continued-silence

worst behavior || nursey + jack

“Nursey.”

He doesn’t answer him, typing away at his keyboard in a way that’s visibly agitated, or at least irritable. What are normally soft, smooth clicks against the mac’s surface are now harsh, broken-sounding; each near-slam of his slim fingers makes a sharp clack in the quiet of the haus’ living room.

“Nursey,” Jack says again.

The continued silence makes it clear that he’s being ignored. Inwardly, he sighs.

“Twenty-eight, your captain is talking to you. Answer, now.”

At this, the typing stops. Nurse looks up at him, slowly, and his face is so uncomfortably nondescript and blank that Jack cringes a little inside of himself.

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dickhead || zach dempsey

prompt: Can you do a zach imagine where you guys are dating and you find out what he did to Hannah

warnings: swearing

a/n: no sad ending dont worry , as always hope you enjoy, feedback is appreciated and requests are open also im gonna assume zach is a senior bc im not sure myself


Zach didn’t intend for you to find out, he hoped he could’ve avoided the whole tape situation. You and Zach were in a happy relationship, having meeting him at the end of junior year. He at first came off as a dick and an idiot, just trying to impress his idiot friends. But once you got to know him, he was a sweetheart who wanted to be a marine biologist. You loved Zach Dempsey and he loved you too.

You had your earbuds in listening to your playlist, and minding your own business. You were gonna meet your boyfriend Zach for lunch, and he was gonna take you out. Your peaceful walk was interrupted by an anxious Clay Jensen. “Hey Y/N.” Clay greeted you, you took out one earbud and gave him a smile. “Hi Clay.”

“How do you do it?” He asked, and you looked at him in confusion. “How do I do what?” You asked as the two of you kept walking. “How can you still date Zach after what he has done?” Clay asked and you stopped walking. The thing was that you were aware of the tapes, as you heard Zach’s conversations with Justin, Marcus and others. You didn’t mean to listen, it was simply walking in on the wrong time. But you never knew who were on the tapes or what they did. So hearing Clay tell you this was some surprising news.

“What did Zach do?” You asked slowly, not ready to hear what Clay was about to say. “I’m sorry Y/N, but Zach and Hannah had the same Communications class. And they were doing anonymous compliments, Zach had started taking Hannah’s compliments after she rejected him. Hannah had set up a trap and left a letter for Zach, which had very personal subjects. He found the letter and read it and Hannah said he threw it away. I really am sorry Y/N.” Clay explained and you couldn’t believe it.

You were silent, you couldn’t process the new information and you started walking towards the school entrance, Clay followed behind and spoke repeated “I’m sorry Y/N.” But you shook it off, “It’s fine Clay. I know you meant no harm.” Then you left the school and saw Zach parked out front, waiting for you. Zach noticed something was off once you entered his car, you didn’t greet him as usual.

Zach had drove to Rosie’s diner. You both entered and sat a booth and you sat across from Zach rather than next to him. You ordered your food and continued to sit in silence. “What’s wrong Y/N, you’re quiet. I miss your smile.” Zach asked, desperate to get a reaction from you. “Why the hell did you do it?” You asked, not look at him. “Why’d I do what?” He asked genuinely confused. “Why the hell would you do that Hannah? Even after knowing what had happened to her.” You asked, finally looking at Zach. “I don’t know why. I-I freaked out. I didn’t know she would react like that.” Zach shot back.

“Did you really throw away the letter?” You asked after moments of silence, your food arriving at your table. “No, I never threw it away. She was lying about that. Well I don’t know what she saw but I never threw it away.” He said, taking out his wallet and showing you the letter. The letter was folded up and kinda crumpled with ‘Zach’ written on top with Hannah’s handwriting. “I didn’t know she would react that way.” Zach said and you sighed, getting up and moving to sit next to Zach. “I hope you know I’m still mad at you. You’re kinda a dickhead for what you did.” You said in a matter of fact way. Zach laughed softly and moved his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to him.

“I know I’m a dickhead. I regret what I did you know.” He spoke and you laughed. “Yeah but you’re my dickhead. I love you Zach Dempsey.” You said, pulling him into a kiss. “And I love you Y/N Y/L/N.” He said once the two of you pulled away.


hope you enjoyed the imagine !!

Touch Starved

Cas doesn’t know when he started to crave human contact.  He supposes it’s a side effect of inhabiting his vessel for so long, but it’s inconvenient to say the least.  

He remembers hugging Dean when he came back from the dead, wrapping himself around his warm body without a second thought. How easy things had been then, when all of his thoughts were occupied with Dean being alive and what a miracle that was.  He didn’t have to worry about overstepping his bounds, doing something he’d regret.

He remembers Dean cupping his face, stroking it even, holding his hand after a near-fatal (or fatal) injury as he looked into his eyes, making sure he was alright.  

Even then, in the context of whatever brush with death he was recovering from, Cas couldn’t think about anything but melting into Dean’s hands, staying that way forever and ever. But of course, he couldn’t.  That would be inappropriate, a man touching a male vessel for such a sustained period of time, and if Dean touched him for too long he might give into temptation. Overstep his bounds.  Do something he’d regret.

Cas lives a sleepless life, but as he wanders the bunker at night he can’t help but envision what it would be like to lay down in bed next to Dean, to hold him in his arms or have him hold Cas, to feel his warm breath and the thud of his heartbeat. 

 Dean had been so warm when he touched Cas.  So gentle, and so very human.

He tells himself it’s only fantasy, so it doesn’t count.  Just as long as he never let’s it show, what he truly wants, and how badly he wants it:  he craves contact, Dean’s contact, his affection, his warmth.  He wants to know Dean loves him back, for him to show it with his actions if not with his words.  

But he doesn’t dare say it.  He just dreams.

Over a year ticks by like this, when Dean comes home from a hunt, badly injured.  He has a blood-red welt on his forehead, and a deep scratch through the fabric of his shirt. 

 Cas, ever concerned, steps forward.  “Here,” he offers, holding out his hand.  “Let me.”

Dean gives the obligatory, feeble protest, but doesn’t move away as Cas presses his hand to his shoulder, where his handprint had been all those years ago.  

The injuries slowly fade from Dean’s body, and Cas, satisfied that his patient is now well, begins to retract his hand.

It’s barely perceptible, the way Dean leans towards the contact, following it.  Chasing it.  

Cas notices anyway, and his brow furrows.  He’s been told he lacks empathy, but Cas recognizes the gesture, the longing that was behind it.  It just doesn’t seem possible that Dean could crave what Cas does.

Still, tentatively, experimentally, places his hand back on Dean’s shoulder.  

“What’re you doin’?”  Dean inquires, voice a tired grumble.  “I’m all healed up.  I’m fine now.”

Still, he doesn’t move away.

“I am…checking for further injuries,” he informs him, and immediately feels guilty for lying.  Still, he needs to know if Dean wants this too, whether even some small part of him might crave this.  He allows his hands to move gently over Dean’s shoulders, tentatively as though he might break.

Dean makes a soft grunt that tells Cas he doesn’t quite believe his alibi, but still, he doesn’t move away. He leans closer, into Castiel’s touch.

Cas continues, in somewhat awed silence, his hands stroking down Dean’s broad shoulders, down his muscular back, radiating warmth beneath his thick flannel shirt.  Cas wishes he wasn’t wearing it, and not even for sexual reasons:  he just wants to feel Dean’s skin beneath his own, wants the intimacy of being together without the restrictions of clothes.

He allows his fingertips to brush, feather-light, over the bare skin of Dean’s neck, still damp with sweat from the exertion of their hunt.  Dean doesn’t tense, or do anything, really:  he just sits there, perfectly still.  Cas can’t read his facial expression, but he somehow feels he’s doing something forbidden.  

At that moment, Sam walks in, saying something innocuous about the hunt and not noticing whatever it is they’re doing.  

Dean stands up abruptly, practically knocking over a chair as he does so.  Cas watches him curiously as he awkwardly greets him, clearly somewhat embarrassed, despite the fact Sam wasn’t aware of the exchange that had just transpired.  

Sam looks suspiciously from Dean, then to Cas, then goes about his business like he doesn’t want to know.

It isn’t until months later that Cas finally gets what he wants, though he’s not coherent enough to fully appreciate it.  

He’s been stabbed through the gut with an angel blade, grace seriously depleted and nearly delirious.  

It’s an unfortunately close re-enactment of the last time Cas was taken from them, and Dean knows it as he lugs Cas into bunker, draped over his shoulder like a rag doll.  

He’s barely conscious as Dean lays him on the sofa, pealing back his blood-soaked shirt to reveal the wound, the blue light of his Grace illuminating from within.  

He yells something at Sam, who minutely brings them a bowl of hot water and a cloth, which Dean then uses to clean it.  If Cas were more coherent, he’d tell Dean that was useless, that he would be healed by his grace or not at all;  mending a vessel when his true form was damaged was like trying to repair a flesh wound by patching up clothing.

But Dean is touching him gently, cleaning his wound and muttering to him soft, soothing nothings that he can’t quite make out.

He’s looking at him with an emotion somewhere between desperation and…Cas refuses to let himself think ‘love’, not wanting to feed into his own false hope, but it’s something very close to it.

In spite of himself, he smiles, allowing Dean to take care of him as his eyes flutter shut one last time.

…  

When Cas comes to, he’s shirtless and carefully bandaged, though he doesn’t need it anymore;  his Grace heeled the wound over night.  Now, not even a scar remains.

He doesn’t have much time to pontificate on this, however, because Dean is beside him, asleep on the sofa, one arm draped over Castiel’s bare midsection and the other wrapped around a pillow, snoring softly.  

Cas watches him, too awed to say anything, for the better part of a half hour.  Not even Dean drooling on his pillow is enough to detract from the wonder of him being here.  The fact that he has, apparently, stayed with him throughout the night, his body pressed against his own.

And here Cas had been losing faith in miracles.  

After a while, Dean’s eyes flitter open, and he awakens with a startled snort as he realizes Cas is staring at him.  

Cas is about to apologize for staring, again, when Dean has expressed his desire for him not to, but Dean is only sitting up on his elbow, grinning stupidly at him and rubbing the drool off his chin.  

“Cas,” he half-chuckles, voice breathy and slightly awed.  “You’re alive.”

Cas nods sagely, grunting as he sits back on his pillow.  “I believe so, yes.”

“That’s…”  Dean trails off, laughing breathlessly.  “That’s awesome, man.  We didn’t think you were gonna make it for a while.  If you were human, that blow would’ve been-”  He trails off.  “I’m glad you’re here, man.”

Cas is barely listening at this point, still staring at Dean in quiet awe.

“You…stayed with me,”  he murmurs, Dean blinks, looking slightly taken aback by the statement:  it’s almost a question, the way Cas phrases it; the inquiry of why is evident in his voice.

“Of course I did, man.  We care about you,” he says, hand rubbing at the back of his neck.  “I care about you.”

Cas stares at him, expression unreadable.  Slowly, he nods.

They’re still lying there, on the sofa, bodies pressed close.  Dean is so warm, so soft and pliable against him, radiating the heat Castiel has craved for so long.

Cas wets his lips.  “Can we stay like this, just a little while?”  he asks, voice barely a whisper.  He doesn’t want to make Dean feel uncomfortable, but he wants this closeness so badly.  He never wants it to stop.

There’s a brief pause.  Dean swallows before he answers, “Sure, Cas.  Whatever you need, buddy.”

Cas smiles, tentatively resting his head against Dean’s shoulder.  He closes his eyes, not missing the way Dean leans into his touch, the contented sigh he breathes through his nose.  

And Cas knows, in that moment, that Dean’s wanted this too.  Maybe as much as Cas has, if that’s possible.

It only feels natural when Dean leans in for a kiss.  

12x10 coda based on Sam saying that Dean and Cas were ignoring each other in the kitchen every morning

Castiel wakes up alone. He rolls over in bed and sighs loudly as he runs a hand through his hair. He feels groggy and uncomfortable, just like he always does after he sleeps. It’s not natural for his body to rest, and even just a few hours of sleep makes his grace buzz beneath the surface of his skin like it’s been de-charged for too long. Still, he sleeps most nights.

Dean is in the kitchen hunched over his phone and furiously drinking a mug of coffee when Cas stumbles in several minutes later. He looks up from his phone just long enough to make eye contact before casting downward once again. It’s deliberate. Acknowledging Castiel’s presence to demonstrate that he’s purposely ignoring him. It’s something Castiel never would’ve recognized a few years ago.

“Hey, Cas,” Sam greets a little somberly as he goes straight to the coffee pot. “Sleep OK?”

Dean clears his throat.

“Fine, thank you,” Cas answers gruffly. 

Sam turns dramatically toward his brother. “How ‘bout you, Dean? Did you sleep OK?” he asks too loudly, obviously annoyed.

Dean grunts his response.

Sam and Cas share a look.

While Sam goes on a grocery run later that morning, Cas and Dean sit silently in the library together. Dean is on his laptop, and Cas is sitting directly across from him reading a book that might have pertinent information regarding cosmic deals.

“More coffee?” Dean asks as he picks up his own mug.

“Mm,” Cas responds without looking up from his book.

Dean takes it as a yes and grabs Cas’ empty mug. 

When he comes back two minutes later and sets Cas’ mug down, he briefly squeezes his shoulder before returning to his seat. Cas stupidly lifts his head and strains his neck up in anticipation of something that never comes. 

They continue on in silence. 

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it's you (that makes my heart beat)

The first letter appears when she is thirteen. She feels a burning sensation on her wrist, panic flaring at the sudden pain but it quickly turns to excitement when she sees the ink form into the shape of a T.


She shows her parents, happy at the thought of soon meeting her soulmate. The first thing she does is Google names with the letter T.


She’s fourteen when she meets Ty. He hasn’t gotten any letters yet and she’s not quite sure she loves him, yet. But it could be him. They date, she kisses him, she feels empty.


She asks her mom how she felt when she met her dad and She deflates when the lovesick poetic description of feeling complete and ethereal love. She’s never felt like that with Ty.


She’s fifteen and She knows it’s not him, he knows it’s not her. She hates the way his eyes light up when he meets her friend (teammate), Amanda. And she hates the look that mirrors Amanda. And they both still don’t have any letters but they are hanging out all the time. It doesn’t bother her until they start excluding her. It’s then when she no longer can live in denial.


It’s petty, she’s jealous and she does something stupid.


She sends the picture to Ty and it all comes crashing down. They fight, she can’t remember what’s said but she knows it’s harsh but what kills her is when he shows her the A on his wrist. But it’s what he says afterwards that completely breaks her.


“Hopefully you never meet your soulmate because you don’t deserve them.”


And it angers her so much because it’s true. She knocks his tooth out (they put it back).


That night a R appears after the T. It’s bittersweet she thinks as she feels asleep with tears in her eyes. She uses her watch to cover her wrist after that day and vows tip forget about her soulmate. 



Trini’s twelve when she gets the K. It’s bittersweet. 


She’s sitting at the dining table with her parents when she starts to feel like someone is dragging a razor across her skin. She lifts her sleeve up and jumps in astonishment as black ink begins to form a letter. Her parents watch in excitement with her and when the letter becomes clear they start spouting off names with the letter K; Kevin, Kyle, Karl. Trini’s heart breaks a little because she knows (hopes) that the name will be different. 


She thinks of Katie the cute girl who sits in front of her in English. Of Keisha who always smiles at her in the hallways. She wishes she could tell her parents. She wishes she could be honest. She wishes her parents would understand when she’s ready.


She brings Katie over for a study date. Katie who still hasn’t gotten any letters but has seen the K on her wrist and smiles often at her. Sometime later Katie leans over and lands a peck on her lips. Trini feels her face heat up. They go back to studying even though Trini can’t concentrate anymore. She can’t stop thinking about Katie’s soft lips. She can’t stop thinking about how nice it felt. She’s not sure if Katie is her soulmate but she wouldn’t mind kissing her again. 


They’ve been together for almost a year and Trini thinks she’s in love, she believes they might be soulmates. She feels the happiest she’s ever been. She still hasn’t told her parents but the suspicious looks her mother gives her makes her insides hurt. 


It’s when she’s thirteen that her world falls apart.


Katie comes in and She can tell that the girl is trying to contain her excitement but she’s bubbling with energy.


“I got my first letter.” Trini can tell the girl is trying (and failing) to sound disappointed.


It feels like her heart stutters. Katie reveals her wrist and a D is there flaring back at her.


“I’m sorry. Good luck with finding your soulmate.”


Trini never looks back up. Katie leaves and she doesn’t move. She feels empty in a way that it hurts. For the next week she refuses to go to school, refuses to answer her parents’ concerned questions and only eats the bare minimum. 


She gets an I following the K after that. But she’s numb, she doesn’t care. She could get a full name and still not be sure that she has found her soulmate. So many people share the same name. She’s not going to get hurt again. 


They move a month later.


She’s fourteen when her parents bring over Kaleb from church. She hates him. Hates the way his shirt is tucked into his jeans all nice and proper, hates how he addresses her parents as sir and ma'am, hates how he keeps trying to discreetly (and fails) glance at her bracelet covered wrist. She sees the T on his wrist and almost feels sorry for him. She ignores him throughout dinner as her parents encourage (push) her to converse with him.


“You’re wasting your time.” Trini finally mumbles without looking up but the silence that follows tells her that the whole table heard.


Her mother excuses her little brothers who take the chance and run to their room.


“I’m not your soulmate.” She finally looks at the boy.  She shows him her wrist, the two letters causing a delusury burning (she wishes she could rip her skin off), relief crosses his face and Trini scoffs.


“What are you waiting for, you know where the door is?” She pushes her plate away, not that she has ate much.  


“Trini that’s no way to treat our guest.” Her mom scolds her with a glare as Kaleb shifts uncomfortably in his seat, itching to get out of this place (just like Trini). 


“Why didn’t you tell us?” Her father presses gently.


It’s eating at her and if she holds it any longer she’ll drown. It comes from the back of her throat before she can think of the repercussions.


“Because I’m gay!”


Kaleb leaves after that. Her nightmares come true, her mom starts yelling at her amd she sits their unresponsive which only serves to fuel her mother’s anger. She yells at her for embarrassing her in front of a guest, for hiding things, and for saying nonsense. But what hurts more than her mother’s anger is the silence and look of disappointment from her father.


They move within three days.


The silence continues on her behalf. She didn’t think it could hurt more. But then her mother starts spouting off names again. Kirk, Killian, Kile. She starts avoiding dinners.


It’s not hard to find someone who deals. She does it to piss her mom off. She does it to forget. To feel something other than pain. The first time she smokes weed she has a coughing fit and wonders how the hell someone can like this shit. But eventually she gets the hang of it. She’s floating in a euphoric high, nothing can touch her.


Her vice (escape) only lasts a few months before her mom catches her. Finds a joint while snooping through her stuff. They threaten to send her to rehab. They move again.


Her mother’s questions continue but now a monthly urine test is added to the conversations. She stops if just to get her mother off her back. But she wonders what her  next vice will be.


At times when she’s showering, she considers grabbing the razor and dragging it across her wrist destroying the letters that only seem to bring her problems. But she can never being herself to do it.


She considers getting a tattoo to cover it. She knows a guy who’ll do it even though she’s a minor. She makes an appointment, shows up. It’s really sketchy, in his living room but he pulls out a brand new clean needle but before he can bring the needle to her skin she retracts. She needs to know the full mame first, know that her mother is wrong and that she’s not confused.


But she feels bad wasting this guys time so instead she opts for something different. She ends up getting a black and yellow sabre tooth tiger on her left shoulder. She knows her parents would kill her if they ever find out but that thought encourages her to go through with it. It stings in a way similar to when she got her letters.


She’s fifteen when her parents decide to move again. Destination: Angel Grove.


She doesn’t hate it as much as she thought she would. Her new vice becomes tai chi and heavy metal.


Not long after she turns 15 she gets her third letter. She sitting in the back row of her biology classroom when the familiar stinging sensation bolts her from her thoughts. The letter M appears and her breath catches as she glances up to look at the girl sitting a few seats ahead of her. Former head cheerleader fallen from grace, that’s as much as Trini knows.


It could be her or there could be different name on the girl’s wrist. Trini doesn’t want to know. 


She books it from class as soon as the bell rings and heads for the cliff. She runs, what’s the point of knowing her soulmate if her parents will force her to move eventually.


That night she meets the group of misfits. She thinks she dies but somehow wakes up alive and well in her bed the next morning. She wonders for a few minutes which option would’ve been better.


The day gets weirder but besides getting pulled over a cliff by none other than Kimberly Hart, the girl does not seem to act any different around her. Trini buries the disappointment and deems that the girl is not her soulmate.


And that thought is what makes her not run away and actually form a cautious friendship with Kimberly. Any doubts she has quickly fade, being around Kim is easy. She hasn’t felt quite is relaxed like this in a long time. She thinks she doesn’t need her soulmate when she has her friends, when she has Kim.



Kim can’t help but think it would be so easy if Jason Scott was her soulmate. He’s caring and kind but she has absolutely no romantic feelings for him. She has a T and an R on her wrist, and he has a W on one wrist and a Z on the other. He doesn’t talk about it, she doesn’t ask but she tells him everything and it helps that he forgives her for what she’s done considering she still hasn’t managed to forgive herself.


She grows closer to the rangers but closer to Trini. The girl whose like a grumpy cat but if she likes you, you’re one of the lucky ones. She’s not sure when it happens but they’re at the donut shop and it hits her. She doesn’t feel lonely anymore. 


Rita happens and she doesn’t have much time to dwell on her feelings. She hasn’t felt anger as heavy as when she sees the marks on Trini’s neck and she knows that when she gets the chance she’ll make Rita regret ever laying a hand on Trini.


Billy dies, Billy comes back to life and Rita gets bitch slapped into space. Things seem to finally be settling down.


They are all still friends and Trini’s still there. Kim can’t help but think how lucky she is to have her in her life, and she’ll do whatever she can to deserve her friendship.


A few weeks after the Goldar incident and Kim finds herself sitting on Trini’s couch for a Netflix marathon. Trini’s parents are out of town visiting family for the weekend and the boys had plans to work on Jason’s truck, which makes Kim glad she can spend some alone time with Trini.


3 things happen at once.


One: Trini reaches leans forward towards the popcorn and her sleeveless shirt shifts and Kimberly catches sight of yellow and black saber tooth tiger on her left shoulder. She feels her mouth go dry, stomach tighten and a slight throb between her legs. Her face heats up as she realizes she’s turned on by discovering that Trini has a tattoo. It hits her that she’s attracted to her best friend.


Two: the familiar burning sensation on her wrist comes. She moves her watch slightly to see a new letter begin to form. An I. Her heartbeat is so loud she hears it thumping in her ears. It’s like being thrown in cold water and she wonders how she never considered the possibility that the girl in front of her could be her soulmate. She looks at Trini and wonders if she knows, if she has any letters. It’s that moment that all the feelings she has been experiencing lately begin to make sense.


Three: as Trini reaches for the popcorn bowl her bracelets on her left hand shift and Kimberly catches sight of the three letters marking the skin. She freezes and her blood runs cold. Thoughts race through her head. Trini knew and never told her and there has to be a reason for that. She doesn’t want her, why else keep it a secret.


She goes through a rollercoaster of emotions in the span of a few seconds. Arousal, joy, (it’s a goal high) and then the hurt (a goal low). And it really fucking hurts knowing that your soulmate doesn’t want you, that you don’t deserve them.


She stands abruptly, the tv control falling to the wooden floor with a clash.


“Kim?” Trini turns to her with worry.


She runs.

I Know Your Wife (She Wouldn’t Mind) - Part Twelve

Summary: You fly out for Asylum and meet up with the rest of the cast, only to find out that you have to do your first ever solo panel in front of two thousand fans
Words: 4.4k (+ tweets)
Jared x Reader x Gen, Misha, Kim, Briana, Danneel, Jensen, JJ
Warnings: smut-ish phone calls, mild angst, fluff
Beta: @blacksiren

IKYW Masterpost

Originally posted by yourfavoritedirector

Your name: submit What is this?

In-flight wifi was a God sent gift on the flight to London.

Despite appearing calm and feeling tired, you couldn’t get to sleep for the first few hours due to anxious energy.

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conflicted || clay jensen

prompt: 13reasonswhy16q7w asked: Your recent imagine was so good I was wondering if you could write one with clay were he slowly starts to fall in love with the reader but has a hard time with it because he feels like it’s wrong because of everything with Hannah but he gives in :)

warnings: swearing

a/n: hannah is alive in this imagine ! also i have about 3 more 13rw requests, im pretty excited i hope i can get them done. as always feedback is appreciated and requests are open


Clay had met you at the Crestmont Movie Theater. You had walked in alone and ordered a small popcorn with a drink. Clay had used Hannah’s trick and only put butter on the top of the popcorn. And soon enough, in the middle of the movie, you had came out and asked for more butter. You and Clay had started talking while Hannah was witnessing it. It turns out you were new to Crestmont, and had only moved there 2 weeks ago.

Once you said your goodbyes and gave Clay your number, Hannah had began to tease Clay. “You totally did the butter thing, which was a good idea. She’s really cute.” Hannah claimed, leaving Clay’s face a tomato red. So the next Monday, you started going to Liberty High and where you ran into none other than Clay Jensen. “Hey.” You greeted him with a bright smile on your face, leading to butterflies forming in Clay’s stomach. “Hey Y/N.” He greeted with an equally bright smile.

“So you come here now?” Clay asked, trying to make the situation less awkward. “Yes I do Jensen, and I was hoping you could give me a tour of the school.” You hinted, giving Clay a playful nudge. Clay let out a laugh before bringing his arm, motioning towards. “Shall we get started madam?” He asked to which you let out a laugh. As Clay gave you a tour of the school, he couldn’t help but notice your features. How you genuinely listened to him and smiled and laugh at his dumb jokes, especially his Star Wars ones. God he was developing feelings for you.

“Fuck.” Clay muttered but you heard him. “Something wrong?” You asked, Clay giving you a smile and reassuring you nothing was wrong. But something was wrong. Clay had always liked Hannah, and they were on good terms. Hannah may have even liked him back, but once you came into the picture he couldn’t help but feel his heart stop when he saw you smile. But Clay pushed away his feelings, brushing them off as a small crush and was nothing serious.

After a course of 2 months, Clay’s feelings for you had grown greatly, to the point where he couldn’t even speak without stuttering. “You’re more nervous than usual.” You pointed out, as you and Clay walked home. For once he didn’t have that god damn bike. “What d-do you m-mean? I-I’m cool.” He replied, leaving to laugh. The two of you continued to walk in silence, until you spoke up. “So how are you and Hannah? You guys are a great couple.” Clay stopped walking. “Oh, Hannah and I aren’t a couple.” Clay clarified and you laughed. “Really, I could’ve sworn you guys were.”

“We’re not though. Hannah and I are kinda drifting apart, I realized I liked another girl. Hannah doesn’t know though. It seems wrong.” Clay explained and you nodded your head. “Do I know the girl?” You ask, the two of you still walking. “Pretty well.” Clay answers, laughing softly. Clay started thinking, would Hannah really minded if he and Y/N started dating? The three of them are best friends, and Clay would always tell Hannah everything, so Clay took a chance.

“Y/N, can I tell you something?” Clay asked and you turned to face him. “Of cou-” But you were cut off by Clay pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was passionate and long, so when the two of you both pulled away, you were both trying to catch your breath. “What the hell, who would’ve thought Clay Jensen liked me.” You smirked. “Well you’re pretty amazing.” Clay then walked you home and then off he went to his house and texted Hannah some good news.

His ||Jungkook|| 0.4

Member: Jungkook x Reader

Type: Angst, Fluff, Smut.

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Seoulmates (Mark Tuan Soulmate AU)

Request: Could you do a Mark Tuan soulmate au fic please? I am absolute trash for them

Member: Got7′s Mark x Y/N

Type: Fluff


“Why are you trying to cover it up?” your mother sighed, folding another sweater before placing it into your suitcase. 

“Because,” you grumbled, pawing through your underwear drawer. You were in no mood for her prying. 

“That’s not an answer, Y/N,” she sighed, halting her folding to cross her arms. She tilted her head as she stared at you, expecting for your voice to break the silence. 

She was sorely mistaken. 

You continued your methodical work, plucking out your favorite undies and tossing them toward you bed. 

“It’s going to be the first words he ever says to you, Y/N,” she said solemnly. 

You rolled your eyes before spinning around and mirroring the same look she was giving you, but directed back at her. “Or she. Or it. Really one never knows.”

“Oh, stop being obnoxious,” she grumbled, picking up a t-shirt and beginning to fold. 

“Learned from the best,” you muttered. 

“What was that young lady?” your mother snapped in stereotypical matronly fashion. “Your father and I were kind enough to pay for this study abroad trip, we can also be stern enough to take it back.” 

You continued folding in silence before sitting down, opening the very strategically placed rip in your jeans. You saw the dark outline of the words tattooed onto your skin that would determine your entire future. 

It was odd how the universe chose to work. 

How through time, nature took over things, things as complicated as soulmates. In middle school, most everyone’s parents had explained the idea of soulmates to them, or at least how they pertained to your lives. Shortly after hitting puberty, your bodies began to change. One very distinct change, was the black script that began to appear on your skin. The first words your soulmate would ever speak to you. 

And that’s how you would know. 

The words appeared anywhere on the body. You remembered laughing when your friends had to search for them. You recalled the moment when your father had to tug up his shirt to show you his, strategically placed on his lower back. “Do you want to split a fry?”  And you remembered the smile on your mothers face when you saw her tattoo on her shoulder that read “I’ll split anything with you sweetheart.” 

You sighed to yourself, fingering the hole in your jeans, moving it from side to side as you looked to your skin. 

“Please stay quiet.”

You wondered if your soulmate’s skin just read “…”


“You need to talk to more girls hyung, that’s your problem,” BamBam muttered, plopping onto the practice room floor. 

“Or boys,” Jackson nodded. “Why limit yourself?” He touched Jinyoung’s hand lightly, causing the younger boy to roll his eyes. 

“Or just remain silent, say nothing to anyone,” Jinyoung grumbled. 

“Aigoo, you love me!” Jackson gasped, setting his chin on Jinyoung’s shoulder and batting his eyelashes. He reached over, tracing the faint words on Jinyoung’s wrist. 

“Really, Bam is right,” JInyoung sighed. “You can’t complain if you refuse to speak to anyone.”

“How did you find your soulmate?” Mark asked, turning  to Jaebum. He was exasperated with the boys in front of him. Of course JInyoung and Jackson had found each other, but Youngjae and Jaebum had already found their soulmates as well. BamBam and Yugyeom were still on the hunt, making sure to speak to as many people as possible. 

“At the bookstore,” Jaebum sighed, scrolling through his phone. “She was trying to buy the last copy of The Great Gatsby. I told her she could borrow it once I was through.” 

“I bet she loved that,” Youngjae giggled. 

Jaebum smirked, holding up his forearm to the rest of the boys. The tight script read “Prick.” 

“Yeah, she loved that,” BamBam giggled, rolling his eyes. “What does your arm even say?”

Mark sighed, looking fondly down at his tanned arm. He held it close to his chest before looking up at the younger member. “You’ve seen it before, stop asking.”

“Aish! I’ve never seen the whole thing!” BamBam complained. 

“Good,” Mark nodded, furrowing his eyebrows. “You would probably tell everyone in Seoul and I’d have a thousand soulmates.”

“Hahah, a thousand…seoul-mates?” Yugyeom cackled. “Get it hyung? Like Seoul, because that’s where we live and-”

“Yes,” Mark grumbled. “I get it.” 


You wandered the streets of Seoul, a dorky smile plastered to your face. You had waited so long to be on this study abroad trip, it felt surreal that you were even there. 

You took in a deep breath, enjoying the scents of the bakeries and restaurants around you. You felt like you were walking on air as your feet hit the pavement. Turning your head from side to side, you contemplated which shop you would visit next. 

You heard the sound before you saw them coming. What seemed to be a stampede of teen girls followed a young man, not much older than you were. Breezing toward you in a hurricane of shrieks and giggles, you were rendered motionless, glued to your spot as they headed toward you. It had to have been a Korean pop idol, this was the only explanation for a spectacle such as this. 

The man heading up the group caught you by the shoulder, spinning you toward a nearby alley as he turned. Your back landed with a thud against the brick of the building, flattening your body to it. He flattened himself beside you, bringing his fingers to his lips as he looked at you with wide eyes. 

“Please stay quiet.”

You felt a wave of shock, relief, and fireworks erupt all at once. When you had originally seen those words painted so intricately on your thigh, you assumed they would have been said in a classroom setting, perhaps a library. They would be said by someone who was irritated by you, someone who genuinely didn’t care to hear your voice in whatever situation you were in. 

But this…this was nothing against you. Your heart began to race as you stared at the young man’s face, almost glowing underneath the patchwork of sunshine filtering down the alleyway. He remained still, watching the street anxiously as the group of girls rushed by, convinced they were still following him. 

“Popular with the ladies?” you whispered, just as the last female struggled behind the crowd. 

He let out a soft chuckle, but quickly turned silent. He looked up at you, his eyes wide with realization. 

“Hardly,” he breathed. He pushed off from the wall, turning to get a better look at you. His breathing remained short as he searched your face, for what, you were unsure. 

After a few moments, he bit his lip and began to tug up on his sweater sleeve. After he had rolled the fabric up to his elbow, he looked back up to you with a kind grin. 

“Popular with the ladies,” you read, your eyes tracing across the dark font on his arm. “I’m sure your friends never let you live that down.”

“Not many know,” he chuckled, sliding the sleeve back down. “I can’t imagine reading ‘please stay quiet’ everyday of my young adult life.”

“Honestly I thought my soulmate was my teacher,” you laughed. “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Mark,” the man nodded, looking up at you through his lashes. “Very much not your teacher.”

Originally posted by mayfifolle

crescendotayuri  asked:

for those "things you said" prompts, how about otayuri #12? :)

I’m sorry that it took so long but I had to make it longer to be satisfied with the ending lol


12) Things you said when you thought I was asleep.

Yuri had fallen asleep sometime during the movie and Otabek stopped paying attention to the movie around the same time Yuri’s head fell from the back of the couch to Otabek’s shoulder.

Otabek, thinking Yuri was still awake and was being playful, laughed and shrugged his shoulder once or twice until it was evident that he was very deeply asleep when Yuri’s whole body shifted and his head fell on Yuri’s lap. Otabek went still as Yuri stirred. Not much though, since he obviously didn’t know his face was nuzzling into Otabek’s thigh.

The suggestive position of their bodies made Otabek infinitely thankful that it was Saturday and Yuri’s grandpa was out shopping.

Otabek still couldn’t move though, not without waking his friend, who was sleeping on his lap.

So he sat there for the rest of the movie, sat through the credits, and even after it, not wanting to get up and wake Yuri up, looking very much like a little kitten. A sleeping tiger, more like.

“So cute…” Otabek murmured to himself, stroking the blonde hair splayed across his lap.

Otabek sat there for a little while longer staring at Yuri’s sleeping form, when he heard keys jingle and the front door open. Panic spiked through Otabek as Nikolai Plisetsky walking into the room, arms full of shopping bags and paused at the sight of his grandson lying on top of Otabek with his head in his lap.

Nikolai stared at him, his face neutral, not showing anything at all, no uncomfortableness, no anger, no embarrassment, only the slightest bit of shock as far as Otabek could tell.

Otabek stared back, trying not to incriminate himself for something he was doing. In hopes of clearing the air before any conclusions were jumped to. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he blurted and promptly berated himself for picking a starter that couldn’t possibly be more cliché. In an effort to seem to compose, he tried to keep a neutral face like the man across the room was. “Um…”

To his surprise, Nikolai burst into laughter. He put the bags down quickly and laughed full-bodied, clutching his stomach is barely stifled laughs which lasted very long moment for Otabek who was sitting on the couch bewildered at Nikolai’s reaction. After he sobered, he looked at the two on the couch with a conspirator’s smile.

“He fell asleep during the movie and I didn’t want to wake him,” Otabek explained.

If anything, it only made Nikolai’s eyes crinkle with mirth. “I can see that,” he said, and after a moment’s silence, he continued, “He’s very much like a cat, isn’t he?”

Otabek finally realised he wasn’t going to be told off by Nikolai for having his grandson’s head in his lap and visibly relaxed. “Yeah.”

“Don’t worry about helping with my shopping it’s only a little and I can handle it.” Nikolai somehow sensed his uncomfortable-ness at Otabek’s inability to help him at the moment, after having the boy come over for dinner and sleep over some nights Nikolai knew how politeness and courtesy were ingrained in Otabek’s mind as a priority. “Besides, Yuratchka used to do that a lot when he was a child.” The old man sighed fondly and chuckled to himself like he had a secret, busying himself in the kitchen.

Yuri shifted a little and straightened his body along the couch, they’d sat huddled together in the centre and so the small couch wasn’t long enough for Yuri’s long legs, dangling over the arm. His hand came up to press on Otabek’s thigh which sent tingles up and down his leg.

As Yuri huffed, finally settling down again, Otabek just looked at his friend’s face in front of him, softened by sleep. His closed eyes looked very different than when he was Constantly Pissed At Everyone or excitable chatting away about something to his grandpa or Otabek, and who found it very sweet, that Yuri felt comfortable enough to just non-stop talk to someone like him, let alone sleep on his lap.

“Were you boys okay while I was gone?” asked Nikolai, snapping Otabek out of his thoughts.

“Yeah, we watched a movie and Yura got some snacks for us.”

“‘Yura’?” Nikolai sat on an armchair on his right.

Otabek blushed at the realisation of his slip up. “Um yeah, he made me call him that when he copied my younger sister and started calling me ‘Beka’ and I hadn’t started calling him ‘Yura’.” Otabek smiled with fond exasperation at the memory.

“Yuri… He’s a good friend to you. Right? You know he talks about you often.” Nikolai smiled again.

Otabek perked up a little with the mention of how close they were and laughed a little, trying to dance his way around their very close relationship and nodded making a sound of agreement. It’s not as close as Otabek would have like, but he’d been pushing inch by inch in an effort to become closer to the boy he’d been admiring for so long.

“How do you feel about him?”

Otabek was suspecting that question was going to come up. It was still a little bit of a shock that Yuri’s grandpa would be so forward about it. He looked back down at the sleeping boy in his lap, playing with the inside of his cheek, thinking of a reply.

“He’s… my best friend.” Otabek avoided looking at Yuri’s grandpa, opting to focus on the smooth shoulder length hair Yura insisted on growing out. It suited him, in Otabek’s opinion. Or maybe he just had a thing for Yura’s hair no matter how he wore it.  When Yura tied his hair up, he looked so fierce and striking, when he had it down, he looked so calm and just beautiful. Otabek smiled at the image in his head.

Nikolai just sat there looking at him, studying his face for something.

“And I care about him a lot.” Otabek dared to lift his hand and lay it gently on Yura’s head stroking his knuckles down the blonde hair, and then his pale skin.

After a moment’s silence, Yuri’s grandpa spoke up. “But you do have feelings for him a little deeper than that don’t you?”

Otabek blinked and looked at Nikolai with eyes flaring in a slight panic.

But the old man only chuckled and said, “I could tell a mile away, boy. You smile at the back of his head too much, try doing it when he’s actually looking at you.” Nikolai was laughing again. “How long have you liked my Yuratchka, Otabek?”

“A few months, now,” Otabek replied, quietly. His cheeks felt warm from the secret he’d just admitted.

As Nikolai questioned him some more and Otabek answered, he found there was comfort in admitting his actions out loud, in front of the object of his affection, while knowing that he wouldn’t actually hear them, being asleep and all.

Otabek told him the things he did behind Yuri’s back in an effort to get closer to him. The things he set up before they were due to meet up, the way he stood closer to Yuri than all the other skaters at the rink sometimes, the way he walked with him to the store even though he wasn’t going to buy anything, Otabek just really enjoyed Yura’s company. Even when Otabek sent those cheesy “Send this to bae” memes or those “I love you like I love pizza” snaps, trying to hint at Yura how he felt about him, passing it off as an over-the-top best friend thing.

When he finished, he turned his eyes away from the window and back at Yuri’s grandpa, who was looking at him strangely.

“See?” Nikolai smirked after a moment, and that conspirator’s smile came back as he looked down at his grandson, who was lying very still. “I told you he liked you back.”

Otabek blinked again as he looked down to see Yuri, whose hands were still in contact with Otabek’s thigh (even if there was a layer of clothing to block the heat of his palm on Otabek’s leg, he was still very aware of every movement it made), his eyes very open and wide-awake.

“Oh my god,” Otabek managed.

Yura turned his head, trying to cover his face with his hair out of habit, but that only rubbed his face more against Otabek’s thigh. They realised at the same time and Otabek heard Nikolai laugh some more in the background at both their faces reddening, Yuri had practically leapt into an upright position, posture rigid and uncomfortable under the eyes of his grandpa and Otabek.

Silence settled on all of them like the glitter in a snow globe, thicker and thicker after every half a second passed.

“Wait,” Otabek started, inwardly cringing at how loud his voice sounded to his ears and turn to Yuri, “He said that— that I liked you ‘back’?”

Yura dipped his head down and tried to hide his face with his hair, but it was Nikolai who spoke first, coughing loudly and disturbing the soft silence, still smiling. “I’ll leave you two to sort things out.”

Otabek looked next to him at Yura who was giving his grandpa a why-did-you-tell-him look, who only replied, “What! You asked me to.” Nikolai teased, walking out of the room.

Yuri let out a panicked squeak and turned his head to gauge Otabek’s reaction to the scene unfolding in front of him.

Otabek was still processing it all, still in denial that he’d just poured out all his feeling for him when Yura was listening.

“Beka? You’re not mad at before setting it up are you?” Yuri asked, allowing himself to be vulnerable again.

Otabek shook his head numbly. “I’m- I’m still in shock that you like me back, ha, haa…”

Yura scooted closer back to Otabek’s side and propped his forehead on Beka’s shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief.

“If anything, I’d expect you to be mad at me for all the things I did behind your back—“

“Shush, if I had a crush on you for half the amount of time you held out, I think I would have been too impatient to be subtle.”

“Yura, I can’t believe you dumped your face on my lap.” Otabek started shaking with laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation. After a moment, he sobered and turned to Yuri, looking at him with a hopeful searching smile on his face. “Do you really like me?”

He nodded, “Yeah, thought something was up, with all the situations that we ended up in whenever we hung out,” laughing a little and paused, uncertainty showing in his eyes and the way he worried his lip, “Um, Beka, now that- um, now that, like, we know… and stuff… um..”

“Yes, Yura?”

“Can- can I- like…” Yura’s brow furrowed all of a sudden and shook his head sharply. “Fuck it.”

Yura lurched forward to kiss Otabek square on the lips, shoving his face behind Beka’s shoulder and squealing a playful whine.

Beka nudged him back up, loving how the afternoon light made the green in his eyes glow just a little more. And kissed him back.

Yura spent the rest of the afternoon lying on top of Otabek, loving their new level of proximity and teasing Beka for all the times, he’d try to hint at his crush, Beka teasing him just as bad for all the now-obvious times he’d absolutely and utterly missed his cue.

The Art of Falling in Love

Originally posted by minhyunq

Pairing: Mark x reader
Genre: fluff, high school!au, bad girl!au 
Warnings: some language, underage drinking
Word count:  6,786


“I can’t believe you skipped school! Again!” your mother yelled furiously as she paced back and forth in the living room; she was fuming. Your eyes were focused on a loose thread on your carpet, hands behind your back. After promising not to skip school, here you stood, getting your ass scolded. 

You didn’t know how your mother put up with your antics, and truth be told you commended her patience and the fact that she still loved you after all that. It’s not that you were a bad person. It was just that, you could say you didn’t like living by the norms. Thus, that made you a very rebellious teen. Despite the young of your age you’ve lost count of the many rebellious things you’ve done; you still vividly remembered that one time you took a train to Busan all by yourself without any notice. 

Keep reading

“Sorry for not believing in you“

(A/N): I‘ve always wanted to write a soulmate AU, so this is a big deal for my crippling author career. Enjoy x 

Words: 2,062

Originally posted by tylerandthejosephs

The air is like frozen lace on your skin, delicate and cold. The sky is washed with grey, watery light illuminating thin patches to brilliance. That special cold and pale light, only the winter‘s sun can give, makes everything glow with slippery ice. It‘s the perfect day for staying home but sadly, you had to work today. You‘re seated at the bus stop with both arms crossed over your chest, hugging your body, as if that could provide you with some kind of warmth. 

All of sudden you see a woman getting dragged by her poodle towards another dog owner across the street and as expected, they collide. The man has lost his hat due to the incident, causing a royal blue strand on his head to become visible and remarkably stand out from the rest of his hair. Instantly noticing the phenomenon, the lady lets a loud gasp escape her lips and urgently draws the guy‘s attention to her streak of hair, that coincidentally has the exact same pigment as his. The next thing that happens is acted out just like in the movies, the lovers jump into each other‘s arms and share a passionate kiss as they pull away. At the same time, the royal blue pieces of hair from each one of them loose their colour and blend into the rest. Eventually, it seems like the scenery has turned out to be the complete opposite of a simple coincidence. Oh, the things you‘d do to finally experience the same spectacle…When will it finally be your turn to find your soulmate?

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The Joyride - Part 1 (Jason Todd x Reader)

A/N: Have some angst? Sorry I haven’t been posting so much lately! I’m trying to find time to do so! Have more Jason! I promise I’ll write more for the others as well! If you’re from the UK or somewhere that drives opposite the way Americans do, then you should picture the left! You’ll know what I mean when you get there!
Warnings: Angst, somewhat graphic description of injury
Tagging: @solis200213 @pinkwitch21 @tigeragathe @gokusanfan @just-a-girl-maybe @queen-of-all-the-fandoms @neverlandprincessjaz

Part One // Part Two // Part Three

You lay awake next to Jason, staring up at the ceiling. The Gotham air was hot and sticky, and your sheets and night-clothes clung to your skin. You listened to the ceiling fan spinning above you, how the pull chain for the light clicked softly against the fixture as it swung. The soft hum of the spinning blades was calming, and you felt it fan the warm air down onto the bed. The soft electronic beep of the digital clock on the bedside marked the start of another hour.

You sighed softly, and turned your head to face Jason. “Are you awake too?” you asked in a hushed tone.

Jason hummed in response and rolled closer to you. He wrapped his strong arms around your smaller frame, and you clicked your tongue at how the humidity made your skin stick to his. “Can’t sleep?” he murmured, his lips pressed against your neck.

“Yeah,” you sighed in response, draping one arm over his neck and tangling your other hand in his hair. The heat of your bodies pressed together on the summer night was uncomfortable, but you didn’t mind so much.

“Me neither,” he said, speaking slowly. He pressed a series of soft, loving kisses to your jawline. “Wanna do something?”

“Like what?” you asked, humming slightly as he kissed your jaw.

“We could go out for a ride or something,” he suggested, rolling onto his back and taking you with him.

“That sounds nice,” you agreed, sighing contently as you rested your head against his chest. You listened to his heart, beating steadily, and felt the rise and fall of his chest. You remembered the pain you’d felt when he had been dead, and the gratitude you’d felt upon his return. The gratitude you still felt every time you saw him, every time you considered how lucky you were to have him.

“Earth to (Y/N),” Jason said, pulling you from your straying thoughts. “We should go and get ready if we’re gonna go for that ride, okay?”

“Okay,” you responded, rolling off of Jason’s chest and getting out of bed. You went over to the closet and changed into clothing suitable for a motorcycle ride, and Jason did the same.
Neither of you spoke, and the buzz of the ceiling fan provided the background noise in the small, dark room as you both prepared to go out. Once you were ready, you made your way over to Jason, who waited, leaning in the doorway.

“Ready to go?” he asked, smirking down at you ever so slightly.

“Ready when you are, Jay,” you replied, smiling in return.

You walked out of the small apartment together, Jason locking the door behind you. You went down the stairway and soon you were outside. The warm nighttime air was somewhat refreshing, although Gotham’s pollution meant that the air always smelled ever so slightly like monoxide from cars.

You got to the place where Jason liked to park his motorcycle and donned your helmets. You had never expected Jason to be a safety-first kind of guy, but he was strict on the fact that you wore a helmet and the right kind of clothes if he ever took you out on a ride. You found it quite endearing.

You got onto the motorcycle after Jason and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your feet on the foot pegs.

Jason started the bike, and the engine came humming to life. “Ready, babe?” he asked, making sure he didn’t startle you when he started moving.

“Yep,” you confirmed leaning forward into his back, the leather of both your jackets brushing together.

From there, you took off, speeding quickly down the streets of downtown Gotham.

You smiled in excitement as you felt the warm wind whip against the small sections of exposed skin near your wrists and neck, and you felt the road underneath you pass by smoothly.

You watched in amazement, and fell a little bit further in love as Jason shifted his hands and feet on the handlebar and driver’s pedals to adjust to your surroundings and the texture of the road. You could practically see his brow furrowing in confident concentration.

A few minutes later you were cruising on a relatively open freeway. Only a few other cars shared the road with you. The lights around you blurred together in streaks of yellow and red against the dark blue of the night skyline.

Every once in a while Jason would shift lanes, weaving in and out of the dotted lines skillfully. The silence between the two of you was a comfortable one, and you found a strange mix of comfort and exhilaration. Comfort at Jason’s strong presence in front of you, and your arms around his torso, and exhilaration at the loud buzz of the motorcycle and the streaks of lights that whizzed through your line of sight at a million miles an hour.

You’d been riding comfortable for a while when you noticed Jason’s body tense slightly more than usual. You weren’t sure why, but suddenly you had a bad feeling in your gut. You assured yourself it was nothing, and continued to maintain the silence between you.

Jason shifted over to the right side of the road and suddenly you realized what the issue was. Out of one of the the rear view mirrors that were attached to the handlebars you saw a pickup truck coming up fast behind you.

Your hold around Jason’s waist tightened in anxiety, and your gloved fingers dug into the leather of his jacket.

“We’re gonna be fine, baby.”

You could barely make out Jason’s voice over the sound of the engine and the other cars, but you nodded your head as best you could with the helmet on, hoping that he recognized your sign of acknowledgment.

The pickup truck accelerated so that it matched your speed and for a few minutes it travelled next to you, seemingly inconspicuous.

The next thing you knew, it was shifting into your lane, pushing you closer and closer to the barrier that was on the right side of the road.

“What the hell is this guy doing?” Jason yelled, trying to slow down to allow the truck into the lane. It decelerated along him, however, and continued to push you into the barrier that separated the road from a nasty looking tangle of trees.

“What the fuck?” Jason cried out, and decided to go faster to try to slip away.

You clung onto him tightly as you accelerated rapidly.

Once again, the driver of the truck decided to follow, and Jason slowed down to normal speed in reluctant compliance, deciding that if this had to happen then it would hurt a hell of a lot less at a slower speed.

“Damnit!” he cursed as you were pushed all the way into the guardrail, and sparks flew as the metal of the bike scraped roughly against the stone barrier.
For the tiniest instant, the pickup truck driver seemed to ease up again, and shift back out into the left side, but before Jason could take the opportunity, it was crushed.

The truck sideswiped you, and hard.

The motorcycle collided violently with the guardrail, and you felt your body jerk as you collided with it.

By some miracle, Jason had managed to angle the motorcycle to stay on the road, but he was quickly losing control of the bike.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Jason cussed, as you skidded once again against the barrier. You felt like it was happening in slow motion.

You saw Jason’s hands being torn away from the handgrips as sparks flew all around you and chunks of shrapnel soared through the air.

The instant dragged out for what felt like minutes, but soon time caught up to you, and you saw concrete flying towards your face, or maybe you were flying towards the concrete. You heard a loud crack as the face shield of your helmet hit the pavement and your body collided horizontally with the road.

Everything was hazy as Jason slowly awoke. He felt concrete underneath him and his head hurt like hell. In a strange daze, Jason slowly sat up and removed his helmet, trying to see his surroundings through bleary eyes. He could hear his own heartbeat as well as the blood rushing through his veins. Everything echoed strangely.

His vision cleared up slightly, and he could see what was around him. He could see that his bike was trashed, ripped into chunks of smoking metal, and he could see blood on the road. That was strange. Blood on the road? He wasn’t bleeding.

A slow realization dawned on him, and he felt a pit form in his stomach. He felt useless as he crawled towards the wreckage of the bike, unable to make himself stand. He tried to call out your name, but his voice failed him. It was dark, and the only light by which he could see was a street light a small distance away.

He saw a small form lying in the road just a few feet ahead, and he forced himself to get to it– get to you– as fast as he could.

You were lying face down in the road, your limbs splayed out at awkward angles. The fiberglass of your helmet was scratched up badly. Your clothes were ripped and torn and blood soaked several sections of your clothing.

Jason’s heart dropped. He couldn’t tell if you were even alive anymore. Gently, he removed your helmet, careful not to jostle your body. But then again, for all he knew, there was nothing but a corpse in his arms. He was relieved to find your face was mostly unscathed, with only a few minor scratches and bruises here and there.Carefully and slowly, he peeled away your torn and bloodied jacket. The lacerations he found underneath made him cringe. There were bone deep cuts and pieces of skin that had been torn, and places where he couldn’t tell where the cuts stopped and the thick streams of blood started.

His first instinct was to cry out. To cry out for help, because for the first time in a long time he was willing to set aside his pride and scream for help. But he knew better than to waste his voice crying out into deafening traffic.

With a shaking hand, he reached into his pocket to find his cellphone. His fingers wrapped around the small device as he pulled it from his pocket. The screen had cracked but was still useable, and he dialed nine-one-one from the emergency call screen.

They picked up almost immediately, and Jason managed to choke out his location so that they could send an ambulance.

The phone slipped from his fingers as he finished the call and clattered to the asphalt below.

His hand hovered above your mouth, and to his relief he felt short and shallow breaths. You were still alive. ‘But for how long?’ he thought, hopelessness clouding his thoughts.

No. He couldn’t afford to think that way. Not in this situation.

He wasn’t sure how long it took for the ambulance to arrive. All he knew was that it had finally gotten there, and every second it took felt like a second too long when he held your bruised and bloodied body in his arms.

The minute the paramedics had reached him they were asking him too many questions about things he was too dazed to remember and taking you out of his arms and onto a gurney.

Jason allowed a paramedic to guide him into the ambulance and suddenly the stress his body was under finally set in as the adrenaline wore off. He was dizzy and a newfound nausea had him leaning over a bucket with an emergency responder holding his hair out of his face.

He barely registered what was happening as the doors of the ambulance were shut and the vehicle started moving. He blinked as someone shone a flashlight into his eyes and said something about a concussion. He was moved onto a second gurney, even though he was sure he didn’t need it. Jason was vaguely aware of his surroundings during the drive to the hospital, but his thoughts mainly centered around your safety. He kept trying to ask the paramedic that hovered over him about you, but he wasn’t entirely sure his sentences were coming out correctly.

The white of the inside of the hospital contrasted starkly to the night sky and suddenly everything was indistinguishable from everything else. Just a meaningless blur of white walls and white uniforms and white machines and white lights.

He groaned slightly as black spots danced across his vision. It was getting harder and harder to think, and the bright lights were hurting his head.

He couldn’t quite place when—or if—he lost consciousness, and the next thing he knew he was lying in a hospital bed, Bruce at his side.

Enough

credit to original owner

WARNING: mentions of verbal abuse

Genre: pure angst

Words: 922

summary: a toxic relationship can only last for so long

Walking into your apartment with a smile plastered on your face, you twisted the doorknob, excitement building up in your body.  You haven’t seen Jimin all day because you were busy working your ass off at school. It’s been a rough the past couple weeks with projects, essays, and various tests being thrown at you. Jimin was your stress relief, but sadly, he was busy too. 

“Jimin?” you spoke up, eager to see your boyfriend.

A moment of silence fell upon the apartment as you waited for a response.

Maybe he’s not home?


No. That wouldn’t make sense because his shoes are here and so is his car. 


So then where was he?

With a frown, you began to walk around the place, checking every room for a sign of Jimin. Turning the corner, you peeked into the master bedroom, your eyes falling on your target. Upon hearing the sound of paper being crumbled up in frustration, you slowly approached Jimin, careful not to upset him even more.

“What’s wrong, babe?” you asked, trying to be as calm as possible.

You knew how Jimin was when he was upset. Even though he would remain silent, his aura was dark and intimidating. At times, he would simply walk out the door without a second thought, only to come home late at night and curl into bed with you. You being a sweet girlfriend, wouldn’t dare question his actions. Despite its occurrence, it still hurt every time it happened. You wanted to be there for him in times of need, but he would just shut you out and keep to himself. Normally, he would bite his tongue and prevent himself from unintentionally hurting you, but at times, it got too hard for him to contain himself.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Jimin, I-” You tried reaching for his hand.

“I said don’t touch me!” he yelled, pushing your hand away, “Are you fucking dumb? What don’t you understand? Do. Not. Fucking. Touch. Me.”

Mouth open agape, tears instantly spilled from your eyes. Each word that came out from his mouth was a stab to your fragile heart. Jimin can be mean at times, but never like this. The most he has done was playfully call you chubby, but he never verbally abused you like this. In fact, he never actually yelled at you no matter how bad you screwed up. Instead, he would be as sweet as possible and correct your mistakes, guiding you through it all. 

“I’m sorry.” you whispered, running out of the room before he could see your tears.

Every step you took was excruciatingly painful. The breath hitched in your throat made it nearly impossible to breathe. You stepped out into the street, unsure of where to go. You had left everything at home: keys, jacket, proper clothing. You had no where to go, but anywhere other than here was better. With this in mind, you walked to where you felt the most safe. The park. Jimin had proposed to you as his girlfriend here and since then, it became your favorite place in the entire city. Tears continuously streaming down your cheeks, the gentle, cold wind caused you release a slight yelp as you shivered. You were only dressed in a thin shirt and shorts alongside with a dirty pair of sneakers you’ve been reusing for the past year or so. 

Sitting on the swing, you closed your eyes, sighing as you contemplated your relationship with Jimin. Lately, he’s been coming home late and endlessly neglecting you. At this point, you don’t even know if your relationship is stable anymore. You still love him, but does he still love you?

Your deep thoughts were interrupted by a hand grasping your shoulder. Eyes widening, you began trying to break free, but as dumb as you were, you tripped. 

“Calm down, calm down! It’s me. Jimin.” he spoke in a soft tone, afraid that he’d scare you off once more.

“Please, just go away.” 

“I’m sorry for what I said.” he grabbed your hand, “I swear to God I didn’t mean a single word.”

“You’ve been such an asshole lately, you know that?”

“I’ve be-”

“Whenever I cook for you, you just leave it there to rot. When I try laying with you in bed, you’d get up and sleep on the couch.” you nearly shouted, tears brimming in your eyes, “Do you not love me anymore?”

You choked back a sob as you spoke, unable to think of anything else other than the all the pain that Jimin had caused you. After all you had been through with him, he could have at least told you what was going on with him. Instead, he repetitively hurt you and caused you to jump to absurd conclusions. You were stressed over school as well, but you never snapped at Jimin over it. You would rant to him all the time and it would always help. He was your like your Tylenol, essential to your life. He was vital to you and he knew that. But the way he’s been treating you is unacceptable. Despite being in a relationship, he just pushes you away. Whenever you lean in to give him a kiss or hug, he’d instantly back away and go to some place else. Somewhere he knew you wouldn’t be around. 

“Jimin,” you continued, breaking the eerie silence that fell upon once dynamic duo ,”let’s break up.”


PART 2