughed lightly pushing you.
“Hey, the biggest accomplishment that I’ve achieved is getting you out of your room,” Timothy said wrapping his arm around you. “How do you feel?”
“Heartbroken,” You admitted staring at the ground as you walked. “But I feel much better since you bought my dinner.”
“Hey, it’s alright to feel heartbroken,” Timothy said. “You two were together for a while.”
“Yeah, it just wasn’t working I guess,” You sighed.
“I feel like after two years everything should have been working just fine,” Timothy mumbled. “It doesn’t take much to make you happy. He could have done more than give up.”
“Stop,” You whispered.
“I’m being honest,” Timothy snapped. “We’ve been best friends since we were five. I like the guy but I’m not going to take what he did so lightly.”
“His job is just stressful most of the time,” You said.
“Yes, but you were together for two years,” Timothy pointed out. “His management made you go through this class on how to deal with fans. He was your world and he broke your heart. I bet if he called you right now you would do whatever he said.”
“He is my world,” You mumbled as you walked into your favorite shop. Vinyl records were something that you collected along with Ashton. Whoever he was home he would take you on a trip to this record store and the two of you would spend the whole day looking for records.
“I don’t know why you’re torturing yourself,” Timothy said walking up to a milk create. “You know that this was your place.”
“I still like it,” You said walking up to the milk create next to the one that Timothy was standing at.
“Tim?” You heard from the back of the store. Both your head and Timothy’s head shot up just in time to see Michael appear from one of the shelves.
“Michael, what are you doing here?” Timothy asked.
“I was just shopping,” Michael said holding up a record he had found. “(Y/N), it’s nice to see you.”
“Hi Mikey,” You whispered with a small smile.
“Michael, do you think she would like this one?” Ashton asked walking out from the bookshelves. He was looking at a Chroma by Cartel. It was the tenth anniversary pressing that you had been searching for and he had found it.
“I don’t know,” Michael said freezing. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”
“Wha?” Ashton asked looking up at Michael and then looking in your direction. “(Y/N).”
Without saying anything you turned around and walked out of the shop, Timothy staggering behind you.
“Wait!” Ashton yelled as he ran toward the door.
“What are you doing?” Timothy asked.
“You said it yourself Timothy,” You mumbled. “I can’t do everything for him, which includes looking at him.”
“Wait!” Ashton yelled. Coming to a stop you slowly turned around and saw Ashton standing there, the record still in his hand.
“What do you want Ashton?” You asked, your voice cracking.
“I wast you back,” Ashton said.
“Excuse me?” Timothy asked.
“I want her back,” Ashton said taking a step forward. “I miss my best friend.”
“Then why did you do it?” You asked.
“I didn’t want to hold you back,” Ashton said clutching onto the record, sadness written all over his face. “I saw your face and you anger the last time you had to rearrange your schedule to come visit me. I heard how hurt you were when I called to say that I couldn’t make it for the holiday. Ever since meeting that guy, Sam, I saw how much fun you were having while he was in town and how much fun you had at his concerts.”
“Sam is just a friend,” You said. “You know that.”
“Yes I do,” Ashton said taking a couple steps forward. “But every time that I saw your pictures on Twitter and Instagram I thought about how much better someone that was around would be for you. I’m gone far too much and I don’t give you the attention that you deserve.”
“What made you change you mind all of the sudden?” You asked watching Ashton take a couple steps toward you.
“I wake up and turn to kiss you but nobody’s there. There smell of you is everywhere, and it’s hard,” Ashton admitted. “Yesterday I thought could sat on the couch and looked at your spot, thinking about how I would love for you to be reading and drinking a cup of tea while I hum and hold your hand.
I thought about how I want to tell you everything. The words I never got to say the first time around. I remember everything. From the time we were children playing in the backyard, and I couldn’t stop wishing I was there with you right now.”
Timothy put his hand on your shoulder, trying to read your face. He had noticed that people were gathering on both sides of the street. People’s phones were out, filming what was happening with the celebrity. “Ashton, stop,” You said tears forming in your eyes.
“I can’t stop,” Ashton said. “Because if the whole world was watching I’d still dance with you. I would drive highways and byways to be here with you. I’d do it over and over to get to you, and the only truth is that everything I think about comes back to you. I just walked into that record place and, of course, I find the record you’ve been searching for. You still make me nervous when you walk in the room. The butterflies in my stomach come alive when I’m next to you, or even this far apart.”
Ashton looked down at the record in his hand and took notice of how close he had gotten to you. “I know that it’s wrong,” He continued. “That I can’t move one. But there’s always been something about you.”
“Ashton,” You said staring at him. “You’re so full of yourself.”
A smile slowly appeared on Ashton’s face. “I am not,” He said.
“You know that I was perfectly happy with you,” You said as Timothy took a couple steps back. “Yes, I was upset when you canceled holiday plans, but I was happier that I got to see you the next week instead of having to wait another month to see you later. I knew what I was getting into when you got famous. I am a smart girl, I promise.”
“I never doubted that you are,” Ashton said taking a step closer. “The real question is, is this smart girl going to take back her idiot of an ass boyfriend?”
“Oh please say yes,” Timothy sighed behind you.
“Yes, she is,” You whispered. Ashton let a sigh of relief go before scooping you up in his arms.
“Thank god. I don’t think I would be able to live in this town if you didn’t,” Ashton whispered.
“You know that you would,” You said letting him go.
“Not if you weren’t with me,” Ashton said against your forehead before leaving one of his famous kisses there.
“Now that everything is back to normal. I’ll be taking this,” Timothy said walking up and taking the Cartel vinyl.
“I missed you Timothy but that is for my beautiful girlfriend,” Ashton said wrapping his arm around you as you both started to walk back to the record shop, where Michael was waiting for Ashton.
“Oh good. You brought the normal party,” Michel said walking out of the record shop. He smiled and hugged you before walking over to Timothy and punching him in the shoulder.
“I missed you,” Ashton said smiling down at you.
“I missed you too,” You said smiling. “This town was pretty miserable without you.“
first thing i’ve been able to write in a long time. hope you like it.
First thing Monday morning, you had gone into work and sat at your desk with every intention of ignoring the situation and pretending as if none of it was happening. It worked for a while, until the first patient walked in the door and you nearly screamed out loud. You had asked a volunteer to cover the desk briefly and immediately went to Ashton in the Emergency Department. He took you into an empty room and promised you that everything was going to be okay. He kissed you and held you tightly to his chest until you had calmed down, and surprisingly, you’d stayed that way.
It’s been eleven days since you’d received the call from Detective Adams, and Dean still hasn’t been captured. You’re being extra vigilant and you’ve been going to extra boxing classes after work. Ashton has been constantly worrying about your safety and as much as you appreciate it, it’s driving you insane. He wants someone to be with you constantly, and he had actually suggested that Michael accompany you to work and sit in the lobby for eight and a half hours. He’s going to give himself an ulcer.
You take all of your aggression out on the punching bag in front of you. You push your headphones deeper into your ears with your boxing glove paws and wail on the bag. Surprisingly, it’s an exceedingly effective form of stress reduction. After about 20 solid minutes of kicking and punching the bag that you’re picturing Dean’s face on, you feel relief.
You grab your water bottle off of the gym floor, glancing around and realizing that the place had mostly emptied out while you were in the zone. You make your way quickly to the locker room, stripping immediately and stepping into one of the shower stalls. You moan at the soothing feeling of the warm water running over your body, loosening your tight muscles. You press your hands against the wall and turn your head toward the floor. You watch the water swirl down the drain and imagine that all of your stress and worry is being carried down with it.
Just as you step out of the shower, you hear your phone ringing. You rush over to your locker and grab it right before it goes to voicemail. “Hello,” you answer, assuming that it’ll be Ashton on the other end. When you don’t hear an answer, you look at the screen and see a number you don’t recognize. “Hello?” you try again with no success.
Shrugging your shoulders, you end the call before tossing the phone down and getting dressed. A few minutes later, you hear the familiar ring again. “Hello?” you answer, this time greeted with Ashton’s voice.
“Hey beautiful, what are you up to?” he says sweetly.
“Hey baby! Nothing much, just got done with boxing and took a shower at the gym. I’m about to head home. What are you up to?” you ask as you’re pulling your sweatshirt over your head.
“I’m just gearing up for my last overnight of the week. But honestly I’m so tired baby I just want to go home and cuddle with my girl,” Ashton pouts. You smile to yourself as you can imagine the way his bottom lip is probably jutting out adorably, and you feel the intense desire to go all the way to the hospital just to kiss it.
“Aww I know, baby. But you can’t right now you have lives to save,” you retort with a giggle. “Besides, I’m so tired from boxing I’m probably going to be asleep as soon as I fall into bed.”
“If you were falling into bed with me, beautiful, I promise you wouldn’t be sleeping,” he whispers back, causing your cheeks to flush and heat to erupt in your belly. Suddenly, Ashton sighs and starts talking again, but this time he’s addressing someone at the hospital, “No… yeah… no absolutely not. Put them in Trauma Bay 3. Baby, I’ve gotta go. I love you.”
“I love you, Ash. Have a good night,” as soon as the words leave your mouth the call is disconnected, and you grab your bag and throw it over your shoulder, rushing out to your car. The cold autumn wind whips around you making you yearn for the warm summer breeze that has faded out again until next year. You shiver as you unlock your car and hop in, cranking the heat up and driving home.
Just as you’re getting out of the car in the parking lot of your apartment, your phone rings again. You glance at the screen quickly, smiling when you see the name. “Hey wingman,” you chirp.
“Hey, so I know I’m supposed to come over tonight, but I’m in the middle of this really intense game of Destiny. Are you going to be okay if I stay home?” Michael blurts in a rush.
“Yeah, sure Mikey no problem. I’m just walking in from the gym and I’m honestly so tired I’m just going to watch a movie and go to bed,” you say as you unlock the door, throwing your bag down and pulling your shoes off.
“Okay thanks, just call me if you need anything,” he says quickly, hanging up before you can even respond. You laugh and shake your head, walking over to the kitchen and grabbing a little bit of ice to soothe your aching and chapped knuckles. You wrap some ice cubes in two dish rags before walking over to the couch and scrolling through Netflix before deciding to watch She’s the Man for the hundredth time.
About half way through the movie, your eyelids begin to droop and you decide that it’s time to go to bed. You send Ashton a quick text to say good night, and after changing into one of his long shirts, you fall into bed and instantly into a sound and satisfying sleep.
You’re startled awake some time later, and your room is pitch black. You sit up immediately, your head thrashing from side to side looking for whatever had caused the disturbance in your sleep. Seeing nothing, you flop back down on your bed with your hand on your forehead, attempting to control your ragged breathing. Suddenly, you hear the distinctive creak of the loose floorboard just outside of your bedroom. Your body is thrown into total panic mode as you realize that there is someone in the apartment.
You move faster than you ever thought possible as you quickly and silently jump out of your bed. You move to the side that’s situated furthest from the door and crouch into a somewhat defensive position.
You perk your ears up to listen intently for any signs of movement from outside your door, and as you close your eyes to focus, you hear almost silent footsteps on the wooden floor. Your heart beat jumps into overdrive as you feel adrenaline rush through your veins and you can feel your heart hammering against your rib cage. You fight to control your breaths which are coming out in short pants. Your hands start to shake and you can feel a cold sweat break out over your forehead.
You watch the back of your closed bedroom door as the light footsteps stop in front of it. You’re standing stock still as the handle turns in slow motion and the door swings open. Through the darkness, you can barely make out the shape of the man in the doorway, but you’d know that man anywhere.
“Hi princess,” Dean hisses with an almost saccharine tone. A shiver runs up your spine at his use of the nickname that he’d given you all those years ago. He had a habit of calling you his princess while he was beating you, and then again when he was asking for your forgiveness. The thought alone is enough to nauseate you. His head tips to the side slightly, but he makes no move toward your frozen form. “Did you really think that you were going to be able to stay away from me, Y/N? You’re mine. You know that, don’t you?” he says rhetorically in a tone that worries you. He sounds absolutely mental.
You’re paralyzed with fear, unable to even respond to him as he reaches over and tugs the string on the lamp closest to the door causing a decent amount of light to flood the small space. You can see his eyes now, and you know that this situation is very, very dangerous. You’ve known Dean for more than half of your life, and you’ve never seen him look this insane before. His pupils are dilated and wild to the point where his irises are almost completely invisible and he wears a wide smile on his face revealing almost all of his teeth. He looks like the epitome of a psychotic man. What makes the situation most grave, however, is that as your eyes travel down his body you notice he’s clutching a large knife in his fist, held closely to his side.
Your mind goes into overdrive as you contemplate your next move. Your phone is on the nightstand just out of your reach, but there is still the obstacle of your bed between you. You make eye contact with him and steadily maintain it in an attempt to show your lack of intimidation, while inside you’re screaming.
“What are you doing here, Dean?” you ask calmly, surprised that you’re able to speak with such a confident tone.
“I came to bring you back home, Y/N. I’ve decided that I’m going to be nice and forgive you for what you’ve done to our family, princess. You’re coming with me now. You’ll take your punishment and then everything will go back to normal. You can’t live without me, princess. I’m all you have,” he coos as he takes several steps into the room. You instinctively step back further from him until your back hits the wall. You look quickly over to your nightstand to gauge the chances of you getting to your phone before he can reach you.
Dean notices the movement of your eyes, and when you look back at him again his eyes are filled with rage. He lunges toward you over the bed and you run for the door. Because he had left it open when he entered, you’re able to make it out and down the hallway, but Dean is faster than you. As you place your hand on the handle of the front door, you feel his arm wrap around your stomach and your body is pulled into his chest. He brings his other hand up and you feel the cool metal of the sharp knife blade against your neck.
“I thought we were going to do this the easy way, princess, but I can see that you’re going to be a fucking bitch about it. Don’t fucking move, Y/N. I swear to god I’ll slit your fucking throat like the worthless piece of shit whore that you are,” he whispers menacingly into your ear. He applies slightly more pressure to your neck with the knife and you can feel the edge of the blade cutting into your skin slightly, painfully. You wince at the feeling but stop struggling immediately for fear of the knife cutting into you even deeper.
“Dean, you don’t have to do this, okay? Just calm down,” you say, attempting to de-escalate the situation.
“Calm down? What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you know what you’ve done to me? You sent me to JAIL, Y/N. Do you know what it’s like in there? I’m not going back there, I fucking promise you that. We’ll both die before I ever go back there,” he hisses.
Tears spring to your eyes as you realize his plan. He’s going to kill you, and then he’s going to kill himself.
As Dean stands behind you with the knife pressed to your neck and the closed and locked door in front of you, all you can think of is Ashton. You close your eyes as your silent tears run steadily down your cheeks, and you remember everything you can about the man that you love. You think about the first time you saw his beautiful face and his deep and perfect eyes. You think about the way his strong arms hold you and make you feel secure and loved. You think about the way that he turned his life upside down to help you when no one else ever had. You think about his selflessness, and his courage, and his beauty, and his optimism. You think about your love for each other, and how even just seeing him floods you with love and passion that you never thought you’d feel for another person.
Lastly though, you think about how he’ll feel when they tell him that you’re gone. He’ll blame himself for not protecting you. He’ll think that everything is his fault and the light will die in his beautiful hazel eyes.
It’s this thought alone that causes you to react. You tighten all of your muscles and brace your body for a fight, which you’re now trained for. Dean is used to you being helpless and defenseless, but that’s the old you. You ball your hands into fists, rapidly grabbing your right wrist with your left hand and thrusting your right elbow back into Dean’s gut. The knife barely slices into the skin of your neck as his hands fly back toward his body, but you don’t even feel the gash. You’re running on pure adrenaline as you grab the hand that holds the knife and force his wrist back, causing him to drop the knife to your feet. He looks at you, stunned, as your right arm pulls back swiftly before your fist connects solidly with his face. Dean stumbles from the force of your hit, causing the backs of his knees to collide with the coffee table. He falls onto it, crashing with the splintered wood onto the ground while releasing a sharp yell. Seeing your opportunity, you attempt to get out the door again. Just as you’ve twisted the deadbolt and unhooked the chain, you feel a sharp and dizzying blow hit the side of your head. You scream out, causing him to grab your hair in his hands and throw your head easily into the heavy door. Your vision blurs and darkens as you momentarily lose consciousness before you feel yourself being dragged back toward your bedroom.
You regain your wits and begin to thrash and scream, hoping to wake at least one of your neighbors. Dean throws you on your bed easily before spitting words at you loudly, “Shut the fuck up you fucking whore! I told you already Y/N, you’re not fucking going anywhere. You. Are. Mine.” He suddenly looks down at his hand, and apparently just realizes that he’s no longer holding the knife in it. You use his moment of distraction to your advantage, lunging to grab your phone and hitting the buttons furiously, dialing your last contact.
He looks up to see the phone in your hand, immediately diving toward you with his hands extended just as you hear Michael’s voice groggily answer. You feel another intense blow to the side of your head as Dean’s body straddles your waist, pinning you down and pummeling your head and face while grappling for the phone. His right hand continues to smash your head as his left closes painfully around your throat. Because of the bleeding cut, he slips repeatedly as he tries to get a firm grip around your neck.
Your vision darkens again as you choke and gag, the pain in your head overwhelming all of your other senses and you’re unable to make out Michael’s voice on the other end. Just as you start to lose consciousness, you are able to get out one last strangled cry:
Request:hi idk if this is a good idea or not but maybe michael dating a surfer???? idk i can see michael dating someone whos basically a polar opposite and she tried to relate more to him and try things he likes and vice versa?????? yrah i cant write for shit so u know :) xx
Summary:You and Michael are total opposites, so when you decide you want to teach him how to surf, he isn’t exactly the most cooperative of students.
Word Count: 707
A/N:soz i know absolutely nothing about surfing oh my goddddd
“Come on, Michael, it’s not that bad!”
“Absolutely not! It’s freezing!”
You groaned, sinking further into the cool ocean water. Beside you, a surfboard was floating in the gentle waves, your hand resting on top of it to keep it from drifting from your side. You looked back to the shore where your boyfriend was standing, avoiding the water at all costs. “Please? It’s lonely out here.”
Michael rolled his eyes. “Bullshit, you’re surrounded by people,” he called back, gesturing to the crowded water around you.
“It’s not crowded out there!” you told him, jerking your thumb towards the open ocean behind you.
He shook his head. “I’d rather not get eaten by sharks.”
You sighed, finally giving up on getting Michael to join you. It was a miracle you’d gotten him outside at all.
As much as you loved him, Michael wasn’t always the most adventurous of boyfriends. He was perfectly happy relaxing in the comfort of your shared apartment. His off-days were spent playing video games and coming up with all sorts of new music.
But that was exactly what made him perfect for you.
He was everything you weren’t, and you made up for what he couldn’t. He introduced you to lazy days and sleeping in, and you showed him pieces of the world he had never known existed. You were the chaotic adventure, a hurricane, as he often called you, and he was the quiet, comforting return to familiarity.
However, being polar opposites had its downsides. Convincing Michael to step out of his comfort zone could be a challenge, so say the least.
You’d grown up too far from the ocean to ever become familiar with it. This meant you’d had no way of ever learning to surf, much less fall in love with the activity, until you’d moved into Michael’s tiny apartment a few years ago. It was a short walk to the beach from there, and you’d immediately jumped on the opportunity. It wasn’t long before you grew accustomed to the constantly changing water and were able to glide effortlessly across the waves.
Despite your love for the water, Michael was always quick to avoid coming with you. Any time you did manage to drag him onto the sand, he always maintained a safe distance between him and the water, disappearing beneath an umbrella to avoid the sun’s harsh rays.
After a few minutes of struggling to properly catch one of the many waves, you decided to give another go at getting Michael out into the water. You slowly made your way towards the shore, dragging your body out of the cool water. You dropped your board into the hot sand beneath your feet and jogged towards your boyfriend a little farther from the water.
Michael looked up from his phone, having seen you out of the corner of his eye, and sighed. “I don’t want to go out there,” he mumbled.
You crossed your arms over your chest. “Please?” you whined. “I just want you to try it.”
Michael was silent for a moment, pondering your request. Finally, he clicked off his phone and tossed it into his bag. You squealed, immediately grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the water.
As you approached the shore, Michael began moving a bit slower. You turned back to face him and were met with a nervous grimace. “Are you seriously going to make me do this?” he asked, pulling his hand out of your grasp.
You shrugged. “I’m not making you do anything. I’m just gently encouraging.”
He rolled his eyes, moving closer to the water. You watched him dip one foot into the shallow waves lapping at your feet, but he immediately jumped back. “Hell no.”
“Don’t do it, then,” you said simply, moving to grab your surfboard off of the sand. As you made your way past him, you leaned towards his ear and whispered, “if you’re scared.”
His eyes widened, and you smirked. “You take that back,” he said lowly.
Michael wrenched the surfboard out of your arms, immediately dashing towards the water. You laughed as he fell face first into an oncoming wave, eager to prove that he could be was just as fearless as you.